#meaningless in comparison to your own

[icewindandboringhorror]

I find it kind of silly that so many of those "time based life rule" sayings are like ~deep serious guidelines~ of some sort, but then there's that one other Well Known Rule that's just like "hrmm can I eat something off of the ground or not"

#the duality of human condition.. two biggest concerns in the modern era are attempts at self fulfilling productivity #and also 'if i drop my sandwich can i still eat it :(' #Also while capitalism is often linked with/the source of hyper productivity culture - note that I do not mean the images in that context #'meaningful to you' does not have to mean 'productive within a capitalist system'. The point is not 'every waking hour of every day #must be spent in the most societally productive grinding mindset hyper efficency mode possible' but more like #if you've always wanted to learn french ever since you were a kid and you think it would be fulfilling to you (just because you like it #absent of any larger purpose like using it for a job/monetizing it somehow/etc.). and you've just spent like 5 hours straight on tiktok #or something mindlessly scrolling the internet. maybe someimtes it'd help for your own personal fulfillment in the long #run to try to - the next time you have 5 spare hours - work on learning french or something that is actually significant to you #as a person and that you'll be glad you worked towards. instead of weeks and weeks passing by and feeling you have nothing to show for it #or etc. AAANYWAY. The images/rules themselves are also NOT the main point of this post. More just the juxtaposition of them together #and the fact that 3 of them are serious seeming while one is so mundane it seems silly in comparison. #BUT even though they're not the main point . I still didn't want it to come across as if I was like promoting or buying into capitalist #productivity culture propaganda or etc. I don't find productivity tips like this inherently bad as long as they're kind of divorced from #those ideas. I think it's still important in life to have goals even if those goals exist outside of the typical expected framework. #I mean that's actually part of why a culture of chronically exhausted overworked deprived people is damaging because if you #'re forced to spend 85% of your waking time working at some job that is perosnally meaningless to you that brings you nothing that #youre only doing under threat of starvation and houselesness and etc. then of course you don't have much time for hobbies or things you car #about and of course you'll feel more aimless and personally unsatisfied and like life is not fulfilling or interesting. #Productivity and efficiency is GOOD actually. as long as it's able to be directed in ways that are actually meaingful to the community or #individual and bring some sort of feeling of fulfillment or progress or accomplishment and working towards a person's personal ideas #of happiness whatever those are. rather than just working away aimlessly so some guy you don't know can buy a 20th house or etc. etc. #ANYWAY.. lol.. Me overthinking things perhaps.. probably not as likely #that people see the silly little cat images and go 'WOW EVIL you must be a capitalist grind culture lover' like its pretty clear #thats not the point... but... just in case... lol.. I loooove to over clarify things that don't actually need clarification

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Tactile.

A Grab-Bag Commission For The Very Lovely @ohsotearful.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: ~750.

TW: Non-Con, Somnophilia, Stalking, Non-Consensual Touching, and Obsessive Behavior.

This was an old pastime, for him.

The broad strokes remained the same, but the details differed. As Scaramouche, the Balladeer, a glorified weapon for a foreign military waiting to become something he was always promised he would be, he watched you from a distance, passing your stall in the local bazaar when he had time to spare and letting himself into the recesses of your mind while he was still testing the boundaries of his newfound godhood, letting the nights you spent with him fade away like passing thoughts. As a wanderer, a being with no name or history to tie him down, he was more… physical in his approach, more eager to be close to you in the way that even the most insignificant flower strives to grow towards the sun. During the day, he’d trail after you like a lost puppy, desperate for your attention, and at night, he’d slip through your bedroom window, kneel at your bedside, watch the gentle rise and fall of your chest until his eyes stung and he couldn’t stand just to watch, anymore. In that life, he’d been naïve, so unaware of what he was that he couldn’t do anything more than cup your face and feel your warmth sink into his cold, porcelain skin. He hadn’t even thought to kiss you, much less leave a mark. It was all just feather-light touches – little objects of his sentiment you’d barely remember by the time the sun rose. It was all meaningless, and Scaramouche’s daydreams weren’t much better.

As the man he was now, still nameless but not quite so untethered, he’d learned his lesson from Scaramouche’s distance, from the wanderer’s artlessness. Close enough to make contact but not quite so caught up with his own pining that he couldn’t bring himself to touch you – he let his hands drift to your neck as he thrust into you, fingers wrapping loosely around your throat as he drank in the plushness of your delicate, tender skin. In the cold of night, your warmth was more addictive than ever, your body as inviting as it’d always been. Your expression was one of disrupted peace; the tranquility of rest agitated by the feeling of his cock fucking into you at an idle pace. He pressed the heels of his palms into your throat with just enough force to feel your breath hitch, to watch your features scrunch in aimless panic before pulling away, one hand drifting to take hold of your waist and the other finding your chest, nimble fingertips circling around your hardened nipple. You jerked in response, your reaction muted but visible enough. That was something he’d always liked about you: even at a distance, he could always draw something out of you.

Not that he wasn’t satisfied with your closeness. It was a sensation he, even now, wasn’t used to – the softness of your skin as opposed to the stoniness of his, the sharp cuts and awkward bends of his body lying in comparison to your smooth, vague curves. A being crafted by the hands of a god and polished by centuries of unyielding cruelty measured against a creature designed by no one and made to do nothing, where the former always seemed to somehow come up short. If he’d been able to, he would’ve hated you for it. If he’d been just a little stronger, he would’ve hated himself for not.

He let himself slip, rut into your deeper, fuck into you faster, savor the feeling of your wet heat dulling his rougher edges. He wouldn’t let there be a distance between you and him this time, he decided – he wouldn’t dwell in the back of your mind or sneak into your bedroom, wouldn’t find excuses to steal glances at you from the other side of a crowded bazaar or be happy to spend his days basking in your shadow. He’d always be this close to you, always be able to press himself into the elysium that was your meaningless, mortal body. He’d waited long enough for it, sought it out with enough desperation, and in that moment, buried inside you, your scent in his lungs and his affection for you finally delivered without reservation, he couldn’t imagine ever going without you again. He shouldn’t have to. He wouldn’t have to.

He dug his nails into your hip, a wide smile spreading over his lips. He watched with hawk-like attentiveness as your eyes fluttered open, as your expression went from confused to distressed. You started to say something, to scream, but his mouth crashed into yours and he swallowed anything you might’ve said, your voice slipping like milk and honey down his throat. When your protests faded into an incoherent collection of whimpers and sobs, he pulled back, grinning as he finally started to thrust into you properly.

This was an old pastime, but he wasn’t the person he used to be.

Maybe it was time for something to change, after all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere wanderer #yanderecore #yancore

[bas-writes]

Kings Don't Fall in Love

Character: Donquixote Doflamingo Reader: female (should be trans inclusive but I haven't proof-read it from this pov, so proceed at own risk) CW: intimacy starved Doffy, non-descriptive mentions of sex, pressure put on scent, emotional isolation, Doffy's pov Word Count: 1.1k Synopsis: You leave a piece of clothing after a night spent together at Doflamingo's place. Something unexpected happens when he takes a closer look at it. A/N: I listen too much to Cigarettes After Sex and it shows... Anyway, a little gift to @opopnomi for which I hope she won't kill me LMAO Hope it made your day at least a little better :3

It's just your overnight t-shirt.

Doflamingo almost misses it among the clutter thrown all over his bedroom. It's just a single piece of clothing, but a little snip of fabric in comparison to his own stuff all around. You're so little next to him, from heads to toes, and especially your hands he likes to hold in his as he teases you for your embarrassment in face of the size difference. Everything about you is so little and endearing, and he can't help a little smirk at the thought of your eyes perked up at him.

They always look doe and pleading from this angle. And he loves it.

It's just your overnight t-shirt. A thing you wear only in the privacy of your room, not here, in the kingdom of lingerie, kink apparel, and all of his whims at the given moment. He got to know it only because you were wearing it when he dragged you out of your house and kidnapped you to his territory. 

Doflamingo can't even remember now how you looked in it as all he cared about was to free you out of it, to feel your bare breasts in his hands. He picks it up, its weight barely palpable, and frowns, trying to recreate the image in his head, and failing. He doesn't cry over it, the thing is not sexy; it's just a t-shirt, stretched over your size, its colors worn-out, chosen to be cozy, not presentable. It's somewhat yours through and through and alien for his eyes. It suits you like your own skin and disturbs the image of yours in his mind. It's so out of place, time and imagination that he can't peel his eyes off it.

The king's attention can last only as much, though, and he's already putting it away—to send you back or throw it into trash, he's not decided yet—when an impulse strikes his curiosity. Doflamingo doesn't think much of it when he brings the t-shirt closer. It's just a whim, a spur of a second, who would have paid attention to reasoning behind something so meaningless? 

When it touches his cheek, he nearly understands why you like to sleep in it. It's soft—and not only for a piece of clothing. The sensation is pleasant, almost having him craving for more, especially against the freshly shaved, irritated skin. It carries a weirdly nostalgic feel to that, like a warm hand cupping his face. He can't pinpoint what pulls him to do that, but he follows and nuzzles into the fabric, with hesitation at first, soon with eagerness that shocks him—but doesn't stop him regardless. 

Your smell is…stronger.

Doflamingo knows every aspect of yours, all of the intimate nooks and crevices of your body. But this is different, far more private, feeling almost forbidden to be approached so…offhandedly. It's not just a faint trace of your scent nor the sharp aroma he trails straight from your skin. The t-shirt is soaked with you; it's still fresh enough to carry the aftertaste of a pleasant and flowery smell of washing detergent but also clearly worn for many nights already. It's the coziness of your tangled sheets, the rustle of a book you like to read before sleep, the simple touch of toothpaste and morning coffee, the whisper of dreams and hum of the alarm clock on your bed stand.

He's a brutal intruder, maybe for the first time ashamed of it—but chasing the sensation nevertheless, the stronger the bigger his guilt grows. Until this moment, Doflamingo has been sure you're in his possession, like a bird in a tight cage of his strings—and now each breath of your most sacred intimacy proves him what a fool he's been all this time. He holds a treasure he should never been trusted with, the image of you you kept to your solitude. You don't share such secrets with just anyone, oh Doflamingo is aware, so painfully aware. He's just your lover, just your king, just someone who can control your body and mind, but never your soul, wrapped tightly in this old t-shirt he so brutally gently presses to his face.

He wants more, he needs more, he fears more.

His eyes closing, Doflamingo takes one more, desperately deep breath, full of your smell and his loneliness. His arms should be filled with you—yet, they're empty. This shirt should be covering your breasts—yet, it's almost teared in his desperate clutch. Your voice should vibrate through his bedroom—and yet, there's only an echo of the sound he hasn't heard for decades. Your body should warm his side—yet he's shivering in the middle of his pathetic kingdom of four walls and ice-cold heart.

What's a king without the thing he craves the most, after all? Without the thing he will never claim as it's impossible to be claimed?

It scares him, that musky and heavy scent tangled in cotton threads. That lie detector, that sharp knife slicing his soul paper-thin, and heading towards the most vulnerable, the most protected core of his memories and emotions. Doflamingo takes the last, shaking whiff of it, and finally pulls away, his chest clenched tight and eyes dry and pricking. Your shirt is just a shirt again, just a piece of old, stretched fabric in his hands.

He almost throws it away, with fear and self-disgust.

It should be returned, it should be gone, but the longer he thinks about it, Doflamingo can't bring himself to move either way. Just the idea of handing it to a servant leaves a bad, bitter taste in his mouth, like sucking blood out of a cut on a parched lip. Walking to your house and disturbing your privacy even more fills him with anxiety he hasn't experienced before. And to call you here—

Your soul shouldn't be entrusted to a place of corporeality.

He would gladly just toss it out of his sight and mind—or to seal it in one of his hidden vaults, where neither of you wouldn't find it for a long, long time. At the same time, he doesn't want to, to hide and to heal. It burns his hand when he finally brings himself to pull the den den mushi out of the drawer and chooses your number he has, much to his surprise, learnt already by heart. It is almost physical, harder with each passing second, and he just keeps clenching his fingers tighter on it.

A few dreadful heartbeats later, the torturous, steady ring of awaiting call is interrupted by your voice. And Doflamingo can finally bleed his soul out into the speaker, "Y/N. Come. Yes, you left something at my place."

#doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo imagine #doflamingo scenario #doflamingo fanfiction #doflamingo fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #bas writes #doflamingo #female reader

[colonelarr0w]

Tagged - @quinnyundertow, @pweewee

A/N - This is a part 2 to this piece!

Word Count - 0.9k

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Yuuji swallows the growing lump in his throat, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists.  

Shit. 

< … > 

"Let her go," he says, willing his voice to be firm, but it falls short. He knows that he must sound absolutely pathetic in comparison to what he wants, but words were his only weapon.  

He couldn't clench his fists and fight – not when it was you. 

"So desperate. This little body must mean worlds to you, am I right brat?"  

Yuuji swallows the growing lump in his throat, staring into your eyes and wondering if somehow, you're staring back at him. He hopes that you're there somewhere, and wherever you were, he could reach you. 

He just needed to stall for long enough to make that happen.  

"Just let her go," Yuuji begs, taking a brave step forward. You … or rather Sukuna … takes a step away from him, creating distance that only shoves Yuuji's heart further down into his stomach. "You can do whatever you want, but just don't--" 

"You dare order me around? I spared you," Sukuna growls, tipping your head upward so that you could glare down your nose at Yuuji. He gulps, the coldness of your eyes such a foreign sight.  

"You said that … that you wouldn't do anything to hurt her," Yuuji recalls, desperation seeping into his tone as he takes another step towards Sukuna. Sukuna retaliates by forcing your body backward again. 

"When was I ever known to keep such meaningless promises?" Sukuna curls your lips upward into a smirk, tilting your head to the side and watching as Yuuji's face pales.  

Suddenly, your body contorts, your right hand curling into a white-knuckled fist that you promptly ram into your chest. Sukuna coughs, tilting your head down to glance at where your fist had connected with your chest.  

Yuuji watches in shock – watches as your right fist reels back again, this time connecting with your cheek. Again, Sukuna splutters, legs buckling slightly under the force with which you had punched up into your own face.  

"(Y/N)?" he mutters to himself, tilting his head. Sukuna, or rather you, jerk your head towards Yuuji. For a split second, just a singular split second, he can see that flicker of warmth that was just purely you.  

"That brat is … damn it," Sukuna snarls, nose crinkling in both frustration and disgust. He reaches your left hand towards your right, curling your fingers around your wrist and roughly tugging it downward.  

Somewhere in the darkness, you clench your hands into fists, operating blindly. This was your body. 

“Fucking brat!” Sukuna suddenly yells, your fingers losing grip over your own wrist. Your left hand releases your right, and once again, your fist connects with your cheek.  

Yuuji watches, eyes widening as the realization of what you were doing slowly seeps in. He has been right — you were still somewhere in there. 

“(Y/N)!” Yuuji yells out, bravely sprinting from his place and locking his arms around your waist, ignoring Sukuna’s vicious yells of protest. He tugs your back flush against his chest, closing his eyes and ignoring the pain that erupts in his chest as Sukuna forces you to squirm in Yuuji's hold. 

"Unhand me!" Sukuna shouts, kicking out one of your legs in the hopes that it would loosen Yuuji's grip. It doesn't. 

Your right hand trembles before shooting upward, palm covering your eyes and gripping tightly onto your temples. Sukuna lets out a frustrated shout, lips pulling back in an angered snarl. 

"C'mon (Y/N), c'mon," Yuuji whispers pleadingly, digging his heels into the ground and tightening his grip. Your body trembles for a moment, shaking against him before falling completely limp. "(Y/N)!" 

"And just what makes you think that you can take this body back?" Sukuna tilts his head at you, circling you like a lion would its prey. Calculating red eyes narrow at you, pupils narrowed into snake-like slits as you stare helplessly back at the King of Curses.  

"I won't let you--" 

"You won't let me what? You do understand how absolutely powerless you are in comparison to me, don't you?" Sukuna barks out a laugh, roughly taking hold of your face and forcing your gaze upon him.  

Your eyes water at the sudden pressure applied to your skin, body shaking as Sukuna lowers his face to be inches from yours – nose to nose.  

"I'll kill him with your hands," Sukuna smirks at you, relishing in the expression of horror that falls over your face. He bites back the rising laugh in his throat, instead releasing his hold on your face.  

You stare helplessly, lowering your head and staring down at your hands. Sukuna bends, kneeling in front of you and tilting his head.  

"What'll it be?" 

"(Y/N) …?" Yuuji murmurs, hands cradling either side of your face. He blinks back the tears in his eyes, staring down at your face and smiling as your eyes flicker to meet his own. His lips part to greet you again, eyes already crinkling at the corners.  

The marks on your face and wrists haven't … haven't faded.  

"(Y/N) …?" Yuuji whispers again, watching as you remove yourself from his lap and rise to your feet. Your back turns to him, then your head tilts to catch a glance of him from over your shoulder.  

Your lips curl upward into a smirk, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing together. "(Y/N) is gone …" 

Yuuji's eyes widen, heart sinking as he too rises to his feet. His hands go slack as he stares at you.  

" … brat." 

HEHE if y'all want an alternate ending please let me know, but I had so much fucking fun writing this! 

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk angst #jjk x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst drabble #jjk drabble #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #itadori angst #yuuji itadori angst

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Trending Topics

Pairing: Keigo Takami x reader

Summary: when you started writing online erotica about your boss, you had been under the strict impression that he would never, ever find out about it.

Warning: Smut, vaginal fingering, degradation, praise, slight public-sex, Language, Hawks deserves his own warning

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 2

The phone rang.

For a secretary, one may have thought this to be a completely normal occurrence, just as you did now. It never would have occurred to you that this particular phone call would be anything but.

So when you picked it up, you answered in your usual, well-mannered tone, completely devoid of any sort of concern. "If this is about the Hero Billboard Chart event then your seat has been reserved and I've requested that it be close to Endeavor."

The laugh of your boss echoed down the line. "Thanks, lovebird, but that's actually not what I'm calling about." He paused, leaving the crackle of empty static in your ear. "Would you mind coming up to my office for a sec?"

"Oh, uh, yes I'll be there right away."

Usually, you were quite good at your job.

You were responsible and efficient, taking on tasks diligently without fault. There was only one unplanned vacation day on your record, taken only as a result of some unforeseen food sickness that left you slumped on your bathroom floor for most of the afternoon.

Still, after you had been able to pry your body away from the safety of your toilet, you had gone back to bed, opened your computer, and reorganized some meetings so your boss had the maximum amount of free time.

He was probably why you enjoyed your job so much, or at least was a big part of it.

Hawks, true to his image, was very laid back and lenient. He met your hard work and determination with praise, a huge comparison to some of the other famous names you had worked under.

This worked as continual motivation to please him, hoping to make his life easier in return for his kindness. Thankfully, he was forgiving, brushing past the meaningless mistakes that many egotistic administrators would've relished in punishing.

So when he had called you into his office without telling you why, the only thing running through your buzzing mind was that you had something very, very wrong.

Mentally replaying through all your actions from the past week, you searched for anything that might've warranted a reprimand and came up completely blank.

You stepped into the elevator, grazing your ID through the scanner device and selecting your preferred floor.

Nervous energy was beginning to simmer in your stomach, growing more intense with every level you passed on the way to the top.

With a ding, you were released into the corridor leading to the same room you visited every morning. Those sessions were usually on your own accord, nothing but a quick catch-up on whatever important party or conference Hawks was supposed to attend.

Of course, he would ask you up here if there was something specific that he needed accomplished at that very moment, but you couldn't ignore the small twitch of intuition that this was different somehow.

Walking down the hall, you acknowledged the fact that you were probably just being nervous over nothing, simply anxious from the negative outcomes that were buzzing around your mind.

After taking a deep breath, you gently knocked on the faded glass of your boss' office. A distracted mumble of confirmation could be heard through the walls and you took it as a pass to enter.

You walked in, eyes immediately flashing to the man in front of you for any signs of external indignation.

He was staring fixedly on his phone, attentively scrolling through an unseen article with his legs propped on the surface of his desk.

All in all, he seemed relatively normal, giving you the minuscule confidence to make yourself known. "You needed something?"

At the sound of your voice, Hawks looked up, allowing a recognizably easygoing smile to spread across his features as he slid his boots off the table. "Yeah, thanks for coming. Would you mind taking a seat?"

You nodded, but the ball of anxiety in your stomach exploded at his words. Nothing good had ever come after that statement.

The next inquiry did nothing to help either. "So, do you know why you're here?"

Beginning to pick at the skin in between your fingernails, you shook your head. "No, not really. Did I do something wrong? An error in one of my reports or something like that?"

"Not at all! Your work here is great." He complimented, waving off your concerns. "However, I do have to bring up a tiny problem regarding your social media."

"My social media?" Hawks nodded at the question. "I'm not really on it. I mean, I have some of the popular apps and stuff, but I don't post anything."

He hummed, tilting his head in feigned confusion. "Not even online erotica about me?"

The blood drained from your face.

You watched in utter horror as he swiveled his phone around, revealing the welcome screen of your very own Tumblr profile.

Words were failing you. You doubted that your voice would work at all if you even tried, but Hawks seemed more than willing to break the silence.

"This one's my favorite. I mean, seventeen thousand likes?" He scrolled to your most recent post and let out a low whistle. "Pun intended, I'm more of a Twitter guy myself, but I'm pretty sure that's impressive, yeah?"

The muscle in your chest was beginning to thump harder and harder. With his acute sense of hearing, you were almost sure he could hear its beat amidst the quiet. "I... I don't-"

"And the tags are even better!" Hawks turned the screen around in his direction once more. "I quote, now tell me if I get anything wrong, hashtag 'I want this man to rail me until I can't walk.'"

In your defense, you hadn't written about Hawks since he had hired you.

The first post had been a sleep-deprived, most likely horny result of your crush on the winged hero. You hadn't even thought it was all that good.

But the internet disagreed.

They came flocking to your sweet words like bees, pollinating your page with likes, reposts, and motivating comments. Their approval worked as motivation, pressure to keep feeding the masses in unneeded media.

When you had been offered the secretarial position here, you had obviously stopped, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to delete the account.

Hours of hard work spent writing and scouting Google for synonyms was just too hard to let go of. Not to mention the readers who genuinely enjoyed your content would have it deleted without a proper explanation.

You had kept it up, leaving your account to slowly become untouched, even if your attraction to the pro increased steadily during the span of these past few months.

Besides, there was no way anyone could connect it to you, right?

Wrong, apperently.

So fucking wrong.

"I've gotta say, you're quite the little writer. I would've said your talents lay in haggling me out of meetings, but this is some good stuff."

Your eyes shot up at his words in shocked dismay. "You read them?"

Golden irises darkened, fixed in your direction in a way that made you squirm. "All of them."

Hot tears began to brim at the corner of your eyes. You willfully pushed them back, hoping to retain what minuscule specs of self respect you had left.

Pushing back the chair, you stood up, offering him a polite bow in refusal to meet his gaze. "I guess I'll go collect my things. Thank you for the opportunity."

"What?"

The confusion in his tone made you look up in surprise. "Aren't I being fired?"

He furrowed his brows, offering you an unreadable expression. "Fire you?"

You nodded at his question, trying to ignore the glimmer of hope creeping into your train of thought. "Well, um, I just thought that-"

"Sit down."

The authority behind his voice had you immediately in compliance. You watched him slowly stand up and make his way over to you, the already established power dynamic reinstated physically.

He placed his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively caging your body between them. "Writing porn online about your boss? A termination would probably be letting you off easy."

Your heart dropped.

Did I commit a felony?

There's no way, right?

There can't be.

I mean, yeah sure, the commission's super uptight about his image, but people write shit online about the heroes all the time, so it can't be that bad.

I hope...

"Did you mean it?"

You glanced up in confusion. "Mean what?"

Cocking an eyebrow, he offered you a smirk that reeked of self-satisfaction. "Did you really spend all that time daydreaming about how good my cock would feel inside you?"

Your mind went blank at his words. There was nothing you could focus on besides the warmth his voice was sparking in your core.

This couldn't be happening. You had to be drunk or asleep or something.

He raised a hand to softly cup your jaw, eyes boring into yours in anticipation. "Listen, sweetheart, you have to let me know this is okay first or I'm gonna stop."

Gaze trailing downward, you line of sight shot

"Please don't." You breathed. He quickly backed away, but you made a grab for his hands in realization. "Fuck, I-I mean don't stop, please don't stop. You can... I want you to keep going, please."

Hawks scanned your expression for any sort of hesitation, finding nothing but desire hidden behind a thick veil of shame and embarrassment.

An impish grin materialized across his face and Hawks resumed his previous position, confining you into the chair with muscled biceps. You gasped when he lifted his right leg, pushing it in between your thighs.

Dexterous fingers began to slowly undo the buttons of your blouse. "I'll admit, you're pretty good at writing about me, but I can promise that the real thing is a lot better."

Intimidating could be a word to describe him, sure, but never like this.

After pulling open your shirt, Hawks tugged down the strap of your bra. The cold air hit your chest and you stiffened in shyness under the heat of his stare.

He nudged your averted gaze upward with the tip of his finger, allowing you to see the affection and lust swimming in his expression. Golden eyes met your own before his mouth crashed against yours.

The kiss trailed downward as he began to pepper your neck and exposed collarbone with his lips, sucking on the skin as his hands moved up to rub your breasts.

You began to unconsciously roll your hips against his thigh, squirming in desperation. He immediately took notice, giving your nipple a soft pinch.

A low whine fell from your throat when he removed his leg from in between yours.

"So needy." Hawks clicked his tongue, voice laced with imitated disapproval.

You watched his hand move to slip underneath your skirt, hooking a finger into the fabric of your underwear and pulling it to the side. A sharp exhale fell past your lips as his breath hit your core.

He ran a finger through your slit, eyes wide in satisfaction at the wetness that followed.

"Always getting here on time, always so polite. What a good girl." He cackled, slowly inserting a finger into you and pumping it experimentally. "Who knew you were such a slut?"

His thumb found your clit, rubbing the bud and drawing a soft moan from your lips. "It doesn't matter very much to me though, as long as you're mine."

The movement of hands came to a slow as he reached behind himself to grab something. "In fact, why don't you show me? Since you seemed so keen on it before."

"What?" You breathed, aching for the pleasure he had just taken away.

"I wanna hear how much of a slut you are for me." He held out his phone, allowing you to see the faintly lit screen of your writing profile. "I want to hear every sentence your perverted little mind has conjured up about me. You stop talking and I stop fucking you with my fingers, understood?"

Allowing him to press the device into your hands, you nodding, silently begging for him to continue.

You started to speak, voice wobbling with every syllable. His movement hung off every one of them, motions led by the fantasy you narrated.

"His touch was like fireworks against her skin, still cold from the evening air."

Every word added to your personal humiliation, but it was an evil you would gladly endure if that meant feeling like this.

"He added another finger." He did as you said, causing you to gasp at the added pressure. "Fuck, Hawks!"

"Keigo, sweetheart."

"Kei-"

With a curl of his fingers, the last syllable of his name fizzled away into low groan. "Almost there, princess, you've got it."

He was right.

This was so much better than anything you could've ever come up with.

The words that fell from your mouth soon turned to a puddle of moans. They blurred together on the screen as bliss flooded your mind, replacing any coherent thought with pure need.

Pleasure coursed through your limbs with every thrust of his fingers, edging you closer and closer to the brim of ecstasy. A few more moments and you pushed past it.

The phone fell from your shaking hands as you unraveled in his.

Hawks tenderly soothed you down from your high, softly continuing to caress your overstimulated clit before removing his hand from under your skirt.

"Request the day off tomorrow, yeah?" He pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, sending you a devilish grin. "I'm taking you up on that hashtag once we get off and you're definitely gonna need it."

#I want this man to rail me until I can't walk #hawks x reader #hawks x you #mha hawks #bnha hawks #keigo takami #keigo x reader #keigo x you #bhna smut #mha smut #hawks bnha #bhna imagine #mha

[yoificfinder]

In celebration of women, here are some fics centered around the great women of YOI! Happy international women's day! ♀️✨️

(Don't) Give a Damn by @forochel [T, 9K]

Mari, through the years,

an open door by tripcyclone [G, 8K]

Lilia never wanted children of her own, but caring for Victor gives her a glimpse into the life she chose to pass by.

and your feet will follow by @prinzenhasserin [T, 13K]

Lilia’s relationship with her fellow ballerinas wasn’t usually complicated. Usually, she knew exactly where she stood. Not so with Minako Okukawa who had disappeared from the ballet world some years ago to hide in the dance studio of a backwater town in Japan.

Lilia didn’t care about that, of course. Not at all. She just deserved a vacation, to Japan, incidentally.

another girl in another time by cityboys [G, 11K]

Wouldn’t it be cool if there really is another version of you out there?

Beautiful in Knowing by @val-creative [T, 1K]

Sara knew she was a girl, even if nobody else did or believed her.

She ordered Michele to call her "Lady Sara" from now on. He would roll his eyes and grumble, but never attempt to misgender her. She liked "Sara" — it meant "lady, princess, noblewoman". And she would never go back to her deadname.

if friends were flowers, i'd pick you by windupbirdgirl [G, 4K]

During the first two years of high school, Yuuko finds she barely has time to breathe. The sky seems very far away, the sea even more so. She hasn’t gone to the rink in months.

if love is king, who wears the crown by @crollalanzaa [G, 1K]

“Second is seen as nothing,” Christophe had derided.

“But that moment you glide onto the ice, that hush of the audience, and that expectation, isn’t that worth something?”

“You speak as if you know. You used to skate?"

Past tense. It still stung, even if it was expected.

Minako knows exactly what it's like to be at the top of your game, and she remembers the descent just as clearly.

if she wants me by renaissance [G, 6K]

Hiroko and Minako, then and now.

if the sea has any draw for you by weird_bird [E, 8K]

The first time Mila saw her dance in person, her power funneled down into elegance, the granite of her face transmogrified to marble, she almost gave her the password to her bank account, she’s that good.

kagura by night by seventhstar / @pencilwalla [T, 1K]

The world around her is like the mountains.

A mortal lifespan is narrow; mortals watch the mountain’s unchanging faces, unravaged by the same measure of time that takes a human from dust to dust, and think them immortal in comparison. But stone erodes, just as flesh decays. It just takes longer.

If she watches long enough, everything changes. Languages drift until all the words she learned before are meaningless. Technology changes until she ceases to believe in magic because human ingenuity is more infinite than the stars. What is beautiful, what is polite, what is wrong, what is right—time, given its way, reshapes all.

But Minako’s body remains as it has always been. That’s why she loves to dance, she supposes; it’s the one thing time cannot take from her.

Katsudon by @azriona [G, 8K]

Hiroko doesn’t need to see to coat pork cutlets in egg and panko. She has made this dish for her family for over thirty years; she’ll make it another thirty, if she’s lucky.

Now she makes it for Yuuri and Victor as they fly home from Barcelona, with silver around their necks and gold around their fingers.

keep me steady as we go by orphan_account [G, 3K]

When Isabella stood and crossed the room to where he sat she saw her notebook open in his lap, turned to the last page of their to-do list, all but three items crossed off with less than a month to the wedding date. License. Ceremony. Everything after. She saw the angle of his gaze, too, not on the words but straight ahead, staring blank and glassy and brittle into some invisible place she still wasn’t sure she could follow him to, yet. And yet she had been the one who’d promised to try—and to keep promising, forever and forever.

Kooks by BoxWineConfessions [G, 3K]

Mari clasps her right hand across her left hand and rests them both atop her growing stomach. “I guess you’re just lucky that your father, I mean your other father, my brother-“ Mari giggles. “God, it all sounds so weird, doesn’t it? Do you care? Do you care that we’re all so fucked up and we don’t care at all?” Mari laughs again. It’s all she can do when she hurts this much, and wants a cigarette this much, but can’t stop smiling despite the fact that her body seems to hate her so much. “Well he means the world to me. That’s why I have you.”

Living in the Maybe by @adrianners [T, 6K]

It wasn’t hard to spot a 180cm platinum blond in Fukuoka International Airport. Especially when he was the only person wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night.

Mari picks Viktor up at the airport when he returns from Moscow. Without Yuuri there to play his usual role of interpreter, they learn to communicate around their linguistic, cultural, and personal barriers.

my better self by @spookyfoot [G, 1K]

Mila's the first friend Yuuri's made in Russia. Technically, Yuuri became friends with Yurio in Hasetsu, but he'd never say that to Yurio's face.

On his first day training in Russia, Mila stole Yuuri from the rink and showed him pictures of Victor and Georgi wearing Spice Girls t-shirts Victor had picked up at a consignment shop during Skate America in 2006, and a video of them skating a synchronized routine to "Stacy's Mom."

"Don't let anyone here intimidate you. I guarantee none of them are scarier than Yura." They watched Victor skate circles around Yuri on the ice, Mila's camera primed for blackmail material—just in case.

_________

Yuuri and some of the women in his life, through the years.

Variations on a Theme by BoxWineConfessions [M, 20K]

Mari doesn't like it when the past and the present overlap so easily. Mari knows the mischievous grin and the burn of eyes that linger too long. They're the trademark of girls who are still figuring out what they want, but want relentlessly. Mari is tired of letting people in, only to have to say goodbye when their vacation is over.

Mila has experienced this before, this knowing little smile that implies that they know something about her body that she doesn’t. It comes across as cocky, and arrogant on men, and gentle with Mari. Mari looks like she's just told her some kind of wonderful secret.

Together, they reshape their expectations.

#yoi #yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #yoi fic rec

[under-lore]

In your recent post, you mention that Chara can take control whenever they want, and that certain stuff can be attributed to frisk instead of Chara. What is/where can i find the evidence of this, and which actions can be attributed to which?

Frisk is usually the more "in control" of the two. The actions that can be attributed to Chara are the rarer and more specific cases.

The actions that the narrator attributes to "you" during battles and the majority of the cutscenes in which Frisk moves on their own are just Frisk. By default, it is usually them. (and/or the player)

There are two types of situations in which we can observe intervention from Chara.

The first are the cases in which Chara uses their ability to control the body to perform an assertive action fully independently from the wills of Frisk or that of the player. Although those ones are practically centered around the genocide route, as in other routes Chara acts more passively in comparison.

Examples of this type include among others, stepping towards monster kid, or landing the second blow during Sans' special attack.

However, the way to actually prove that those are actually Chara's actions (and not say, Frisk's) vary with pretty much every single one, going from the flavor text, to process of elimination, to even the code of the game itself among other things.

So getting conclusive evidence that Chara was the one that performed a specific action of this type is often something that has to be done on a case by case basis in order to be rigorous, and isn't that intuitive.

As a rule of thumb, though, keeping in mind that the player can control Frisk's actions but not Chara's tends to be pretty useful in that regard.

The second type is way more sneaky and are the ones that are the most often missed. They can be seen in any route, even pacifist. Those are the ones in which, the narrator's speech, betrays certain actions to have been not from Frisk, but from themself. those cases are often accompanied by circumpstancial evidence surrounding them, to give them more context and probably also to reassure that they were here intentionally and not as just an error from Toby when writing the flavor text.

One such case appears quite early on in the game.

Normally, whenever Frisk reads a sign, a book, etc... the narrator describes it in the following way :

This appears as quite in tune with everything else the narrator normally says throughout the game. They describe that Frisk (refered to as “you”) performs the suggested action. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

But there is one singular exception to this, in which the narrator rather says :

Notice that the "you" refering to Frisk is absent, and was replaced by an active "Here is" which suggests first hand action from the narrator, presenting Frisk with a so called "random page" rather than a description of Frisk opening the book themself.

And furthermore, while it may seem odd at first that Chara would take action over something so meaningless as opening a book, this actually makes a lot more sense when considering that the "random page" isn't actually random at all, and our narrator is currently being an unreliable narrator here.

The page in question just so happens to be the singular page of the monster history books that paints humans in the most negative light, portraying them as aggressive creatures to be feared and who monsters (seen as the victims of human cruelty) would have had to run and hide from, trapped.

Chara's bias here is clearly showing. They were deliberately wanting to show this specific page due to their own dislike for humanity.

Even the specific moment in the game in which this scene happens would be fitting for Chara to do such a thing. But that would be more fitting to the subject of a future post regarding the way the relationship between Frisk and the narrator evolves throughout the game.

There are a few more examples of this, of course, to give just one more of them : Here, when the player pushes Frisk to try and give Gyftrot their gold, but where once they do attempt it, Chara physically prevents Frisk from doing it and the gold isn't given. Which is then followed by the narrator berating the choice we tried to make.

By the way, for extra context, one could also note here that Chara also specifically called gold as one of the statistics they show interest in in the genocide ending, too. So one could draw a parallel there.

For this second type of cases, there is a more consistent method to spotting them. It is simply about carefully looking for irregularities in what the narrator says or does, and optionally comparing that to the wider context surrounding Chara to clarify things.

#undertale #chara #frisk

[se1f]

Ramble #6

what many bloggers, including myself attempt to explain is unexplainable. it is beyond words, comprehension, labels, and concepts. and so, our words are not meant to be a ritualistic guide but a pointer to THAT. we cannot help but limitly label the unfathomable, as language or rather words is a barrier.

the mind cannot actually distinguish the substance of what is occurring- it can only estimate. meaning, the mind cannot truthfully interpret anything at all. you are not this nor that. neither something nor nothing. the mind can arrive at the belief of XYZ, but it is not even at the peak of "truth". humankind (seemingly) has always applied concept on top of concept to what could not be deciphered. take a concept, such as space, and ask yourself: "how is it verifiable?". is anything truly verifiable? scientists still remain confused about the concept of "space". there is always an essence of uncertainty- that extends to all concepts...

now, who is the one that suffers? why are you so sure "you" are suffering? was it not just established that the mind is an unreliable narrator? would you trust the word of a liar? not to call your mind a liar, but i am trying to reiterate how it can never depict the actuality of a seeming appearance. not only are the mind's interpretations meaningless, they are also completely baseless. (which is why i reference the comparisons between a dream vs. the "waking state" so much lol)

in a nightmare, the mind can interpret suffering. but upon waking, one understands that it was just a "dream" (or the seeming appearance of it) and not definite. the same inference applies to the "waking state". do you see how this post is infested with concepts? almost, if not all of these words contain implicit notions. none of this can be conclusive, just as no other concept is conclusive. this is why i always like to remind those reading, to take words as pointers only- not as absolute truth.

if you so please, "use" pointers, then completely disregard them. go beyond concepts (even that's a concept, whoops!). stop relying on validation from the body-mind. you already "know" what there is to know :) you are just so intelligent, that you keep getting fooled by your own seeming appearances! how ironically silly. i love you all, and happy new year!!

#ramble #non duality #non dualism #consciousness

[mejomonster]

Modu by priest was truly such a good read. If you like romance? It has a sweeping romance, with a well done bisexual and gay lead (and straight best friend) all written in ways that manage to feel realistic, it's got features people likely found it for when looking for a danmei - rich manipulative younger man, older investigator who's got a hero streak, and yet those categories don't really do justice to them (and of course tao ran is the more grounded detective story lead who keeps his theories to himself and worries about dragging others into his mess).

They're so much more... Fei Du is a traumatized young man who's worried he's as monstrous as the people who scarred him, who is preparing to take the leap and cross the line to become an even more terrifying version of himself if it will destroy the corruption poisoning this city and harming so many, Luo Wenzhou is a cop that used to want to be a hero and learned he will fail people and be unable to save people and holds onto Fei Du as someone who reminds him he DOES fail but also reminds him why he wants so hard to keep Trying to help people even when it seems impossible... why trying and putting in effort to care and help Even when its too late to fix things is Worthwhile. Tao Ran is a contrast to them both, Fei Du living in a world where there's only monsters and victims and Luo Wenzhou desperately trying to force the world to be a place where justice CAN prevail and win even as he sees it fail over and over, trying so hard to believe all people have the capacity for everything and are worth trying to save. Even though Fei Du doesm't believe that, being around Luo Wenzhou makes him want to consider it. Tao Ran, their contrast? Believing the world can go either way, and its up to people like him to create any justice at all, any structure at all, or else everything is just meaningless suffering chaos. As characters, the three of them serve to explore how the world works and views on it in terms of a detective murder mystery encompassing the whole city, the small scale version of the world. Modu is a romance, but its also fully commited to being a murder mystery that wants to tackle the kind of themes that come up in the setting it's created. Its characters are so much more than Insert Character Ship types here. These characters were made this way to explore these ideas (just as the villains are all made to parallel and contrast Fei Du to explord these ideas in comparison to our point of view Fei Du moments, our impressions of Fei Du from Luo Wenzhou and Tao Rans varied perspectives, all of them are different lenses to view humanity and how it works, if the world is just or if we have to make it good, if we can be inherently good and if good people will reach out to us if we just keep treading water to survive, if its luck and chaos, and how much... and much more frankly).

Modu is like. If you want a story about a corrupt city and its victims, symbolizing a corrupt world and all of us at its mercy, and you want to see the heart of the people doing something about it. First the main trio, but also every victim Fei Du recruits to help, every murderer recruited to the corruption, all the people in the cases swayed to some side. Thats what Modu is about.

The romance is just one facet of exploring that, the personal debate about what these things mean about the world as told through two people who view this world incredibly differently. Yet find some way to exist in the same space, same mutual world, when together. It hooks you in and doesn't let you go and youre wondering right there with them, left to draw your own meaning in the end. Hopefully that its worth trying, that doing something is worth trying even when its just the trying you can do and not the succeeding, at least thats what I got from it (at least in regards to Fei Du and Luo Wenzhou meeting each other, unable to live up to the pillar they put each other on but trying anyway, is what I felt from them).

Then like? Modu gives you THAT story, which in its own right is enough to make you contemplate.

And if you're like me and care about people, about characters? Well it gives you, like I said, those big themes and a city's nightmares symbolizing the world, and brings them down to an individual level. You read from the mind of the little girl who grew up in this (one of my favorite scenes and when I felt this novel was going to not shy away from dark psychological moments and bringing them to you). You read from the mind of Fei Du when he knows himself, when he doesn't. You read from the minds of all kinds of people, and the heart of much of the investigation is peoples motives and things they'd gone through and how that shaped what they'd do next. Why they'd do it. Leaving you to wonder who's right. Jaded idealist Luo Wenzhou who wants to believe in the goodness of the people he loves, but also is willing to risk that strangers may have good intent? Fei Du who thinks theres only victims and perpetrators and everyone is going to fall into one in the right circumstance? Tao Ran, who feels the world is too messy to dare declare predictable, who thinks even your closest can betray you and even you can accidentally hurt them, nevermind strangers, and the only thing you can control and rely on is your own choices? Some mix? None of them? The side characters as they come up, grow and evolve, do they understand the world better or worse, and is the world they experience different than anothers and justify why their worldview is likewise different? Modu gives you that up close and personal, over and over. Im still thinking about it. And the way its done, they all get to feel like lived in people. Not structures to tell the themes only. But on their own, there's a personal struggle between Fei Du feeling like a monster who'll destroy Lup Wenzhou if he loves him, like his dad destroyed his mom, and Luo Wenzhou carrying the guilt he could never save Fei Du and desperate to believe in Fei Du (and keep trying to save him in that way if only that way) as person who can do good despite not being saved and despite Fei Du's fears. You could cut the entire city's plot away, all of the crimes and make the city calm, and still that core of their plot would be carrying a Lot of weight. Theyre playing a game of "enemies" to lovers sure, or whatever romance story structures they fit into. But they're also made to be deeply rooted into each other, their personal beliefs tied into the outcome of what they hope or fear happens if they are close together. Modu made me care about that. Its like the fears many people might have, abiut theur own flaws, about getting close to others, about trusting and being unsure if that trust is safe to give. Its that and magnified into bigger form, in this landscape of a fucked up city and the tragedy of Fei Du and Luo Wenzhou's meeting and former lives.

Its like. Id love to to read another danmei (Ive got a lot on my to read list). But what's going to give me roo

#modu #silent reading #lb #meta #like... modu was so fucking good. #it was 3 characters symbolizing their city symbolizing the world in terms of worldviews morality justice and if theres a point to #trying to help at all. like damn #i want to read ANOTHER danmei that makes me weigh those questions. that uses the characters this personally and intimately with the readers #because the Characters weigh the themes in their OWN lives so heavily. #like... i know priest can probably give me this kind of huge delivery in can ci pin and sha po lang (at least i estimate #priesr probably can as theyre very popular novels by priest) #and 2ha can (because ive read half and know its themes) #but like. what other danmei can? can thousand autumns? can peerless? can wu shang jie? #can Mistakenly Saving the Villain? #like... the only non priest danmei i read was svsss and i got supremely lucky #cause i personally LOVE satire and critique commentary affection for the topics it explores #and svsss AS a satire is incredibly well done. having read 2ha first? and seen Eternal Love? #svsss does an amazing job at critiquing webnovel culture and flaws. at the way capitalism effects writing #at the way some tropes have become staples of certain genres and when used well yeah you get 2ha but when used badly you get #the fake novel svsss was making fun of that there Are many real novels like

[kitramune]

Hello!

Fellow inukagger here *shakes your hand* I noticed your tags on an inuyasha video edit post where you stated inuyasha was seeing kagome during their almost first-kiss. I want to believe this soo badly, but I have actually made a post where I argue the opposite bc that’s (unfortunately) my interpretation.

I would genuinely love to hear why you think this as I’m more than happy to be convinced 🥺❤️ If you’ve posted about it before, apologies that I haven’t seen it; please kindly drop a link.

Thank you very much! (It’s all 🫶🏼 and interest in civil discussion, certainly not looking to start anything otherwise)

Sure thing! I think there's a lot of misconception firstly because Kagome herself says this. That he hates her for looking like Kikyou, but when he looked at her in that moment, it looked loving, so she herself put two and two together that he must still be seeing her as Kikyou, but therefore have been in love with Kikyou. Which is partially true in that we know he did have feelings for her back when she was alive. (I have my own InuKik-critical perception on this, but that's a whole other rant and probably not what you're asking.) But I think it's VERY important to keep in mind that Kagome is an Unreliable Narrator in her own story here, particularly where it comes to interpreting Inuyasha's feelings at times. This holds true for pretty much the entire story, but particularly early on, when she doesn't know him as well. First off, I'm going to fast-forward slightly to give examples of Inuyasha himself making it clear he does NOT see Kagome as Kikyou, to prove my point that he's not lying when he tells her so at the almost-kiss. Keep in mind a lot of these are only available in the source material and the anime DID cut them to fuel love triangle drama. The manga is the original intended canon, so that's what I'll be going with for this entire conversation.

(Let it be said that as far as Japanese subtleties are concerned, he is asking Kagome to date him, here.)

For the sake of argument, let's look back at this "very beginning" he mentions, and how long it took him to realize Kagome LOOKED a bit like Kikyou, but was not Kikyou:

Well that was quick. He does compare them a few times after this, but it's always about how different they are. (Usually to be rude, but let's face it, this is early Inuyasha.)

(I include this "comparison" just because he's RELIEVED here at Kagome NOT being Kikyou. It's the first explicit indication that he likes her for her and would be heartbroken if the girls got switched.)

(Then he proceeds to make it even more explicit, and even Kaede spells it out.)

He completely stops comparing them in any capacity after this, and the way he does it says to me that he sees and values them very differently IN SPITE of the slight physical resemblance, not BECAUSE they look alike.

"But Kit!" I hear you say, "These examples are meaningless because they are AFTER he tried to kiss her!" Well I disagree his feelings would have changed that drastically in the small amount of time given the context, but let's still look at all InuKag have been through at this point. I'll just do a montage of Inuyasha feeling pride or affection for Kagome in said arcs because I am self-indulgent like that, lol.

(My boy did not need to protect her, here. If she was gone, he'd be free of the beads and thus free to just take the Jewel. He did it purely out of valuing her life in some capacity.)

(Knowing her scent already? Lending her your only armor just so she won't get hurt? Why Inuyasha, that's not extremely intimate at all!)

(I find him saying her name significant not just because of differentiating her from Kikyou in his mind, but in that Inuyasha doesn't say ANYONE'S name unless they are important to him. Exceptions.)

("I refuse to get involved!" *Kagome's in trouble, immediately gets involved*)

(I love this arc overall SO MUCH cuz they not only have their first friendly pouty BFFs spat, but Inuyasha then immediately comes running to save her after smelling her blood THROUGH SPACE AND TIME, and is so desperate to be relied on cuz it makes him feel good to protect her and he's realizing that.)

(Lest we forget he had SOMETHING TO TELL HER right before threading their fingers extremely intimately.)

(Inu wasn't in this arc much but he WAS very worried and impressed with her.)

(I could honestly put the WHOLE spider head arc in here and gush about every detail of their character development, but we all know the highlight and I think Rumiko put it best in the Profiles Book that Inuyasha had never encountered or thought of anyone who would be saddened by his death before. I truly believe this is when he decided to open up and give his budding feelings for her a chance to bloom. And more importantly for this particular argument, decides NOT TO LIE to her again.)

And it's at this point we come to him trying to kiss her. It's true Inuyasha's emotions are slightly volatile from Kikyou being brought up. It's a definite sore spot, which even Kagome picks up on. Kagome asks point blank if he still sees her as Kikyou and hates her for it. To which he says she has it all wrong.

Considering her previous statement was if he HATES her, we can pretty easily infer that he's answering that directly, here. As in, no, he does not. Reading into context clues and what we see before and after this moment, I'd go so far as to say he's implying he LOVES her, here. Or at least is beginning to realize he likes her much more than as a friend. The last arc was huge for him, let's not forget that. He'd never ever been vulnerable like that with anyone: both in letting them know his night of weakness, and emotionally. All signs point to him having realized he's fallen for Kagome pretty hard and is ready to finally LET himself fall. (Though clearly Kagome's not quite ready herself, yet.) I'd argue that Kikyou's resurrection arc and the arcs following shortly after that I linked moments from earlier are there to just cement that he doesn't see her as Kikyou to any viewers who are still skeptical. In the manga anyway, we're never shown Inuyasha pining for Kikyou or wishing she was back to life. Quite the opposite, he only wishes her to rest in peace and reach Nirvana, which he has said to her more than once. The closest we get is this line right after the resurrection arc comes to an end and Kikyou's presumed dead from the cliff:

Which I personally interpret as him still being heartbroken, yes, but the fact he brings up the idea of falling for another woman tells me he's still mulling over how he has romantic feelings for Kagome, and his trauma regarding romance making him wonder if he should backpedal on that or give up his initial goal that was a symptom of his heartbreak in the first place. (As in, he immediately stole the Jewel after Kikyou betrayed him essentially to make the hurt go away as soon as possible. Also note this is AFTER the almost-kiss, right before Miroku makes his appearance.) So I have a pretty hard time believing that he suddenly decided to lie to Kagome right after his entire breakthrough night of vulnerability with her, and how that affected him. Also keep in mind that Kagome doesn't have concrete feelings for Inuyasha yet, so there is no jealousy or lack of confidence where Kikyou is concerned at the point of time in question. One could (shakily imo) argue that he might lie to protect her feelings later on, when he's worried about her becoming angry or jealous, but he has no such reason to lie, here. Therefore I believe he's being extremely genuine, and probably the most genuine he's been so far since he decided to abandon his previous lie about disliking her scent. I truly think he wanted to find out what kissing was like with this spitfire girl who'd run away with his heart already and made him feel and share things he'd never felt or shared with anyone. I hope this at least elaborated on why I see that scene the way I do! If you have questions or want me to discuss an aspect of it further, don't hesitate to hit up my inbox again! I'm happy to share my thoughts on the series and especially InuKag!

#Inuyasha #InuKag #meta #analysis #xanthippe-writes #asks #my first ask yay!

[danvolodar]

Pathologic and the Town's Russianness: 2

In part 2, let's explore the Town's social structure, compare it to what Russian Empire had before the Revolution, and see if the two are alike.

Two warnings have to be kept in mind when exploring this topic.

First, of course, the Kin are outside its scope, because they're a society quite apart from the real steppe nomads the Russian state had struggled against since before it became an Empire. So it'd be senseless to say "oh, but we can't really hear any Kin mentioned among the nobility in the Capital the way Apraksins, Arakcheevs, Yusupovs, or any number of other noble families were, thus the Capital is nothing like St.Petersburg!"

Second, when comparing the social structure shown in the game, we have to use the Imperial society as a yardstick, and not just because there's said to be an Emperor in the Capital, but because after the Empire fell, the Russian society changed quite radically, guided by purely ideological concepts, so the comparison would be meaningless from the start.

Now, that said, the society of Imperial Russia was explicitly a class-based one. There was some class mobility, and in the timeframe the game is set in the whole structure was under pressure of the new economic realities (as shown in quite a number of classical pieces, starting with, say, Checkhov's Cherry Orchard), but still, it was rigid enough.

And the Town's ruling families fit into said structure well enough.

The Kains could well be Russian nobility of the high noble stock. That works well with what the game tells us of the "blood of heroes" flowing in their veins; and it explains the source of their wealth, too.

Similarly, the Saburovs fit the mold quite well, as a nobility-for-service family. Alexander in particular is a match, with his inflexible values in his P2 depiction.

Now, the Empire had formally codified forms of address for high nobility and top-ranked officials (think "your Highness" or "your Excellency"), and our marry gang of healers, despite all being commoners, do not follow these, but it's nothing but a nitpick, since doing otherwise could've made the likeness of the Empire all too close.

The Olgimskys are a bit more of a mixed bag. They're clearly rich merchants, but they don't exactly fit the stereotypical depiction to a T, starting with Big Vlad's clean-shaven visage (compare him to the Morozovs or the Ryabushinskys, for instance). Beard fashions differed between classes, and with the number of Old Believers among the merchants (who considered shaving blasphemous), full beards were ever in style among that class - even Peter I's laws that leavied taxes on beards did little to change that. But then again, Olgimskys have a Western Slav surname, who's to tell, perhaps they come from Polish or Jewish stock, like the historical Poliyakovs.

A much more significant difference would be their apparent irreligiousity. The way religion in Pathologic 2 differs from what happened in the Russian Empire deserves its own post, I think, so I'll just note that the Olgimskys as merchants not using their religion (whatever it might be: Old Believer or mainstream Orthodox Christianity, Judaism or even Catholicism) at least as an ostentatious outlet for charity differentiates the game's setting from the Empire; same as, of course, the lack of priesthood class in its entirety.

There are other classes missing, naturally, but the reasons for that, I believe, have more to do with establishing the game's themes, as discussed in the intro part of my blog post series. Peasants cannot be shown, because fields, gardens and orchards stretching for kilometers around the Town-on-Gorkhon would undermine the theme of contraposition between the Town and the Steppe, removing the latter physically well out ofsight. Similarly, cossacks, ever present during the Empire's forays into the Eurasian steppes, cannot be present in the game: they did agriculture just as much as peasants; their presence as an organized fighting force in the Town would undermine the othering of the Army; and their styles would be too distinctive to maintain plausible difference from the historical Russian Empire.

The one class that's left to discuss are the commoners: the townsfolk and the factory workers. And they look and feel passably close to the commoners in the Empire, to a surprising degree; except, perhaps, for the shortage of facial hair and headwear. Perhaps they're even a bit too well-off for the underclass in the times when its exploitation was at its worst. Then again, the game design documents state they're meant to be "depersonalized in the utmost, a many-headed hivemind. Not a collection of individuals but a mass, devoid of color and personality. Soulless". Which is an impression of the common man normal enough for the Russian intelligentsia throughout time, yet one that I personally deeply despise, due to being a morlock myself (see also Lev Gumilev with his "what kind of intelligenstia am I when I have a profession").

So, to sum this part up: the social structure of the Town is passably Russian, the most significant difference being the lack of priesthood. The lack of the more distinctive classes, the ones that most differentiated Russia in the early XX century from the other European states of the time, can mostly be explained away by the game needing to maintain is themes and creative vision in the areas well outside of sociology.

#pathologic #мор утопия

[devilevlls]

hello cool writer. can I humbly request a sfw but very very angst (if possible) Barbatos fic with this?

-"This could either save us or ruin everything."

has too much hurt/no comfort potentional lol. sorry if its too specific but maybe bad ending for mc? :)

Hello!! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy 💚

This could either save us or ruin everything⭑.ᐟ´-

Gender-Neutral MC༘ ⋆｡˚

They couldn't help but admire Barbatos—his form, his presence, everything about him made their heart ache with longing. Perhaps they were lovesick, they mused, their gaze lingering on the majestic demon as he moved with effortless grace.

But they knew it was almost impossible to be by his side. Barbatos was someone so powerful, so meaningful, while they were just a mere human, transient and insignificant in comparison.

For a fleeting moment, they allowed their mind to speak out loud, the words tumbling forth with a vulnerability they couldn't suppress.

"Barbatos," they whispered, their voice barely a breath against the weight of uncertainty that hung in the air. "Do you ever wish things could be different? That we could defy fate and carve out our own path together?"

They waited, holding their breath as if afraid of the answer, knowing that the truth could either shatter their fragile hope or breathe new life into their wildest dreams. “No, I wouldn’t change a thing. Why do you ask, MC?” He speaks calmly.

"I wish we had a timeline where we could end up together. Life is so cruel," MC murmured, their gaze fixed on the swirling depths of their tea, as if seeking solace in its dark embrace.

"Soulmates are destined to meet, not be together, my darling," Barbatos replied, his voice tinged with a melancholy that mirrored MC's own. With a gentle smile, he poured another cup of tea, his tail swaying in a silent rhythm of understanding.

"But… what if we could escape? To another reality?" MC's voice trembled with desperation, their fingers tracing the delicate patterns of the teacup in search of answers that eluded them.

"This could either save us or ruin everything. Timelines aren't clear and definitive, they are blurry, risky, and things could change with the smallest of details," Barbatos explained, his gaze meeting MC's with a depth of understanding that spoke of lifetimes spent in quiet contemplation. He moved to sit beside them, offering a sense of comfort that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

"Please, drink it. I made it especially for you," Barbatos said softly, his hand resting on MC's, a silent promise woven into the fabric of their shared sorrow. He didn’t seem bothered. Maybe that’s what being completely powerful meant. There was no logic for an immortal being like him to worry about such thing, so useless, so… meaningless.

And as they sipped their tea together, the bitter taste of inevitability mingled with the sweet warmth of companionship, reminding them that even in a world where soulmates were destined to part, the bond they shared would endure, a beacon of light in the endless expanse of time.

Drabble prompts you can use in your requests!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me one master to rule them all #evllsposts #obey me drabble #obey me writing #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me angst #obey me swd #obey me writings #obey me x reader #evllsasks

[0unluckystar0]

Embrace

Summary:

Aventurine jolted upwards, drenched in a cold sweat and breathing faster than ever. This has become a common occurrence, he decides to go to the one person he could trust, whether he liked it or not.

Pairing: Aventurine x Dr Ratio

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

wc: 836

Aventurine shot out of bed, his heart beating out of his chest and a sob climbing up his throat. It was always the same nightmare, except this one doesn’t fade like the rest. The thought was hard to deal with and left his chest feeling a strange sense of hollowness.

It was at this point that Aventurine knew he couldn’t do this anymore and got out of his bed. He had to do something about this ache.

If there was anyone that could help, it would be Dr Ratio. He was the only one who would have even a semblance of understanding for how he felt. Of course, he had many people he could turn to, but it wasn’t the same, It was just a bit different. He had always felt content whenever he was with the doctor.

Aventurine held his pillow closely to his chest and trotted over to the room the doctor was residing in. Opening the door, he could see that Ratio was snoring softly, his violet hair mussed and his mouth slightly open.

Dr Ratio had a pillow tucked in his arms and Aventurine wanted to be that pillow. He wanted to be in between Ratio’s arms and allow the doctor to hold him gently. It’s what he needed at the moment. But he couldn’t just wedge himself in, he would probably get smacked, so he went for the next best thing.

“Hey, Doctor?” He mumbled and poked Ratio’s cheek. Other than a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, nothing happened. Of course. Why would Ratio respond to something that meaningless? He’d have to be more harsh, even though he didn’t exactly have the energy for that kind of thing.

He tried one more time. “Ratio?”

Aventurine sighed, just then an idea sprung into his head as a mischievous smirk spread across his face, he raised his arm slowly and hit the doctor with his pillow. That wasn’t a bad way to wake him up, right? Whatever. He needed him to get up already.

Ratio shifted in his sleep, his face scrunching up, but ultimately was unphased. Aventurine tried again and this time, finally, the doctor’s eyes snapped open, his hands moving to rub them. Suddenly, he sprang upright like a corpse rising from the dead, his head whipping round to meet Aventurine’s gaze.

“Gambler, you utter fool! Has your brain ceased to function, why the aeons would you do that you buffoon?” Dr Ratio looked at him, drowsiness still etched into his features as he blinked wearily. Aventurine tightened his hold on his pillow.

“Doctor, can I…” He trailed off. “Can I sleep with you?” He knew there was a possibility that Ratio would say no, but he was too kind-hearted for that. Still, somewhere in his heart was a seed of anxiety, and it had been growing rather quickly ever since he woke up. What if he did say no? And he wouldn’t blame the doctor either.

Ratio’s expression softened as he scooted over and placed the pillow that was in his arms to the side. Aventurine climbed on top of the bed and laid down, Ratio throwing the blanket on top of the both of them.

The gambler had tossed his own pillow aside as well, knowing full well that it was nothing in comparison to Ratio. His chest was the best pillow. It was soft, warm, and so very gentle. The feeling of being near him was something an inanimate object could never beat.

Ratio wrapped his arm around Aventurine’s middle and tugged him closer. Aventurine wrapped his own arms around Ratio in turn and buried himself into the others chest. Ratio was warm. The doctor made that seed of anxiety in his heart dissipate. The kind of comfort only he could bring.

Ratio smiled as he cupped the gamblers face and leaned in to give him a kiss to the forehead, and gambler pulled back and opened his eyes to see the doctor staring at him, fondness swirling in the pools of amber that Aventurine found himself getting lost in.

Moments like these really made his heart melt, enough to melt it completely and leave nothing but a bunch of mush.

Ratio’s fondness was intoxicating. All of that love being directed his way made him indescribably happy. Maybe it was because he felt the exact same way that this love felt even better.

The blond haired man tucked his head underneath Ratio’s chin and rested against his chest.

Badump. Badump.

The sound of Dr Ratio’s heart was soothing. It had a gentleness that must’ve been special to Ratio. It was a wonderful sound to listen to.

The sound was soothing, so soothing in fact, that Aventurine felt himself grow more and more sleepy by the second. Wrapped in the warmth of his close friend, he fell asleep with a lighter heart.

#hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #dr ratio x aventurine #dr ratio #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #0unluckystar0 #hurt/comfort #asks #hsr ratio #ratiorine

[grimlins-chaos]

The numbness that comes with an unfulfilled promise..

It was quiet for the most part, petals and leaves fall from the boughs above and flutter down to the city below, a few of them landing upon the surface of the lake that Alaantheria had been simply observing, her face still a bit numb from the fresh mark- but that paled in comparison to the numbness she felt in her heart and soul. She finally got to prove herself as someone of worth, not only earning the mark of shadow, but also the Scythe of Elune. The elf looked over the fantastic weapon with tired eyes. She hardly felt anything, not just in regards to her accomplishment but to all things im general. All of it felt so meaningless. She knows all her friends are worried about her, it wasn't till some time recently when she finally gained the strength to be out amongst people again- but now she was alone. The sounds of revarly from those of the guild and other kal'dorei celebrating her and her party's accomplishments, she should be happy, she should be proud. But she just.. can't..

"For someone having finally earned her marks, you don't seem too happy to bear them." A gentle voice came from behind, causing the young elf to turn around and be just a bit surprised to see the High Priestess herself of all people standing there.

Alaantheria wasn't quite sure how to verbalize it, she didn't feel like she could speak up about it even though all of her friends hadn't ever shut her down before- some of them know their own losses and she's experienced loss herself throughout her life. There was just something about this loss that cut deeper than anything else and she didn't know how to explain it. "I'm just thinking about things, High Priestess, pay no mind to me." Alaan managed a small smile, one that felt so.. wrong to put on.

The older woman's lips quirked into a mildly unimpressed frown, brows furroed as she cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, making it clear she saw right through the young elf. "We should be truthful with ourselves, Young one. And Tyrande, please." She says as she walks up to the railing to stand beside Alaantheria. "I wouldn't be a very good priestess if I were to turn a blind eye to one of my people clearly suffering, especially on a day that's supposed to be a joyus one for her. What's on your mind, child?"

Alaan sighed a bit, her smile turning into a wristful grimace. "Where to even begin.." She turned to look over the railing, resting her arms on it as she rested her weight against it. "There was someone supposed to be here.. and he's.." She paused, throat becoming tight with emotion as she could feel the tears threatening to return. "Not.." She managed to force out.

Given her demeanor and the tension throughout the druid, Tyrande seemed to have understood pretty quickly how this somebody so dear to the girl may have departed. It was but one of many reasons why she hates the legion so passionately- the way they managed to rip so many loved ones away from people, often in the most brutal and cruel ways imaginable.

Alaantheria took in a sharp deep breath, attempting to compose herself and continued. "H-he was caught in an explosion, sacrificing himself to save others." The bitter bile rose to the back of her throat, tears forming at the edge of her eyes. She wanted so badly to be in his arms again, to feel his warm envelope her tight, even toward the end when he began to drift away from her she always knew there was something in him that loved her. Now.. now she's never felt more cold.

She was met with the feeling of a hand brushing over her leafy green hair as Tyrande spoke. "The love you shared with him I can tell was one of the greatest.. and also the most painful.. Raw, pure, forever enduring.." Tyrande looked out over the lake view. "While I've only ever nearly lost him, to be left behind while my love left to help the world or to walk the emerald dream filled me with a very similar pain- to be alone while your heart is out of your reach and you're left with the phantom feeling of them at your side.. it cuts deeper than any blade. And the whole they leave behind feels like you're standing on the edge of a gaping chasm that has no end.."

The words alone were enough to do her over, tears spilling down her freshly marked face as she buried her face in her hands and her body began to be raked with sobs, finally mourning as she never truly got to express before and it hurt- it hurt so much. Why did he have to go? It could have been anyone else, but it was him. And a part of her hating him for leaving her behind, but she also couldn't bring herself to be mad at him for many more would have died. She just missed him, she wanted him home so badly.

The priestess gently stroked the younger elf's hair, giving her all the time she needed to grieve. In time Alaantheria managed to calm down, setting her hands down as she looked over the calm lake before her, seeing herself in it's reflection, in that beautiful attire with her face flushed and her eyes wet and puffy from tears. And all she could manage were a few words in a weak and she sounded so small. "I don't know where to go from here.."

Tyrande reached over and picked a small violet flower from a vine that had been growing as one with the railing as much as the rest of the vegetation that simply merged with Darnassus' structures. "Do you know why I gave you the mark of shadow?" She merely asked, causing Alaan to look up at her, confused. Tyrande however merely smiled in return, tucking the stem of the flower into the green hair just above her ear. "Associated with the night warrior of legend, it was believed that the mark of shadow represented balance and hidden potential." She then cupped the side of the girl's flushed cheek. "If I had to guess he recognized you have so much more to give than you even realize. And now he's given you the opportunity to show the world what you can do, show just how strong you are. Take the light of his memory and the love that he gave you and live." Her expression softened as she then tugged the other elf into her arms. "He may not be here in body to watch you but I have a feeling that like I and like so many to came to see you today that he is so proud of you."

That seemed to finally grab a shakey but genuine smile out of Alaantheria as she returned the hug and the tears returned, accompanied by a small ball of warmth deep in her chest. The pain was still there.. it'd never go away, but she believed she understood what she had to do now.

#night elf #world of warcraft #warcraft #wow #tyrande whisperwind #kaldorei #art #my art #fic snippet

[utilitycaster]

Why do you think Imogen/Laudna is not comparable to Caleb/Veth? At the start of C3, I thought they were similar and thought it was a strange how much Imogen/Laudna was being held up as the pinnacle of relationships in comparison to the hate/minimization that Caleb/Veth got. But I rewatched C2E27 and remembered how honestly they talked through their disagreement, which was way different from Imogen/Laudna's C3E27 reconciliation after the gnarlrock drama. What are your thoughts about it?

(got another anon on this as well as I was writing this up, so other anon, this is also for you!)

That's exactly the same moment I was thinking of! Veth and Caleb are able to disagree with each other in a way Imogen and Laudna aren't. Honestly, even from earlier, they're able to ask things of each other - Caleb outright asks Nott if she'll run away with him, alone, away from the group, if his reveal to Beau goes badly. Nott, even when half the party is missing, in the wake of Molly's death, when all she has is Beau (who she's known for a month and a half) and two allies she's known for a couple of days at most, is able to say "Wrong." to Caleb about something as important, but also as unnecessary as admitting that he cares about the other party members as friends, not just useful alliances. And that's the other thing - Nott is actively encouraging Caleb to make other connections and embracing her own new friendships, and she's willing to risk Caleb being mad with her - which for her, means risking her chance to get back her own body and life - to do it. And this is after less than a year of knowing him.

Laudna can't even say "will you promise not to side with the person who murdered me," let alone point out that Otohan also murdered Fearne, Orym, Eshteross, and Orym's husband and father-in law or that Ludinus casually destroyed Kadija's mind. She can't say this to someone she's lived and traveled with for two years, when the other five party members would all agree with her and stand by her. There's no trust. You know the phrase "if you love someone, let them go?" Laudna's too terrified to let go, and Veth isn't.

(I should note - I like Caleb and Veth's dynamic a lot but I never shipped them; but I also will defend them against anyone who denies that there were feelings, or who tries to pretend that Veth's statement that Caleb was like a son to her overrides her later statements about having a crush, or, you know, the fact that they aren't actually related so who the fuck cares. I mean, Vex and Keyleth canonically tell each other they consider each other sisters and that never stopped anyone. So this does come from a place of not shipping either of these pairs.)

So this is why "Imogen and Laudna were never given choices" statement is so hollow and meaningless. Because they're rendering themselves powerless and stripping themselves of all choices. They can't draw boundaries. (For what it's worth, Campaign 1's codependent pair, the twins, are able to draw boundaries without issue; Vax tells Vex to lay off Keyleth quite explicitly despite having only recently agonized over being separated from her for a few days). They can't choose themselves. They can't challenge each other or encourage each other's growth or ask something so important and yet so small as being honest with one's self. They're just so stuck in this holding pattern, even after they've grown in power and seen the possibility of losing each other, whereas Caleb and Veth's relationship constantly changes as they support and challenge each other and ask things of each other. You know what Veth does in episode 48 of that campaign? She screams at Caleb in anger because people connected to him hurt her family, even though Caleb has long since left those people and was a victim himself. Laudna can't even stand up for herself to Imogen (and we know Laudna can stand up for herself; that's what she's doing in the scene with Ashton) against her own murderer, even as Imogen outright entertains the possibility of allying with the Vanguard.

Caleb and Veth trust each other and themselves to still love and care for each other if they disagree. Laudna and Imogen do not.

#answered #Anonymous #critical role spoilers #caleb widogast #veth brenatto #imogen temult #laudna

[infernal-heart]

Cannot stop thinking about your post on the similarities between the judgement hall and the school. I was wondering if you could elaborate on more thoughts on that? Or I guess, who do you think would be the ‘judge’ in deltarune?

I absolutely can elaborate, yeah. Beyond the birds that I mentioned in the original post, the school in the afternoon specifically is, like the judgement hall, quiet. It’s almost eerily so. You and Susie are alone in this place, and I think it nails the atmosphere really well. Which is to say, it recontextualizes the same atmosphere we know (walking up to Sans in the judgement hall in UT, getting the speech about LV and EXP. But of course, more memorably, the Bad Time quote) aka one of relative dread, to one that is overtly… peaceful.

Don’t get me wrong, I still think it’s eerie. Any space alone is, but after all of Chapter 1, you’re left alone in this near-silent space. But it isn’t oppressive. It isn’t angry, or dangerous. It’s just… lonely. Isolated.

Uncanny is the word I’m looking for. Of course, devoid of the context of the UT Judgement Hall, I think a lot of the power of the atmosphere is lost. But with that context, with the foreknowledge of such a pivotal place in the story of that game, one naturally asks oneself: “What’s the connection here? Why is this place calling my mind back to the judgement hall?”.

Of course, I can’t definitively explain that because I’m not Toby, but I can guess. The end of the chapter(s) is itself important story moments, points of downtime. And, crucially, moments where important things happen. While comparing the story of DT and UT is probably meaningless, I think it bears some weight that right after you are in an environment eerily and intentionally similar to Judgement Hall, you are given the game’s first look into a shakeup of the traditional rules or formula. In UT, Asgore breaks your mercy button. In DT, the end of Chapter 1 shows us the first clear indication that something is awry between Kris and the Soul. Something to consider.

Backpedaling for a moment, the comparison between the school and the judgement hall isn’t just, y’know, musical or audio-based: this environment does literally look like the judgement hall. The yellow, checkered flooring, the light coming in through the windows. It’s very, very reminiscent, and as I’ve said many times at this point, Toby clearly meant this.

(Also, point of intrigue that is not entirely relevant to this discussion, but is interesting: the Dark World closet door looks suspiciously similar to a number of doors in the True Lab)

But I digress.

As for who I think a “judge” might be…

I think if there were one mechanically, we’d probably have to wait until near the end of DT as a whole to see. Given Sans/the Judgement Hall’s placement in undertale, if there were an analog to that in DT, we probably aren’t far enough along in the story to have seen them.

However.

I think that the Secret Bosses (Jevil and Spamton so far) serve a similar purpose as Sans narratively in DT that he did in UT.

Sans was written to be a very rounded character. He was never important, and that was the point: he’s a watcher, really. A judge. He takes the sum of what you’ve done, and displays it to you in a succinct package, both during the Judgement Hall sequence and the post-neutral run phone calls. He serves as almost a summary to the player, an in-universe perspective on what your actions mean for others. And, of course, his role as a Judge (being almost reactive to your own as player) takes on a new meaning in the no-mercy/kill everything run, being your final challenge before world domination, and universal destruction. He puts up a good fight, as we all know. But he isn’t doing it because he wants to kill you: he knows he doesn’t truly have that power. As Sans says himself, he is trying to make you bored. Stopping you by being such an inconvenience that you, the player, will give up. That is to say, he knows more than most of the cast either lets on (Papyrus may have a similar level of timeline-knowledge, I don’t know enough about it to say for sure) or genuinely is aware of.

That’s the key point of similarity: Sans serves the role of somebody (other than Flowey, the main villain) who, in some part, understands your actions and your agency. He’s somebody to bounce off of, I think.

And this is reflected in the secret bosses, most obviously in Spamton. He is, in the end, the single character we have met in DT who understands Kris and their relationship with the Soul (aside from MAYBE Noelle in Snowgrave but. It’s just speculation at that point I think). He is himself a puppet, and recognizes Kris as a kindred spirit, somebody bound to their strings as he is. Both the bosses, him and Jevil, share one attribute with eachother: amongst other things, they seek or believe themselves to be “Free”. Jevil believes he is the only one outside the cage, that he can do anything he wishes. Spamton yearns for freedom, to be cut from his strings and let loose. He wants your Soul because he knows it can set him free from his strings.

All of that is to prove what I said before: that in UT, Sans, and in DT, Jevil and Spamton, are almost… reflections of the player. I hesitate to use the word foils, but I think one could make a case for it.

All of that aside, if I had to guess, from our current list of characters, who a “Judge” might be?

My inclination is to say Susie. I think it would be impactful writing-wise to have her, a character Kris actively works at being friends with during chapter 1 and 2, end up being a force of karmic confrontation in regards to the actions of the player.

But if we’re thinking about this in terms of Sans’ role in UT, the “judge” character probably won’t be particularly central to the plot, and Susie absolutely is. Maybe Asriel? As a character established in his UT incarnation to have an understanding of timeline malarkey, and as the closest thing to a peer within that game to the player, he could provide a good way of being that in-universe perspective of karma that Sans was in UT.

I’m also somewhat apprehensive about him, though, given how important he is to Kris, and how important him coming to visit from college will/would be.

Again, I don’t think any Judge character (if we’re going off of a similar framework as Sans) will be somebody crucial to the story.

But I could be wrong. Ralsei presents a compelling case, I think, because he also knows something is up with Kris and the soul. We see both in Chapter 1 and Chapter 2, each time we (the player) shift perspectives from Kris to Susie, we return to Kris just as Ralsei finishes talking with them. It’s suspicious. It’s intriguing. It’s never touched upon, never mentioned at all, but it is an element of the story that I think will be important going forward. If anybody is to confront the Soul, other than Kris, I think it will be Ralsei, or maybe some plan put in motion by Ralsei.

Not that I think Ralsei is, like, oooh an evil mastermind and all that like some theories do. But he’s… smart. Smarter than he lets on. And he absolutely knows more than he gives willingly. (As a side note, even before thinking about him in this capacity, on my first Chapter 2 playthrough, I got weird vibes from Ralsei. The changed sprite, and a few instances of changed demeanor seemed… off, to me. Something has absolutely changed about him between chapters).

I’ll leave this post off with one more thing that I’m sure you’re well aware of at this point:

The Bunker.

The only other location with the sound of birds from the Judgement hall.

The only other specific location with a direct audio link to Undertale.

And the one place, I’d say, most associated with Gaster in the Deltarune world.

It’s this. This sort of thing, this kind of mystery, that I love Deltarune (and Undertale) for.

Why are the same birds out here, and (to my knowledge), nowhere else but the school?

Why is Gaster’s Entry 17 emanating, like a dying cry, from behind the closed doors, and beneath the earth?

Why does the sound of the birds cut out when you approach the bunker, leaving you in total silence but for the ragged memory of something you were never supposed to see?

That’s the question, I suppose. And the questions that I love to think about in UT and DT.

Gods, I love the mysteries in these games.

#deltarune chapter 2 spoilers #deltarune spoilers #undertale #snowgrave #spamton #jevil deltarune #jevil #kris deltarune #kris dreemurr #judgement hall #long post