#Imagine the butchering of characters

[gabbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

Imagine if That’s Not My Neighbor came out during the same time as Cuphead, Bendy, Undertale, etc. (mid 2016-early 2019)

Imagine the fandom.

[bohemianblasphemy]

soft things i think that billy butcher would do because i said so ✨✨ (mildly nsfw)

- he is a cuddler. i’m sorry i don’t make the rules but can you imagine being in those strong arms??? after making love, he pulls you on top of his chest. stroking your hair, tracing patterns on your skin with his large hands, just holding you close and listening to your breathing slow after coming down from you high.

- when y’all are spooning, he will pull you closer to him, its a massive comfort for him when you are pretty much glued to his chest knowing that you’re not going anywhere.

- likes watching you doing literally anything. you’re cooking? doing your morning routine? playing with terror? he is always watching, admiring every detail about you, softly smiling about how his love looks flawless doing absolutely anything.

- has a photo of you in his wallet. when he’s on a mission he will spend a lot of time looking at that photo, thinking of good times with you.

- he is always touching you- absolutely stuck to you like velcro. if you’re making coffee/tea he will come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and place his head on your shoulder. walking down the street he is glued to you just to keep you safe and near him.

i love him

[mlmxreader]

Insecurity | Billy Butcher x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ probably a lil ooc, but i was wondering where reader is insecure about their body and Billy makes them feel better and hes like idk rly soft? it doesnt have to be smut, but idm if it is, thats up to u.

if you dont want to write this then maybe number 9. "Getting into a fight because someone insulted them"

6. "I got you, you're okay"

1. "The first time you said you loved me - that was my best day" - @loganbcrnes ❞

: ̗̀➛ Billy immediately picks up on it when you're not feeling your best, and in his own way, he tries to make you feel better.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing (obvioisly), use of the word "fag" as a slang term, mentions of smoking, sex references, insecurity

↳ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Billy eyed you carefully from his place at the desk, hunched over slightly as he kept his dark brown eyes on you; hardly able to ignore the way you tried to make yourself blend into your surroundings, and how you always quickly looked away when you caught your reflection on your phone screen. He wasn't an idiot.

He knew what was going on, just as he knew why you had been distant from him lately, too. Usually, you would sit next to him with your feet on his thighs, relaxed and taking up as much space as possible. Not today.

No. Instead, you were trying to make yourself invisible, and he knew what was going on; but Billy was far from the most courteous of men, and when everyone else left the two of you behind, he cleared his throat, and dared to smile a little.

"Oi!" He practically shouted. "C'mere."

"Billy, don't," you sighed, shaking your head.

Billy clenched his jaw a little bit. "C'mere, please. I got a bone t'pick with you."

You rolled your eyes, all but marching over to him; your hands stuffed into the pockets of your oversized hoodie. Gaze on the ground. "What?"

"Y'know," he hummed, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk. "The day I saw you, that were the day I fuckin' well realised the moon ain't the most breathtakin' thing."

"Seriously?" You deadpanned.

"Yeah, seriously," he nodded. "Every fuckin' day I look at you, I don't fuckin' get it. How a cunt like me managed to pull someone as fit as you... bloody well beyond me."

You were about to move away, brush him off and ignore his words completely, when he gently coaxed you to stand between his legs; forcing you to maintain eye contact with him.

"Billy-"

"Shut up and listen, alright?" He huffed. "You can fuckin' sit in your corner fuckin' mopin' about like some crybaby cunt all you like - I don't give a toss. But if you asked me? I'd say you was fuckin' peng. And I'd mean it. I fuckin' well would."

"It's not my looks..." you muttered. "I really... Billy, I don't wanna talk about it, alright? There's people with nicer, better bodies than me and-"

"Yeah, but that's your body, innit?" Billy shrugged, almost grinning. "And 'cause it's your body, I happ'n to think it's better than any other cunt's body."

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. "You're only saying that-"

"'Cause what?" He quirked a brow. "There ain't no one here but you an' me, so it ain't like I'm tryin' to fuckin' play with you. It's just us, and I'm sat here, tellin' you: I like your body."

"Billy-"

He tapped your thigh gently. "I like how these rest on me lap when you sit next to me on the sofa."

You rolled your eyes.

He gently tapped your stomach. "I like how soft this is, and how I gets to put me hand on it when we sleep."

You glared at him.

Softly, he tapped your chest. "I like how this presses up against me back in the mornin' when you sneak out for your mornin' fag an' come back."

"How'd you-"

He gently traced his fingers from your shoulders to your elbows. "I like how these feel around me when we're snuggled up watchin' shit horror films."

He grabbed your wrists, grinning. "And most of all, I fuckin' love how these feel wrapped around-"

"You're disgusting!" You laughed, snatching your hands back and fondly shaking your head. "Vile!"

"There's that award winnin' smile," he grinned, letting you go. "Y'know, you don't need the fuckin' perfect body. The one you got is the one that's alright."

"Thanks..." you mumbled, daring to gently pat his cheek. "I know you're trying..."

"I got you," Billy said, as softly as he could allow himself to. "I got you, you're okay. I ain't goin' nowhere yet... unless you and M.M's gonna watch that shit again, that fuckin', what is it? Downton? You watch that and I'm buggerin' off down pub."

You nodded, taking in a deep breath as you smiled. "You are the loveliest bastard I've never met, you know that, don't you?"

He shrugged, sitting back down and putting his feet on the desk again; his hands folded in his lap as he grinned at you. "Yeah, but you fuckin' love me."

"Unfortunately," you hummed, sitting on his desk with your arms folded. "Y'know... some days... just some, I think about what my best day was, and I know."

"Hmm?"

"The first time you said you loved me - that was my best day," you said quietly, picking at the loose skin at the side of your thumb nail.

Billy took a moment, observing you carefully. "Pretty sure that was my best fuckin' day, in all. Can't lie... but, say - why don't me an' you grab a quick Chinese? The others ain't gonna be back for yonks, so we can sit down, have a nice Chinese, and watch that fuckin' Take Me Out bollocks you like, eh?"

You grinned as you nodded, clearing your throat. "That's the best idea you've had in a while, y'know... d'you reckon we could order in?"

"Don't see why not," Billy admitted. "Ain't like Homelander's gonna disguise himself as a lowly fuckin' delivery bloke now, issit?"

"True," you agreed with a slow nod.

"G'on," he told you quietly, gesturing with a quick nod. "Go grab the leaflet, we'll see what's good - and it's whatever you want in all. Starters, puddin', whole lot - anythin' you want, order it."

"Alright, Sir," you teased. "No need to bark orders at me."

"Can do a lot more than that," Billy smiled, raising his brows. "All you gotta do is fuckin' ask."

You hopped off of his desk, feeling your stomach rumble loudly. "I might take you up on that later, but... Bill?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks," you told him quietly. "I, erm... I needed all that, and I appreciate it."

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

thank you so much for reading, but if I may have your attention for a brief moment: Fadi needs help to evacuate himself & his family from Gaza as urgently as possible. if you DO have the means to, then please, consider even giving just £1, it would make all the difference to a family in dire circumstances.

[dianesdiaries]

first day, nervous? | Homelander x Y/n

-Homelander is introduced to his newest assistant after Ashley went AWOL, and Y/n's expectations were more then she knew

-Soft foreplay/tension

NOTE: this is a draft so I might finish it later!!

"Hey, you're finally here! Took long enough".

His teeth creaked into a wide smile, almost as forced as the wide floor-to ceiling doors that ringed in my ears. I shuffled quietly towards the curved slim table, as the slender man ran his fingers along the rims. Blonde silky streaks ran through his hair, his eyes squinted as he pushed his strands back. Homelander was a peculiar choice for a leader. As I sat down and watched him glide around the table, he leaned daringly close into my presence. "So what made you decide Vought? I checked your resume you know, you seem pretty-under qualified. Sorry", Homelander chuckled away the awkwardness of his sentence. It was pretty clear he thought I didn't have the brains for it. "Well", I pushed my glasses back into my face, avoiding the gaze of the daring supe. "I've been in association with many government institutions and have worked for-"

"Blahhh Blahhhh"

It took a minute for me to take in his approach. So far, in the past six minutes we've gotten to know each other I can already see how 'bright' my future will be at Vought. "I want the real truth. Everybody comes here looking for fucking power- whether they have it or not. So, again. Why are you here?" he asked, his voice became stern as he ran his fingers across my shoulders. My body bolted at the feeling, his gloves curving along my collar. The one thing I could be sure on was his need for praise. He wanted me to tell him how great he was. He needed to hear exactly what I thought of him so he knew how to approach me. And he found exactly how. By fear.

I chuckled nervously, "Well, I-uh.. Was looking for a new job because I guess I got tired of the same... form after form stuff, you know?", sweat leaked like a tap from my temples, streaking through the bright curtains that swayed back and forth. Homelander dove into the next chair, quickly spinning mine to face him. My legs became entrapped between his, his arms leaning between my seat. "I think.. You'll find just what you're looking for here. Besides.. you work for me. Right?", his eyes asserted a cold shiver through my body. "That's right, sir". "And you'll do whatever I say?", the air became still with his words. my breaths encased into my cavity, the struggle to find wiggle room became worse. Of course he's my boss but.. God, he was so close. I bit my lip at the careless thought of us, I'd already had fallen for what he had planned before I walked into that room.

"Yes sir".

"Anything?", curiosity sparked in his words as he leaned closer, his hands barely caressing between my legs.

"Yes, sir", the yearning in my voice grew louder, my back arching to the sharp feeling of his fingers climbing inside my shirt. His lips pressed into mine, his passive hand making its way through my pencil-tight skirt. The soft hum of his grunts buzzed against my lips, it drove me crazy. He knew exactly what I wanted. He knew the words to say. He felt my heart pace before I had the chance to sit down. An unpredictable supe is never good news, so why do I want it so bad?

[awerzo]

Found someone selling an unopened secondhand copy of Pathologic for like, half or even quarter of a price ppl normally sell a used copy for.

She is now on a honorary place in my cd collection <3

[harmonity-vibes]

Imagine them doing some kind of crossover between "The last of us", "The boys" and "Supernatural" Woah that would be crazy!🤯

This gifs does not belong to me, all credits go to the owner.

[imaginesupernaturalig]

As you lay in bed you feel a hand move lightly over your hip as it lands at your arm. The mattress sinking with his weight. With all his might he gently moves his hips till they meet yours, moving oh so slightly as to not wake you. (Jokes on him, you're already awake but don't move to give yourself away)

The slight tickle of his hot breath adds to your neck. It doesn't irritate just make your chest cave harder. A slight moan escapes his lips as he rests his head. You bite your lip. As your body temperature rises you stay steady. His thumb goes back and forth on your arm in one little spot. He does this absently when he's content.

A slight smile curves your lips, you bet he'd been thinking about this all day.

[screwpinecaprice]

Ah I forgot I made this last October. Patreon request for connverse family photo (with middle-aged Connie and Steven and adult kiddos) requested by Connversin!

Ebony and Sakura(?)'s faces (the two above Lion) didn't turn out the way that I wanted to look, but overall with my record, not bad for something I drew under three hours. lol

[oldtvandcomics]

I know that it is silly nonsense, but part of me seems to not have given up all hope yet regarding a repeat of the 2020 US Election Miracle, complete with random ships that no-one in their right mind would expect to go canon to actually go canon. Except that things really seem quite desperate, regarding the levels of apathy I keep seeing here. So, like, maybe Destiel is not strong enough to save us from this one.

No, we need something even more powerful. We need Stucky.

CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW FUNNY THAT WOULD BE?!

Save us, Captain America.

[bittersweetarts]

How to Disappear - Chapter 1

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x OC

Word count: 2389 words

Summary: Eden Reid can't help her curiosity, and Soldier Boy can't help but take advantage of that curiosity.

WARNINGS: Some depiction of violence, misogyny, and the usual TW for it being The Boys (Amazon)

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - AO3 Page

Chapter 1: An Act of Kindness

Eden Reid was at the start of her daily fucking crack ass of the dawn morning jog across Laurance Harbor Beach, sandy-brown hair up in a high pony, dressed in her usual bland sweats and black running shoes, when she came across him, unconscious along the shoreline, the waves repeatedly caressing him, gently, before retreating.

As she stared at him, the young woman noticed his tattered costume and the bruising littered on his face and skin, and that he did not appear to be breathing. For a moment, Eden contemplated what to do, because she knew that she couldn’t take him to any emergency room or call 911.

Because she knew exactly who he was.

Of course, she knew exactly who he fucking was, pretty much most of the world knew who exactly he fucking was.

He was Soldier Boy, the old leader of Payback, fought in all those important wars in the last century, America’s first and greatest Supe, a man who was supposed to be dead and yet somehow was now alive, lying on the beach in front of her.

And apparently now a Super-Terrorist, according to the news outlets, who for the past week have only been reporting on the attack on the Seven Tower, and how Queen Maeve had successfully saved the country with her sacrificial takedown of Soviet-brainwashed Soldier Boy; his defeat was supposed to be symbolic of a new age for freedom and safety for the masses.

Unlike most of the people Eden knew though, she wasn’t blinded by the lies fed to the masses on a silver spoon by the media and corporations like Vought International.

Eden knew, Eden knew all too well that Supes were nothing but selfish bastards at best, and that none of them give a single fuck about saving others. Eden knew that the mainstream media hyperinflated the heroism of ‘heroes’, and failed to report the deaths of normal civilians, who were nothing more than simply collateral damage. And Eden knew that if she was told that unconscious man lying before her was nothing but a villain, then that was not the full story.

And she knew this all this because if her abilities were not so weak, she would have been just another Supe on Vought or some other fuck’s payroll, spouting the exact same bullshit.

But no, her ability of super strength was, ironically, too weak to even be considered as a D-list Supe, despite her family’s dreams for her, and now in her mid-twenties, she wastes her days away as a receptionist at a private clinic in East Brunswick. So much for the glamorous life of the ‘super-abled’.

However, her abilities were not weak enough apparently to carry the heavy ass man before her. Although he did not appear much taller than she was, he was at least twice her size, and as she lifted him up into her arms, Eden gave a silent prayer, hoping that she wouldn’t see a single living soul as she carried the unconscious vigilante to her car, and that the oversized grey zip that she draped over him concealed his appearance well enough.

What the fuck was is my problem? Eden thought as she dropped Soldier Boy into the trunk of Mazda, a black SUV she bought years ago when she moved out of her childhood home.

Eden didn’t need this shit. It’s been years since she dropped out of Godolkin and left behind the world of fucked up Supes and drugs, and she was at peace living in solitude at her cabin by Norvin Green Forest. She didn’t need to get herself involved in dangerous shit. So why had she gotten herself involved by kidnapping the unconscious man who was lying in the trunk of her vehicle?

Eden couldn’t explain it. To call it a curiosity would be an understatement; it was more like a compulsion. She had acted thoughtlessly, as though she were possessed by something, and now, on her half hour drive back to her home in the woods, Eden began to regret what she had done.

Days passed and life continued as normal for Eden. She kept her unconscious house guest in a spare bedroom of her small cabin, and went to her 9 to 5 throughout the work week as usual.

In a way, Eden hoped that if Soldier Boy woke up in her home, he would simply leave, and that she would not have to meet him or explain anything. But every evening, following her commute, Eden was greeted by her dark home, and when checking on her guest, she found him unconscious, but still alive and in her spare bed.

Eden often thought about whether she should call the cops or to dump the unconscious Supe back at the beach (or literally anywhere else). But she did not do that, because she knew that by this point, it would simply make her a walking target either for Vought or the government, and really, it was a miracle that she had not been caught transporting him to her place from the beach. For all she knew though, some government entity or Vought was spying on her this very minute.

So instead, the young woman resigned herself to the guest bedroom, where she left Soldier Boy to lay on the queen-sized bed, most of its real estate which he occupied. As he lay there motionless, Eden would periodically cleanse his face and exposed skin with a damp wash cloth (not knowing what else to do that would help him), before covering him with a light blanket. For the rest of the night, Eden would sit on the cream armchair by him, mindlessly watching the news on the small TV set in the room, on low volume, while thinking about anything and everything.

It's not that Eden did not have anything else to do, or that she had no one. Eden prefers to consider her lifestyle as a self-imposed exile, because she knew that she could not rely on anyone. Disconnecting herself from the world, being in nature, was healing to her, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t get herself to trust anyone, not anymore.

And so, Eden spent several weeks like this, working during the day, going on her daily runs (though now in the forest rather than the beach), and barely sleeping at night, passively watching the news and her unconscious guest, who’s bruising slowly faded away. Soldier Boy looked exactly as he did in his old film, Red Thunder, Eden noticed, and had not aged in the slightest, which bewildered her.

But despite being the vision of health, Soldier Boy did not wake, and Eden did not know what to do.

More often than Eden would like to admit, Eden watched Soldier Boy, observing his long lashes and the way his now steady breathing never wavered – not even when Eden would wipe a damp wash cloth across his body – and she noticed how quickly his stubble grew into a fuller beard, but never to the point of the point of overgrowth, despite the lack of grooming.

Eden also noticed how humorous it was that practically the only topic on the news channels was Soldier Boy himself, and how it was reported that he was not a Super-Terrorist anymore, but an odd dichotomy of hero and victim to Soviet radicalization. And so, the narrative shifted, not that she believed it to be the full truth. Yet something Eden knew to be true was not on any news channel or online forum: Soldier Boy was not dead but alive, albeit unconscious in some cabin hidden away in the mountains.

Or rather that was the truth, until Soldier Boy regained consciousness.

It happened so quickly, and Eden was not entirely awake to even process exactly what happened.

One moment, Eden was drifting into sleep, in her usual seat on the armchair, with the lamp lights dim, the moonlight from the window behind filtering into the room, and the TV white noise drowning out the silence. The next moment, Eden found herself gasping for breath, suffocating, as two strong hands wrapped around her throat, pinning her to the armchair.

Eyes still half-asleep but now tearful, Eden met the vicious stare of her now-awakened guest, and suddenly, she came to her senses. Mustering up all her strength, Eden pushed against his chest, the supe-strength of which took her attacker by slight surprise. His hold on her throat relaxed slightly, and Eden quickly grabbed his wrists to keep his grip loose.

“Let me go –” Eden choked out, trying to breath.

As though confused, Soldier Boy tilted his head, but his expression remained in its remorselessly neutral expression. Fear shot through her veins when Eden realized that her strength did not affect him but rather spiked the smallest amount of curiosity.

“I was just trying to help you.” Eden sputtered out incoherently as she felt the grip began to tighten again. Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes at this, and then right on cue, something else caught his attention.

The tiny TV in the room switched to midnight rerun of The Cameron Coleman Hour on the Vought News Network, and broadcast invaded the room, with the image of Soldier Boy plastered over the screen.

“Good evening everybody, welcome back …” Cameron Coleman’s voice echoed throughout the room.

As it did, Soldier Boy loosened his grip on Eden’s throat, letting her go. Eden’s hand shot up to her neck, strands of her sandy-brown hair falling to her face as she gasped for more air. Her skin felt sore, and she knew that if she were a normal person, she would have been dead by now, at the very least from a broken neck.

“… and please welcome our guest of the evening, Defense Secretary Chris Barney.” The cheering track played on TV bounced off the walls in the guest room, while the camera panned from Cameron Coleman onto a burgeoned man his early-thirties, already balding, and Soldier Boy’s attention was entirely captivated by what was on TV.

“Mr. Secretary, thank you so much for joining us.” Chris Barney, in his mechanical voice, thanked his interviewer as well, and Eden, with her hands on her tender neck, watched as Soldier Boy was entirely captivated by the TV interview.

“I want to kick off by asking you to directly respond to the idea that Soldier Boy and this new age of Super-Terrorism, which involves Supes living in our country, should be the Pentagon and American public’s top concern.”

“See Cameron, I am not going to beat around the bush. Soldier Boy’s attack in Manhattan is an isolated incident, and the FBSA has taken great strides in tackling this matter, and in the mere weeks past, there is already a significant reduction in the number of violent incidences within the public, both super-abled and not. So to answer your question, no it is not a concern for both the Pentagon and America, especially as Soldier Boy is an isolated incident, and dead at that.”

Chris Barney’s voice bounced off the walls, and as it sounded off, and he answered follow up questions relating to terror attacks, which Soldier Boy ignored, as he began to speak over him, his voice both low but loud, full of contempt.

“So that’s it, huh – I’m dead. I’m fucking dead to the American people. Again.”

Eden did not know what to say, and took a step back, the back of her legs now pressed to the wooden side table by the bed.

“I fought for this country. I fucking gave up my life for this fucked up country, and what do I get in return? Fucking nothing.”

As he spoke, spitting out each syllable, Eden noticed how Soldier Boy clinched his fists tightly, and wondered whether he would just destroy her home, or kill her as well. She remained silent, not daring to even breath too loudly as though that would set him off. But Eden’s heart was beating at a million miles per minute, and she was sure that Soldier Boy could hear it.

Reminded of her presence, Soldier Boy turned around and glanced over Eden, as though he were a predator contemplating whether his prey was worthy of slaughter. His deliberation lasted only a few moments. With only two tall strides, Soldier Boy, in his tattered costume, came face-to-face with the young woman stood before him, brushing away a thick strand that had fallen in front of her eyes.

“What’s your name doll?”

Soldier Boy’s voice was deep, and though he did not swear or say anything malignant, Eden was still frightened, but willed herself to not shake in her fuzzy slippers.

“Eden,” Eden responded quietly, but Soldier Boy’s furrowed eyebrows made her paranoid that he either hadn’t heard her, or that she hadn’t actually said anything.

“Eden Reid, um, Sir.” Eden said once again, only slightly more audibly, while looking to the ground, so as to avoid his burning stare. At this, Soldier Boy chuckled and gently took push a hand to her chin, tilting her face upwards, making her look back at him again.

“Well, aren’t you sweet, Miss Reid.” Soldier Boy spoke, the side of his mouth tilting upwards. Inching his face closer, he continued speaking, his breath blowing over Eden’s face. “Have you got any pills, sweetheart?”

Eden shook her head slowly, now shaking slightly and regretting her personal stance on being drug-free.

“Weed?”

Eden shook her head again, and she felt her heart speed up anymore. At this, Soldier Boy turned away to let out a frustrated sigh, before facing her again.

“A good girl. Surely you can be resourceful and find something, doll. Age of feminism and all.”

Soldier Boy’s tone was condescending, but thankfully, Eden knew that her co-worker, Matt, had an affinity for her and substance abuse, so she might be able to score something from him. Pressing her lips together, Eden nodded, which made Soldier Boy smile. Letting go of her chi, Soldier Boy turned around and sat on the armchair to his right, paying attention to the TV again, which was still playing the Cameron Coleman interview rerun.

“Well then, chop-chop sweetheart. And afterwards, you can tell me where the fuck I am and why the fuck I’m here with you.”

Author's Note: This is an AU story where rather than getting captured, Soldier Boy/Ben ends up projecting himself into the Hudson River. I am not a Geography or Physics major, so none of this actually makes sense or is realistic.

– Chapter 2

[akaisenhatake]

i love how Heimdall covers Atreus's eyes like "i am an asshole, but i am not letting this little shit see the degenerate shit these mortals create"

on god i fuckin tell you not even odin would want to torment a kid like that, the boy has gone through a lot of shit he don't deserve it 💀

anyways made this shitty meme for this ask alone your welcome

[plan-3-tmars]

love how it was confirmed in this episode that arthur lester is litteraly eldritch horrors favourite mortal to fuck with

[fictionandescapism]

Some of y'all wouldn't know good characters if they smacked you in the face and it shows

[leeimperatriz]

¿Locamente enamorado o trágiamente culpable? / Madly in love or tragically guilty?

Porque también veo otras series a parte de BajoTerra.

Gabriel Agreste ha sido uno de los personajes que más me ha llamado la atención (y que siento que Thomas masacró completamente junto con Chloé y pienso defender esto con capa y espada), debido a su historia de amor que término en tragedia y en la búsqueda de los miraculous de Ladybug y Chat Noir, más que un villano, era un hombre roto que cazaba un milagro. ¡Y ese es un gran concepto!

Sin embargo, siento que algo que no se ha explorado muy bien en la serie es su relación con Emilie, el por qué la amaba tanto, hasta el punto en que fue capaz de convertirse en Hawk Moth/Monarca para traerla de regreso, y si bien es cierto que es su amor por Emilie quien define quién es Gabriel y su rol en la serie, puede que no sea su única motivación.

.

Because I also watch other shows that aren't SlugTerra.

Gabriel Agreste has been one of the characters who got my attention the most (and who I feel got completely butchered by Thomas alongside with Chloé and I will defend this with cape and sword), due to his love story that ended in tragedy and his quest for the miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir, more than a villain, he was a broken man, hunting a miracle. And that is a great concept!

However, I feel that something that hasn't been explored enough is his relationship with Emilie, why did he love her so much, to the point of becoming Hawk Moth/Monarch to bring her back, and although it is true that his love for Emilie defines who Gabriel is and what he does as a character, it may not be his only motivation.

Gabriel le entrega a su esposa el miraculous roto del pavo real.

Puede que no parezca mucho, ellos decidieron tener un hijo, y al no poder lograrlo, recurrieron a métodos cuestionables para tener a Adrien, la culpa recae en los dos, Emilie por acceder a usar el miraculous, sabiendo que estaba roto, y Gabriel, por haberle permitido usarlo.

Sin embargo, creo que no nos hemos puesto en los zapatos de Gabriel, ni nos hemos puesto a pensar en las connotaciones que esto conlleva para el desdichado y enloquecido diseñador/terrorista.

"Gabriel le entrega a su esposa el miraculous roto del pavo real."

Gabriel le entrega a su esposa el miraculous roto.

Él le entrega a SU esposa un miraculous roto.

Él le hizo esto.

.

Gabriel gives his wife the broken miraculous of the peacock.

It may not look like much, they decided to have a kid, and when they could not, they went with questionable methods to create have Adrien, the guilt falls to both of them, to Emilie for agreeing to use a broken miraculous, and to Gabriel for allowing her to use it.

However, I don't think we have put ourselves on Gabriel's shoes, nor thought on the connotations that this have for the hapless and maddened designer/terrorist.

"Gabriel gives his wife the broken miraculous of the peacock."

Gabriel gives his wife the broken miraculous.

He gives HIS wife a broken miraculous.

He did this to her.

Él le entregó el miraculous roto, lo que provocó que la salud de Emilie se deteriorara hasta llegar a ese punto, lo que desató toda la serie.

Gabriel la amaba, con toda la fuerza de su corazón y su alma, de eso no hay duda... pero ella está ahí dentro por culpa suya, porque ÉL fue lo suficientemente estúpido como para darle el miraculous roto sin medir las consecuencias, él la condenó a ese destino.

A parte de sus planes para derrotar a Ladybug y Chat Noir, esto es lo que verdaderamente puede estar pasando por su cabeza, esto es lo que verdaderamente puede estarlo torturando, es cierto que ama a Emilie lo suficiente como para aterrorizar Paris, pero también es cierto que puede vivir terriblemente atormentado por la culpa de haber sido responsable de su estado actual.

Y de ahí viene su desesperación de conseguir los miraculous, no solamente es incapaz superar lo que le ocurrió a Emilie por su amor por ella, sino también, porque siente que él le hizo esto, que él la puso en esa cápsula y quiere enmendar su error a toda costa, no solo para tenerla de vuelta, sino también para liberarse de la culpa que lo tortura día y noche.

Él la amaba, él la amaba, era su alma gemela, la mujer que lo completaba, su vida, su todo...

... Y él. La puso. Ahí.

.

He gave her the broken miraculous, what caused Emilie's health to deteriorate until getting to this point, which kickstarted the whole show.

Gabriel loved her, there is no doubt on that... But she is inside there because of him, because HE was stupid enough to give her a broken miraculous without measuring the consequences, he doomed her to this fate.

Apart from his plans to defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir, this is what must be truly going on in his head, this is what must be torturing him so much, it is true that he loved Emilie enough to terrorize Paris to bring her back, but it is also true that he could be living terribly tormented for the guilt of being responsible for her current state.

And this is where his despair for getting the miraculouses comes from, not only he is not capable of getting over her demise because of his love for her, but also, because he feels he did this to her, that he put her in the casket and wants to correct that mistake at all costs, not only to have her back, but also to free himself from the guilt torturing him day and night.

He loved her, he loved her, she was his soulmate, the woman that completed him, his life, his everything...

... And he. Put her. There.

Si...

Yo también enloquecería.

.

Yeah...

I would go crazy too.

[animationismycomfort]

was I the only one that thought season 2 of green eggs and ham was a total let down oooorrrr

[harmonity-vibes]

Imagine

You know that with every touch, caress, soft word and look, he belongs to you and you to him. You know that every time he gets intimate with you, it's only you he wants. His intense, love-filled gaze is only for you, and you're sure that it's with him that you'll end your life.