#anything with a power imbalance >>>>>>>>>>

[sugarwarachan]

part two, you dirty birdies. go read this first to catch up! summary: A city-wide blackout leads to some questionable decisions on Eraserhead's part: for four nights in a row now, Aizawa Shouta has been watching you get yourself off. Is tonight the night he joins in? pairing: aizawa shouta x citizen!reader wc: 2.4k (oops) content warnings: SMUT mdni, dark content, stalker!aizawa, voyeurism, dubcon, power imbalance (pro hero/civilian, ya know), obsessive behavior, voice kink, dirty talk, blindfolds are involved, piv sex, oral f!receiving, spanking, dom/sub elements but not explicitly stated, aizawa's big dick, creampie, unprotected sex (do not do this!!! especially with strangers!!! this is fiction!!!)

Aizawa knows he shouldn’t go back.

It was already enough of a risk to hear your voice; that he's considering confirming his identity with you should have alarm bells blaring in his head.

But logic abandoned him hours ago.

Your message, come back tomorrow <3, blinks in his head. At this point, he’s just waiting for the city to fall asleep so he can slip out along the ledge and head straight to you.

Part of him is bizarrely nervous to replace the distance with reality, but the thought of never feeling your weight on top of him erases all arguments.

As soon as night falls, he winds his capture weapon around his neck and slides out into the dark.

All day long, you’ve been aching and hot, sliding your thighs together under the desk at work to relieve some of the pressure.

There’s no guarantee he’ll come back. You’ve told yourself this ever since you woke up gasping for breath, rocking your hips against a pillow.

It’s like he possessed you, you muse on the train ride home, the force of the train cars rattling your already frazzled head. You’ve never felt this way in your life, desire snapping and fizzing under your skin.

Your apartment looks exactly the same as when you left, straight down to the kicked-over coat stand you’d jostled on your way out the door. It’s all so maddeningly ordinary that it takes everything within you not to scream.

It’s almost like last night didn’t happen at all.

“No need to sigh like that, sweetheart.”

His voice comes from behind you. Fear zips up your spine like dynamite sparking, your stomach bottoming out in one fell swoop.

He’s here.

Something winds around your wrists and face, obscuring your vision and tugging your body back. You collide with someone who smells like cedar and books and black coffee.

You breathe in his scent as the fear melts to excitement, to anticipation.

He’s here.

“Miss me, sweet girl?”

You’d think huffing him in like a fucking croissant would be a dead giveaway.

“What’s with the blindfold?” you ask instead. Angling your head in various ways does nothing. He made sure you can’t make him out, only confirming your previous hunch. He’s a pro, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want anyone to know he’s sneaking into girls’ apartments and fucking them stupid.

“You’re smarter than that.”

His voice is even better in person; you can feel the rumble of it against your neck. He loosens his hold on the cloth binding your wrists. Your hands naturally settle on the broad expanse of his chest.

He says the next thing nice and soft, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You understand the out for what it is, but you’re willing to sacrifice your sight for a taste of what he offered you yesterday.

“I’d like to do some things,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. “I don’t know what you did to me, but if you don’t touch me in the next few seconds, I feel like I’ll pass out.”

You don’t even realize you’re grinding yourself on his thigh until his hand splays across your hip, stilling you. Flipping you around, he cages you against the door, teeth scraping down the side of your throat.

“You don’t know what I did to you?” He punctuates the ask by kicking your feet apart with the heel of his boot. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a keen high in your throat. “What about what you did to me? Feels like I’ve got you floating around my fucking bloodstream.”

With a growl, he scoops you up and pins you against the door with his hips, mouth bracketing over yours.

“Can’t get your pretty little noises out of my head,” he says against your lips, sounding like a man at a confessional. His hips jerk, the length of his erection pulsing between you. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty picture you sent me.”

He laves at your collarbone with his tongue, hand resting in the hollow of your throat. The gentlest squeeze elicits your softest sigh. He grunts at the sound, thick fingers applying more pressure before falling to your waist and locking you in place. His breath skates over your cheek; you feel the rasp of stubble on your skin.

“Let me take you to bed, sweetheart.”

God, his voice makes your knees fucking buckle. His forearm is tight around your back, holding you close.

“Please.”

You don’t recognize that whine as your voice; you’ve never sounded this eager, never felt this aching pulse in your core the way you do now. You need him to mold your insides to the shape of him, to pin you down on the mattress and take you.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. You don’t know him, not really, but you like this aspect of his personality. He makes his want for you tangible, so sharp you can practically taste it in the air. It’s like he’d rather die than leave you unsatisfied, and honestly, you don’t think anyone’s made you feel like that.

You can’t help liking it.

He taps open the door to your room with the toe of his boot. Lips slanted over yours, his tongue presses behind your teeth, licking into your mouth in the filthiest kiss you’ve ever shared with someone. It’s a sloppy clash of teeth and tongues; your hands fist in his hair as he caresses his thumbs over the skin of your hips.

“Take your clothes off.”

You obey just as you did on the phone, the rush to do so shooting a wave of heat over your face.

“That’s my girl, fuckin’ eager for it, huh?” You wish you could see his face; you want to match the feral snarl you hear with an expression. He sounds like he’s enjoying it, standing in front of you fully clothed while your arousal drips down your fucking legs.

You cross your legs together and he laughs, the hot span of his hands splaying over your hips as he tugs you to him.

“I know you’re needy, baby; you’re already doin’ so good for me. You listen just a little longer and I’ll make sure this pretty little pussy of yours gets the treatment she deserves, okay?” He cups your cunt in the palm of his hand; immediately, you rock against him, the meat of his palm bunching over your clit. He spanks your ass sharply. “Get on the bed and spread your legs open.”

Your muscles are shaky; your thighs tremble as you settle on the bed. You’ve never wanted to be able to see more than right now, spread out and vulnerable underneath a stranger’s gaze.

Before doubt can blare in your head, you hear him, “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His knee dips the mattress; his hands pry your thighs apart obscenely.

“She’s prettier up close,” he says, and then sucks your clit into his mouth.

You buck your hips into his face. He holds you down with his other hand and sucks harder. The sound you make has pre-cum spurting from his cock.

He’ll fucking cum like this if he’s not careful, rutting his hips on the sheets with your thighs choking off his air supply.

Worse ways to go, all things considered.

“You’ve been pent-up for a while, hmm?” He turns his head to kiss at the soft skin of your inner thigh, slick shimmering in the moonlight. He almost wishes his stubble were longer so he could capture more of your scent.

You smell so fucking good; he inhales and runs his teeth up the inside of your thigh, biting and sucking, grinding your clit on his nose. You whimper and lock your hands on his hair, silently begging for more.

He runs the flat of his tongue over your clit before breaking away. His dick jumps at your growl of frustration.

“Let’s stretch you out on my fingers first, pretty girl. I wasn’t just talking myself up yesterday.” He coats his fingers in your arousal, inhales the musky sweet scent of you like a drug. “You’re gonna need a little prep before you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers in. Your cunt sucks him in, gummy walls immediately clamping down. He drops his forehead to yours, thinks wildly about ripping away the blindfold, of forcing you to hold his gaze while he makes your pussy gush on his hands.

“More,” you cry out, and he obliges, working three fingers in, twisting and pressing and stroking, listening to your small gasps, waiting for the breath in your voice to catch. "Sho, please—"

Aizawa bites down on his lower lip when your back bows, fingers scrabbling at his forearm, holding his hand in place as you rock back and forth on his fingers. One little pinch of your clit and you’re sobbing out his name.

He lopes an arm under you and pulls you to him. Your breath comes out in shuddery little gasps.

“All good, sweetheart?”

You nod against his neck, already nosing at his throat for a kiss.

He doesn’t know what possesses him.

“I’ll let you take off the blindfold if you get on your hands and knees.”

The noise you make is so embarrassingly eager you almost cringe.

You might see him.

You arrange yourself as he asks, wiggling your ass and arching your back. You gasp when he palms your hip, pulling you back against his clothed cock.

"Can I take it off now?" you try to ask as coy as you can, but you just sound like a fucked-out mess. He feels big. You saw the picture but it's nothing compared to feeling the ridge of his shaft pulsing along the cleft of your ass. You choke on a groan, undulating your hips in a desperate move to calm the ache in your lower belly.

He grunts behind you and palms the back of your head. “Eyes forward, or you aren’t getting fucked. Understand?”

You nod into the mattress, not trusting your own voice.

"Words, princess, didn't we talk about this last time?" His tone is between condescending and tender and it's making your insides turn to fucking goo.

"I understand."

"Good."

You hear the clink of buckles, the rustle of a zipper.

"I'll only keep my eyes forward if all your clothes come off, though."

You know you're pushing it, pushing him, but fuck, you need his skin on yours so you can sear him into your fucking brain.

You squeal at the crack of pain when his palm collides with your ass.

"Mouthy tonight, honey?" There's his hand again, collaring the back of your neck. You throw your hips back at him; he spanks you again. "Fuck, you know what you're doin', don't you? My little cocktease want her pussy stuffed that badly?"

No one's talked to you like this. No one's ever said exactly the sort of profane filth you've longed to hear.

"Yes," you sob out.

"The clothes come off then, you little brat."

When he settles behind you, the hot ridge of his dick slides between your folds and you jerk back into him. The blindfold falls away.

"Goddammit," he growls out, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. "Fuck, you're soaking wet, baby. Can already feel her trying to suck me in, isn't that right?" He palms your lower belly. "You're gonna feel me right fuckin' here. I'm gonna be so deep inside you you'll forget about everything but me, you understand?"

His cockhead tips into your fluttering hole. Fuck, he is big. You peer back between your tits at where he's disappearing into you. The girth and length of him makes your stomach bottom out.

His hand pushes down on your lower back, bowing your ass up.

"Don't run away, let me work my way in, huh? Make my pretty girl feel so fucking full." Another inch of him slots inside you. The stretch of it burns slightly, but the pain recedes when he rubs little circles on your clit. "Fuckkkk, baby, you have any idea how perfect this tight little pussy is? Feels like you're suckin' the life out of me."

The drag of his cock inside you makes your eyes cross. With every thrust, he rubs the head of his dick on your g spot, hand locked in a possessive clutch on your lower belly.

"Put your hand here, feel where I'm fucking you." With one hand on top of yours, he presses down hard. You buck, the sensation almost too much. "No one else is ever gonna have this pussy, you hear me? It's fucking mine, sweet girl, mine to fuck, mine to feast on, mine to fill up with cum—"

The heel of his hand grinds down on your clit and that's all it takes before your orgasm collapses your lungs and shorts out your brain. Everything detonates, star-bursts of pleasure exploding in your core until tears stream down your face.

His rhythm barely falters as he fucks you through it, mouth hot on the back of your neck. "Keep goin', princess, you can cum again, can't ya? One more time, just for me. There's my fuckin' girl, milk every fucking drop out of me, fuck—"

You can only imagine the milky ring of cum and arousal coating his cock as he wrenches another orgasm from your tired body. His dick pulses inside you, a guttural moan reverberating from his throat so deeply you practically feel it in your gut.

He stays inside you for a few more moments, both of you catching your breath. When he slips out, you groan at the loss.

"Be right back, sweet girl. Blindfold goes back on, too."

He laughs when you pout, cloth obscuring your vision once more.

When he comes back, he dips a warm cloth between your thighs, swabbing away the gooey mess. You're so sensitive you hiss out a sharp breath. He presses a glass of water into your hand. You gulp it down with gusto.

"I already blocked off where I came in from," he's saying, and you can't help but roll your eyes even if he can't see the motion. You wonder how he chalks up this whole excursion in his stupid pro hero head.

"Don’t want anyone else getting to me or something?"

He clears his throat. "Or something."

The scrape of your window sounds. "I'd start locking these if I were you."

You know he's gone when the cloth whips away from your face, the flutter of your gauzy white curtains the only proof he was there.

taglist: @cryingintheclubdhmu @abigolemess @rindarudoesshonen @simplyraeblue @ermmclovingit @deputyazor @lizzobeth @quinn0-0 @hotlosergirl17 @mother-hellsing

[4th-siscon-stsg]

satoru having a power imbalance relationship with his personal maid his whole life >.<

HELLOOOO I LOVE THIS IDEA???? lmfao poor girl, imagine having to watch over THAT guy your whole life. /aff

you've been working since young at the gojo estate, so you've kind of grown around satoru, but ofc you're still older than him. satoru's first crush, and he still acts like he has a big boy crush on you years later.

he manages to feel incredibly dependent (because he's needy and clingy and annoying, and it's like if you left he'd not know what to do with himself), but also... so pestering and controlling.

you don't have much agency at all, defiance is extremely discouraged after all, but who in their right mind would think to stand up against the six eyes anyways? so when he tells you to clean the same spot on his bedroom floor over and over again, even tho there never was anything to clean in the first place, you don't really have much of an option.

satoru makes no effort to hide his true intentions, either. panting and moaning loudly as he jerks off, sitting on the futon behind you, watching your form in hands and knees and imagining all the things he could make you do.

keep cleaning while fully naked? tell you to use your hand and help him get off? how far would you let him go before you crack?

[grandline-fics]

Hello. I love your works <3

Can i request Candlelight Dinners with Crocodile?

DESCRIPTION: Candlelight Dinners- What could possibly go wrong when a grand romantic gesture is planned?

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Crocodile

WORDS: 1,056

A/N: Another entry in the Valentine's Event. Thank you so much for the request @sagyunaro! I hope this was to your liking

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

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Crocodile prided himself on being a man of action. Of setting his sights on something and doing all in his power to obtaining it. In any of his business practices-both legitimate and criminal- were he to see an issue or place for improvement, he executed it without a second thought because wanting to be successful meant having the highest quality results and there was no room for any sort of lacking in his life. That mindset held firm in his personal life too. Granted a romantic relationship had a lot more nuances and different steps to running a business but at its core it was similar in its give and take. 

As he opened the door to his shared room with you, his gaze immediately fell to the bed. Namely how your sleeping figure was completely on his side of the bed, arms around his pillow and face buried against the fabric, trying to cling to some trace of him. He knew he’d been busier lately with work because of Cross Guild’s rising notoriety and that meant seeing you less. Seeing each other during the day hardly counted as any sort of quality time since you both were working. Crocodile gently used the curve of his hook to tilt your head and his eyes narrowed slightly to see the dark circles under your eyes. You’d tried to stay up to see him, even if it was just to say goodnight. 

As he readied himself for bed he began to formulate a plan on what to do. Crocodile hated any sort of imbalance and the last time things were truly out of synch with you both was during his time in Impel Down and the subsequent months after when he readjusted to his freedom. Not entirely his fault but still. Dispersing himself into sand, he reformed in the bed, replacing the pillow you’d been clinging to. He allowed himself a small smile when your body reacted in your sleep, already sensing the difference. Crocodile settled his arm around you, now knowing exactly what to do. 

The next day you were confused from the start. Crocodile wished you a good morning but apologised and said he wouldn’t have time to join you for breakfast before leaving for his office. That wasn’t the peculiar thing, you were used to Crocodile’s busy schedule. What confused you was how…off he seemed. Determined but tense. You knew that calculating look in his eyes anywhere but you just didn’t know what was going on. You didn’t get your answer until the afternoon when Crocodile appeared beside you and wrapped his arm around your waist and led you down the corridor. “Croc, what’re you-”

“Sir Crocodile!” You looked behind you to see one of the subordinates hurrying towards you both. You glanced at Crocodile’s hand on your waist tighten harshly in annoyance and frowned. The subordinate hadn't even said anything yet to bring out his anger. “I know you said not to um-” The subordinate hesitated when he saw the fury in the former Warlord’s eyes and quickly got to the point. “Uh-um there's an emergency! Mihawk’s asked for you…please?”

“It’s okay, love.” You smiled, sensing Crocodile’s hesitancy which didn’t help your confusion. “The sooner you deal with it, the sooner it’s over.”

“Fine, you’re right.” Crocodile nodded, pulling his arm away. “I’ll wrap this up quickly. Wait for me in my office okay?”

You nodded and smiled, heading in the direction of the office while Crocodile stormed off in the opposite direction. Still you tried to wrap your head around your lover’s behaviour. Nothing had gone wrong today that you could think of but you knew it was in Crocodile’s hands so it would be sorted efficiently. Content you finished the walk to Crocodile’s office and stepped inside, stopping to see his desk was cleaned and covered with a simple green covering now adorned it with two glasses and a bottle of wine chilling on top. Stepping closer you smiled broadly but you resisted the urge to pour yourself a glass. You would wait for Crocodile. So you got comfortable in his large office chair, able to throw your legs lazily over one of the armrests and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Just when you were about to get up and go look for him, you looked to the door as it slammed open and shut. Your lips quirked when a wall of sand formed against the entrance to block anyone else coming to bother him. 

“Absolute morons..” He growled out, smoothing back his hair, grumbling to himself more than anything. “I did not work through everything in my schedule just to be interrupted constantly by those overgrown children. Sorry about that, darling.” Crocodile sighed out as he stopped beside his desk, watching as you got to your feet to stop in front of him. When you were in touching distance he curled his fingers under your chin and tilted your head up so he could lightly press a kiss against your lips. “The last thing I wanted was to make you wait again.”

“You cleared your schedule? Why?” You asked, your smile unmoving and eyes bright at you stared at the man you loved curiously. 

“I wanted us to have a few hours to ourselves. The last thing I wanted you to think was that I valued the Guild over you.” Crocodile explained, though that plan well and truly went out the window when Mihawk and then countless others cut into that time greatly with their insignificant problems and reports. “Even if it was just sharing a bottle of wine without being bothered, I wanted you to feel reassured in my feelings for you.”

“Your feelings were never in doubt, love but thank you.” You smiled, touched that Crocodile would even think to do such a thing for you. “Now pour me that wine, I’ve been eyeing it since I got here.” 

Crocodile chuckled and lifted the bottle, immediately opening and pouring the dark liquid for you both. One of your most admirable qualities was your patience he thought. Through everything thrown at you you were the steady one, willing to wait for as long as possible if you found it worth waiting on. He counted himself lucky every day that you considered him worth it.

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TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya

[sillysalmonn101]

I would have liked season two caitvi if it was more toxic.

I would have been more likely to not hate it had it been framed in a way that makes it clear it was not a healthy dynamic. Had season two caitvi been shown in an honest way — one in which the gross power imbalance between Caitlyn and Vi was clear, one which acknowledged Caitlyn’s lack of accountability towards literally anything she did wrong (there was a lot), one which would have realized how miserable of an ending that actually is for Vi — I think I might have even actually LIKED it.

I think that if it wasn’t sanitized into being portrayed as the dream — something that every lesbian should aspire to be in one day — I would have been much easier to convince about the Caitvi gospel.

[wingsdippedingold]

My rapid fire ACOTAR hot takes that y’all will hate:

I pray the pros don’t find this

I don’t ship Elriel or Elucien because I ship Elain with singleness and just traveling Prythian to learn about different plants and then settling down somewhere to become an apothecary. Is she aromantic and suffering from comphet in my head? You’ll never know

Nesta would not have eaten Lucien alive, I think she’d be tentative at first but then realize he’s not a threat to her then grow to enjoy his presence. They could have had a great romance that actually helped her grow as a person, unlike Nessian.

Nessian is a mutually destructive relationship. Cassian is too insecure to date someone who he thinks looks down at him. Nesta needs an emotionally supportive partner.

There was ZERO need to actively SA Feyre publicly to make her look subservient or as if she had a “claim” laid on her. The reasoning is weak, and SJM an Rhysand fans need to admit that they only defend it because they thought it was sexy, or because they self-insert and can’t make Rhysand actually look bad.

Tamlin isn’t a bad leader, but it doesn’t suit him. He’s much more of a people person than someone who would like to be removed from them and working on laws and politics.

Tamlin should be walking around the SC as they rebuild and see a woman directing townspeople on how to do so. Tamlin would admire her for being able to connect with people but also being able to govern well. They would have a romance and that woman would eventually become a lady and help Tamlin govern because she wants to make a difference and is good at that stuff. They eventually get married 💥

Canon Elain is my least favorite Archeron. I think she’s manipulative and worse than Nesta in her cabin behavior because she wasn’t upfront about it. She let Feyre think she was useless and kind, to later only throw her under the bus. Nesta is the one who went to the wall for Feyre, and Elain didn’t gaf about Nesta caring for her the second is stopped benefitting her. Elain even acknowledges all that Feyre did for them, and yet she still didn’t do anything

BUT to append to that, I totally get why she’s that way. It’s her only means of survival because since childhood she was treated as a doll with noice of her own. She can’t be upfront like Nesta because she won’t get taken seriously, so her only way to get what she wants is to manipulate people and use her niceness as a mask.

Nesta and Feyre have a closer relationship than Nesta and Elain solely because they were constantly arguing. Nesta “favored” Elain, but it was still distant, but she actively watched Feyre and treated her like a whole person even if it was poorly. I think this is also exemplified in their appearance. Feyre and Nesta look very similar, while Elain doesn’t look like them as much.

You can’t argue that Feyre’s childhood was traumatizing (it was) but then say that it had no negative effects on her development and ability to socialize.

Feyre is NOT good at reading people despite what y’all like to argue. She can barely read Nesta, a woman she’s known for 20 years.

She suffers from hubris and has a savior complex. For example, when the debtors came to cripple her father she notes that they only left after SHE cried and soiled herself. In her perspective she will always be the hero because that’s how she makes herself fell good.

Arguable my hottest take: I don’t think Nesta and Feyre had a power imbalance in the cottage to make their relationship abusive. In fact, I think Feyre held more power over Nesta, Nesta just didn’t acknowledge it/was mean so it didn’t seem like it. Feyre was their father’s favorite, was the breadwinner, and technically dictated whether they would get to eat. Feyre held control over her family’s survival, even if she didn’t want it, and they all knew this. It is specifically why Elain sucked up to her (a character know to jump to whoever has the most power at the moment and would protect her the most)

Feyre doesn’t act how she wants to, but rather as she thinks a good person would. She doesn’t want to hunt, but she does so because she thinks she has to. Many of her acts are “selfless” but are often shallow. She also thinks everyone wants to the helped the same way she would want to be.

To add to this, she doesn’t love her sisters. She doesn’t love them for who they are, but because of proximity. She even says to Nesta when trying to get her to come to solstice “but you’re my sister”

Feyre did not know love and it did not know her, and thus made her latch on to whoever gave her affection and she deemed as her own savior (Tamlin and Rhysand). Should she finally ever feel suffocated by Rhysand (though he has ensured she won’t), I wouldn’t doubt that she would run to another.

Feyre has 0 healthy relationships. ZILCH

By adulthood, Feyre’s illiteracy is no one’s fault but her own. As a child she didn’t want to ask Nesta, but she didn’t ask Elain or her father either. Even then they fell into poverty at like 9 and she still didn’t learn much so that doesn’t make sense. She refused Tamlin’s help and Rhysand literally had to force her to learn.

Rhysand’s character makes 0 sense when you consider her upbringing, family, friends, personality, and powers, and is just a product of SJM trying to write the morally grey ultimate love interest.

I’m on the fence about him being a master manipulator towards Feyre and the IC. I doubt Sarah meant for him to come off like that, but if he actually was it would be a masterful story and make his character feel more cohesive.

HOWEVER, if he was a manipulator I don’t think it would be that impressive for him to manipulate Feyre. She is naive and new to the world of fae, and she switches her opinions like night and day. She would be the perfect target. Again, this comes about from her upbringing and her own hubris.

The series should stuck to being a trilogy. Insert it drags on and makes new problems that aren’t even properly addressed

This was not rapid I fear

[cvntroach5000]

Underneath it all, we're just savages

author's note: i dont know what the fuck is happening in the trailer, but thats okay. i have ideas and those ideas dont need this context, they just need to entertain me and i hope they can entertain you as well. nexos is not the actual name of the place and i dont like the codenames used for the lis in the event, so ill just be making shit up. do not take anything i say at face value, this is a self-indulgent space. also this is more of a preview than a whole fic, so please send feedback if you'd be interested to read more!

based on the new tommorows catch-22 trailer, written with the event outfit in mind, no use of y/n, reader has the command evol, if you feel like im referencing something no you do not

i think command evol reader is going to become a recurring thing on this blog, so stay tuned for more of that ig

pairing: sylus x reader (implied LaDS men x reader)

content warning: imprisonment, power imbalance, mind control, depiction of fictional mental ailments, descriptions of bodily discomfort

Becoming head warden of the Nexos Prison was not something you did out of ambition. It wasn't some kind of dream-come-true, a job and position you yearned to seize. It didn't make you feel fulfilled, it didn't bring you happiness nor satisfaction. It did ensure you had a roof over your head and food to fill your stomach, basic needs you suppose you were grateful to have taken care of.

But the reason you were here, overseeing the most dangerous wards and the most rabid prisoners was because they were yours. Madness tried to take them from you, so you followed them to the place where insanity rules to reclaim them. Once you'd succeeded, you'd leave this wretched place and take your prizes with you.

Six wards, six sectors in each. The sixth sector of every ward was your territory. Unless explicitly asked, other wardens steered clear of those places. Not that they were forbidden entry, but rather it was wise of them to stay away if they valued their lives. In each sixth sector was a lion's den, containing a single ferocious beast. People infected with insanity, distorted into abominations in body and mind.

You don't work on Sundays. This is a prison, not Hell, even if the lines seem to blur sometimes. The remaining six days, you make rounds through the wards, interrogating the predators residing in your sectors. As the number goes up, so does the level of contamination. The first one is quite sound of mind, even if his body acts out. The sixth one is wholly feral, lashing out physically and verbally, itching to tear everything near him to shreds. But it's okay, it's not like you play favorites with your charges. They are all precious in their own ways and working with them gives you purpose. The only gratification from this cursed fucking job.

Today, you're going to the Sixth Ward.

...Perhaps you do play favorites, after all.

The prison is a labyrinth, massive and intricate. Everything is made with enforced steel from Deepspace. It's cold and harsh, giving the place as little comforting energy as possible. You swear, if those who are sent here were not mad already, they'd be driven mad by the dreadful atmosphere. Nobody gives a shit to put up some pastel colored wallpaper or even a little photo of a sloth that says 'Hang in there'. Though natural light is scarce in the desolate wasteland beyond the prison gates, Nexos goes above and beyond to snuff it out and enshroud the whole facility in complete darkness. Some hallways are lit so poorly, the staff carry around lanterns to be able to navigate through them.

It only takes two hours of elavator rides, weaving through the dark halls and passing through security to arrive at your destination of the day. You climbed the chain of command so fervently when you first arrived here. You used to be nervous and unsure, worried you might mess up at your tasks. Anxious and insecure, struggling to communicate with the other staff. Now you barely notice the guards cowering and scattering as you pass by. You don't even feel a rush of adrenaline as you finally make your way to the gate to the Sixth Sector.

As the doors slide open, a long corridor comes into view. Even from the entrance you can feel the stiffling energy crackling from the cell at the end of the hallway. It's disorganised and weak, as if the air itself is calling out for help. You let slow, long steps guide you down this path you've walked hundreds of times before.

There he is.

You catch a glimpse of the shock of white hair in the darkness, an imposing figure leaning against the jailbars. Even sitting down and slouching, his hulking body looks massive. He doesn't react to the sound of your footsteps. You've made no effort to conceal your presence, yet he doesn't seem to notice you up until you are directly behind him.

His hand slams into the bars, snapping back in a sudden burst of instinct. He almost seems surprised to see you—he really didn't register your presence until now. Still, he lets out a low, breathy laugh. You can see his fangs gleaming in the faint light as he grins mischievously. His gaze seems shrouded by a dark cloud, pupils practically gleaming as they erractically scan over you.

"Well, hello there, dear supervisor. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" There's bite to his tone, yet he doesn't sound entirely sarcastic either.

You adjust your gloves and review the toolbox you have prepared outside his containment cell.

"Hello. I'm here for your routine interrogation." You announce robotically, as per protocol, "Do you know who I am?"

The prisoner exhales through his nose as though offended by your question. But he takes a moment to observe your face before slowly admitting,

"No. Should I?"

The furrow of his brow softens and he seems to genuinely rack his brain for an answer. He means to tease you, imply you're a nobody that he'd have no way of knowing. And yet he studies you carefully, searching your uniform for some kind of identifier; a name tag, ideally. Though there seems to be a thin metal plate over your right breast, he doesn't spy any words engraved in it.

"Noted." You finish preparing your tool box, setting it just outside the door of the cell.

"I will now be entering your cell. Stand in the middle of the room and raise your arms, please." You instruct him.

He snaps his teeth at you in defiance, but complies, positioning himself as you asked. A special set of chains snakes down from the ceiling, coiling around his wrists and pulling him upwards. He hisses as the links in the chain bite into his skin and he is hoisted high enough that even with his height, he's forced to stand up on his tip-toes.

You lift your hand up to the scanner on the door, activating the security lock. After authorising your identity through the biometric scanner, the bars of the door slide to the side. You leave your toolbox outside for now, slowly entering the beast's cage.

It is dreadfully barren, a single chair stationed in the corner and a pathetic, thin little mattress lying directly on the cold floor. Unfortunately, there wasn't much else that could be provided to predators of his level. They were so stripped of their senses, they barely registered the discomfort they lived in. Always pacing around like starving lions, they were restless. They didn't sleep, they simply collapsed from exhausion once the contamination couldn't force them to stay alert anymore. And they recovered fast, prowling in their cells again as soon as an hour later.

You hum in acknowledgement, stepping forward to inspect your charge. There's a few fresh bruises on him, some a ghoulish shade of purple. A couple of small scratches and one open cut. You suspect he'll heal up soon and create more wounds to replace the old ones. None of them ever had the same injuries two visits in a row. Still, this was a pretty tame entry on his record.

After circling around him, you are quite satisfied with your findings. You look at his face to find him staring back at you, analysing you with intensity to match yours. His eyes trail over the items lined at your belt; a whip, a pistol and a baton. You take the whip from its strap, caressing the leather as you do.

"Heh, I see you came here to play. Plan on beating the disobedience out of me?" He taunts you, but the crazed look in his eye tells you he's almost excited by the prospect.

You huff increduously, "My weapons are tools of self-defense."

He lets out a humorless laugh, "There is no such thing as a weapon for self-defense, sweetie. Weapons are always made with the intent to hurt, to maim. You cannot enforce peace."

You swiftly crack the whip, using it to seize the chair in the corner by one of its legs. You pull it towards yourself, halting its acceleration with your foot. You turn it to face the prisoner and sit down, crossing your legs. You like putting on little shows like this for him. They are wholly eccentric and unnecessary, but often, they help loosening a stuck cog in his brain. Something to work with later on, as you continue your routine interrogation.

"You know, you used to tell me that your body is a weapon. What about your body then? Does it, too, only know to hurt and to maim?"

He seems a little taken aback, but shakes it off quickly. He snarls, gnashing his teeth at you like a wild beast.

You sigh. You snap your fingers and the chains holding him up to the ceiling clatter to the ground. He grunts in surprise as his heels touch the ground. He rubs his sore wrists, red eyes raking over you in intrigue.

"Aren't you arrogant, letting your prey loose like that." He scoffs.

He's trying to figure out if you're stupid or if you've got an ace up your sleeve.

"Sylus."

His ears perk up at the sound of his name, so foreign yet so familiar. Nowadays, it means nothing to him. He can't even recall it himself. And yet, your voice and that name resonate with a primal part of his soul, buried under the layers of madness and contamination.

"Who—"

"Sit."

His brain barely registers the command before his body acts on it. His knees give out and he falls to the ground. It's like his nerves are on fire. More than a prisoner of this cell, he now feels imprisoned in his own body. Like a spirit, tethered to a hollow, useless shell. He can barely form thoughts as his entire being responds only to you and your instruction.

"What... Did you..."

"It's my Evol. Everyone obeys me, whether they want to or not. You are no exception."

Sylus's mind is racing a million miles per minute, yet it feels completely standstill at the same time. He's trying to comprehend this power, gauge its limits, figure out its weaknesses. Pinpoint the loophole he can exploit to escape your grasp. Through the haze over his mind, he registers how your eyes have a knowing glint in them. Like you know exactly what he's thinking, like he's an open book to you.

Can you—

"I cannot read minds, no." You clarify before he can even attempt to voice the question.

He notices the whip is gone from your hands. Instead, you play with the baton, inspecting it as you ponder your prey.

"You must be thinking 'There has to be a weakness I can use to break free'. You always loved testing the limits of my ability."

You're answering his questions, yet your words leave him more confused than before. Always? When did he ever see you use your Evol? When has he strategised with it in mind?

A sensation like an electric current runs violently through his body, making his brain tingle as though it's going to pop. It hurts to think, yet he can almost taste all the answers he seeks. They are like blood on his tongue, reeking of iron.

He strains his neck to look you in the eyes.

Your gaze is so empty, as though you are looking through him. Miles into the distance at versions of him he can't recall.

"What if I told you..."

There's a buzzing in his ears, growing louder by the second.

"That we've had this exact conversation hundreds of times before?"

The buzzing halts to a complete silence. And the prisoner slumps to the floor, unconscious.

You stare at his limp body for a moment. Then, you get out of your chair and pull up your notepad.

Another failure.

Tommorow, you're circling back to the first ward. Let's see if there's going to be any progress there.

As you fill out your report, you hear the faint sound of wind rushing through the corridor. Of course, there is no wind in Nexos Prison. Cawing echoes through the cramped space and a single mechanical crow flies into the open jail cell.

Mephisto perches on your shoulder, peering at the tablet in your hands. Then, his eyes shift over to the unconscious, white-haired man on the floor. He lets out a soft caw, flicking his metal wings. Absentmindedly, you reach up to scritch his head, even if the robotic bird can't really feel anything, only simulate the joy of being pet.

"Don't worry, Mephie. He'll return to us."

[eldr1tch-wh0re]

An Unnecessary Analysis of Louis and Lestat’s Sexual Dynamic in IWTV (2022):

(AKA my autistic gay ass laying out my own personal headcanons that I choose to take as fact and why)

Louis and Lestat are two incredibly complex immortal beings who I feel frequently get misunderstood and watered down by viewers. Something I don’t think is discussed enough is their shared love of the chase, of the fight. They are both addicted to the passion and the drama of everything that has to do with the other, especially within their intimate relations. Louis' refusal to submit easily comforts him in his desire while it also feeds Lestat's need for power. While I do think that both men are vers, I wholeheartedly believe that Louis prefers to bottom and Lestat prefers to top and that these are the roles they take on more often than not; and that anything different is a rare occurrence.

We see in the first episode after their encounter with Lily that Louis rushes towards Lestat with the clear intention of pinning him the wall, but Lestat meets his hands before he can and overpowers him; spinning Louis around and grabbing him by the neck before biting and presumably entering him until they’re levitating. Immediately before this when the three of them are on the couch, Louis sucks Lestat’s thumb into his mouth passionately before realizing what he’s doing and pushing him away. Louis wants Lestat inside him, he’s hungry for it, but his own skewed morals cannot allow him the indulgence. Being the vain and hedonistic creature that he is, Lestat loves to win. Even more so, Louis - the violently repressed southern gay man with catholic guilt and high standing to uphold, loves to lose. I think he craves it more than anything, needs it, but his own shame holds him back from admitting it. Lestat’s predatory nature of taking what he wants allows Louis to remove the blame from himself, to justify his sins.

Still, Louis is important to Lestat. He is quite literally the object of his desire and while there is a clear *literal* power imbalance especially pre-turning, Lestat would not do anything Louis didn’t want for fear of losing him before he has him. He had full access to his thoughts those days, he could see and hear all of his fantasies and could feel the guilt that blocked them. He knew exactly what Louis needed so deeply and the only reasonable response would be to give him that, to make him feel so deeply seen.

”Oh, but o.p, what about when they’re in the coffin and Lestat says Louis can be on top?” I’m so glad you asked. This is their first night together after Louis’ been turned, he’s freaking out and going through every stage of grief towards his former life all at once while being thrust into something entirely different and being gay is somehow the scariest part. Lestat remembers what thoughts and emotions of Louis’ he had previously seen, he knows his sorrow and shame and in an attempt to pacify it in his vulnerability, he indulges Louis’ delicate facade at the time. I found the interaction to be very minimally sexually charged due to the lack of fire we see, and more as a gentle hand reaching out to a wounded animal you don’t want to further frighten.

Further points to consider (RAPID FIRE!):

-Lestat is canonically referred to as “daddy” by various characters throughout the show, i.e “I like men called daddy” “Bad Daddy” and “You and your white daddy doin’ fine in the quarter.” and it’s stupid to think that behind closed doors Louis wasn’t one of them. Have you seen that man? Have you tasted his trauma?

-“Emasculation and admiration in equal measure” is a crazy quote when you break it down. Louis de Pointe du Lac I know what you are.

-Loumand’s dynamic is in direct opposition to how things were within Loustat. Louis’ previous walls have been built back up and he’s using aspects of his previous pimp persona paired with mimicry of Lestat’s traits in an attempt to shield himself from becoming a victim once more.

-I don’t think Louis has ever or will ever bottom for anyone but Lestat because no one else makes him feel safe enough, know one else knows him like Lestat does. “The Vampire Bond” includes keeping your asshole strictly monogamous apparently.

-Every time we see them have sex on screen Lestat tops.

CONTROVERSIAL BONUS TAKE!: I don’t think Louis topped after swimming the Mississippi to find Lestat and Antionette together, I do think he angrily rode him into oblivion while feeling really bad about giving in and probably slapped him around a little though. Real jealous “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing” “Does she feel as good as I do?” Type shit.

Anyways, this is just my interpretation. If you disagree, cool, they’re fictional vampires it’s not that deep. Then again I’m the one who wrote the essay analyzing how they bone so maybe I’m the hypocrite. The vampire shaped worms in my brain consume my ever waking thought and pulled on my neurons compelling me to write this like some fucked up ratatouille situation. This damn show has consumed me so if you want more think pieces I’m happy to oblige. Thanks for reading my rant, au revoir <3

[tpup]

something about calling the forced, uncomfortable-to-suicide-inducing donning of a persona for survival purposes "conforming" feels real awful. even when I know I typed that to juxtapose a persona society wants you to don vs a persona society clutches their pearls at you doning... (drag? unacceptable! performing your assigned gender? pat on the back, good for you, keep it up forever!)

because I feel like it is so, so easy to perform gender "wrong". is trying to act cisgender conforming to societal expectations? while it's maybe trying to, I think it's inherently outside of what's deemed "acceptable". You're not winning the gender game by pretending to be a cis person- 1st, there is no winning, 2nd, it isn't enough to *try* to be cis, you must *be* cis. Even cis people fail at this all the time.

idk. beef with the idea of conformity when you don't have choice not to and/or the attempt at conforming is harming you rather than granting you much privilege

being closeted isn't a privilege, being closeted is being trans and therefore inherently not conforming, ykwim. trying to be cis doesn't give you much cis privilege when you're not cis. like, even if people don't sniff you out.

--

My brain fog has been less all-consuming since changing some of my meds recently so I'm excited to read some more theoryyy it's been so long since I was able read much of anything tbh. Audiobooks that also have the words on screen would be best for me; anyone know where I can find that format for free or w library card?

Also if you have recommendations on pieces that talk on how gender is this lose-lose game and idk im really interested to hear transfeminist ideas on the distinction btwn cis & trans, I think about it a lot.. such a paradox of it being something that you can't seem to draw solid lines in but also there clearly being lines of power imbalance societally & also gender mattering in a personal sense etc etc etc. It's something I can never grasp verbally. How binaries don't exist but also do exist.

thoughts

lacking much obvious nuance due to the nature of diagrams

[devotion-disorder]

I discovered what DoL was only 13 hours ago, and I literally spent all day playing it. One moment it was 9am, then it was 6pm lol

dol do be doing that to you😔 for what its worth its a darn neat lil game. im more surprised i still manage to indoctrinate people into playing it haha!!

[tojisun]

cant even lie but rich man fucking you nonchalantly while his equally rich friends watch on or do other mundane things has been eating me up (it’s something that price’d do; ghost and soap probably watch and stare, but gaz is a busy man. somehow, you don’t know which one of his friends’ attitudes you’d prefer.)

[o-winterqueen-o]

fengming is such a fun ship because you have these two guys who are deeply and irrevocably traumatized by their closest relationships and how those relationships intersected with their own sense of duty, loyalty, and honor. and they both have such opposite responses to that trauma.

pei ming finds new friendships with ling wen and shi wudu but does his utmost to remain carefree and tries to leave the past in the past. to not think of everything he's lost everyone he loved who he cut down with his own hands tries to not let himself to get too attached to anyone else (he fails) and just live in the moment. even though his past still clearly haunts him,,, he can't commit himself to a weapon, he can't speak to yushi huang, he can't bring himself to have more than a fling with anyone.

meanwhile feng xin digs in with all his might and grasps at every straw he can to not let his connections fade even though they've twisted and gone sour because he refuses to move on and refuses to make new meaningful connections. he'll pick fights with mu qing and chase after xie lian and jian lan because even after all they've done to hurt him, he loves them and doesn't know how to stop,,,

but in the end they're both a couple of guys who never meant to ascend, who never sought to be more than what they were. pei ming was happy as a general. feng xin was happy as a bodyguard. and they've lost so much in a way that few people can understand but at least they can understand each other.

[richardsphere]

You might not say they're equals. You didn'tneed to. The show does so by way of Soulmate Blabber and Yin-Yang imagery. "not a writing flaw, but a choice". Not mutually exclusive. It is a deliberate choice by the writers to give them creation/destruction powers, make fu's box look ike its covered in YinYangs, design their civilian designs with a Yin/Yang colourscheme. Those are choices. Having them then be explicitly unequal is also a writing choice. Together, that creates a structural flaw where they're trying to have their cake and eat it too. The example i always give is Kim Possible. You can have a Girlpower Badass with an inferior sidekick, as long as you dont pretend they're equals. Desperada had an explicit textual message that adrien was inferior to his romantic rival in the one measure the episode cares about. And if you cannot see how the two "Person A gets a second Kwami so B can interact with a Hero version of A knowing the Hero they're fighting alongside is actually A" episodes are meant to parallel? thats on you. the show isnt about "how adrien doesnt need to be usefull to earn love". Because there is literally an entire season dedicated to telling him how he needs to blindly follow her order with no expectations of anything in return. If that is supposed to be the lesson for kids, they bungled that to hell and back. Of course i want to enjoy this show, but i also want it to be good and not to be consistently spreading toxic messages to their non-medialiterate audience of impressionable children. This is a childrens rolemodel show. That means it's first priority should never be "being good" it's first priority is to be a good influence on the children that watch it. it being good is a bonus, it doesnt matter if they have some secret plan to make adrien a badass or to "fix" the imbalance between the two. (to be clear, they verry much dont, as Thomas himself said "he's just Ken") you know what i hate. When any criticism of a series stories is responded to with the classic loaded line "well do you even want to enjoy the show". mindless consumption isnt gonna save the intended audience from this show's abuse apologia. Im not mad that it "isnt what i wanted it to be" im mad that its consistently lying to its audience, because while I am able to call it out on its toxic bullshit, an 8-year-old isnt going to be able to tell that "Boyfriends are just prizes to be won" is an unhealthy mindset. I care that it mixes every message that it ever sent. What matters isn't that the show be enjoyable. (though it'd be a plus.) What matters to a show like this is that the showrunners should be responsible with the messages they ingrain in the children watching the show. Miraculous isnt aimed at you, and it isnt aimed at me. Its aimed at children. And that means it needs to be held to a higher standard, not a lower one.

Ok so the daddycop trailer shows cat getting antikuma'd mid air... and let me just say:

Can we stop Worfing the cat? Like, at every opportunity?

I get that "hero takes a hit" and "hero goes down" are dramatic narrativs beats, and that for structural "shes the healer" reasons these beats cant go to marinette. But in a post-team era? Can those beats please go to other people on occasion?

We literally have 2 heroes with dedicated "meatshield" powers (invulnerable Ivan and nino the shieldbearer). For the "just protect mari" scenario's, and we have an entire b-team that is just as easily resurectable as Adrien.

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

the fight between Sheriff Jimmy and God Joel would have ended so much quicker if Jimmy just started praying every time Joel started doing shit. A) because like that's kinda awkward, you're terrorizing this guy and he gets on his knees and starts worshiping you. He runs away every time it happens and B) its written into a gods nature to care about and want to support those who worship them.

Joel is freaked out over his change of character and Jimmy's weird behavior. Meanwhile Jimmy brushed up on mythos and knows he's got this little god wrapped around his damn finger

[monsterlimbs]

Okay third "sympathetic big bad" from bg3 post for Ketheric because he is the one guy that I think most can sympathize with, and he's truly the easiest to sympathize with.

Some horrible day, your beautiful Melodia, your darling wife, dies, protecting your daughter. You grieve horribly, but you keep going for your children. Everything for them.

Your daughter brings home a fucking IMMORTAL Aasimar, child of a god and declares her as her lover. A child or your god, yes, who you've known so far to be good, sure, BUT STILL A CHILD OF A GOD. It almost makes it worse that the Aasimar is a child of your god, considering you raised your daughter, per your wife's wishes, to trust Selûne, and you're worried that this Aasimar may use this to her advantage. And they're so in love yes, but that's such a scary power dynamic for you- what if Aylin asks your daughter to do something she's not ready for? How OLD is that Aasimar? And how could you live with yourself if your daughter was put into an unsafe situation, simply because you didn't put your foot down? So, you do, and your daughter's angry. Of course she's angry, you're telling her that her and her girlfriend can't be together, but she has to come around eventually, she has to understand what a horrible power dynamic that is.

And worse, worse than when your wife died, you're told your daughter, precious, sweet, innocent Isobel, is dead (who I believe was killed by Halsin in self defense with the Sorrow glaive, even though that content has since been cut from the game but y'know! so essentially, his daughter, in his mind, was killed by a damn druid, the guys who were supposed to be PEACEFUL). You spiral, of course you do, your precious baby is dead, how could you not? And when your god, Selûne, damned mother of that damned Aasimar, ignores your prayers to have your baby back, you turn to her sister, Shar. And Shar, for a moment, helps relieve your loss. In return for killing Selûnites, the same wretched folk that turned against you in your grieving, she rewards you, turns you immortal by letting you imprison that Aasimar that took a liking to your daughter. You're more than pleased to do so, to lock what you believe is a predatory Selûnite up. Shar helps soften your loss.

And then she lets you die to Harpers of all people, and uses you as a way to release the Shadow Curse.

You're revived (I like to believe by Balthazar), and shown the way of Myrkul's path, and HE, is the one to bring your baby back, a century after her fall. You're happily indebted to him, to have your child alive again, anything and more for your baby.

....But she's mad at you. She won't talk to you. She looks at you like you're a monster. She's STILL upset over you forbeying her and Aylin's love, and even more now that she knows you've been using her as a means for immortality. She doesn't get how much you did for her, even while she was gone. You've practically forgotten about all else besides her, and it hurts so bad knowing your baby is not only angry at you, but thinks of you as a MONSTER. You know she'll come around, though. ...And she's now running from you and hiding in the Last Light Inn.

Eventually, you send a Fist to get her and bring her back, and either, your daughter has been killed AGAIN by some random wretched folk- oh gods it's not random is it? That's Durge. OR, she survives and is brought back to you, OR she survives and is even angrier at you now. She doesn't see how much shit you've waded through, just for her. She only sees a man who's "gone too far". She doesn't even know how far you'd go, to keep her safe. Everything and more, just to keep her safe.

Whether she's with you or not, one day you wake to a suddenly... off feeling. ....Fuck, why do you feel so odd? FUCK, your immortality's gone, you can feel it. Your wounds don't close, you're vulnerable. And it's all the problem of, either, the folk that kept your daughter from being returned to you, or the folk who killed her and sent her back.

And once, Ketheric truly was redeemable. But now, he gets SO, SO, SO close and then Aylin's like "nah he'd NEVER surrender, isn't that right, you worm?" and he gets up and is like "oh fuck you" and every chance is gone. Then you see him again, and he's already decided, he WON'T grovel again. He's gone too far, he sees it now. Sweet, precious Isobel was right. There's no coming back from this. And if you try to convince him he's worthy of redemption, he selflessly gives up and his god ixnays his retreat. And otherwise, he may go down yes.... But if he's going down, so are you.

And then he dies. He dies knowing he's given up everything for his daughter, cursed an entire land, caused Hell for everyone, and that his daughter, sweet Isobel, doesn't even think he's her father anymore. In her eyes, he's so far gone that he's not even the same man.

[disobey-disappoint-deviate]

Ok, but I think we are all sleeping on Carl & Markus.

[psstwantsomecheese]

Honestly Maedhros and Elwing should've just fucked about it