#because greed rules this world

[heavenlymorals]

The Deeper Meaning of Loan-Sharking

Warning: spoilers for both Red Dead games

The complexity of RDR2's story blows me away every fucking day because oh my god- the characters, the themes, the symbolism, the call backs to other medias and so on and so forth.

But here is one thing that stuck with me when I realized it for the first time-

The deeper meaning of the loan sharking missions.

The main purpose of those missions were obviously to show a change of character in Arthur Morgan- from a heartless enforcer, a plague to the down-trodden, to a heartbroken man, ashamed of his actions, and trying to remedy what he can without the hope for forgiveness because he knows he doesn't deserve it.

The loan sharking missions are the most obvious and in your face representation of Arthur's redemption arc.

But at its core, it felt like a nod to criticisms that the 1800s romantics and naturalists had towards the concept of civilization, a direct call back to Dutch's philosophy all throughout both RDR and RDR2.

What do I mean by this?

All throughout the game, the gang tries to fight civilization in an almost Robinhood esque way- these American knights wrecking havoc for the dreams of their outlaw king. They rob the rich, who Dutch sees as the reason for America's moral failure, and those who protect these rich men because they add to those men's power. It all sounds very noble but it's a useless and bloody fight.

Mac and Davey get killed, Jenny gets killed, Sean gets killed, Kieren gets killed, Hosea and Lenny get Killed, Molly gets killed.

This gang life for a dream that'll never be realized kills people and consumes them until there is nothing left but husks of people who had dreams of their own.

The romantic dream will only be a dream and the only place it can be a reality is in books and philosophies. Civilization is the truth- it saves humanity from the hell that is anarchy or so it seems.

The gang fought against the encroaching civilization that threatened to devour the West and Arthur followed Dutch and showed the same sentiments regarding civilization- and by following Dutch, he followed that same ideal, even if his heart wasn't fully in it.

The gang life- coming to an end and no longer sustainable- showed the impossibility of this beautiful dream as it destroyed everything but that wasn't the thing that killed Arthur in the end.

Tuberculosis killed Arthur. Tuberculosis from loan sharking.

"It's legal work, Mr. Morgan." Strauss to Arthur.

The legal work killed Arthur in the end, not the shootouts or gang feuds. The civilized work killed Arthur in the end. The civilized world beat Mr.Downes, a poor, dying man trying to do his best for his family. The civilized world killed Arthur Londonderry.

The civilized world and this legal work sucked the life out of the poor so rich men can get richer and take everything they can around for their greed can not be satiated.

The civilized work, the legal work killed Arthur Morgan.

The hypocrisy of it all is so heartbreaking because despite all the bad things the gang did, the philosophy, the too idealistic and romantic philosophy they fought for, that could never be realized in the world they lived in, held truth.

And that small monocum of truth kept Dutch fighting and fighting until he no longer could by commiting suicide.

Good God I love this game.

[rxmye]

" 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — pristine and perfect, filled with grace and elegance, yet tainted with greed . . greed for you . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / slight religious themes?, I suppose it's a fictional religion, I'm still world-building / pathetic and submissive yandere / suggestive content? / he paints the reader as a source of comfort / stalking, which is conveniently described as 'adorable' and 'innocent' behavior /

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: ok so the person mentioned is supposed to be the God of this world, their introduction will also be out soon enough . . currently dropping hints here because world-building fun!!

Takamoto was an Arch-angel, one of the highest ranked angels in heaven—he was pure and truly the definition of elegance, he was never greedy, and he was almost always seen smiling or happy. For he, was truly contempt with his life, and position.

Takamoto was always someone who had truly been satisfied with all that he was given, he never craved more—he always thought and frankly believed, that he had received all that he deserved and that he should be contempt with what he has. He never really had any passion or desire for anything more—he was grateful with everything—he believed all his hardships had reasoning behind it, and that it will all eventually be solved. In fact a part of him believed he deserved any hardship he came by.

Many would believe he was naive for that sort of mindset, and many angels did truly believe him to be just that, yet against all odds he rose up the ranks fairly quickly for this sort of mindset, and of course his loyalty to his beliefs. Takamoto was sweet, he'd help everyone out, and would introduce new souls, and angels throughout the lands of heaven on his free time, he'd help guide souls and his fellow angels everywhere he could . . yet things slowly changed when he first met you . .

Takamoto was visiting, what could only be described as the countryside of heaven, with vast green fields, cozy homes, acres of farmland, etc . . He was checking in for this years harvest, as per high courts orders . . when he saw you, you were so graceful, your wings sparkled in the light, you were radiant, you're eyes glimmered as both of your eyes met for a brief moment . . he felt his heart skip a beat. . his face was heating up slightly, his face dusted with shades of bright pink.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his gaze lingered on you figure, taking in the sight—your wings were lovely, much smaller than his . . were you a new soul? Perhaps you were a lower ranked angel and hence why you both never quite met . . He wanted to know more about you—he need to know more about you—where were you going? . . . and before he knew it, he found himself following you, trailing behind you silently.

He found himself frequenting areas he last saw you, it was all so innocent at first, many of his fellow coworkers described him as a young schoolboy in love, teasing him for his oh so adorable behavior . .

Takamoto didn't notice how much you were invading his life, he hadn't even been able to hold a proper sentence with you yet . . . but even then his thoughts consumed of you, whenever he did paperwork, he'd doodle your face, his room was filled with various portraits of you . .

He found himself overtime growing desperate, impure thoughts flooding his mind, greed sinking its claws into his sensitive and naive hurt—he was the utter picture of perfection, just look at him, he was everything an angel . . a human, anyone should be!?!? Why aren't you looking his way!— . . he took deep breaths, his own fingers digging into his skin, as he tried calming himself.

Gold drips from his arm, the bruise left from his fingers still fresh—golden blood stained his pretty pale fingers—pupils dilating as he took deep breaths, a ruined portrait of your face on the aisle, paint splatters surrounded him, tainting his legs, as a mirror lay broken on the floor.

"Fuck", he cussed softly, tears threatening to spill, his usually well-kept hair was a mess . . "why can't I draw them . . ?", he asked, his voice hoarse, as he tried his best to contain the anger he felt at that moment, "why can't I fucking draw them??", his nails dig into the floor, as the door creaked open.

You need to love him, you need to see him. He had never craved someone's validation, he deserved this, he deserved you! He could offer you everything, he was perfect! Everyone he knows, envied that about him . . surely you'd notice, you have too . .

He turned to face the person at the door, tears now dripping down his cheek, he mumbled something under his breath, before he started begging, "Please, please, help me . . my lord"

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[tamamita]

why do sunnis hate shi'as that much what the fuck is their problem?

Hatred towards Shi'a Muslims is not only a concurrent issue, it's a 1400 year old issue that started as a result of the political unrest that took place following the Prophet Muhammad's (pbuh&hf) death. It laid the foundation for the political schism of Islam. Initially, the Shi'as (or Alids) were just a group of partisans that would only develop their own theology a hundred years later. And then you had those who supported Abu Bakr rise to the caliphate. For Shi'as, we believe Abu Bakr usurped the caliphate due to various incidents, and thus, we rejected his ascent to power. These were the partisans of Ali (a). When Ali (a) eventually became the caliph, he was met with a lot of hardship and opposition by people who either hated him or sought political power. During the caliphate of Uthman, the Umayyads were given unrestrained power, and it was not until Ali (a) became the caliph that he removed them from power for their greed and nepotism. However, Muawiyah, a "companion" of the Prophet, who was intially opposed to him before his clan lost in the final battle of Mecca, was in control of Sham (Syria) and refused to go down, hence a renewed civil strife within the Islamic world. The Umayyads were vicious people who were renown for their corruption and hedonism, and their caliphate was founded on the blood of Imam Hussain (a), the son of Imam Ali (a). For Sunnis, these events aren't particularly important, and Islamic history is often neglected, promoting the idea that whatever happened in the past has no religious or theological significance to Islam as a religion. This is where we disagree because, as Shi'as, we simply can't accept certain religious doctrines on the basis of these people being unreliable. For example, Ayesha, having been the wife of the Prophet, is one thing, but she still waged an unjust war against Ali (a). There is no way we can accept her narrations because she's simply untrustworthy.

Because of the power that the Umayyads managed to consolidate for themselves, superseeding the Rashidun caliphate, there was a state-sponsored campaign with the purpose of supressing any Shi'i resistance against the rule, the Shi'as were among these groups and suffered severe persecution to such extent that even members of the Prophet's family were brutally oppressed. For Shi'as, the Prophet's family are a source of emulation and knowledge, and we have to adhere to their understanding of Islamic theology, this is why Islamic history is important, so we can highlight the root behind the resistance. However, dwindling in power and numbers, the Shi'as ultimately committed themselves to Taqiyyah (concealing one's religion) to ensure their survival. This is how we managed to survive for 1400 years. For Sunnis, the Umayyads and subsequent caliphs are a source of great pride, hence why Syria is considered an important heritage site for Sunnis who regard the Umayyads with great respect.

With that said, the reason there's so much sectarian animosity towards Shi'as is because with history in mind, our tradition of reviling these companions is considered an act of disbelief. Sunnis often retort that these companions are noble people and could not possibly be reviled because they had been in the companionship with the prophet, holding that despite the wars and atrocities committed by these people, we should respect them nevertheless. Either way, Shi'a Muslims have a doctrine called Tabarrah (dissociation), which is extended to those people who have caused harm towards the Prophet and his family. This includes "cursing" them, which is considered one of the most offensive acts and a reason why Sunnis get up in arms when we criticize the companions, especially the first caliph Abu Bakr and the second caliph Umar. Furthermore, our emphasis on the doctrine of intercession has caused much controversy because stricter muslims, such as Salafists consider these acts tantamous to idolatry, hence why it's easier for Shi'as to be considered heretics. The fact that we have shrines is considered blasphemous and there are many instances in which these shrines have been attacked. Shi'as are so reviled that for some Sunnis and Salafists, the difference between a Christian and a Shi'a is that Christians have rights as pertained to their status as "People of the Book", while Shi'as are considered heretics, and ultimately disbelievers. For such a reason, we do not have any rights; our blood becomes lawful to them.

In short, HTS, AS, ISIS, Al-Qaeda and all their Salafist sympathisers believe that the blood of a Shi'a is lawful because we are heretics. We are simply putting up a resistance against them. Shi'ism is not just a branch of Islam. It's one of the oldest resistance movements in the world.

[senseandaccountability]

"I'm me again"

Yes well this is me getting a little sappy - again - about the spirits/demon thing as a metaphor for the human experience, must be Friday. 

(Yes, this is about Solas.)

Last night my Ingellvar was tending to the graves with Emmrich and she said “demons” and immediately corrected herself, because of course she meant spirits but people outside Nevarra so easily call them demons and Emmrich, one of the kindest and most insightful people in the entire DA verse, would of course never do that. Because he sees them all as spirits. Some of them may be twisted, embittered, furious and cruel but to him they are still, at heart, the same being as their more positive virtues. You are always you, as Solas tells Cole. 

Which is also what Solas argues for all of DAI.

Which is also what Solas personal quest actively shows us in DAI.

His friend, broken and twisted by the mages' bindings, dies a spirit of Wisdom, thanking him and telling him not to be sad. “I’m me again.”

Which is also a very strong theme in Solas entire arc. 

But it’s really not just Solas, or the elves. The eternal struggle of spirits is a reflection of the human soul and what it means to be human. What parts of you does the world let you cultivate, what parts are hidden and twisted in the dark, what virtues would you be remembered for if you died tomorrow? What sort of person have you become? What person could you be? DA is crammed with these themes.

Since the spirit reveal/confirmation, I’ve seen a lot of very detailed and very cool discussions about the specifics of spirit virtues and demon characteristics and that’s some good shit right there, but you can also be lazy like me and very much just read it as various aspects of human nature interacting with each other. We’re all so many things over our lifetime, to different people, in different contexts. We all carry such endless capacity for goodness and gentleness and we’re all so very capable of hurting each other.

In the codex entries we see Solas try over and over and over again to appeal to the better nature of the Evanuris. He is described as brilliant and wise, he is pulled out of the Fade specifically for his wisdom and he tries to get them to reflect that, to listen to his concerns, to use their powers differently. Why don’t you make creatures that can protect the People, he asks Ghilan’nain. Why do you need to push your power further, he asks Elgar’nan, the people are already submitting to your rule, why must you shackle them? War may have twisted him up already but there’s nothing he says that isn’t extremely valid and wise about the Evanuris’ approach to ruling.

But as we learn from the Spirit of Command in Crestwood in DAI, wisdom is considered a soft virtue in a world of war and hierarchy and his reasoning falls flat or gets interpreted as fear or insubordination. Unheard and undervalued, his wisdom grows sour and prideful. He isn’t wrong, he knows he isn't, and he will show them. You are not gods, I will make you see that you are not gods. I will humble you until you understand that I am right. 

This is a profoundly human experience.

The ancient elven empire ultimately falls to its own greed and hierarchies and lack of boundaries - all of which Solas pointed out, all of which he and his rebels opposed. But the Evanuris didn’t listen, they were caught in a power scheme where only individual power matters and everyone else becomes pawns. How ironic then that their empire falls to its own foolish pride and boundless cruelty against the Titans, the first children of the earth. They hurt themselves by hurting them. They wound the fabric that binds them all together. 

Solas as a character is an open, ongoing conflict between "spirit" and "demon" aspects, between light and dark, between identifying as a solitary creature or part of the whole. It’s never more visible than during the final act of DAV where he is at once Solas, standing with the Shadow Dragons against the blight. And also Fen’Harel, scheming to get there in the first place, treating people in his way like dehumanized pawns to reach his final destination, a goal that can be argued to be entirely tainted with pride at this point, a way to soothe his conscience and need to be right more than it’s a way to save the world. And he’s the Dread Wolf, physically embodying the struggle against the corrupt powers since he, unlike the Evanuris, doesn’t believe in binding creatures to fight his battles. It’s significant that while he fights alone, he cannot do it without help from Rook. Elgar’nan directs all of the blight at the Dread Wolf and it takes a sacrifice from the team to free him from its grasp. It’s a battle orchestrated by a god. 

And Solas, powerful as he may be, is not a god. 

That is why it’s so lovely to me that the ending isn’t just a matter between Solas and his conscience or between Solas and Rook or Solas and Lavellan. Because we are not single entities. We are not islands. That’s why we need each other, because we respond to each other, we affect each other, we abuse and love each other and we cannot really understand in which ways until we connect. We use each other to remind us of who we are, or who we could be. Every Benevolence needs a Wisdom, every Command needs a Compassion, every one of us needs someone else in some way, shape or form. We are not meant to be solitary. We all share Solas' deepest fear of dying alone. We all share Solas’ ongoing conflict with the better and worse parts of our nature. We all reflect each other. The ending brings in the past, the present and the person that knows Solas not as a god but as a person.

We are shattered fragments of a greater whole and it was, as Morrigan points out, Solas’s love for and loyalty to his people that set him on this course long ago. And he broke the world. He broke his people. He couldn’t save them, all the horrible things that he has done and he still couldn’t save them. Ultimately and emotionally to him, this isn’t about wisdom or pride or good or evil or any such dichotomy, this is about grief and regret and broken humanity.

That is why it’s so powerful to me that a romanced or friendly Lavellan is so kind to him in DAV. They approach him carefully, they kneel down beside him to make a connection, they are understanding and compassionate and it may not be what he deserves on some grand justice scale of things, but it is without question what he needs. Pride and regret and grief need compassion, hope and benevolence much more than it needs to be proven wrong or challenged, kindness breaks the cycle.

They reach out to him not the way one would reach out to a god, but to a person. Because that’s what Solas needs to be reminded of - his humanity. That’s what their love and friendship has always reminded him of, that's what the Inquisition taught him - that the world is worth caring about because broken as it may be, it is also full of people. 

And people matter. They might not matter to the Dread Wolf, but they have always mattered to Solas.

That's what the good ending represents.

"I'm me again." 

[zeroseuniverse]

A Prince's Fear

Word Count: 2.5K Summary:“I swore I wouldn’t leave my—”“I swore I would bring you home,” Pairing: Wonwoo X Reader

taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

There are many kinds of rulers in this world.

There are those who command with words, whose voices stir hearts and ignite revolutions. They are the ones who walk among their people, speaking their names, promising change, vowing to carve a future from the echoes of their declarations.

There are those who lead with steel, standing shoulder to shoulder with their warriors. They do not hide behind castle walls or dictate orders from gilded thrones. Instead, they wade into battle, blood and dirt staining their armor as they fight not for their people, but with them. Their respect is earned through sacrifice, their loyalty forged in the crucible of war.

There are those who crave power, who see a crown as a means to indulge in riches and decadence. They rule for themselves, their subjects nothing more than a means to an end, a source of wealth, labor, or entertainment. Their reigns are often short, for greed invites downfall, and the people will only endure so much before their patience runs thin.

There are those who manipulate, spinning webs of deceit and secrets, ensuring they remain atop their throne not by brute strength, but by outmaneuvering all who seek to dethrone them. They are the masters of whispers and veiled threats, the ones who turn allies into enemies and enemies into pawns. Their rule is precarious, but their cunning makes them dangerous.

And then, there are the strategists—the ones who do not seek the throne but ensure it stands. They are the quiet architects of empires, fixing problems before they become catastrophes, moving pieces in a game only they can see in its entirety. Their victories are not sung in ballads, but without them, there would be no kingdom left to rule.

Among these rulers stands a warrior. A ruler who sees themselves not as a sovereign above their people, but as one of them. You fight because you must, because you know too well the cost of trust misplaced, the sting of betrayal buried deep in your bones. Your kingdom flourishes not because of fear or blind obedience, but because your people believe in you. A belief earned not by words, nor by political maneuvering, but by action.

And standing in opposition—or perhaps, beside you —is a strategist. A man who does not understand why his betrothed insists on throwing herself into the chaos of war when you have an army to fight in your stead. To him, a ruler’s duty is to command, to make the decisions that win wars before they are fought, not to risk her life on the front lines. Yet, despite his disagreements, despite the frustration that burns beneath his carefully composed exterior, he will ensure one thing above all else.

That you will always return home to him.

The war drums thundered in the distance, their rhythmic beat echoing through the valley. Soldiers stood in formation, banners fluttering under the weight of an approaching storm. At the front of the army, where a ruler should not be, you sat atop your steed, eyes fixed on the battlefield ahead.

"You should not be here," came the calm, measured voice from beside you.

Wonwoo’s horse moved in perfect step with your own, his dark eyes unreadable as he studied the scene before him. He was dressed in practical armor, unadorned but effective, his sword sheathed at his side. Unlike you, he had no intention of drawing it today.

"And yet, here I am," you responded, not sparing him a glance. Your fingers tightened around the hilt of your weapon. "Where else would I be?"

"In the war room. Behind the walls of your stronghold. Anywhere but in the path of a blade meant for another."

Your lips curled in something that was not quite amusement. "And leave my people to bleed while I hide behind stone and parchment? I am no coward, Wonwoo."

"Cowardice and wisdom are not the same," he countered smoothly. "A leader’s duty is not to die for her people but to ensure her people do not die at all."

You turned to him then, eyes burning with something fierce and unyielding. "And what would you have me do? Sit idly by while my people pay the price of my decisions? I will not lead from the shadows, Wonwoo. I will not rule from fear of death."

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, barely restraining the sigh that threatened to escape. He had known this argument would go nowhere. It never did.

"Then at least allow me to ensure you return home in one piece," he said at last, his voice quieter now, steadier. "If you insist on standing in the fire, I will be the one to pull you from the flames."

Your gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before you turned back to the battlefield. The war horns sounded. The battle was upon you.

And just as always, Wonwoo would ensure you came back alive.

The first clash of steel rang through the air, drowning out the war drums. The battlefield erupted into chaos—shouts of soldiers, the sickening crunch of metal against flesh, the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground. You wasted no time, urging your horse forward into the fray, your sword flashing in deadly arcs as you cut down the first enemy in your path.

Wonwoo remained close behind, his movements precise, controlled. He did not fight with reckless abandon, nor did he lose himself in the battle’s frenzy. Instead, he watched—analyzing, predicting. Where you fought with passion, he fought with calculation.

And still, his eyes never strayed too far from you.

A flash of movement—a blade aimed directly at your exposed side. Wonwoo reacted before he could think, his own sword meeting the strike with a sharp clang. With a swift, efficient motion, he dispatched the attacker, his grip tightening around the hilt.

"You are reckless," he muttered under his breath, stepping closer as you turned to him, expression unreadable.

"And you are predictable," you shot back, breathless but smirking. "I knew you would cover me."

Wonwoo didn’t answer, only letting out a soft exhale. Of course you had known. You always did.

The battle raged on for hours, long enough for the sun to bleed into the horizon, staining the sky in hues of crimson and ash. The once-green valley was now a sea of churned mud and trampled bodies, the earth slick with blood.

It happened fast—too fast.

You were locked in combat with a soldier twice your size, blades clashing in rapid succession. You didn’t see the second soldier closing in behind you.

But Wonwoo did.

“Behind you!” his voice rang out, sharp and clear, but he was too far.

The second soldier lunged.

You spun, blade meeting the strike—but too late. The enemy’s sword carved a thin, shallow line across your side, slicing through leather and grazing flesh. You hissed sharply, pain blooming white-hot across your ribs.

Wonwoo was already there.

His sword cut through the first soldier with cold, lethal precision, then struck down the second attacker in a single blow. His movements were swift, practiced—but his eyes were wild, dark with fury.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. His hands were already on you, gloved fingers brushing against the torn leather at your side, seeking the wound.

“It’s nothing,” you gritted out, trying to shake him off. Your hand was still tight around your sword, blood still staining your knuckles. “I can still fight.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed, dark with barely restrained anger. His voice was low, sharp.

“Enough.”

The word cut through the battlefield noise, cold and commanding, leaving no room for argument.

Before you could protest, he caught your wrist and yanked you close. Your chest collided against his armor, and before you could react, he was hauling you onto his horse.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you snapped, struggling in his grip.

“Getting you off the battlefield.” His tone was unwavering, unyielding.

“I swore I wouldn’t leave my—”

“I swore I would bring you home,” he bit out, his voice low but fierce. His arms tightened around you, firm and protective, refusing to let go.

And you knew, despite your protests, he would always keep that vow.

The ride back was silent.

You sat stiffly in front of him on the horse, your back pressed against his chest, but neither of you spoke. Wonwoo’s arm was a steel band around your waist, keeping you secure despite your attempts to squirm free in the beginning. Eventually, you stilled, the throbbing ache from your wound making you lean ever so slightly into him.

You could feel the tension in his body—the rigid line of his shoulders, the sharp edge of his jaw pressed against your temple when the horse jolted forward. He was furious, you knew. Not at the enemy. Not at the battle.

At you.

When you reached the stronghold, he dismounted first, gripping your waist firmly as he helped you down. His hands were steady—too steady. Wonwoo was always composed, but you could feel the storm barely restrained beneath the surface.

He didn’t say a word as he guided you inside. His grip on your wrist was gentle, but unyielding, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers.

“Wonwoo—” you started once you were in the privacy of your chambers, but he cut you off with a look.

“Sit.” His voice was low, rough. A command.

You blinked, startled by the sharpness in his tone. He was never this curt with you. You parted your lips, ready to argue, but something in his eyes made you pause. So, without another word, you sank onto the edge of the bed.

He knelt before you without hesitation, pulling off his gloves and setting them aside. His fingers were steady as he unlaced the buckles of your leather armor, but he refused to meet your eyes.

The metal plates clattered softly to the floor as he removed them piece by piece. His jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitching. Only when he peeled back the torn fabric of your tunic did he pause, inhaling sharply.

The cut wasn’t deep, but the sight of blood against your skin made something dark flicker in his eyes.

“You said it was nothing,” he muttered, voice low and gravel-rough.

You winced slightly as he pressed a damp cloth against the wound. The sting made you hiss, but you bit your lip, refusing to pull away.

“It is nothing,” you insisted quietly. “I’ve had worse.”

Wonwoo’s fingers stilled for half a second.

Then, slowly, he raised his eyes to meet yours. And it was only then that you realized the depth of the fury he had been holding back. It wasn’t loud or explosive. It was sharp and quiet—a barely restrained storm, threatening to break.

“That’s the problem,” he said softly, but his voice was like iron. “You’ve had worse.”

Your lips parted, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but he wasn’t finished.

“You’ve had worse because you’re reckless. Because you don’t think. You rush in without hesitation, without care for whether or not you come back.” His voice was calm—too calm. That sharp edge of control only made it more cutting. “And you think it’s noble. You think it’s brave.” His fingers curled slightly around the cloth in his hand, knuckles whitening. “But it isn’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“It’s foolish,” he muttered bitterly, voice barely above a whisper. “And one day, it’s going to get you killed.”

There it was—the truth he had been holding in, the words he hadn’t spoken on all the battlefields before this one.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound in the room was your unsteady breathing.

Then, softly, you reached out. Your fingers brushed over his knuckles, curling around his hand.

“I know it’s foolish,” you admitted quietly, surprising even yourself with your honesty. “But I’m not afraid.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened. “I am.”

The confession fell from his lips before he could stop it. His voice was so soft, so raw, that it felt like a blade against your chest. You felt the weight of it—the fear he had never spoken aloud, the quiet dread he carried every time he watched you ride into battle.

He let out a slow, unsteady breath, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around yours. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse.

“You’re afraid of being a coward,” he muttered. “And I’m afraid of losing you.”

The words hung in the space between you, fragile and heavy all at once. You stared at him, your chest tightening with something you weren’t sure you could name.

For once, you had no retort.

You watched as he set the cloth aside, his fingers trembling slightly when he pressed them over the bandage he had placed over your wound. His touch was light, almost reverent, as though he feared you might break beneath his hands.

“Don’t ask me to watch you die,” he whispered, voice barely audible. His eyes found yours—dark, pleading, stripped bare of the careful mask he usually wore. “Don’t ask me to be strong enough for that.”

You stared at him, breathless. His eyes were steady but filled with so much restrained emotion that it made your throat tighten.

You reached up slowly, cupping his face in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and for the first time since the battle, he let out a shaky exhale, closing his eyes briefly at your touch.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently over his cheekbone. “Not without you.”

His eyes opened slowly, dark and searching, and something in them softened ever so slightly. His hands came up, trembling slightly as he cradled your face in return.

“Swear it,” he muttered softly. “Swear you’ll come back. Every time.”

You held his gaze, your voice steady despite the rawness in your chest.

“I swear it.”

And then, before either of you could speak again, he was kissing you.

It was not a soft kiss. It was desperate, rough-edged with fear and longing, his lips pressing against yours with a fierce, unyielding tenderness. His hands framed your face, holding you there as though you might disappear if he let go.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers curling into the front of his tunic, pulling him closer. You could taste the salt of his sweat, feel the ragged edge of his breath against your lips.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. His breath was uneven, but his hands never left your face.

“I will bring you home,” he whispered against your skin, voice low and steady. “No matter what it takes.”

You pressed your lips against his again, softer this time, but no less sure.

“I know.”

And somehow, you knew that no matter how many battlefields you walked into, no matter how reckless or stubborn you were, he would always be the one who brought you back.

Every time.

[dioslesbianwife]

Remember the request for the partner who is like misa misa can I please request it but for the hxh guys.(the adult trio and kurapica)

Like she is a model actress and actor who has somhow got the protection of the god of death and their death note how whoud they react to her having the shinigami eyes.

For how they met I can imagine they hunted the person who took parents life's like the original story of death note whoud they use the death note or not and how would they react to the god of death treating them if they hurt their misa parents they will suffer . 🍎

sure! i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting <33333

HxH men x famous reader that has a Death Note

How You Met:

Your life changed the day your parents were murdered. As a famous actress and model, you had everything- until someone took it away. The police failed you. The law failed you.

But then, you found the Death Note. And with it, a Shinigami who whispered thoughts of vengeance into your ear.

Now, some of the most dangerous people in the world have their eyes on you.

Illumi

When Illumi first sees your Shinigami Eyes in action, he is completely unfazed.

He was already interested in you because of your celebrity status, but once he realized you had actual supernatural power, he decided you were a valuable asset.

He tests you, casually mentioning a target’s name to see if you’ll use the Death Note.

If you hesitate, he’ll tilt his head and say, “You hesitated. Why? Are you weak?”

If you write the name immediately, he’ll nod approvingly. “Good. You understand efficiency.”

Would He Use the Death Note?

Illumi doesn’t need it- he’s a Zoldyck. But he loves control, and what’s better than a partner who can kill without lifting a finger?

He’d never fear the Shinigami, but he’d be cautious about the rules.

He wouldn’t hesitate to suggest targets, even ones you might struggle with morally.

How He Feels About the Shinigami

If your Shinigami ever threatened him, Illumi would stare it down like a blank-faced doll.

“That’s interesting,” he’d say, his monotone voice unreadable. “Can you die?”

If the Shinigami answered “no,” Illumi would drop it. If it answered “yes,” well… expect him to start experimenting.

Chrollo

Oh boy, is he intrigued. The first time he hears about your abilities, he’s convinced it’s a Nen ability.

When he realizes it’s not Nen, but something entirely different, he’s even more obsessed.

“A book that can kill? Fascinating.”

He would study every rule in the Death Note, memorizing it instantly.

He asks deep, unnerving questions about the Shinigami. “Do they have desires? Can they feel greed?”

Would He Use the Death Note?

Absolutely. But not recklessly.

He’d see it as an intellectual challenge, an opportunity to push human limitations.

If you’re hesitant to use it, he’d never force you- but he’d manipulate you into realizing how useful it is.

“You’re loyal to me, are you not? Then why do you hesitate? We could rule together.”

How He Feels About the Shinigami

He wants to steal its power.

If the Shinigami ever threatened him, he’d simply smile and close his eyes.

“You may be a god, but gods have fallen before.”

Hisoka

This is a game for him.

The second he sees your Death Note in action, he’s intrigued and aroused.

“Oooh, how thrilling~! A beauty with a deadly little secret!”

If you hide your Death Note, he’ll play along, enjoying the chase.

But if you flaunt it? He’s going to test your limits, pushing you to kill faster, more creatively.

If you hesitate to kill, he will taunt you mercilessly.

“Oh? Feeling guilty? How cute~ But will your hesitation make you weak? Will you die because of it?”

Would He Use the Death Note?

Not for himself. But he’d love to push you into using it more.

He’d sit beside you while you wrote, pressing his lips to your ear.

“Ahh~ The moment before the kill… that delicious anticipation… how does it feel, my sweet?”

How He Feels About the Shinigami

Not scared at all. He has little interest in entities like that, but will mess with it.

“Mmm, you’re quite the ominous presence~ Do you watch my darling even when I’m having fun with her?”

If the Shinigami threatened him, he’d just laugh.

“If you wanted me dead, you’d have done it already. So, what’s stopping you, hm?”

Kurapika

Horrified. Power with no balance, judgment without trial.

The moment he realizes what it does, he stiffens, his face pale.

“That book… it’s monstrous.”

If you use it to kill criminals, he might begrudgingly accept it, but he still believes it’s too dangerous.

If you use it for revenge, though? Expect a heated argument.

Would He Use the Death Note?

He would never use it himself- but if given the chance to kill the Phantom Troupe with it… he might waver.

“This isn’t justice… but if it’s the only way…”

How He Feels About the Shinigami

The first time he sees it, he grips his chain tightly.

He does not trust it. Not one bit.

If it ever threatened you, he’d step in front of you immediately, no hesitation.

“If you so much as touch her, I will find a way to kill you.”

[sunseed-fandump]

owo! Now i wanna know what the bad batch think about the ancients individually, (mostly dad vanilla, he’s gonna be so stressed)

Hollyberry Cookie The kids had actually plotted to try stealing her Soul Jam first, as her son and daughter-in-law had already gathered a good portion of the Soul Jam’s fragments. Thus, Wild Strawberry Cookie reluctantly entered the Princess Contest in an attempt to get close to the shield and snatch it during the ball. (She actually got really far!) Unfortunately, the Dragon went berserk and the Lost Queen-mother returned to her Kingdom and took up her shield once more.

While Gingerbrave enjoys the general rowdiness of the country itself, he can’t help but wonder why the royal family even bothers ruling if the Queen-mother and its fair princess are never around. King Royal Berry Cookie is a total pushover and Queen Jungleberry Cookie is competent, but even she can’t hold an entire country together by herself. From the kids’ outlook, the Hollyberry Royal Family value their power over others and take it and their subjects for granted. Clearly, a family can’t be that good if they’re always abandoning each other, and a ruler can’t be that good if they’re constantly leaving their kingdom behind. Wild Strawberry especially does not appreciate the seeming lack of loyalty.

Dark Cacao Cookie He’s definitely the biggest tyrant in the kids’ opinions, due to his country’s strict traditions and laws. They saw how he was letting his country wither in favor of bolstering the Wall, and weren’t impressed with the many ruined villages they saw. Combine that with his habit of social exclusivity towards outsiders, Dark Cacao hasn’t exactly painted the best picture of himself.

Even though he’s since taken up his sword once again and has rid himself of Affogato’s influence, the kids still don’t regard him highly. After all, what kind of king restricts his own soldiers from eating sweets?! He’s depriving his people!!! And he calls THEM evil? Ridiculous. Unfortunately, their plan to steal the Soul Jam was sabotaged by Licorice Cookie and Pomegranate Cookie’s interference, what with calling forth the horrors of the Licorice Sea and Pomegranate cursing the King. However, Dark Choco earned a few points with them by leaving Dark Enchantress behind.

Golden Cheese Cookie It doesn’t matter if greed is considered a good thing in her kingdom, Golden Cheese Cookie is so terribly selfish! Their trip to this Kingdom infuriated Gingerbrave, who views her actions as no better than his Witch. He’s been broken to pieces and brought back over and over, and sees the Golden City as a twisted version of what happened to him on a massive scale. How dare she not allow the dead to rest. How dare they have to be subjected to a fake reality at the whim of a self-proclaimed goddess, just because she’s too childish to mourn and move on.

And what would she do to those who acted against her? Reprogram them? Erase them? Well the kids definitely saw how well Smoked Cheese’s attempt at a coup went. Even now, she refuses to let “her” cookies go as her Kingdom sleeps in Soulcheeses. Golden Cheese sees her subjects as objects, something to hoard and do with however she pleases; even to deny them the peace of death. Gingerbrave can’t stand her as a result.

White Lily Cookie As the only Ancient to not have an established Kingdom (at least up until the events of Beast-Yeast), the kids didn’t really know what to make of her. At least, that’s until Wild Strawberry informed the boys of who White Lily Cookie eventually became in other timelines, Dark Enchantress Cookie. The so called Hero of Freedom, becoming the very tyrant they’re rivaling within the race to obtain the Soul Jam.

The kids see White Lily Cookie as a weakling and hypocrite as a result, though they remain ignorant as to how she fell to Darkness in the first place. She must have decided the world didn’t deserve true freedom, and turned into a controlling maniac as a result. Thus, they don’t trust her as far as they can throw her.

Pure Vanilla Cookie Hooooo boy PV. The kids are especially prickly with him. Gingerbrave doesn’t like the fact that a single healing spell from the vanilla king could turn him to ashes. Azure Wizard doesn’t like that his Light magic and high skill level allows PV to dispel a lot of his dark spells. Wild Strawberry doesn’t like his gentle demeanor and kind personality, as she thinks it's just a farce.

They had sought out the Vanilla Kingdom to learn its secrets and advanced magical knowledge, and wound up inadvertently mixed up in the Waffle Bot attacks. It was Healer Cookie who had saved them and brought them back to the Raisin Village for treatment. Despite the villagers’ clear distrust and distaste for the kids, it was Healer who defended them and allowed them to stay. It wasn’t until he was revealed to be Pure Vanilla Cookie that the kids grew hostile, as it was his actions during the War that caused a lot of problems.

He strives for “truth” and “happiness” for all cookies. Well, too little too late, in the kids’ opinions. The truth is the world is a deeply hurtful and terrible place, and Pure Vanilla is willingly blind to it. 

Everyone is so quick to sing the Heroes praises, to show them kindness, understanding, and love. Well where was “kindness” when Gingerbrave was treated like a freak? Where was “understanding” when Wizard had to resort to dark magic to save his own life? Where was “love” when Strawberry was abandoned to rot in a random timeline with no way of returning? Where were ANY heroes when the kids called for help?

There’s no such thing as heroes. Just really good liars propped up on pedestals of fool’s gold.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

... y'all know Lae'zel is acting scared, right?

Video transcription: I've seen a lot of comments on my short about Lae'zel dismissing her entire character because she's mean and… I'm just checking in here… you guys know she's scared, right? She's terrified. She was kidnapped by the worst monster she knows, infected with the most horrifying death anyone in her culture can have, and then stranded on a hostile world, alone, with nothing to guide her except the dogmatic military cult indoctrination of a cruel lich demigod, telling her that her only hope of salvation is to follow Gith doctrine with total unyielding faith. And still she tries to save you. When she keeps insisting that you must get to the Githyanki crèche, it's our only hope, she's trying to guide you towards the only salvation she knows from the parasite, so she can share it with you. And Gith... aren't supposed to do that, saving an outsider is not part of the doctrine, she's breaking the rules trying to do right by you. None of that means she's not being an asshole, she's rude, dogmatic and unpleasant. But everything she does comes from a genuine, very misguided and abrasive, desire to do the right thing. It doesn't make her behaviour okay, but there is more to her character than just "being the mean one."

To expand on this a bit more than I can in a 60 second short, people acting from fear and from their damage is a major theme among the Baldur's Gate 3 companions.

Lae'zel is terrified and falling back on the only thing she believes will give her back some control over her situation, which is the dogma of the military cult she's in. Shadowheart is much the same, amnesiac and grasping on to the only solid thing she knows, which is her faith, which preaches deception, loss and duplicity as the only certain factors in life.

Gale is an inveterate people-pleaser desperately dependent on other people to help him feed his magic addiction, with his overtly affable exterior hiding a rolling boulder of guilt, ambition, greed, arrogance and legitimate hurt. Asterion is... well, no way to really lay out his deal without spoiling, but the boy has been through it and his self-destructive, hedonistic and selfish impulses are all coping mechanism and self-defense all the time.

None of that make their shitty behaviours okay, but in a fictional story, those kinds of flaws and toxic behaviours are what make for interesting stories and characters. I don't blame anyone for finding Lae'zel unpleasant and abrasive, but I do get a bit Old Man Yells At Cloud about people who casually brag about shoving her off a cliff-side, or murdering her because "she was a bitch" or whatever.

Like... being unable to face discomfort in your media is not a virtue, and lashing out reactively against fiction that doesn't validate your power fantasy isn't a flex.

Of course, I saw a lot of those reactions in YouTube comments and on social media, so my sample is biased by those algorithms, but still. A lot of people seem aggressively proud that they never engaged with her story because the terrified indoctrinated child-soldier wasn't immediately nice to them and I can't explain it but something about that reaction feels puritan to me.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 011 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. getting drunk. physical violence.

notes. @sunasbabie bullied me into updating so here it is. alsoo the start of suna’s downfall arc???

wc. 11.8k

series masterlist 

[ ELEVEN ] I care, I care, I care like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin’, hidden in plain sight. ooh I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life. I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear

Rintaro had known from a very young age he was different.

He had brothers, quite a number of them, and yet even when everyone had their own maids and butlers, Rintaro stuck out like a sore thumb. For one, they were strictly not allowed to call him by his name. He was never Rintaro – always His Highness or Crown Prince. He was never allowed to play with his brothers, either, despite being close in age to most of them. Instead, he stood watching from the windows of his study as they frolicked and lived like normal boys. They attended school, played sports, made friends – the normal way of living, even for Princes. But Rintaro wasn’t like that. Her Majesty had different expectations for him. That because he was the only son of the King and Queen, he simply had to be better than the rest.

No, he had to be the best, and he believed it at some point.

Until Her Majesty announced it was about time he learned some ‘proper socializing’ into society. She’d enrolled him in the same private academy as his brothers, got chauffeured to and fro, and was expected to give nothing but the best of grades when he returned. It sounded simple enough – study, excel, and prepare himself for the throne.

No one had warned him that high school came with other unexpected surprises, one that came in the form of a brown eyed beauty he’d been eyeing since his first day.

Her name was Iris – top of the class, all long, lean legs, and a mop of long, wavy hair. It was hard not to notice her. She was popular, in the way that everyone asked her for her notes, and you could trust her to whisper the correct answer when you’d been called to recite in the middle of the class. An academic overachiever, a teacher’s pet – they all had some sort of name for her. A stickler for the rules, too, always appropriately dressed and speaking in polite, clipped tones. She spoke in a manner elders would love, and Rintaro found that fact rather endearing. He wasn’t a great reader of people, but he could tell one thing: Iris was not her true self.

Her smile might be respectful, but something about the way her lips twitched when being told what to do gave him an idea that perhaps she wasn’t as obedient as she made herself to be. And she was always helping others, putting others before herself, but she never did it looking satisfied.

Rather, it seemed that her actions always stemmed from one thing: obligation.

Iris was not who she is because it was her, down to her nature, but because she felt she had to be. It was such a quality Rintaro resonated with. To deny oneself, and to put duty and order first. They both walked with stiffness in their shoulders, with the weight of the world on their heads. They were simply too young to be caring about such. And Rintaro found it unfair – how they’d been deprived of their right to normalcy and had a future they never even wanted shoved down their throats. He couldn’t speak entirely for her, of course.

They had entirely different backgrounds – with Iris as a foreign scholar, who had to work twice as hard to prove she was worthy as any local, and then there was Rintaro, who couldn’t really tell which parts of him were himself, or fabricated by the throne.

They were both young people who lied to themselves. And strangely enough, he found comfort in that. He found comfort in her. He felt less alone when she was around, and she’d definitely made her presence known. Whether it be slipping notes into his desk and walking away without a word, or sharing her milkbread with him during lunch – which he found hilarious, yet cute – or when she simply made the effort to get to know him.

Not the Crown Prince, but Rintaro.

She began to ask things about himself that he’d never thought of before. Like what his favorite food was – he blanked out, because he wasn’t supposed to be picky with food, so he just ate anything. Or what his favorite game was, and sometimes, she’d even asked him to teach her, even if bringing cell phones in class were prohibited.

She made him feel like a real person. She didn’t treat him specially; she didn’t swoon or fall to her feet when he entered a room. She spoke to him normally, treated him like a friend when no one would dare call him as such.

To her, he was just Rintaro. He could just be. And before he’d realized it, he began to look for her – in the hallways, watching her talk to her friends, or being curious on what snacks she brought so he could buy some for her next time, or intentionally trying to get partnered with her on any project.

But he hadn’t fallen for her.

Not until that day they’d rain poured over them unexpectedly, and they retreated under the nearest tree. Class had long been dismissed, and pretty much everyone had left – save for the two of them due to a late tutoring session. Rintaro struggled with English, but Iris was great at everything. And it was also a good excuse to spend more time together.

“You know, you’re different from what I expected,” Iris spoke, tilting her head up to catch some raindrops falling from the leaves with the tip of her finger. “When they said the Crown Prince was going to attend class, I figured you would be more… uptight. Strict. Or, you know, perhaps more arrogant than your brother.”

Rintaro fought the urge what she thought of him now. He’d become curious about it lately, unhealthily so. He wanted her to like him, to think positively of him – to be more than just ‘handsome’ or ‘charming’ or ‘regal.’ Because he most definitely wasn’t regal around her. He could be more himself, which is why he slouched, learned to smoke, longed for a tattoo, and even learned how to curse. Because he wasn’t Crown Prince Rintaro. He was just a normal high school student, Rin. Rin who stood under a tree while rain poured heavily against the pavement, next to a pretty girl who wore strawberry flavored chapstick and introduced him to a world he never imagined he could be part of.

If she had said he was regal, and well-mannered, he would’ve taken offense. But he didn’t ask, turning his gaze away from the way Iris leaned back against the damp tree and pulled out a cigarette. Even the way she smoked had him fascinated because it meant as a sign of trust to him.

The good, perfect student Iris was no longer perfect around him. She trusted him enough to let her guard down, and reveal her flaws. She had no need to impress him. In return, it made him want to impress her by mimicking her habits – even if he would’ve never dared doing them before.

“I have a lot of arrogant brothers. Which one are you talking about?”

“The ridiculously tall and talkative brunette in our year.”

“Tooru,” he said, gladly accepting when she offered him a stick. He didn’t light it though, because he was on his way home and didn’t want to reek of smoke. Well, if he was to be completely honest, he hated smoking. He didn’t like the way it burned his throat and made it itchy. But Iris smoked often, and she revealed more about herself each time she did, so he joined her. Everything he did was for her.

“Iris, why do you speak so casually to me?”

She shrugged and puffed out a smoky breath. “You just looked lonely. And everyone treats you like you’re fragile – always stumbling over their words or being excessively polite. I can tell it makes you uncomfortable, so… But if you truly mind, I can stick to the formalities. I just thought you might want someone to treat you like a normal person.”

“No, I-I don’t mind,” he reassured, “I like that you speak to me normally.”

“So, friends?”

He chuckled at that, and he didn’t stop her when she took out her lighter and lit her cigarette for him. He supposed one couldn’t hurt. “We have been friends for months now.”

“I know,” she beamed, “I’m just waiting to be invited over to your fancy Palace for tea parties.”

“I don’t even like tea.”

“Shame. I would’ve killed for some expensive drinks.”

And so their unexpected friendship began until they were practically attached to the hip. Wherever Iris went, Rintaro followed. She’d started calling him ‘Rin’ too, and Rin had to hide how much he liked it. He blushed madly each time he did, and it didn’t help that Iris had become more physically comfortable with him – locking arms together when they walked in the hallway, absentmindedly brushing his bangs back during their tutoring sessions, or laying on his lap when she had a book to read as they hid in the corner of the library. Each touch of her skin against his sent heat to his groin. It embarrassed him, because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his ‘friend’ like that, but could you blame him? He was a growing teenager. He wasn’t immune to a pretty girl’s subtle touches.

“You know, you can make it less obvious that you’re staring at the scholar.”

Glancing away from Iris playing volleyball with her friends, Rintaro glared at his brother. He shared classes with Tooru, but otherwise barely spoke to him. Tooru was too loud and confident; a little flashy for his liking. He also basked in the attention he received from the girls, shamelessly flirting with them and getting their hopes up.

Rintaro thought he was an ass.

“Shut up.”

“Well, well, can you believe that? I believe the Crown Prince just uttered a vulgar phrase that would surely displease Her Majesty. I wonder if she’ll ground you tonight for being such a naughty Prince.”

Rintaro glared at him, gesturing to Tooru’s childhood friend lurking in the corner. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like reject that poor girl showering you with gifts again?”

Tooru sighed, and upon seeing Maiko’s face light up when he looked her way, he bid his farewell. “Don’t remind me.”

His brother suddenly disappeared. He almost felt bad for Maiko, the heiress from the Rai Clan. She grew up having multiple play dates with Tooru, and they’d been close all the way to middle school when she grew a crush on him – a crush nearly bordering on obsession. When she invited him over to play with her new puppy around the ninth grade, Tooru was met with a ten feet portrait of him in her bedroom. Tooru hadn’t spoken to her ever since. But the poor girl was too innocent to understand his rejections, and she kept following him like a lost puppy.

Not that Rintaro was concerned. Neither was his brother concerned with him, anyway, so they stayed out of each other’s way until they graduated.

Sometimes, Rintaro still wished he never graduated at all. Maybe Iris wouldn’t have disappeared, then. She didn’t have a phone, so they couldn’t keep in contact, but even if she did have a phone, Rintaro wouldn’t be allowed to be casually conversing with ‘commoners.’ Her Majesty would hate it. And he wasn’t certain where she went. Perhaps university, but last he’d heard, Iris was occupied with dealing with some family matters, and Rintaro stopped prying. Her family was one of the things Iris never spoke of. But from what little he knew, she only had a loving mother who did her very best to raise her alone.

Rintaro would’ve never expected that when they saw each other again, they would run into one another at the Palace, of all places. “Iris?” he couldn’t believe his eyes. Had he missed her so much he was beginning to hallucinate? “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

Iris looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost couldn’t recognize her. It’d been years since he last saw her and spoke with her, but she seemed entirely different now. She’d gone back to speaking in those forced, clipped tones, her posture perfect, and her smile a little stiff for it to be genuine. She’d been lying again to herself and to the world, but he couldn’t understand why. Rintaro still found it hard to believe that she stood in front of him, draped in lace dresses with the Royal emblem pinned to her right breast in the way royals did.

In the way he did.

“Your Highness,” she said, her tone sweet and airy, as she curtsied. Rintaro felt his stomach twist. This wasn’t the Iris he’d liked for so long. Iris didn’t speak sweetly, or said her words like she treaded on air and had that breathy, ridiculously feminine laugh. Iris’ voice was raspy from constant smoking, and when she spoke, it was always carefree. She never called him by his official title before, so why was she doing it now?

Rintaro couldn’t shake the feeling he was being betrayed.

“You mustn’t have been informed. I’m…”

“Do you serve the crown now?”

“No, no! Not quite in that way,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was then he noticed the ring sitting on her finger. “I was married to your brother last night, my Prince.”

“Which brother?”

“Prince Kiyoomi.”

He felt like his world had been crushed.

He was never a hopeless romantic, but he was learning. She’d taught him what girls liked. And he… he thought she liked him, too. She must have, right? If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be staring at his lips when he talked. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t hold his hand and rub circles along his knuckles when they were alone together in the library. Or had he just fooled himself all this time? Was he really nothing but a friend to her?

Rintaro felt foolish all over again.

He felt like he was seven years old once more, holding back his tears while Her Majesty lashed at the backs of his thighs because he wasn’t able to memorize a clause from the Royal Acts and Commands. He heard the word ‘stupid, idiotic, slow,’ and ‘foolish’ resonating at the study room again, while his tutor shook his head in disappointment. Taking a step back, Rintaro released a shuddering breath. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Surely, she wouldn’t befriend him just to make a fool out of him, but if she did… she would pay. He was the Crown Prince. He would become King. He would punish her, humiliate her and put her in her place if she treated him cruelly – but nothing could have prepared him for Iris stepping forwards, eyes drooping with sultriness as her palms flattened against his chest.

Stepping on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

“But I wish it had been you.”

When she kissed him for the first time, Rintaro knew one thing for certain – she had ruined him for anyone else.

Rintaro isn’t a man quick to anger, but he was getting there.

To leave him for a trip with another man was one thing, but to completely leave him on radio silence was another. A whole week you’ve been gone and not once had you texted. No calls, no voicemails, not even an e-mail. He felt like he had no wife, and quite frankly, your determination to pretend he didn’t exist was getting on his nerves. What had he done wrong, anyway? Hadn’t he been sweet to you before you left? He wasn’t going to deny he made mistakes, but he was putting effort into making it all better. He hadn’t spoken to Iris when you were around. He ignored her, and avoided her even when you weren’t in the same room. And he fucking hated it – because why did you make him feel like he was a cheater when he loved her first?

And now, you were messing with his head. He was certain you were.

Apart from some photographs the paparazzi took of you shopping with Kanami, or sharing lunch with her or having coffee dates, he hadn’t seen you with Kiyoomi. He hadn’t the smallest clue what you were doing. Were you sleeping well? Better without him, maybe? Did you miss him, too, or were you just glad to finally be away from him?

He was going insane with every passing second you didn’t speak to him.

“You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Iris’ voice flittering through the loud noise of the music snapped him back to the present. Right. He was at a party attended by celebrities and models, with liquor in red cups and suspicious leaves and powder being passed to one another – the type of parties a Crown Prince shouldn’t be seen at. But the twins had insisted, claiming he should enjoy himself and ‘do whatever the fuck he wants’ since he didn’t have a wife around to criticize him. He thought it was stupid. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you, but Iris wanted to come along out of boredom – Kiyoomi was away fulfilling their duties for them as mediator between two countries, so she had nothing better to do. Besides, Rintaro figured Iris had been itching for these environments. She’d played the docile and agreeable Princess role for several years now. She must be tired of it, and as soon as she saw the opportunity to let loose and be her true self, she wouldn’t dare let it pass.

And maybe his brothers were right. There was nothing wrong with just taking some time for himself. If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

However, he couldn’t convince himself he enjoyed this party he was in. People were making out at dark corners of the hall, and he was pretty sure there were illegal activities happening tonight. Iris didn’t bat an eye on it. The twins, too, seemed to be enjoying themselves as they flirted with a model he’d seen before, but couldn’t care enough to remember the name of.

“Sorry,” Rintaro said, “I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Is it her? You can’t stop looking at your phone.”

Grimacing, he offered her an apologetic smile. Iris didn’t look jealous, but then again, it was hard to tell under the dim lights, and not when she was hugging her fifth cup of whatever foul-smelling liquor she seemed to indulge in. But neither did he want to offend her by lying, so he slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and feigned disinterest. “She hasn’t texted or called since she left. I have no idea how she’s doing at all,” he glanced at her, “Has Kiyoomi texted you?”

“As if that would happen,” she chugged her drink and gestured to the doors. “Let’s go. I need some fresh air.”

They exited and walked all the way to the balcony. On their way there, Iris hugged his bicep and leant against him, causing the passing by hotel staff to eye them warily. But Iris couldn’t care less, and Rintaro leveled the staff with a warning glare. They should know better than to say anything. Tonight, the world was theirs. Iris was in his arms, as free as they could be, as free as he always hoped, and he swore he wasn’t going to think about you.

With the fresh air kissing his exposed skin, Rintaro immediately felt better. He wasn’t surrounded by the stench of alcohol anymore. He could breathe better here. Leaning against the railings, he and Iris overlooked the Kingdom of Inarizaki laying beneath their feet.

At one point in time, he promised to give all of this to the woman beside him. They’d talked about having children and raising them in the Palace. How they would make great monarchs, and they could finally be powerful while still being free. With them on top of the world, no one could tell them what to do. They could simply be themselves. But just a hundred times better, because Iris would be beside him and sharing the burden of the Crown.

At least, until Rintaro realized none of that felt right.

You were his wife. He didn’t want to share this Kingdom with anyone else but you, although there was a more worrisome voice whispering at the back of his head – Rintaro didn’t want to share you with this world. He wanted to hide you and keep you for himself. He didn’t want you anywhere Kiyoomi, or Tooru. You were his. He was yours. He’s your husband, and you his wife.

You should be the one here with him, and he should be there with you.

Did you feel the same way, too?

Iris lit up a cigarette. Before he could think better of it, he snatched one from her and she lit it up for him, just like she did when they were younger. Her brows rose at his sudden eagerness, “You haven’t smoked since you met her.”

“I didn’t want her to think I smelled.”

“What’s the change?” she teased, “No longer worried she’ll think you reek because you’re married?”

“I just need the distraction.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I’m just worried.” He gritted his teeth, not liking how all of this just felt… wrong. Iris smelled too much of the old perfume she wore when they were teenagers, and it made him nostalgic in the worst kind of possible. Like recalling a childhood memory you thought was great at the time, but growing up completely changes your perspective on it. Rintaro hated it – how he tasted bitterness at something he once craved so much. Worse, he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He didn’t know where his heart was at yet, but something was different.

He desperately wanted to see you.

“I feel like… I feel like she’s going to leave me, Iris. Something’s changed.”

“You’ve changed, Rin,” she snapped, throwing her cigarette on the ground and stomping at it. Rintaro frowned; he’d seen her do it before when they were kids, but seeing her still do it now confirmed his theory: Iris still had her mean temper. She could never hide it even under silk dresses and velvet gloves. “You haven’t been the same since the honeymoon. I feel like we left behind the old you, and the one that came back is someone I barely know.”

Rintaro couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. She was right. He’d changed. He didn’t know why, or how, but maybe he was falling in love. Could he be? No… maybe he just missed you. Maybe he just hated the way you seemed so resigned and distant when you left.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could tell her, because Rintaro was too lost.

“Are you changing your mind about me?”

“No, no. Gods, I would never. I just – I’m confused, okay? She’s mad at me, and she just left. What if she never speaks to me again?”

“She will. She’s your wife.”

“You don’t even speak to your husband,” Rintaro argued, and Iris rolled her eyes. Once, he would’ve found her irritation appealing. But directed at him? He just felt like he was being looked down on.

“That’s different. You know, Rin, if you’ve changed your mind about me, it’s okay. I already knew before this most likely wouldn’t work out, and even if you did become King and legalized divorces, what would happen, then? I’ll be your concubine,” she sneered, as if the mere thought sickened her. “People would reduce me into nothing but a whore. I don’t want to be hated just because I wanted you.”

Rintaro pursed his lips. Sure, the title ‘concubine’ didn’t come with many good meanings. But it was all he could give her. He couldn’t imagine making her his wife. Iris had too much of a temper for that, and with all the pretending and acts she puts on, he didn’t trust her enough to treat his people right when she wielded enough power.

She wasn’t kind like you.

She wasn’t like you.

He knew all of this, had realized it just now, yet he couldn’t bring himself to just go back. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed in defeat. “I’ve already gone this far. It’s a little too late to tell me to change my mind, you know?”

“I’m just reminding you this was your choice, not mine. And don’t forget if you do legalize divorces, and Kiyoomi and I did separate, does that mean you’ll divorce her, too?”

He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I’m not a whore, Rin. I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to be just your sidepiece, your secret lover. I have been here with you before people even acknowledged your existence. I was here first. Don’t you think it’s unfair she gets to have you in all your glory and I can only have you in secret? Like what we feel for each other is something to be ashamed of,” tears pricked at her eyes, and Iris angrily wiped them away. Rintaro was frozen to his spot. He didn’t even feel like reaching to wipe them for her – his mind was just in a different place entirely. His exhaustion ran bone deep.

“If you want me to divorce Kiyoomi when you become King, you should divorce her too.”

“That wasn’t the plan. You said you were fine being a concubine–”

“It’s either me or her, Rin. Choose. Who will be your wife? Me or her?”

“You. It’s always going to be you.”

“Do you promise?”

“It’s just you!” he barked, surprising both himself and Iris. He’d never raised his tone with her before, yet there was no denying it – he was changing. Iris knew this, too, and Rintaro could tell by the wicked glint in her eye that she would use this against him.

Rintaro didn’t think twice before he slammed his lips to hers.

If she couldn’t be convinced with words, he would convince her with their bodies. It was how they communicated anyway – all arguments would always be resolved in the bedroom. They stumbled together back to his hotel room, lips only leaving one another’s for a brief moment to breathe, before they were clawing at each other’s clothes. She let out her rage on him by pushing him back to the bed, with her on top and ripping his shirt, uncaring of the remnants. When she kissed him, it was everything but sweet. He tasted nothing but hatred and pure anger as she shoved her tongue down his throat, and he choked, tightening his grip on her hips while she bounced.

They did not make love.

They simply shared their bodies for a lack of better things to say. He bruised her and fucked her hard enough the headboard slammed against the wall because he couldn’t say he missed you. She marked his skin with hickeys and claw marks down his back because she didn’t want to hear him say he missed you.

At talking, Rintaro and Iris lacked at.

But they spoke well enough with the violence of their bodies that by the end of the night, they both knew – Rintaro’s heart was no longer in the same room as them.

You took it with you from a thousand miles away.

Rintaro couldn’t sleep the entire night. Iris had passed out as soon as she’d satisfied herself, and after hogging the sheets all to herself, he’d given up on trying to sleep. It felt wrong to share the same bed with her, anyway. So he got up, showered, and scrolled on the latest news to look for you again. Still nothing – but apparently Itachiyama’s citizens were looking forward to you and Kiyoomi attending a movie’s premiere night.

He clutched his phone hard enough it shut off. Sighing, he leaned back against his seat on the couch, an arm draped around his arm. He’d gone past the borders of being pathetic. Now, he was just eager to see his wife again, but he had no way of communicating with you. So like the pathetic fool he was, he couldn’t stop himself from scrolling for hours when a rapid knocking banged down on his door. Frowning, he opened it, and was met with a shirtless Atsumu wrapped in nothing but a towel – his eyes bloodshot red, though he suspected, not from crying.

“‘Tsumu, what the fuck?” His brother reeked of alcohol and sex. Pinching his nose, he scanned the hallway for witnesses before opening his door wider. Atsumu scurried in without a word and plopped down on the seat, his knees bouncing repeatedly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I… I fucked up.”

“Yeah? What’s new about that?”

“No, I mean, I really fucked up,” he groaned, his head falling to his hands. Rintaro immediately felt bad about him, Walking forwards, he crossed his arm against his chest, encouraging his brother to continue. “Listen, the party was going great, and Yuki just looked even better in person. And she was fucking funny and so perfect, man.  I couldn’t help myself. But she was flirting with ‘Samu more and I got jealous so–”

“What did you do?”

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. He couldn’t look Rintaro in the eye, and the latter was growing more nervous by the second. “I may have made her drink more than she can handle… and pretended to be Osamu. So she’d sleep with me.”

“You are screwed.”

“I know, I know, but she’s going to wake up soon, and I don’t know what to do. I left the room, and–”

“Okay, calm down. Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Downstairs, eating breakfast.”

“You stay right here.”

Iris chose the wrong time to wake up. She must’ve heard Atsumu’s frantic ramblings and sat up from the bed, clutching the blanket to her naked chest. Upon seeing an equally nude Atsumu, she screeched, throwing the nearest pillow at him. “‘Tsumu, get out!” Atsumu fought back by throwing a smaller pillow her way. They began bickering like small children, and it was too early for any of this. He could feel a pounding at the back of his head already.

Tired. He was just tired.

“Iris, please, just – just stay here, the both of you, okay? I’ll be back.”

At least Rintaro had Atsumu’s mess to thank. He finally had a good enough excuse to not spend another moment in that suffocating room with her – or any of them. He’d wanted to leave hours before, but Iris wouldn’t have taken it well if she woke up without him. For now, though, Rintaro had to take on the role of a responsible older brother; something he’d never done before. Taking quick strides, he swung the door open when Atsumu called out for him.

“Wait. Rin!” Rintaro paused, raising a brow at his brother, whose face had been drained of color. “I’m sorry… I just… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

Rintaro himself wasn’t convinced by his words. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of before that the Princes got their sexual needs satisfied without having been married. Save for a few like Wakatoshi, Keiji, Kita, and Tobio who all wanted to wait for marriage, he was a hundred percent certain his brothers had been with women before. This normally wasn’t a cause for concern. But Hiroda Yuki wasn’t just anyone. She was a model currently rising to fame, and not only was she inebriated during the act, but she’d been led to believe the man she took to bed with someone else. If she were to found out the truth, and decided to turn to the media to ruin his brothers, it’d be another issue for the throne. It didn’t affect Rintaro directly, but times were changing – people were growing restless the longer the crown sat without its King.

It was high time they chose a King, but a very few number of Princes hardly seemed eligible.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Ushijima was the best choice to be King. He was fair, disciplined, and followed the rules to a tee. He also had a happy, stable marriage with a respectable noble woman, and they already have a healthy son. There weren’t any arguments that Rintaro paled in comparison to him.

But that didn’t mean he would give up so easily.

He wanted the throne. He wanted everything.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he headed for the lobby in search of the darker haired twin. He’d think about the Crown another time. Ducking his head to hide his face, he nodded at any passing staff and hid behind corners. It was only a matter of time before Yuki woke up. That presented another problem – should they hide the truth from her and keep Atsumu safe, or tell her what had really happened and risk having Atsumu be kicked out of the Palace?

Fuck. Rintaro didn’t know what to do, but maybe Osamu would.

His brother sat at the hotel’s dining area, happily digging into his meal without a care in the world. Oh, how lucky he was to be so ignorant. Out of the twins, Osamu was the more mild-mannered one and got into less trouble, but it didn’t change the fact Osamu was often the instigator, and Atsumu the willing victim who played into his hands. The situation felt more complicated now because Rintaro was unsure. Had Osamu planned this all along? Had he known that Atsumu wanted to sleep with Yuki and left them to themselves just when the both were drunk out of their asses?

Too many questions, and he struggled to form a coherent thought. But if he were Kita, he’d have this resolved within a second.

If he were Kita, but he wasn’t. He was just plain Rintaro, who wasn’t particularly great at anything, yet had unfortunately been branded with an extravagant title he never deserved.

Pulling out a seat before him, he narrowed his eyes at his brother. It was still early in the morning, so they had enough privacy with only very few people having breakfast. No one paid them any attention as Rintaro leaned forward, his voice low and hushed.

“Where were you last night?”

“Good morning to you, too, dear brother,” quipped Osamu through a mouthful of waffles, “Lovely set of breakfast they serve here. You should try some.”

“‘Samu, I’m serious. Did you stay at the party last night?”

Osamu, the little ass, took his sweet time chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “No, I went home after ‘Tsumu went out with the model. I just came back to pick him up. I figured he’d be too drunk to drive home.”

Rintaro wanted to ask for more details. There had to be more to the story. The twins were both cunning when they wanted to be, although he doubted Osamu would do anything to intentionally harm his twin. It seemed possible, but he couldn’t be too careful. None of them could afford any defamation lest the people decided for themselves how uncontrollable and unruly the Princes are. Their father had already broken the people’s trust by having multiple sons with different women. They treaded on eggshells, even more so when Rintaro opened his mouth to speak, and was cut off by the crowd whispering around them.

He and Osamu froze. They could barely make out the words from their mumbling at this distance, but they were no fools. They could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on them. With their phones pulled out, they whispered amongst themselves and sent looks of disbelief towards the Princes. Rintaro’s heart raced as he made eye contact with his brother.

They both pulled out their phones and checked the latest news.

An article published just a few hours ago trended worldwide at number one. A photograph of Rin and Iris making love could be seen through a window, with the headline implying that they were secretly lovers all along. His heart dropped. He scrolled down to the comments, his fist turning white at the knuckles as he read them.

That’s disgusting! Wasn’t Prince Rintaro recently married? It seems like being a cheater runs in the blood, after all. He’s just like his daddy To think they did this while their spouses were away for official duty… unbelievable. Disappointed, but not surprised. Princess Iris always seemed like a skank. Never liked her. She came to give aid when there was a storm in our village once, and she kept complaining she was tired. Now she’s going around sleeping with other people’s husbands *laughing sticker* lol she sounds like a bitch Is this real?????????? This has to be fake. The Crown Prince loves his wife! Delete this post now! You’re in trouble once the Palace sees this!

Rintaro pocketed his phone. “We need to leave.”

He dragged Osamu by the arm, ignoring his brother’s complaints that he hadn’t eaten his berries yet. One glare shut him up. They had bigger things to worry about than some stupid fucking berries.

“Call Shinsuke. We need help.”

All four of them hid in Rintaro’s room until Kita arrived. It hadn’t been long, maybe less than an hour, but the wait was nerve-wracking. Thankfully, he’d brought a security team with them. The Princes were escorted out through the back doors and into their cars, although it was too late. Reporters and journalists were already swarming outside the hotel. Kita had stayed back to tell the hotel staff they were not allowed to speak of what they saw or heard during last night’s party under no circumstances. The Princes’ safety were their utmost priority. Everything would be dealt with accordingly. Just as they pulled out of the hotel’s parking, Atsumu informed Kita about Yuki, and the situation he left her in.

Shinsuke’s lips thinned. Already, he looked bone tired. Waving a hand, he dismissed his brothers and promised he’d take care of her once she woke up. For now, they had to stay low and keep out of the public’s eye until the situation died down.

“You all best behave when you get back,” Shinsuke warned, “Her Majesty is furious.”

Of that, he had no doubt. Her Majesty had been eerily quiet since everyone’s return from the honeymoon. But Suna knew his mother better than anyone; she wasn’t letting things pass by, she was only watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who would drop the ball first. And to no one’s surprise, it would be Rintaro.

Her Majesty was right. He couldn’t keep this secret affair with Iris forever.

One way or another, the truth would be revealed, and the truth itself would be his damnation.

None of them uttered a word as they sat next to each other in the car. Atsumu’s still bouncing his leg, causing the seat to shake, but Osamu could care less. He simply gazed out the window. Iris, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying, her shoulders shaking silently. Mascara ran down her face in streaks, her lipstick smudged and her torn dress doing very little to hide the love marks on her skin. Gods. Rintaro’s headache worsened. If they got out of the car and the paparazzi took even one photo of Iris in her post-sex state, they were done for.

Rintaro could kiss his precious Crown goodbye.

Walking back to the Palace was akin to walking to your own death.

The lobby was torn upside down. Calling it a mess would be an understatement. The Queen stood in the middle of the furniture she’d flipped and thrown, shards of broken glass all around them as she heaved. The pure image of rage – and he had been the cause. “Fools! Idiotic fools, all of you!” she screamed, stomping through the glass as she reached up to fist Iris’ hair.

“Ow, Your Majesty–”

Her Majesty scrunched her nose at the scent of smoke and alcohol coming off from her, further fuelling her anger. “And you! By the Gods, I knew marrying you into this family was a grave mistake, but you just keep making me regret I ever laid eyes on you, don’t you? You lowly, good-for-nothing whore.”

“Mother!”

“You do not get to speak!” she turned to him and harshly let go of Iris, causing her to stumble and fall onto the broken glass. Panicked, Rintaro reached out for her, but the Queen had caught his arm, reared hers back and landed a slap on his cheek. Rintaro was stunned – she’d been harsh and cruel, but she never laid a hand on him. “Do you have any idea what you did? The throne is all in shambles because of you! The Cabinet hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article came out, and I have all our lines busy with people demanding for answers! And you dare raise your voice at me? I told you, multiple times, that you need to stop with your trysts. How will you be King now that you’ve lost the people’s trust?”

“He will not become King,” announced a deep voice they knew all too-well. Like a demon that only showed up in your worst nightmares, Ushijima strutted inside the room, an air of authority and finality surrounding him. “I should be the King. Help me have the throne, and I will resolve all of this,” he studied them all – Atsumu with his guilt, Osamu who was too scared of the Queen to move a single muscle, Iris clutching her bloodied arm, and Suna with disappointment written all over his features. “Clearly, he is not fit to lead this country. He is still but a foolish, young man.”

Foolish.

Stupid.

Reckless.

He’s just like his father.

He’d be a failure as King – just. Like. His. Father.

So that was who he was then. A failure. He’d become the one thing he swore not to be. How would you look at him now? You always gazed upon him with stars in your eyes, like he was the best thing to ever happen in your life. No one had ever looked at him that way before – not his mother, not even Iris. In Iris’ eyes, he was simply… a boy. A boy with no knowledge and experience in this world, a boy who she felt she had to teach because he knew so little. Only you looked at him with adoration, and even that had been taken away. Or, no, he ruined it. Just as he was the reason you used to smile, he’d also become your greatest pain. And maybe, once you’d returned him and seen how the entire country and his whole family had hated him, you would see him for who he is too – nothing but a failure.

The good for nothing Prince.

He should have known. The Palace was no place for the likes of him. He should have just stopped trying so hard to be King. He should have never used Iris as an excuse to quell his insecurity. But was it truly a crime to want to feel like he was needed?

He didn’t know anymore. The only thing he knows now was that he needed to leave, and without another word, stepped out of the room.

“Rintaro! Where are you going?!”

He ignored his mother calling for him. Perhaps he should stop calling her that, too. She’d barely been a mother. She was more of a Queen, bending and breaking her back to His Majesty’s will. She loved the crown and the power it gave her more than anything, that she willingly sacrificed her dignity to keep her position. For many nights, Rintaro watched his mother leave their quarters crying, battered and bruised. It was confusing for a young boy like him. Weren’t mommies and daddies supposed to love one another? But the Queen would scold him for being awake past midnight, and rush him back to bed while she limped on her way. She never loved the King, and because he was his son, she never loved him, too.

Rintaro was nothing but another tool for Her Majesty to stay in power.

She could never become King and hold the Kingdom for herself, but he could. Wasn’t that why she kept him locked away for years and groomed him to take in his Father’s steps?

I kind of did, he thought sarcastically, I’m a horrible husband just like him.

When you arrived in Inarizaki, the country was in chaos. People flocked you from left and right when you and Kiyoomi left the plane, causing the older Prince to break his silence and scold the nosy reporters. Flabbergasted at his sudden outburst that seemed out of character; they lowered their cameras and gave you enough breathing space. The peace, however, did not last long. Her Majesty was furious beyond what one can imagine – akin to a dragon breathing fire down to anyone who dared come near her tower. The twins, who apparently started this fire and caused Rintaro to be the fuel, had been shut away in their rooms in fear of angering her. Iris, from what little you heard about her, was being ruthlessly flamed by the media. They’d called her all sorts of unkind things you would’ve never dared say out loud.

But for some reason, seeing their downfall did not give you any satisfaction.

Because at the end of the day, they were the people you and Kiyoomi returned to. You may walk down the same hallways in the Palace, but he would always be in Belleview Manor to look for her. And you were well on your way to search for the Crown Prince who walked out on his mother.

The guards took some time to find his location, but once they did, they did not hesitate in informing you. Everyone believed you were the only person he’d want to speak to right now. So you drove up to the mountains, where it was barren and cold, and you had to use a truck to survive the rocky terrain. Seriously, out of all the places he could be, he chose to wallow in misery at the top of the world – in the pouring rain, no less.

Boots muddied from the storm, you hopped out of your truck and opened an umbrella, clutching your coat tighter as you watched your husband from afar.

This mountain served as a border between Inarizaki and Itachiyama. From where you stood, you could see the two countries – Itachiyama with its rich nature, and Inarizaki with its towering Castles and bustling cities. Once a united nation, now split into two – all because of love. A tragic story, yet a realistic one. It only goes to show how powerful, and dangerous, love could be. You knew better than anyone that whatever made you happiest could also be your greatest demise.

And there was the said demise – crouching as he picked up pebbles and threw it off the mountain wall. He wore the same shirt as from the photograph; wrinkled and stained with lipstick. Even from this distance, you could smell her on him, and you wanted to laugh. Perhaps Kiyoomi was right – maybe they never loved each other. Maybe they were just lonely.

Extending the umbrella until your husband was shielded from the rain, you softened. Rintaro visibly froze when the rain stopped pelting against him. His wet hair stuck to his face, his shirt plastered on his skin.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his devastatingly handsome face: relief, worry, surprise.

You broke the silence first and crouched down next to him. When Rintaro stiffened, you smiled, showing him you were not here to be his enemy. “My Prince. You are a difficult man to find.”

“Princess,” he breathed out, and you realized the poor Prince was shivering. His face broke into that of despair upon seeing you. “I didn’t know you would be home so early.”

“I had some matters to attend to.”

“You saw the article,” he guessed, and you nodded. Rintaro then stood to his full height, and you followed, causing his head to bump into the umbrella since he was taller. For a moment, he crouched to fit in under the small space. But it was uncomfortable, and soon, he was gently taking the umbrella and holding it for the both of you – more for you, though, since rain still trailed down his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It was bound to happen,” shrugging, you gestured for him to take a walk with you. It was far from being the most scenic place to have a peaceful walk in, but it would do.

You two were silent for a moment. Rintaro seemed to have a thousand thoughts running through his head when you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

“Tired. And you?”

“I’ve had better days.”

Rintaro stole a cautious glance. “Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled, and the sound of it stupefied him. His eyes widened as if afraid, but truly, there was no need to be. You weren’t in the mood to argue with him. “Not really. I feel like I was mad at you a long time ago, and now I’m just… Numb to it all, I suppose,” you said, absentmindedly spinning the wedding ring you both wore. Such a simple jewelry, yet it symbolized so much more. When you spoke again, the rain had calmed down a little bit, but the cold had already seeped into both of your bones. “Marriage is difficult. You have to stay true to your vows, even when the times are challenging. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. ‘Till death do us part,” you glanced up at him, taking in those handsome features you fell in love with – his hazel eyes, his soft lips you loved to kiss, and his face you often cradled in your palms. Even right now, you wanted to kiss him, if only to give comfort, but you had to know first –

“Do you intend on keeping your marriage vows, Your Highness?”

He averted his gaze. “I doubt our marriage is valid anymore. The country thinks I am a horrible husband to you.”

“It’s not like I’ve been the best wife myself,” you admitted, your chest aching as you remembered the Second Prince – his gentle smiles directed only at you, the castle ruins, his large palms holding you tenderly, and the crestfallen look on his face when you told him you had to look for your husband. Such a great man, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And Gods, you couldn’t help it. You cried. You mourned the love you could have had.

You grieved for the life you could have had, the person you could’ve become.

If it had been Kiyoomi, it would be so much easier. He would love you in the way you wanted. He would you close to his arms all night long because he wouldn’t want to let go. He would chase away those stupid chickens for you. He would hide you away from the rest of the world and given you a life of solitude and peace – it would’ve been simple, and it would’ve been perfect.

But Kiyoomi was already married, and so were you.

And you felt horrible because he was great, but then you’d become a horrible wife. You would be exactly like Rintaro if you had given into your desire and kissed him. Kiyoomi wasn’t yours. But was Rintaro? Your heart was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Why couldn’t it all just work out?

Why couldn’t it be him?

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you forced the thoughts of the curly-haired prince out of your head. “I wish I hated you, Rintaro. I wish… I wish I never met you. I wish you never danced with me at your brother’s ball. I wish you never courted me. I wish you never came into my life and changed everything. It would have been better to never have been loved, than to have loved and been betrayed.”

Rintaro stepped forward, his arm extending to wipe your tears for you but even he could tell you were refused. So he kept his distance, clutching the umbrella tighter as his voice broke. “I’m sorry. I really am. It just… I didn’t want for it happen. You were all I thought about. When you were gone and you didn’t call or texted once, I thought I was losing you. I wanted you back.”

You shook your head. “You cannot have everything you want. You know that.”

His face dropped.

“Are you going to make me choose, too?”

“No. I already know who you would choose,” and you did, yet your heart still ached for him, for your husband, the one thing you couldn’t have. Only you didn’t feel like laughing, not when Rintaro looked at you with just as much confliction. “Is it foolish of me that I still love you even after everything you’ve done?”

His lips curled the slightest bit. “A little, but I am the last man to judge you if you were foolish, which you aren’t.”

You laughed sardonically. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I know,” he mumbled.

Who knew two words alone could puncture one’s heart so much?

Looking away, you both remained silent until Rintaro dropped the question. “What will happen to us now? Divorce is unlikely, but I might be stripped off my titles. I don’t know. But I have a feeling I certainly won’t become King anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

Rintaro thought about it. “I do. It’s all I’ve ever known to pursue.”

“Then stand tall, my Prince. A future King doesn’t bow down to anyone, not even his Queen, and most especially not when the world is against him. We can fix this. I can fix this. I can restore your glory, but I need you to place your full trust on me.”

The plan you formed in your head would be considered insane. Her Majesty would certainly be furious, but if this was the only way to leave Rintaro, you would do it. You would protect him. You would give him back his power, and once he’s had it all, you’ll remove yourself from his life. He cannot have everything that he wants – but if you could not have love, then you want power. Even for just a brief moment, you were determined.

You were going to ruin her.

The drive back to the Palace was silent. He’d agreed to whatever plan you had, regardless of what the outcome might be. He didn’t even know what you truly had in mind. He just trusted you wholeheartedly like you asked, and told you to do as you pleased. Right now, the Crown Prince was weak. His mind was far too disturbed to process anything correctly. You would take advantage of it, simply because his compliance would be the only thing to ensure your success.

He just needed to remain silent.

Claiming he was exhausted, Rintaro went ahead first. It’d be another night where you’d sleep separately, and you would both definitely be awake the whole time. Just as you rounded the corner, you saw a hunched figure resting against the wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for you for a while. Upon hearing your footsteps, Kiyoomi raised his head – his dark eyes vulnerable, almost if hoping you would be the same as you were yesterday.

You wanted to. Truly, you did.

But the person he’d been with in Itachiyama was someone else entirely. She was someone happier, someone who didn’t have a broken marriage to worry about. She was someone who could have loved him.

Now, you were the same Princess he’d always known – the one who could never choose him.

Kiyoomi nodded to himself. He must have realized everything by now. What happened in Itachiyama stayed in Itachiyama. Pushing his weight off the wall, he strode to you with a blank expression. His eyes had gone cold again.

“We will never speak again, will we?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, “He needs me right now.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi had never sounded so defeated broke, and it broke your heart. It made you want to run into his arms, to tell him it could’ve been him if you met him first. But that would sound wrong, wouldn’t it? He had been first. He’d been the last dance; the destined lover. The fated one. But man’s willpower could be so strong it battled even destiny itself, and you were both nothing but a fragment of the could’ve been’s.

“Good luck, Princess, in all your endeavors,” and then, just when you thought he would kiss you as he leaned forward, you closed your eyes. Waited with bated breath.

But he never did.

Kiyoomi only kissed your cheek, and then his scent and his warmth disappeared sooner than you would like. When he walked away, you saw all the what if’s you had to let go of.

The dream life with Kiyoomi vanished into thin air.

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn and never look back. Kiyoomi was surely doing the same. He’d come to peace with it eventually, the love he could’ve had, the marriage he should’ve had. Itachiyama was nothing but a fantasy anyway. He wasn’t a real farmer just as you weren’t someone he could call his. It was a story doomed from the beginning.

Numbness spread all throughout your body. You’d been too drained to cry further, too exhausted to regret what you’d just done. The voice in your mind, the one who craved Kiyoomi like man needed air, had been eerily silent, too. It was if she, too, knew there was no point chasing after something that didn’t want to be chased in the first place.

All you could do was close your eyes and push the image of Kiyoomi’s smile out of your head.

He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

After what seemed like hours, you finally arrived at your shared quarters. The same room you left your husband in, and quite possibly the same room he slept with his mistress while you were gone.

You sighed. Opening the door, you were met by the sight of Rintaro pouring himself a drink. He’d already changed clothes – ones free of Iris’ lipstick and perfume. He looked fresh, much more composed than when he was a mess hours ago, yet he seemed… distant. Usually, he’d already perk up at you entering the room. But his face was devoid of any emotion as he poured wine into a second glass, deftly picking it up before downing it in one go. Your gaze fixated on the bobbing of his throat. How Iris’ lips kissed the column of his neck, how she’d whispered praises into his skin, how Rintaro allowed it all.

He slammed his empty glass down on the table. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the sides of it, his voice unnaturally low as he spoke. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Why you weren’t mad after reading the article,” his knuckles turned white from when he tightened his grip. He took slow exhales as if to calm himself, his grip loosening before he snatched another glass.

Back straightened, Rintaro towered over you as he took slow, careful, deliberate steps – akin to a predator sneaking up on its prey. Your heart drummed in your chest, loud enough it could’ve echoed in the spacious chamber, but you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing his effect on you. Then, he stood in front of you – close enough you saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tipping of his head to the side as he narrowed his gaze at you. Inquisitively, suspiciously, like peeling away the layers of your skin to reveal your dirtiest secrets.

“Strange, don’t you think? Any sane wife who found out their husband was cheating on them would’ve screamed and kicked already. You didn’t do any of that.”

“I told you already. I’m too tired for any of that.”

“It could be that,” he raised his glass to your face, a portentous smirk dancing on his lips. “Or you could also be directing your affections to someone else.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his gaze on you as he sipped his drink and taking his sweet sweet time. “I wouldn’t have slept with her if you didn’t leave. You know I despise Kiyoomi, yet you still went. You completely disregarded my feelings when I said I didn’t want you to go,” he grounded his teeth, jaw clenching from the effort of holding himself back. “Is it him, then? Are you choosing him over me?”

He sounded so serious in his accusations you almost believed it yourself. “Don’t be absurd, Rintaro.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a chord?” he said in a sing-song manner, the smile dropping from his face when you kept your lips shut. “So the rumors were right. You went with him to get back at me.”

Your jaw dropped. Yes, you enjoyed the time with Kiyoomi. Yes, you wished you never left, and you were already regretting each minute you spent longer in this damned space with him. Yes, you thought about Kiyoomi in ways you shouldn’t have – and god forbid you nearly asked him to kiss you, but not once did you think about using his brother as a ploy.

You weren’t like him.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Rintaro fumed. He flung his empty glass across the room, the shattering sound muted by his yells. “Prove it to me, then!”

“Are you even hearing yourself? I’m not the one who cheated! Don’t you dare turn this around and make it seem like it was my fault.”

“But it was! If you didn’t go around fucking my brother behind my back, I would’ve stayed loyal to you! I would’ve waited until you returned! What, you thought I wouldn’t know what you were doing there with him? Doing fertility dances, sharing dinners with his mother like you’re his wife, lighting stupid fucking lanterns–” swinging your arm back, your palm connected with his cheek, a resounding slap rendering the Prince speechless. He stepped back, clutching his reddened cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

“That is enough. Utter one more word, and I will never speak to you again.”

“You aren’t even denying it,” he spat out, “Have you fallen for him?”

You were done. So done. You wouldn’t have any of this anymore. Sidestepping him, you walked past and away from your husband, heading for your bedroom where you planned on slamming the door in his face. You’d cry for hours there if you needed to – anything to have him leave you alone. But your husband was just as stubborn as he was determined, catching up to you with ease before catching your wrist. He spun you to face him, and you froze – he reeked of alcohol, his lips and cheeks painfully red, but his eyes.

You couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or keep you.

“Answer me!”

You fought against his grasp. He was stronger than you by all means; you struggled and kicked and pounded your fists on his chest, but Rintaro didn’t budge. He let you hit him however you pleased, demanding repeatedly to tell him he was wrong – how you wouldn’t choose his brother over him, how it’d be him – forever and always.

“I hate you!” you bellowed at his face, falling limp in his arms from all your fighting. “I wish I never married you – it should’ve been him! I should’ve married your brother!”

“That’s a lie!”

“Oh, don’t look so hurt now, Prince. You don’t even feel a sliver of what I do. Need I remind you that you constantly choose her over me, your wife? Why should I be loyal to you when you’re not even mine?”

“I am yours.”

“You’re hers, too,” you reminded him, your eyes glinting with mischief as you recalled Kiyoomi’s words. Just then, cruel laughter bubbled from your lips. Two could play this game, and you would be the winner. He wanted to hurt you? Fine. You could hurt him even more. “You know what’s laughable, Rin? The woman you’re fighting tooth and nail for doesn’t even want you.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed harder, practically shaking in his arms as you did. Taunting him, you nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you and feed on your wrath. “I’m right, aren’t I? She doesn’t like you. She’s merely using you for fame and pleasure because her husband isn’t attracted to her–” the breath was slammed out your throat. In mere seconds, Rintaro had shoved you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with such ferocity it burned you. Your eyes stung from your tears, the back of your skull beginning to throb. But Rintaro wasn’t done with you yet.

Pinning your wrists above your head, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like scotch and smelled faintly of her perfume. It made your stomach churn, and soon, you were groaning into his mouth, desperately trying to win in this battle of dominance. He was angry as you were frustrated, your lips molding against each other’s like swords clashing in a battle. He struck first, his kisses passionately bitter, but his taste addictingly sweet. You fought back against his hold, your breasts sliding down across his chest and you moaned – he groaned – tugging your bottom lip between his teeth until you couldn’t tell who the enemy was anymore. You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t enjoy it, but his lips were as familiar as a sunny day and you were a woman in need of light in your life.

He’s repulsive, your mind argued.

But he’s mine, your heart decided. He was, and always will be, yours. He could have Iris for as long as he wanted, but it was you who’d taken his name. It was your ring on his finger, your face next to him in the royal portraits. You weren’t the shameful mistress – you were the rightful wife. You could have him as you pleased, ruin him to your delight. Break him into thousands of pieces only to pick him up again because he was yours, yours, yours.

Threading your fingers to his hair, you dragged him closer to you. Breathed him in, pawed at his shirt in a demand for him to take it off. He was more than willing to oblige, the two of you making quick work of his buttons in between messy, breathy kisses. Shirt discarded, he grabbed your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct – the next sequence of events like a movie you’d seen before.

Your clothes on the carpeted floor.

Rintaro on top of you, your fingers intertwined beside your head. His lips on your neck, bruises on your skin and the imprint of his hands on your hips. Your mewls right on his ear. The quivering of your thighs, the stain on the sheets – the day turning into night, from dusk until dawn. He thrusts deep, enough to have you inhaling sharply through your nose. And there it was – the unmistakable scent of a vanilla perfume you’ve never owned. It’s everywhere in the room now that your eyes opened, the hazy cloud of lust ebbing away. Iris’ perfume on your vanity area, a discarded pair of white lacy thongs that wasn’t yours peeking from under the closet, and her scent – her stupidly sweet, innocent scent – blanketing the silk of your sheets.

Slowly, your fingers detached from Suna as you turned to the sides, inhaling the sheets once more because it couldn’t be, right? Maybe you had it wrong. Rintaro wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t be so cruel. You never even shared this bed with him ever since you got married. You’ve never had him hold you close as you fall asleep, never had your head resting on his chest while you both waited for the next day. He was a cruel man, yes, but he wouldn’t dare do this to you. Not while you were gone, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

Yet there it was, the scent of a floral shampoo you couldn’t recognize on your pillows, and the faint smatters of vanilla and cinnamon lingered behind.

And when the damage is done, and your heart is more confused now than ever – Rintaro momentarily slumps before you, held up only by his arms, he realizes too late the tears stained on your cheeks.

“You brought her here.”

It wasn’t a question, not even an accusation. You spoke nothing but the truth, and Rintaro’s crestfallen face said it all. He’d brought her here, made love with her on your bed. Somehow, finding out that he’d fucked her in the one place you found solace in the Palace hurt more than knowing he fucked her everywhere else.

It was as if he’d stained you. Spat right at your face. Desecrated the one place you wished to hold him in, and rubbed it in your face that he couldn’t make love to you in your bed. But he could with her, because it was always going to be her, wasn’t it?

No matter how hard you tried, it was never going to be you.

Silence dawned on the room. There’s nothing but the rapid beating of your hearts, and the soft sniffles you muffle behind your first. He sees two things on your face that night: one of beauty, and one of regret. He dared himself to be brave, to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb. The motion was oddly comforting, and for a moment – just a quick moment – you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Leaning into the warmth of his palm, more tears dampened his skin. You were torn between asking him to stay, to hold you until it hurt less, and asking him to leave and give you a moment for yourself.

But Rintaro had already decided.

With a final kiss to your forehead, your husband crawled out of the bed. He glanced at you one last time before slipping his ring off, setting it on your bedside table, before quietly – and resolutely – leaving you behind.

[foone]

whats your favourite narnia book if you have one

Since I grew up as an autistic christian, I have many Narnia Opinions!

So, my favorite book for it's own reasons is probably The Magician's Nephew. I'm always a slut for worldbuilding and backstory and that novel is basically just only that. Some guy we know from another book goes on an adventure and in the process gets to be involved with the creation of one world and the destruction of another? kick-ass.

Best book to adapt? The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. 1988 BBC version, 1979 Cartoon version, 2005 theatrical? All good, in their own ways. The BBC version is just perfectly 80s and the costumes are amazing (because they are costumes! they did all the monsters by sticking a guy in a big costume and I love it), the cartoon version captures the fucking whimsy of a story where SANTA SHOWS UP AND GIVES EVERYONE PRESENTS and the first person to offer any serious lore about the situation is named MR BEAVER. And the 2005 film has the big battles and CGI and Tilda Swinton as the White Witch which is... so much. I love them all.

But the best book adaptation is the 1990 BBC The Silver Chair. Hands down. It's got Tom Baker's Puddleglum, Warwick Davis playing an owl, 0£ BBC budget greenscreened giants (MULTIPLE TIMES), a group of people discovering IT'S A COOKBOOK and one of them being offended by the cookbook saying they don't taste very good, the bad guy turning into a giant rubber snake. a witch trying to gaslight some humans into believing the sun is a myth, and the ultimate salvation of Eustace Scrubb: a boy who almost deserved being named that.

And since I can't not list basically everything Narnia ever made, BBC's 1989 Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is pretty good too. It's a fun "road movie", in that it's an odyssey into a fictional Mysterious Ocean of Here There Be Dragons.

Lotta hits in that one. It's also got a "collect the macguffins!" plot where they're trying to collect the Seven Lost Lords.

But yeah, it's like... the first Island gets them a lord and they get to end slavery. Next up, Dragon TF island (The dragon is Greed... but it's also just a literal fucking dragon). Next, Gold TF island. Gold, it turns out, makes you go insane in your lust for wealth, even if you're already a Prince of a whole country. The gold is Greed, but it will also just fucking kill you because you'll be turned into gold.

Then it's the island of the ugly invisible one-foot guys and it turns out they cast a spell to turn invisible so no one could see how they're ugly but they're not ugly, they just think they are? and then it goes "HEY LUCY COMPARE YOURSELF TO YOUR OLDER SISTER" and she's like "I'm ugly.... unlike her. Maybe I should use magic to STEAL HER BEAUTY?!" and it's like, wow. Is there maybe a theme here about self-esteem in your appearance? and Clive Officemax Lewis is over there going I'LL NEVER TELL.

Anyway it's got the good line about how the Wizard in charge of the ugly invisible one-footed pogo-idiots is that how he eagerly awaits the day that they can be ruled by wisdom, instead of magic. It's a fun approach to magic: it's something that is a shortcut, a crutch, and it's a poor replacement for Wisdom, even when used by "the good guys". Tell me, Mr. FedexKinkos-Lewis, do you have any opinions on the complicated relationship between Christianity and magic? oh, you do? I never would have guessed!

They also find The Island Where Dreams Come True. They don't land there, they just fish a screaming man out of the ocean who is trying to escape it. The sailors hear it's The Island Where Dreams Come True and are like "wow, I could have my own ship!" and he yells no, you fools, not dreams like your wishes and imaginations, your actual dreams come true on this island.

and everyone agrees: Get us the fuck away from this island and lets never return.

Anyway I'm not gonna talk about THE ENTIRE MOVIE/BOOK but it's got a great weirdness at the end where they reach the end of the world (which is flat. It's okay, this is Narnia, a completely different world with different physical rules than Earth), and it's a waterfall, but a waterfall going up?

It turns out Heaven is on the other side of it. They turn around, but the anthropomorphic mouse is like "ehh, I'll take that journey" and becomes the Elijah of Aslan's Country, their equivalent of heaven.

Narnia, won't you?

[frailsituation]

Tips to write a unique, multi-layered antagonist

1. Let them embody the theme

• Instead of just making your antagonist oppose the protagonist—make them challenge the core theme of your story

• How? Align their goals and actions with the story’s deeper meaning. They should feel like a necessary force, not just an obstacle.

• Example: In a story about freedom, the antagonist believes chaos is the price of liberty, forcing the hero to balance order and individuality.

2. Flip the classic antagonist roles

• Subvert common archetypes to keep readers guessing. Take a role that’s traditionally a “heroic” one and twist it.

• How? Make a healer who turns people into devoted zealots or a charismatic leader who rules with subtle manipulation.

• Example: A priestess sacrifices morality for the “greater good,” believing her dark deeds will save the world.

3. Give them creative limitations

• Unique antagonists aren’t all-powerful. Their flaws or restrictions should make them more compelling, not weaker.

• How? Build their power on a fragile foundation—a ticking clock, a dangerous ally, or an emotional blind spot.

• Example: The antagonist must steal memories to survive, but in doing so, they slowly forget who they are.

4. Make them disrupt the protagonist’s world

• A brilliant antagonist challenges not just the hero’s goals but their entire worldview.

• How? Have their actions or beliefs directly unravel something the protagonist holds sacred.

• Example: The antagonist reveals a hidden truth about the protagonist’s family, forcing them to reevaluate their loyalty.

5. Let them change the rules of the story

• A unique antagonist reshapes the story’s structure or tone just by existing. Their influence changes how the plot unfolds.

• How? Give them a method or ability that bends the rules of your fictional world in a way no one else can.

• Example: The antagonist can rewrite reality with each encounter, leaving the protagonist questioning what’s real.

6. Tie their motives to something unusual

• Go beyond revenge or greed. Let their motivations stem from a bizarre, haunting, or poetic source.

• How? Draw from abstract concepts like time, memory, or legacy for a truly unique drive.

• Example: The antagonist seeks to destroy art because they believe beauty traps people in the past.

7. Break the power dynamic

• Don’t just pit a strong antagonist against a strong protagonist. Experiment with how their power and influence compare.

• How? Make the antagonist physically weaker but intellectually unmatched—or socially untouchable but emotionally vulnerable.

• Example: The antagonist is a powerless figure in exile, but they manipulate others into doing their bidding.

8. Make their downfall a seed for something new

• A unique antagonist’s defeat should feel like a beginning, not just an end. Their legacy should echo long after they’re gone.

• How? Tie their vision to the protagonist’s final decision or the story’s resolution in a meaningful way.

• Example: After their defeat, the antagonist’s ideas inspire a new generation of thinkers who reshape society in unexpected ways.

Follow for more!

[bailadeluna]

there’s something so brilliant in cooper howard’s costume design - it’s so much more than just a simple blue and gold cowboy fit.

at the beginning of the show, before the bombs dropped, cooper howard was a good person - always kind to others despite the circumstances or how he was feeling in the moment.

you could say… he was exemplifying the golden rule.

this is evident in his costuming - cooper is decked out in gold even when the bombs dropped. the golden rule is still so close to his heart - i mean come on - look at how tight that bandana is around his neck.

even in certain lighting, his hat looks gold.

cooper howard being a good person and living by the golden rule is what barb probably fell in love with (she has her own interesting character analysis and thought process which i would love to discuss later). because this trait is so admired by her and those around cooper, she probably saw him as who she would hope future generations would become as they grow up in the vaults. people like him are the better future she envisions - so it’s no coincidence that the vault suit is in his colors.

what does the blue symbolize?

well, to me, i think it’s the corporate presence in the world. there’s more blue in the suit than there is gold - hinting at vaultech’s corporate greed, capitalism, and evil machinations. (there was also blue in his old cowboy costume - i.e. the presence of the studio and how they use cooper to push a mccarthyism narrative. kinda in the same way vaultech will use him)

the blue in the suit - symbolizing vaultech’s overwhelming presence and the reason for such a bleak and cruel world - does not swallow up the gold - the small semblance of humanity’s capacity to do and be good. it’s the small hint at barb’s intentions (analogous to the road to hell being paved with good intentions).

yet the man who was an inspiration for vaultech’s workers - the man who they all wished they could be like, the man who symbolized all the “do good” ideas they pass down to their children but in the end have no intention of following them (wink wink, looking at you, hank) - was in the end stripped of all his humanity by the world vaultech created (wow, would you look at that? another analogy for capitalism!)

this man, once rich in morals now robbed of them all, wanders the wasteland a ghoul. everything has been taken from him - symbolized being devoid of layers of skin.

now, he’s nothing but the ghost of the man he once was - haunted by what has been done. everything he wears as the ghoul is frayed, tattered, and dark - symbolizing that cooper howard, that kind and caring man before the bombs is dead.

but wait - is that…

you don’t see it? Ok, i’ll zoom in some more

GOLD? (perhaps even the same shirt he was wearing during the bomb drop??)

perhaps the golden rule, those values that he once held so dearly, are still there just dormant - waiting to be awaken again.

maybe cooper howard can come back… that just maybe there’s still hope for the good in humanity…

[dragonseeds]

love and light to everyone but if i see one more post that’s like “the point of asoiaf is that feudalism is BAD” i’m going to rip out my hair and start eating dirt and worms. like yes, it is bad. yes, monarchies are bad. yes so true it’s annoying when people ignore all of that and focus on who they think deserves the throne more. but that’s not the point—that is the premise? it’s the beginning of the exploration and deconstruction. functionally this system is rigid (specifically in terms of gender and class) and horrifically violent: so what it’s really like to live in it? to try to be a hero, a knight, to be a lady in a world where your body belongs to your family, your lord, your order? is it possible to be a good person in a hierarchal world like this, with such vast power imbalances woven throughout it and every relationship and interaction that you have informed by that? how do you navigate that imbalance in order to have meaningful relationships—can you every truly do it? and who decides what is good? how do you know if it’s truly right or it just felt right because it’s what you wanted to do? what about the people who have no name, no family, no order: what happens to them? don’t they matter? what if in a lifetime of looking the other way or actively causing others harm, you do a few things—maybe one thing—that’s objectively good: does it mean anything? does it matter, even if no one ever knows? what if the best thing you ever did broke every vow you made, every law that governs your society? how do you live with that dissonance?

what’s it like to be a ruler, to be a king or queen—is it possible to be a good one in such an unequal system? to wield power justly? who decides what is just? who decides who should rule? at which point does the amount of power someone can have cross the line into too much? is it when you stop trying to figure out how to use it correctly and worry only about how to keep it? if holding onto it costs you everything, your family and all your relationships, is it still worth it? what if having that much power available is necessary to the survival of your people, maybe even your world, but when it’s misused the carnage left behind is beyond articulation—is it still worth it? are the lives it saves worth the lives it took? how do you measure that? who carries the weight of that choice and how? how do you live with it? how do you go on living in a world that can be harsh and cruel and unfair, a world where your good intentions and your personhood seem to matter very little in the face of someone else’s greed or when compared to the yoke of your duty? and the questions never stop and the answers when and if they come are rarely easy, but the point is that you keep asking and keep trying because that’s what it means to be alive lol

[ilikemicrowaves]

A big batch of skywing designs related to the Royal family, featuring Sky along with it.

From left to right, row to row. As I list them, I rambled about them and their designs and my choices. Feel free to give any comments on them!!

Scarlet

Boy, oh boy, do I love her, Scar shit my beloved. I wanted to make her purple because purple is often associated with the rich and royalty. Funfact! Back in ye olden days, purple was a very expensive and rare color to get with pretty much anything, so the rich and royals often wore it, giving it its regal representation in the present day. Also, I gave Scarlet's horns stripes because I was going for a jester vibe. Might seem odd, but she's such an intelligent villain, yet her rage, selfishness, and greed blinded her, in the end making her the fool.

Canyon

I really enjoyed reading Tailwind's writing about their egotistical brother. Canyon, to me, is a diva, and I'd love to talk more about him. Those glasses? Doesn't need them. He believes they're fashionable, along with his robes and cloths. The only thing I put into his design that has meaning is his mistletoe, since it represents love and romance, and Canyon is a slut like that /heavy j. He's a hopeless romantic to me and loves his big wife. Although it's implied he married Scarlet to just to brag about it, or that's atleats what I interpreted last I read it, I like to think he actually did love Scarlet and would surprise her with new prisoners for the champions to battle before Peril. It's a shame he died before Peril was born. Imagine the Peril having TWO manipulative and evil caretakers. Orange represents arrogance and impatience, so boom, orange Canyon. Also the the stereotypical Canyon is orange, so it fits in that way as well. Note that I just remembered hours after typing this. This is future felix here to say: I based Canyons design slightly off the canyon wren.

Tourmaline

TOURMALINE!!!! MY GIRL!!! MY BADDIE!! I love Tourmaline and her confidence so much. It shows how strong she was when she realized she was not the dragon who she'd been for 7 years because of an enchantment, as soon as she figured it out she came to terms and did not have an existential crisis, or atleats not around Peril. ( Or Tui didn't really think about how much that would fuck up a person lol ). Nothing in her design has symbolism that I purposefully put in. She's orange like her father and has curved horns like her mother. She also has Canyon's face shape with somewhat of Scarlets nose Bridge and nose. Scars from training combat.

Vermillion

omg this gay ass mother fucker. I fucking hate him /heavy j. Anyways, Vermillion is interesting to me, I guess. I haven't really looked deep into his character other than what's on the surface, a victim of being a child of Scarlet and under her rule. To me, he is very fashionable, including his gold band of amazonite. Not only does baby blue look good on him, but it symbolizes empowerment, which he has. And I ship Cherrylime ( Chameleon x Vermillionv) as well as Vermillion x Chameleon x Mastermind.

Ruby

Heh, get a load of this guy /ref. Anyways, for a hc, enchanted dragons' irises turn a certain color, skywings being pink, which is why Ruby and Pyrites eyes are pink. I gave her harlequin diamond patterns since they symbolize the gap between two metaphoric worlds and the forced silence by others. The first part is that she is two dragons in one and that she is quiet. Although she has the ability to speak up, the power hanging over her head like a guillotine stops her.

Cliff

he's literally just a guy. Though I did add one thing "evil" to him; I gave him Scarlet's eyes. Even though that horror is long gone, anytime Ruby looks her son in the eyes, Scarlet will be staring back at her. But in canon, I don't think she will ever see it that way unless Cliff's personality begins to develop in a negative way, then shed begin to worry and see the illusion resulting from her anxiety. I gave him bits of orange from the reccesive genes she carried from Canyon and from Cliff's father, who I hc to be orange. Also, to symbolize his optimism.

Peril

In the books, she's described as bronze, which i feel is such a loss when her book cover and gn design is a hot cheeto. ( No hate to her Canon design. It looks really cool imo, i just miss bronze Peril. ) The point of her being bronze was supposed to be the fact that she's so different from her tribe other than the obvious. Brown Peril ftw!! She does have stripes of reds, oranges, and greens on her legs and tail, but that's not visible in her headshot, unfortunately. Wanted to throw in Chameleon's genes in there for funzies. Ik in canon Soar is physically a completely different dragon with different genetic makeup, but I think it's more fun to do this, and it's not like I'm hurting anyone lol ( I say this because when I first posted my Peril design I got a on hate for "shitting one canon." Which like ???? Go touch grass instead of telling me I can't be creative. ) ( Here's my 1st post of my Peril design, and then my 2nd slightly tweaked one. )

Sky

I hate how the Fandom treats sky honestly. It's a shame they just dumb him down to "cinnamon roll baby." That's a full adult dragon. Stop acting like he's a child just because he grew up outside of Dragon culture and civilization. Made him pink n brown and gave him a little swirly scale on his cheekbone. Or well above his cheekbone, actually.

Pyrite

I put a bunch of details that yells, "Hey, this is secretly an icewing." Like her spikey scale patterns, antler like horns, and deep colored eyes. Enchanted icewings have red eyes, so I just made them a deep maroon Ish pink, thats why it's not a shade of pink like Ruby's. I have a post planned in my brain, not even in my drafts yet, so it might be a bit, but it's about Hailstorm n Pyrite's relationship and how I think Hailstorm would have handled himself afterwards.

And that's all for these guys!! There's a chance I'll draw other skywing characters or other characters that surround this bunch, like Hailstorm, Chameleon, Kestrel, Tailwind, and maybe how I imagine Cliff's father But thank you for reading if you read all of this! This took up a lot of time, but I enjoyed all of it :33

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 . 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙

fandom: hazbin hotel

relationship: adam x demon!reader

summary: When fate hands you an angelic blade during an extermination, you take a bold risk, catching the first man’s eye.

additional tags: afab!reader, gender neutral pronouns, reader is a hellborn, slow burn, unlikely friends to lovers, star crossed lovers, mild ooc, canon critical, nuance, actually discussing morality, challenging stereotypes, crisis of identity, charlie’s plan is stupid, reader is an imp/succubus mix, eventual plot twist

a/n: dividers provided by @cafekitsune and header image made by me on BeFunky

Hell was made up of nine circles, seven of which were ruled over by the embodiments of the Deadly Sins, one of which you were born in. Surprisingly, the place actually got more and more idealistic the further down you went, and seeing as Pride was all the way at the top, you could say it was sort of like Hell’s version of LA or NYC, the big city where if you could make it there, you could make it anywhere. And on that note… it kinda sorta majorly sucked. 

Maybe it was just you and your own personal biases, but in comparison to the other rings of Hell, in your own opinion, the Greed Ring was the only thing that could compete with the first circle of Hell, if it weren’t for one single factor. 

Sinners. 

For some reason or another, when humans died, no matter the sin, they would all be confined to the pride ring upon arrival. And after spending several years observing not only Hell, but the people on Earth who would later be sent to Hell upon their inevitable deaths, you could confidently say that among other things, these damned souls were a big factor in what made the first ring of Hell so awful. Murderers, predators, abusers, manipulators, all these people who behaved more like parasites rather than human beings, heartlessly taking from the world in whatever form they desire in order to exploit whatever it has to offer. Sure, it was Hell, an inferno of evil and misery, but in your eyes, people like that only made it all the worse.

You couldn’t believe you had forgotten about Extermination Day. Seriously, it was marked on your calendar and the 666 News had even announced it a week in advance. 

You had just been walking the streets of the city when the sky suddenly opened up in a bright golden ring and the next thing you knew, you were hunkering down and watching Heaven’s army slaughter as many human souls as they could get their hands on, weapons shimmering with divine judgement. But you weren’t scared. Not only because Lucifer’s rule granted demons like you a pardon from exterminations, but you felt some odd sense of satisfaction. 

And now, here you stood, holding an angelic weapon you had found buried in the head of a sinner that somewhat resembled a chameleon with small black horns and spines protruding out of her back and tail. Looking down at the weapon in your hand, you caught your reflection in the shimmering blood-stained steel, and you could have sworn this was fate. 

You thanked your succubus parent in your head as you spread your wings out, gently stretching them before you took off into the air, holding the spear in your hands similarly to how you had previously observed exorcist angels wielding their own weapons. Within seconds, you had your eyes locked on a target and swerved around to cut them off at the pass, so to speak. They didn’t even see you until the very last second, allowing you to see the horror in their eyes the second before your blade sliced through the collar. Placing one foot on their shoulder, you yanked the barbed blade free, staining your ripped jeans with wine red splatters.

And all of a sudden you felt more powerful than ever before, unstoppable even, as an excited grin split across your face and you took off into the air and your eyes locked on a new target. The only thing you were missing was a badass music score.

Only a few hours in and heaven’s army had wiped out enough sinners to fill the center of Pentagram City. Multiple areas had been cleared out, and any trace of whatever soul was previously running it was gone with the ashes, now sitting in wait for any future demons to fight for the territory. The monochromatic uniforms worn by the exorcists stood out in stark contrast amongst the crimson soaked city. It was a bit of an eyesore, especially in comparison to the light and gentle colors of heaven, or the diverse hues of the Earth. The one who stood out amongst the army was the leader, who was currently striking sinners with flashes of holy light from his fingers, as his right hand wasn’t too far off. 

But then, there was a new figure amongst the carnage. Out of his peripheral, Adam caught a shimmer of an angelic weapon dashing through the air, but the wielder’s colors were not in uniform with his army. His gaze automatically followed, and he saw you swoop down towards the streets, swinging the weapon in your hands and slicing right through a sinner’s neck. You flew back up to perch yourself on a fire escape, allowing Adam to get a proper view of you. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized you as a hellborn. 

And you were killing sinners, and going by the little smile on your face as you wiped your forehead with your arm, you were having fun. Adam’s eyes were stuck on you for a good moment before Lute called for him. 

“Sir, the troops are moving.” 

“Lute, are you seeing this shit?” Adam asked, casually pointing in your direction. Lute’s gaze followed, and her usually stern and calculative expression shifted to one of surprise as she witnessed you take out another damned soul, this time by impaling them from the back. She could see it, but she could hardly believe it. 

A hellspawn wielding an angelic weapon and using it for its intended purpose. Definitely something neither of them were expecting to see today. “Should we do something about this?” she wondered aloud. It wasn’t necessarily that she thought you were a threat, at least not in this situation, but it disturbed her to think of how you may have gotten your hands on a holy blade.

Adam glanced between you and her for a second before coming to a conclusion. “You lead the troops to the east border zone, I’ll handle this. Rendezvous at the Mange district in five.” he instructed, pointing in the designated direction.

  “Yes sir.” Lute replied, albeit with a trace of hesitation in her voice, before she turned and flew back towards the rest of the army, while Adam went the opposite direction to follow you, keeping just enough distance as to not draw too much attention. He needed to see more of this.

He watched as you moved swiftly and struck quicker than some of his own girls did. One might even describe your hits as merciless, but the way you seemed to use the element of surprise on your targets granted them the mercy of a quick and sudden death. Or perhaps you preferred to not waste time. But by the looks of it, one of them was looking to get the jump on you while you caught your breath. Sinners didn’t typically bother trying to fight back against the exorcists, seeing as angels were invincible to weapons, whether they be from Hell or Earth. But you weren’t an angel, you were susceptible to weapons, and unlike sinners, if you were killed, there was no reviving. 

Adam’s hand moved without a second thought and in a second, the little shit was reduced to ashes.

Nice try, fuckhead. 

On the other hand, the blast of light from behind you startled you so bad you let out a short scream and shot up into the air, spinning around to see what the fuck just happened, still whiteknuckling the weapon in your hands. All you saw was the same old dirty street littered with corpses and a serrated dagger sitting in the middle of the street, mere meters away from where you had been previously standing.

“Hey.” 

Someone talking right behind you made you jump and turn around, and the sight you were met with nearly caused your wings to give out. The large golden wings and bright halo were a dead giveaway, you were flying mere meters away from the leader of the angelic army, who not only towered over you even when flying, but was also staring you down with an indecipherable look on his face, or rather his mask.

Ohhhhh… fuck. 

Adam scoffed out a chuckle, seeing your thoughts written all over your face. “Don’t piss yourself, I’m not gonna kill you. Couldn’t even if I wanted to anyway.” Adam explained, before pointing to the weapon in your grasp. “Just wanted to know where you got that.” 

You looked between him and your blade for a second, before finally finding your voice. “Oh, I just- I plucked it from a corpse.” you explained, eyes darting around a bit as you jut a thumb downward. You watched his expression as he seemed to gauge you, looking you up and down. “I’m sorry, should I… not have done that, or-?”  

Adam held a hand up, prompting you to stop mid sentence. “Heaven Embassy, this time, week from tomorrow.” he instructed- more like ordered- plain and simple. It took you a second to fully realize what he was telling you, but once you did, you straightened your back and held your head up. 

“Got it.” You could just barely contain the excitement in your voice. “Um, do you want this back when this is all done?” you asked, holding up the weapon in your hand. Adam seems a little surprised by your question, before he just smirked and shrugged.

“Nah, you hold onto it. Now,” Adam clapped his hands together and with a flash of golden light manifested a huge electric guitar with a color scheme to match his own, that apparently doubled as a battle axe. “Back to business. See you next week, and don’t be late!”

As Adam left, you stayed in your place for a moment, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Snapping out of it, you returned to your objective, not even that upset that you lost track of your kill count. Head in the game. 

The bells tolled, the day was over. Your eyes drifted upwards towards the crimson skies as the heavenly portal reopened and the angelic army began to retreat back to their own realm. You may never know exactly what possessed you to spread your wings and take off into the air, despite only having so much stamina left. 

Luckily, your wings carried you just far enough for you to come to rest atop a tower, hooking your weapon on its spire and watching the exorcists ascend to heaven with a sense of wonder, but also a twinge of melancholy, longing for a light you knew you would never truly know. But perhaps getting to be this close could be just good enough for you. And hey, there was always Earth’s sunrises and sunsets, which were just as good. 

As the portal to heaven closed again, the clock tower tolled on, and the countdown reset back to 365.

Now may be a good time for you to head home. 

It took a little longer than normal to return home, considering you needed to keep a low profile and you were carrying an angelic weapon with you, especially having to smuggle that shit through Elevator 666 to get back to your home in the Lust Ring. And by a little longer, I mean by the time you were at your front door, the day was already half over. 

Once in the safety and privacy of your own abode, you spent a good twenty minutes cleaning as much blood as you could from your clothes, and then the blade before you tucked it away somewhere out of sight. Exhaustion took its toll as you fell backwards onto your bed, now in a different change of clothes. Turning over on your side, you grabbed your phone, still on its charger, and opened you routine apps, checking notifications and other such whatever. 

Then you remembered what Adam had told you before, ‘Heaven Embassy, this time, week from tomorrow.’ 

You decided to set a reminder on your phone now before you forgot. Once you saved the date, you wriggled around to get yourself under the covers, deciding to nap now and shower later. Midnight showers became more common for you ever since you moved into your own place. Within minutes, your eyes felt heavy, your breathing evened out, and rest began to overtake you, and you drifted off to sleep, smiling to yourself. 

The week couldn’t go by fast enough.

[One week later…]

After knocking out all your chores for the day, your phone pinged with the reminder you had set, ‘Heaven Embassy, tomorrow,’ while you were in the kitchen making yourself something to drink. Nibbling on your lower lip in excitement, you took a seat down on the couch and flipped your TV on so you could watch the same six episodes of your favorite show over and over.

“Breaking news in hell today!” exclaimed the unmistakable voice of news anchor, Katie Killjoy, as Channel 666 News interrupted your streaming time, giving you a small startle. Although you were initially annoyed at the disturbance, that annoyance quickly melted away as you listened to the news report. As the feed switched over to the giant hourglass in the pride ring, panning upward to show the countdown go from 358 to 176. 

No fucking way.

“Yes!!” you shouted with delight as you shot up from your seat, accidentally knocking your drink over, but you didn’t quite care at the moment as thrilled laughter filled your apartment. The day just got a whole lot better.

kudos to my mom for beta reading <3

tag list 🏷️ @circescircle @cosmiiwrites @angelicpoison12 @activesplooger @ithopi0s (comment if you’d like to be added on)

[r0-boat]

Whb Demon Kings as fathers from best to worst.

Sfw yet dark because children are involved

This is just for fun a little fantasy don't have babies with any of these chuckle fucks.

Cw: toxic familial (kings love their kids, but they ain't perfect :/ the kid are no better)

I firmly believe that Satan is a good father. The only reason why he's so low is because his anger. His child is a firecracker and he fully supports that rage anger "That's my little baby... Off to destroy the angels..."

Lucifer

When he does not know how to take care of a child he will sit down and read. He will make sure your child and you are healthy and safe.

Holding his child in his arms, His eyes soften this tiny little being you had made and he helped bring into this world.

Lucifer can be overprotective over his child at any age they are still his little young one And that will never change, He helps parent happily holding his child and his arms and feeding them. He is the demon of pride and he wants his child to be the best. He wants his child ready for one day they will rule Paradise Lost. When they're old enough he will tell them everything.

Lucifer is a strict father yet caring. He strict because he loves The both of you these rules are in place for a reason.

Satan

He is the guy to SCREAM his child name in assemblies, and aggressively root for them in team sports. "FUCK YEA! THATS MY FUCKING KID!!"

Trying to punish would be a nightmare. Your kid is the child of Wraith They and his father getting fights half of Gehenna will be destroyed. At least Satan is there to stop tantrums.

He is the angry soccer mom yelling at team to get in the car so he can take them to a game to beat the shit out of Tartaros team and mammon's kid. He has snacks juice everything

Mammon

Listen Mammon's got money so he with get his kid anything they will ever desire. The reason why he's third is because that child will be spoiled rotten. Tartaros little royal...

Anything that kid wants Mammon will get. Good luck trying to unravel that when Mammon is constantly telling them about how important they are how they own everything.

That's his child so of course everything he owns is theirs now... But the child is the prince of greed so they are gonna want things on there own. There with be desputes on gold and materials. However on like Satan and his child these two actually talk through their disputes instead of wrestling they have a very mature almost interrogation like discussion of what comes they own and they will own.

If you think the spoiling for you is going to stop when the child is born you're wrong. In fact now that you have a wealthy child and husband they're both going to work together to spoil beloved Mom/spouse.

Beelzebub

This man does not handle responsibility well. He loves his kid but He will be skipping out on at most 50% on parental responsibilities. He does start stepping up a little bit. He actually does go to work...

Beel adores his kid, Beel spends a lot of time with them. He bought a baby sling to carry them around when he goes to work. He wants to show his child all the beautiful spots in hell. When any devil asks him about his kid he with tell you all about them.

Sadly he is forgetful especially with dates. Please remind him about important miles downs or important things that his child has going on. He will feel very remorseful if he forgets.

He can be a good father, just watch that man.

Leviathan

No one is surprised. This man is the literal embodiment of envy. Don't get me wrong he does love his child. It is his kid, and he is trying. He wants to be a father He wants to be a father he never got, as a kid he didn't even know what a parent was So of course he'd want to give his child a life he wish he got. He holds his child, He helps you feed them, And he brings them everywhere. He lets you rest. However that jealousy does flare up which leads him to do childish things.

And he is protective of his kid. of course he is. That is his kid. His kid with you a proof of his love. Proof that you are his. Every time he looks at them he sees a mix of you and him and his heart fills with love. A moment of softness with Levi when he thinks about how his child will a fine Prince one day.

And as the child of envy they are going to be a literal copy of him. When they get older there will be a lot of father vs child moments especially with getting your attention. Your child loves their father, And they do want to make him proud. They love being The Prince of envy, They want to be just like him.

I think parent child duo is even more dangerous. Teaming up to fight a common threat is more often than you think. Envy is just a weird way they bond I guess. You will never get peace in that household.