#but this time around it seemed like he hated his decisions. was just committing to the bit. and wanted to die

[tea-cat-arts]

(Uh, hi. Currently doing my first 3 Hopes playthrough)

WHY IS EVERYONE IN SCARLET BLAZE BEING A DICK TO MY BOY ASHE! CHRIST, WHY'D NO ONE WARN ME THAT RECRUITING HIM JUST ENDS WITH HIM BEING EMOTIONALLY KICKED IN THE NUTS FOR 12 CHAPTERS STRAIGHT!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS BLACK EAGLE FRIENDSHIPS!!!

Anyways, Shez, Mercedes, Raphael, and Rodrigue are the only characters that passed the vibe check on how they treated Ashe (so far at least). Everyone else should reconsider their life choices

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm Smarter Than The Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x reader]

Title: I'm Smarter Than the Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You should always read the rulebook before committing to a deal with the devil.

For Horrorfest request:

Hi! This is my first time sending in a prompt, so please forgive any formatting errors :) the prompt is "Reader doesn't read the fine print and accidentally sells soul to demon!Chrollo" (hxh)

Word count: 1024ish

notes: yandere, bad decisions

It isn’t fair. It simply isn’t fair. It is oh so, completely, wholly, utterly, entirely unfair. 

“I didn’t know–” you start, and stop, and hate how childish you sound. Whining and petty, and this is no petty thing. 

After all, you’ve sold your soul to the devil.

Well, correction. You’ve sold your soul to a devil. 

A devil you hadn’t seen in years, and hadn’t expected to see ever again. Not after the night you made the trade, a trade which had seemed simple enough at the time. 

Everything seems simpler, doesn’t it, when you’re not looking back with the unwelcome clarity of hindsight?

–

“And… all I have to do is sign your book?” 

How weak you must look–how human, how mortal–to the demon standing in front of you. The bandage he’d wound around his head when he first showed up is gone, and underneath it, imprinted on his skin, is a mark that is sure to mean nothing good. 

He’s not bad looking, you suppose. For a devil. Dark hair and eyes that seem to see right through you. Part of you wants to ask about the coat–doesn’t it get hot, where he comes from, with the fur collar?--but now that you’re soaking in the reality of it all, mostly you’re focused on the book in his hands.

A book that glows, a book with pages whose words swim around when you try to peek at them. 

The demon smiles politely, with no teeth. If he were to grin, would he have fangs? 

“And agree to make a trade.”

You swallow. Right. The book said you would have to make a trade with the demon you summoned. This could be anything, as long as the demon wanted it. Someone else’s life; a precious object, usually sentimental; or well. Your stomach squirms at one of the other things the book said a demon may want, and you hope it doesn’t come to that. 

“What… do you want to trade for?” You want to smack yourself on the head the moment the words leave your lips. Giving the demon an open-ended opportunity is a rookie mistake–and yeah, it was your first time summoning a demon, and maybe some of the online articles you found were a bit sketchy, but the guide book seemed solid enough. Given by a friend of a friend who swore his cousin used it and it worked out just fine.

The demon snorts.

“Didn’t your little book tell you not to leave it up to me?”

“Um.” You shrug, feeling stupid, and human, and very, very pathetic. “Yes. But I just–well.” You turn out your pockets, empty as anything; that’s why you summoned the demon, after all. You need your big break. A way to make money, to be successful, to finally have the lucrative career you always wanted. “I figured it’d be better if you just tell me what you want from me?”

The demon’s gaze narrows. 

“What makes you think I would want something from you, little human?” He takes a step forward, and a warmth fills the air. Not a comforting warmth, but something unpleasant, like the smell of gas when you open a stove. “How arrogant.”

He’s going to kill you he’s going to kill you he’s going to–

“But there must be something you don’t have,” you blurt out. “Even demons must be unhappy like we are, and want something different. Right?” Oh, it’s stupid, and unbearably human, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Honest, dumb thing that you are. 

The demon parts his lips–and then closes them abruptly. He tilts his head at you, gazing at you with a curiosity just as unpleasant as the bitter warmth around him.

“What an unusual thing to say,” he murmurs.

He’s going to leave. He won’t make the deal. He might kill you, at worst. At best, you’ve done all this for nothing. 

“All right. I’ll make a deal.”

You can’t hide the surprise on your face.

“You-you mean it?” Giddy, awful hope bubbles up inside you. “But–what will you trade for?”

The demon smiles primly. “Something you can’t even feel.  You won’t miss it once it’s gone, I promise you.”

Your head is too full of anticipation to think about it further. The bitter air around you doesn’t help, adding an almost hazy feeling to your head. Something you can’t feel and won’t miss… maybe a talent you didn’t know you had? Or one you did, but won’t miss after he’s taken it. You always did like singing, maybe he’ll snap up your singing voice and shove it in his pockets. Or he’ll walk away with your favorite genre of book, forgotten in your emptier head, no worse for the wear.

“Deal!” You blurt. 

He does smile wider then, a grin. He doesn’t have fangs, but that doesn’t make it less unnerving.

The book’s pages glow when he holds them out to you, and they’re warm when he presses a quill in your hands and bids you to sign your name.

You do. Shaky, uneven. But your name, there, forever in the pages.

The book snaps shut.

You have only a brief glimpse of the demon before he disappears in a wisp of black smoke. As he vanishes, he says something, but you don’t quite know what it means–

“Chrollo.”

–

You can’t feel a soul, and who knows when it’s gone? Not you, certainly. Though there’s something jittery about the realization that you’ve been walking around for years with nothing underneath your skin but your brain and bones and blood.

Did anyone else notice? Was some light gone from your eyes, never to return?

All because some demon had lifted your soul like a pickpocket. Through deception, through misdirection. 

“Don’t be so sour with me, dear.” The pet name makes your stomach roil. 

That bitter warmth from so many years ago, the unpleasant hit that feels like it’s coming from a furnace, seems to rise up from behind you, pushing you into his arms. He still wears his coat, after all these years; an impractical looking thing, considering how hot it must be where he comes from.

How hot it must be, where you’re going.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t read the fine print.” 

[nishloves]

few months ago; kwon soonyoung (svt)

pairing : switch!reader x fratboy!switch!hoshi (svt)

words : 3.8k (approx.)

theme : oneshot, fluff, smut, mutual pining, fwb to lovers, smut with slight plot

warnings : smut (18+), cursing, oral, degradation, praise, a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, jealousy, soft-rough and passionate sex, appearance of jihoon!

unedited so please don't mind any weird sentence framing, I will definitely proofread it when I get some free time <3

request by @aaniag <3

@kflixnet

things between you and soonyoung were strictly inclusive, unofficial, secret, confidential— however you may say it. just a few months ago, you were just friends, sending each other random texts, partying, hanging out occasionally, hyping each other up for new dates; just a few months ago, you were unaware about his skills.

now, in your five years of knowing soonyoung, you knew just how great and genius of a dancer he was, just how strong his vocal prowess is and how- if he put in any effort— how well he could rap.

you remembered how happy he was when he introduced himself with his college stage name— hoshi. and you were so glad because finally he would be able to showcase his moves on larger grounds.

but you weren't talking about those skills, were you?

you sipped your drink as liquor burned down your throat, wincing you looked around the party only for your eyes to land at jihoon— one of the best friends of soonyoung. his permed black hairs traced his delicate face as he seemingly ignored the obscene music of the wild frat, drinking and indulging himself in his alcohol. you didn't and would never understand how a person like jihoon landed soonyoung as his friend.

and there, your thoughts drifted back to soonyoung again, just a few months ago, soonyoung had become a gym rat, just a few months ago you had haphazardly slurred, "you're so fucking hot soonie~" in his ears and just a few months ago, soonyoung had kissed you so ferociously that you were almost fooled into thinking that he wanted you for years.

just a few months ago, you and soonyoung abashedly woke up tangled in each other's arms, just a few months ago you both had embarrassingly admitted that it was the best sex of your life and just a few months ago hoshi put forward the notion of being friends with benefits, strongly emphasising the point of 'no strings attached.'

you adjusted the strap of your little black dress as you forcefully looked at jihoon and came to admiring his features again, how soft and pale his skin looked, how cold he seemed yet his words were always warm and how his biceps bulged out of his simple white shirt with its sleeve rolled up.

you remembered how you had scoffed at people who were "friends with benefits", mocking them for having commitment issues but never had you ever assumed that you would be stuck in the same pickle with a tag of "strictly friends with benefits" on your head.

oh how you despised soonyoung for making your heart mushy whenever he did something even remotely romantic and how you hated him for giving you best orgasms every. single. time.

you couldn't fall for soonyoung, you can't fall for soonyoung, you must not fall for soonyoung.

you reminded yourself as you looked at jihoon— he looked like someone who would want a committed relationship, who could make you feel secure with his words and not to mention he was terribly hot. you both had talked a few times and you wondered, well why not shoot the shot?

you should probably refrain from taking decisions under the influence.

you gathered your courage as you walked up to jihoon who warmly smiled at you as you sat opposite to him, starting a small talk. you vaguely remembered how jihoon laughed at one of your remarks, how you had sneakily held his hand, how his eyebrow quirked up with a smirk etching on his face. but instead of your talk with jihoon you remembered seeing soonyoung for the first time that day, his hair dyed to blonde as he rowdily danced on the centre table, soon his eyes met yours.

you reluctantly peered your gaze away from soonyoung to jihoon, who laughed at your innocent bambi eyes.

"are you trying to make soonyoung jealous, y/n?" jihoon had asked, inching closer to you.

"why would I try to make him jealous?" you muttered, tracing circles on jihoon's knuckles as you heard his deep chuckle.

"well— aren't you both very close?"

"did soonyoung say something?"

"not exactly."

"then we aren't," you muttered as you leaned towards jihoon, who gently grasped your shoulder as he whispered, "if you want a kiss, I will give it to you— it won't mean anything, but are you sure you aren't making any mistake?" jihoon asked, his eyebrows scrunching up in worry as he steadied you.

you eyes captured soonyoung's again as bile rose up in your throat, you felt happy that you were hitting on jihoon, who was sober than most and was probably wiser than you.

"sorry," you mumbled, "gonna kiss you."

"go ahead doll," jihoon replied as you captured his lips in yours, with the corner of your eye you could see soonyoung flinch. the kiss wasn't much— although you were sure that it was because of how hard your heart raced when you seemingly made an eye contact with soonyoung in middle of the kiss. though you must applaud jihoon for his skills.

"hmm, work done?" jihoon asked as he smirked at you while you hunched back in your seat.

you didn't see soonyoung getting up and walking towards you until he stood right next to you and said, "sorry jihoon-ah, need y/n's help for something."

jihoon waved him off as soonyoung grabbed you by your arm, nearly yanking you off to one of the rooms as he closed the door behind him.

you could see that he was seething under his calm demeanor, you could see that he was furious.

his mouth attached to your throat as you gasped feverishly, was soonyoung jealous?

"trying to get into jihoon's pants now, aren't you slut?" hoshi spat as he pushed you against the wall, one of his hands situated between your head and the wall as you remembered how once you had smacked yourself hard into the wall when you were messily making out with soonyoung, making you both flutter into laughter.

your heart felt warm because after that, soonyoung always took care to not push you as fervently into the wall.

"didn't get my attention for a few days and now you're turning into a whore? that too in front of me?" he raged as his lips trailed small kisses down your face, his hot breath fanning your cold skin. "that too my best friend! aren't you becoming gutsy baby?" he growled as he slammed his lips onto yours while you reciprocated the gesture. his tongue swirled around yours as he explored your mouth, his teeth bit your lip as you hissed in slight pain, making hoshi's other hand which had caged you slide up your dress.

"soonyoung~" stop, stop making me fall for you.

"so the little doll can speak now, can't she?" he whispered against your face as your thighs clenched together— maybe you will address the issue of your heart some other day.

soonyoung passionately kissed you again, his lips nipping on your lower lip as his hands were now buried in your hairs, angling your face to kiss you into frenzy, kissing you farther, deeper.

"you liked it when jihoon called you doll, didn't you? you want me to stop and call jihoon?"

"don't stop..." you mumbled as you broke in front of soonyoung, he was like a drug— insatiable, ethereal— you could never stop loving that face.

"you would have loved it if it was jihoon instead of me, wouldn't you?"

he whispered as he slid his hands underneath your dress, sliding your panties to the side as he pumped in his fingers without any warning, making you gasp as you chanted his name.

there was a slight anger and desperation in his voice as your knees buckled because of instant friction, you leaned onto soonyoung's shoulder as you gasped everytime his fingers performed wonders for you.

"no soonie- no one can fuck me like you."

"yeah, that's why you were flirting with jihoon like a whore."

he was angry, you could see it, you could feel it. as much as soonyoung was open for anything, he despised sharing— something you found odd for the label of no strings attached at all.

you were so near now, so full, and wanting so much more than soonyoung was offering you right now.

your hands trailed under his shirt as you felt his abs, making soonyoung chuckle.

"look at you, so drunk on me when I have just touched you— makes me think, would you touch jihoon like that?"

no. i wouldn't. i can't.

you had fucked other boys when you got yourself into this relationship with soonyoung— he knew that too, so why was he so stuck on jihoon?

soonyoung effortlessly unzipped the back of your dress making your breasts spill out as he latched his mouth on one of your breasts, swirling his tongue, nipping on your skin, sucking your nipple slowly while he efficiently fucked you with his fingers as you whimpered. you were close, so very close.

"soonyoung— i— I am close."

"go on, get off on my fingers, remind yourself just who can get you off in a span of a few minutes, just on whose fingers you depend on."

your cheeks burned with slight shame at his honest words as you chased your high, rolling your hips as much as you can as you came, moaning out his name, chest rippling with regret— you knew you were falling for him more with each passing second.

and it wasn't just because he was hot.

you should address the matters of your heart now, you know you won't be able to speak up again.

"soonyoung stop," you whimpered as you leaned onto his shoulders, your legs giving out because of the sudden and rushed orgasm and because soonyoung wasn't stopping.

"please stop— red."

and that made soonyoung snap back into reality, you never said 'please stop', you never had ever used the word 'red' either.

his anger quickly faded down as he gently held you, concern evident in his eyes as he cursed at himself, his world came crashing down on him. how could he not understand that you didn't want him to do that? how could he even potentially hurt you?

"what happened y/n? shit— are you okay? I'm so sorry— did I go too far?"

you shivered as you hugged soonyoung closer, tears welling in your eyes, you wanted to comfort him— tell him that you didn't mind his actions at all but you couldn't speak, your heart felt heavy, it almost drowned you in your own wallows. hell, you were heartbroken even before confessing.

"y/n, speak up baby—" he whispered in your ears as he gently set you down on the bed, scrambling towards the water bottle which laid in the room, after a while you realised it was soonyoung's room.

plushies of tigers were scattered across the bed, creating an odd feeling of warmth amongst neutrally painted bedroom. his room was surprisingly clean and nice— probably coz he was looking forward to fuck some girl.

he rushed to get you water as you gulped it down, looking up at soonyoung and his concern lidded eyes, you made up your mind.

"soonyoung, we can't do this."

"can't do what? did i hurt you y/n? was i too rough in my approach? did i make you feel—"

"you made me feel good soonyoung," you stopped his rambling.

sighing you looked down at your feet and then at your discarded dress— you were sure you would have laughed at your situation if you weren't the one experiencing it.

"then why—"

"you make me feel too good," you cut him off, sucking a deep breath you continued, "so good that I can't even look at other guys, I don't want to date anyone anymore; hell, I don't find anyone attractive. i went on a few dates—"

"you went on dates?" soonyoung questioned as his brows quirked up, a slight frown visible on his face as he sat on the floor in front of you, his hand caressing your bare thigh as he tried to comfort you. "sorry— please go on."

"i- i went on dates and could never like anyone, i thought it was because you had suddenly become so much more attractive to me but it's not even—"

"you find me attractive?"

"duh. soonyoung, I don't just find you attractive, I find you to be endearing, funny, cute— every single positive adjective. my heart burns when I look at you having fun with other girls, being all giddy when they flirt with you I found you beautiful before you became a gym rat and i—" you halted, his words of no strings attached running in your mind, "I'm sorry, I wasn't able to keep up my side of bargain, it's not no strings attached anymore, I want this to stop before I like you more."

a silence, great, now you have messed up.

"why do you want us to stop?" soonyoung asked as you noticed a newfound glimmer in his eyes, he got up from the floor to sit next to you, snaking his hands around your waist he pulled you closer, his hot breath fanning your face as he said, "why do you want us to stop when I like you a lot too?"

"what do you mean?" you asked, unable to process his words.

"dummy, i had a crush on you for years— that day, shit... that day when I woke up next to you, I panicked, I wanted to experience that again, i was selfish, I wanted you in any way I can and shit that sounds toxic, i—"

"soonyo—"

"hell, I'm sorry, sorry for being a coward, sorry for not opening up sooner."

you kissed him, maybe it was the liquor speaking, or maybe it was because of the state soonyoung had left you in before he confessed, you kissed him. your hands buried in his hair as you pulled him closer.

you were grateful that your feelings were reciprocated.

soonyoung moaned in the kiss as you swivelled your hips up and straddled soonyoung, making him fall on the bed.

soonyoung was being mean by not discarding a single article of his clothing and leaving you naked.

your hands effortlessly unbuttoned the silk cloth as it fell around from his torso, still worn but unbuttoned.

your lips trailed down his sternum as he whimpered slightly at your touch while you left fleeting kisses all over his chest. your teeth grazed his abs as you sucked on his skin, leaving your marks along the trail as you smoothly unbuckled his belt while soonyoung's shivered, panting, yearning for more.

you unzipped his jeans and pulled down his underwear as his cock sprang out of his clothes, you lazily looked up at soonyoung who writhed under your gaze, a pink hue dusting his cheeks as he murmured, "please..."

"please what soonie?"

"please touch me," he whimpered, too hard because of your prior actions.

you grinned as you stroked his dick, peppering kisses as you licked him slightly, making him shiver underneath you. you took him in your mouth, bobbing you head as your tongue swirled around his shaft while he moaned, oh so pretty.

"y/n— ah, just like that. oh lord."

you took him out of your mouth, your lips ghosting his slit as you swirled your tongue against his angry tip, making him close his eyes under pleasure.

a smile stretched on your face as soonyoung whimpered numerous of his whines, you took him in as far as you could, enjoying the way his hair stuck on his face due to sweat, he was a whimpering mess all underneath you. your teeth grazed his dick slightly as he shot forward, holding your hair firm in his grasp as you caressed his hand which held you.

"gonna cum— y/n—"

you finished him with a lick at his head and he busted, all in your mouth and you made sure to take it all.

"shit y/n— why are you so hot?" ho groaned, his hips stuttering under you as you got up.

"slow down baby~" you whispered in his ears as you bit his earlobe making him groan as he pushed you down on the bed. slowly inching his face towards your pussy he kissed your inner thighs, peppering small licks and kissed on your lips before his tongue entered your slit, making you hiss as your back arched, an illicit moan escaping you as his tongue expertly swirled around you, him sucking your skin and his hand rubbing the bundle of your nerves. he was so drunk with your pussy, so buried in pleasuring you, his tongue lapping with your juices, scavaging your insides, he knew you so well in span of just a few months, he knew how your body will react to any lick of his.

"soonie~ ha— lord~"

you could feel his lips stretch into a grin around your lips but he didn't stop, you moaned under him, chanting a string of his name, oh how you needed him so much, was he a drug?

he slowly inserted a finger in you as you gasped, you could feel a tight knot in your stomach, you could feel soonyoung's tongue inside you, his fat finger pumping inside you, his plush lips grazing your sensitive mound and sucking you. you nearly screamed your head off pleasure.

"soonyoung— stop— gonna cum, ah~"

he momentarily removed his lips from your pussy, a small grin breaking out on his face as he chuckled dryly, "cum on my face princess, wanna taste you so bad."

no one knew you better than soonyoung and no one could make you feel this much ever.

you cried out as you came, all over him as he smiled at you fondly. you loved it when he was soft, you loved it when he looked at you with love lidden eyes and you certainly loved it when he was rough with you.

your eyes glimmered with mischief as you whispered, loud enough for soonyoung to hear.

"sorry for kissing jihoon, soonie."

you could see his demeanor shift, you could see the way his pupils dilated as his brown soft eyes glimmered with a new found lust.

before you knew it you were grabbed by your hip and pulled up, a gasp escaping your lips as soonyoung's lips attached with your now sensitive pussy again, he licked you again and again, smothering kisses on the bundle of your nerves as his fingers pumped into you, you were so sensitive, so tired, your voice broken with how much soonyoung was giving to you.

"soonie— ah... too much, oh god."

you had forgotten how to form basic sentences, only a prayer of his name and a whine of him being too much escaped your lips as your eyes rolled back while you chased your high again.

you came embarrassingly fast as soonyoung pushed you down on the bed, turning you over and propping your ass up.

"ha— trying to take hoon's name and making me jealous, slut?"

he coldly said as his hand came in contact with one of your butt cheek, the slap reverberating around the room as you moaned, his hand almost instantly coming to caress your ass, you knew how soft he was with you, he wouldn't want to even accidentally hurt you ever.

"you loved it when he called you doll, didn't you?"

he whispered as he lined his dick against your pussy, teasing your slit as his dick brushed your lips, you were too far gone into the pleasure, you were too sensitive, you were almost sure you couldn't take it.

but soonyoung didn't give you a warning, his cock slid inside you swiftly as your back arched with the feeling of fullness.

a moan escaping your lips as his fat cock brushed your insides.

"should I say it now, hmm? doll?"

your pussy clenched around him as soonyoung groaned, his hand grabbing your ass and his other hand situating on your hip as he emptied out only to ram into you with full force.

"liked it when I called you doll, didn't you baby?"

"ah yes— soonie~ oh god."

"my pretty slut loves it when her boyfriend is fucking some sense into her, doesn't she?"

tears welled up in your eyes as you could feel his cock into your abdomen, you mind going hazy with the amount of force soonyoung put in with every bit of his thrust.

"yes! oh god yes!"

"my little slut loves it when i empty out my thick fat cock inside her, doesn't she? or does she want someone else's cock?"

"no soonie~" you whimpered, your mouth agape as you tried your best to answer him, "uhm- ah- oh only you, it's only you!"

"only me?"

"your soonie- only yours, yours, yours, yours!" you whimpered, your body too weak because of consistent orgasms, you started faltering when soonyoung's hand came around your waist as he helped you prop up, you now laid against his chest as his dick hit you in all the spots you couldn't even have imagined.

"your soonie~ oh god~ yours."

"hmm? is my baby feeling hazy?"

"soonie—" even you could understand you were too gone out of your mind as your fourth orgasm of the day approach you, you were too fucked out, you could almost see stars.

soonyoung's hand circled around your abdomen while he felt his dick so deep inside you, he groaned with the image now fully plastered in his mind as he whispered, "fucked you dumb baby, you want me to fuck you like this everyday? show you who you belong to?"

his lips bit numerous hickeys on your neck and collarbone as you tried to speak but you couldn't, your words now a mess of different incoherent letters as soonyoung chuckled at your state.

"you're doing good baby," he whispered in your ears as you tried your best to match your hips with his rhythm, but you were so tired.

"good job, princess~ now, let go baby, cum with me," he whispered so sweetly in your ears as you let go of all the pent up stress in your body, you even squirted while, coming together with him as you shivered, your body limp as you laid down right on soonyoung's bed. your body twitching with overstimulation as you could feel soonyoung pull you closer as he swept your hairs behind your ears and lightly kissed the side of your forehead.

"be mine?" he asked, his fierce eyes now as soft as a hamster's, you gave into his touch as you whispered, "always yours."

[roguishcat]

A sound judgement

Thank you so much @pursuitseternal for your request and for giving me this prompt (Magistrate Astarion AU, where he was never turned)! This was an absolute delight to write, even if it took me a while to actually get done. Hope you enjoy it!

Excerpt:

And this was when Astarion remembered that he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him. A small voice in the back of his mind chose to remind him how badly this could backfire. Astarion chose not to heed the warnings of said voice and immediately began plotting.

Word count: 5.1k

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader

Tags: some suggestive themes, Astarion being a menace to society, Astarion being a brat, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

❤️Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! ❤️

If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment!

The afternoon sunlight brushed warmly against your cheek as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Instead of running around Baldur's Gate, fixing buildings, helping those in need, the Hero of the Gate for once decided to read a newspaper in a park. Something quite mundane for some, a rare luxury for you.

You were not slacking. But you have come to realise that in your bid to please everyone you would soon completely burn out. Which is why you didn’t feel a smidge of guilt when you found yourself going to Bloomridge park instead of the Upper City.

Not having to make any decisions and just simply be for an hour felt absolutely heavenly. Children played, the members of the book club gossiped, and couples whispered among themselves. This was exactly what you loved about this city. No matter how much havoc was wrought, Baldur's Gate healed rapidly and would soon be back to its former glory.

You cast your eyes over the articles in the newspaper. Nothing special, thank the gods. Just silly gossip and the like. You quickly looked through it and gave a happy sigh. No news was always good news in your books!

Yet, no matter how pleasant this little break was, you were well aware that your assistance was needed at ten odd locations today. It was time to get back to work.

Getting up, you looked at the newspaper in your hands and decided that perhaps someone would enjoy reading it. Afterall, there was hardly any reason for you to take the paper with you. And leaving it behind would probably save some poor apprentice a copper. Thus assured that you were doing no harm, you folded the newspaper up neatly and set it down on the park bench for another to enjoy.

Just as you were about to walk away, you heard someone clear their throat loudly.

"What do you think you are doing?"

It was one of the Fists. You didn't recognise him. Perhaps it was a new recruit, seeing as otherwise he would have known who you were.

"Excuse me?"

"You are littering," he stated, pointing to the newspaper with an accusatory finger.

Ah, so a simple misunderstanding.

"I am not littering,” you smiled pleasantly, in spite of feeling that it was rather strange of the Fist to worry about something as inconsequential as litter out of all things. “Just thought someone else might enjoy reading the paper now that I'm done with it."

The Fist did not look impressed by your explanation. In fact, if anything he seemed even more set in his belief that a heinous crime was being committed in broad daylight.

"I am arresting you for littering in a public garden," he seemed to think about it for a moment. "And for arguing with a city guard."

"I've hardly said any-"

"Resisting arrest, are we?" he drawled, making your mouth tighten as you bit back a snarky retort.

"No, I will come with you willingly," you grumbled.

Perhaps if you played along for a bit, you could talk to someone of a higher rank. Saying anything to an overly eager guard who was obstinately sticking to his accusations would just attract onlookers.

"Good. The judge is waiting for your arrival."

"What? What do you mean judge?" you frowned. What business did any judge have looking into misdemeanours and especially something like littering?

"His Honor Judge Ancunín is waiting for you. Don't dawdle. It's rude to keep him waiting."

Suddenly all of this made sense. You ground your teeth and followed the Fist. Of course it was Astarion! That ass!

"Oh, trust me. Him waiting for me will be the least of his worries once I see him."

You felt that you had every right to be annoyed at Astarion. No scratch that. You had every right to be livid and spitting fire! Because this was the fourth time that bastard got you arrested in a little more than a month! And every single bloody time if was for something dumb and trivial. You had no idea how Astarion managed to do it, how he knew exactly where you would be, and how he convinced those Fists that he was to be the judge handling your case.

That stupid, stupid ass!

He couldn’t just come by the tavern and talk to you like someone normal. No, he needed a show of power, especially with him being promoted to judge in high court! Because apparently this was how Astarion got his kicks nowadays. He needed for you to be near forcibly escorted to the courtroom and thrown at his feet. Preferably pleading for mercy and asking him if there was any way that you could make it up to him.

You scowled. The whole scenario just sounded like the plot of some cheap, third-rate smutty novel one would pick up at Sharess'. But if he thought that you would cower before him, that elf had another thing coming!

On the other side of the city, Astarion Ancunín was drumming his fingers against some book he was supposedly reading. Astarion was in a foul mood. It's been several months since the defeat of the Absolute. He and the merry band that defeated the cultists were celebrated just as you deserved for about a tenday, and then went back to your lives. Halsin was immediately off with his wagonfuls of brats, Gale returned to Waterdeep, Shadowheart went to live with her parents in the countryside, Wyll and Karlach waged war in Avernus whilst Lae’zel sought to overthrow Vlaakith. In short, everyone left the city except you and Astarion. Well, Jaheira and Minsc were probably about, but he didn’t care about them enough to check.

For a while, Astarion enjoyed the privileges that came with the title of Savior of Baldur's Gate. The fame had him moving up the ranks with impressive speed until he was promoted from magistrate to judge. No more minor cases! Oh no, he was in the big leagues now. And he was so, so bored.

Astarion could hardly believe that this dull, bureaucratic crap was all he did for years until he got tadpoled. And in the past, he enjoyed it well enough. But having experienced the thrill of adventure, the rush of adrenalin, the drama and the fun of travelling, he could not fathom sitting at a desk for the rest of his long, long life.

Which was when he realised that the only acceptable source of entertainment was you. Except getting to you was easier said than done. Everyone wanted your time and, being the annoyingly selfless creature that you were, it was near impossible to find any window of opportunity and see you for longer than a few minutes. And by the gods Astarion wanted to.

You two shared a couple passionate encounters when you were on the road and decided that you were better of as friends. Well, at least you decided that. Astarion was not quite on board with the whole platonic thing, but with death literally being around every corner, he begrudgingly agreed that a budding romance was the last thing you both needed at the time.

And this was how the two of you became friends. Except Astarion wanted more, so much more. And herein lay the problem. He never in the past had to woo anyone. His good looks and roguish charms were generally enough to have everyone chasing after him. An interested look and a smirk would often be enough for his potential lovers to drop their pants fast.

But this tactic, if one could really call it that, didn’t actually work on you. And he tried showing his interest. Astarion invited you on outings and to parties. Afterall, there were soiree aplenty where he his resplendent beauty would definitely be reason enough for you to want to sneak away and spend some quality time in some secluded alcove. Except yoh would actually have to turn up for that to happen.

Not deterred, Astarion tried sending you gifts and you sent him something equally pleasant back. Which he interpreted as 'thanks for the present, but not for the interest'. This had him gritting his teeth in annoyance but surprisingly not giving up.

Because he wanted, and craved and yearned. He wanted nothing more than sequester you in his rooms and not allow you to leave for weeks. Or until he felt that he fucked that whole ‘friendship’ idea out of your mind.

And this was when Astarion remembered that he was, in fact, the law and you had no choice but to obey him. A small voice in the back of his mind chose to remind him how badly this could backfire. Astarion chose not to heed the warnings of said voice and immediately began plotting.

So he abused his power in every way, had you arrested time and time again, dragged through the city and thrown into prison to await his judgement. You should have been flattered really that he went to all that trouble simply to arrange a meeting. Honestly, most wanted nothing more than to have a passing glance from him, when you had the entirety of his attention!

Except something seemed different this time. When you walked into the courtroom and levelled him with a look previously reserved for your enemies, Astarion wondered if perhaps his plan was not quite as foolproof as he had thought.

But it was too late to back out. He assumed a sort of casually reclining bored noble position and waited for the Fist to read out what you were being charged with.

It was a surprisingly long list. Perhaps Astarion should have chosen a less zealous guard.

As each wrongdoing was reported to him, Astarion couldn’t help but worry about the way your face darkened by the minute as your eyes shot daggers. He was quite sure that it would have been actual steel piercing his flesh by now if it weren’t for all those witnesses.  

“Enough,” he lifted his arm with an imperious look, making the Fist pause, only half-done with his report.

“Your Honor?”

“I see that this matter does indeed require my special attention. Yet, seeing as this is the Hero of the Gate,” he paused for dramatic effect noting with annoyance that this seemed to have the desired effect only on the scribe, the Fist and whatever staff were about rather than you, “I may be persuaded to lift the charges.”

“How generous of you…. Your Honor,” you said in a reverent tone that contradicted your face expression.

Astarion gulped, to his confusion feeling both concerned and aroused.

"Well,” he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “I am nothing but generous."

"Of course. And earnest too!" you nodded. “Why, I am sure that your impartial perspective will allow you to deliver an objective verdict-"

"You forget yourself!” Astarion cut you off abruptly. He rather enjoyed your insolence, but appearances had to be kept up. “Justice should be a harsh lesson. To make sure that no such offense occurs in the future. I ought to administer the punishment where you stand. Make an example of you."

"Well, what are you waiting for, your Honour?” You leaned forward slightly and lowered your voice. “Punish me as you see fit."

Astarion thanked every god he could think of at that moment that he was required to wear loose fitting robes. Because he was already half-mast and carrying on with this conversation would eventually make his problem rather obvious to all present. That would be the Fist, the mages, the scribe, and whoever else was milling about that he generally did not notice. Wholly unacceptable.

"Do follow me, no guards required, thank you."

"But- but your Honor!” the Fist stammered, clutching the report to his chest. “What if she tries to assault you!"

"Trust me, I am perfectly capable of handling this one."

He pretended not to notice you rolling your eyes, motioning for you to follow as he started for his office.

You made your way down the long, winding halls, quite sure that you would be lost if it wasn’t for Astarion. Every now and then the surface of the walls would ripple, and a clerk would emerge from the depths of a secret passage and shuffle past, head bowed and curling in on themselves, only to sink into the opposite wall. If you were to press your fingertips against the surface, you were sure that you would find solid stone.

The narrow hallway widened and you walked into what appeared to be the archive, shelves filled with scrolls, stone tablets and books. A veritable cornucopia of every kind of crime carefully recorded and catalogued over centuries. You scowled as you thought of how your supposedly atrocious crimes were among the entries.

You walked up two flights of stairs and finally reached the door to what seemed to be Astarion’s office. The elf opened the door and stood aside, letting you walk in first. You scoffed and pushed past him, making a show of flicking your hair in his face. Astarion drew back a little with a grin, anticipating you doing something so childish.

The door clicked closed behind you and immediately magic hummed to life.

"Arcane Lock? Really?" you arched an eyebrow.

 "Just so we don't get disturbed, dearest."

Your eyes followed Astarion as he walked around his desk and sat in the beautifully upholstered chair. Just like everything else in his office, it looked eye-wateringly expensive and imported.

"How may I help you on this fine day?" he motioned for you to take a seat on the other side of the desk.

"How may you-"

You cut yourself off and took a few deep breaths before you said something terse that would get thrown into prison. Again. You took a seat, noticing immediately that your chair looked much less comfortable. Trust Astarion to make his company squirm in their seats.

"Astarion, I think-"

"Your Honor," he corrected you with a smirk.

"Fine, whatever! Tell me, oh great Judge Ancunín, ignoring the abuse of power, the made up charges and you potentially bribing the city guard into arresting me, what are you actually hoping to get out of this, hm?"

Astarion took off his glasses and started polishing them with careful, unhurried movements. Outwardly he was the epitome of calm and grace, the one in charge. Inwardly, however, he didn’t have a clue what to do now that he had your full, undivided attention.

Because eloquence in the courtroom apparently did not translate into eloquence with you. Astarion was kind of hoping that you would just somehow fall into his arms and then the two of you would forget about the battle of wits in favour of something far more engaging. But apparently you wanted a real, honest answer. And that would be tricky seeing as he didn’t know how to put what he felt into words.

The silence stretched, tensions high, your patience almost at its end.

"Do you know what? Fine,” you spat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don't answer that. It was stupid of me to think that you would treat me as a friend. I'm just going to pay a fine or whatever else I have to do and be out of your hair. You obviously have better things to do around here than talk to my lowly self."

"I never wanted to be your friend,” he interjected, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Well," you cleared your throat, annoyed at yourself for feeling hurt by his words. "You've made that plenty obvious."

Understanding that you misinterpreted his words, Astarion quickly grasped your sleeve as you prepared to rise.

"I- I am not sure exactly what I want,” he frowned, looking down at the polished wood of his desk.  “I have very little experience of wanting to be around others for the sake of enjoying their company. Getting acquainted with someone was always done with one purpose in mind, to climb the social ladder until I came out on top," he gave a little high-pitched laugh, running his fingers through his hair to brush it back.

"So when it comes to you, my dear, the last thing I want is to be your friend,” he took a deep breath, letting go of your sleeve to interlace his fingers to stop himself from fidgeting. “I have never wanted to be just friends with anyone less in my life.”

“And I don't know what you are to me,” he took a breath to summon the courage to carry on. “But when I look at you, I ache. We are good together. There is a potential for... something wonderful,” he did look up then, eyes locking with yours. “And I want to find out what that is, if you want that too."

You were stunned, momentarily speechless. Looking at him as if you were seeing him properly for the first time. Because it has been so long since you've seen that raw, earnest expression on his face. Body language filling in whatever blanks that were left behind by words.

"Oh hells, say something," he pleaded and put his hands on top of yours.

And then you were in his lap and your lips were on his, because you would be lying to yourself if you did anything but kiss him at that moment.

"You are still an ass," were the first words out of your mouth when you broke apart.

"Yes, dear," he kissed you jaw and then down your neck.

"I can't believe you had me arrested!"

"And I probably will again if you take days to answer my letters or otherwise ignore me," Astarion was already done with the ties of your outer clothing, discarding them by throwing them carelessly somewhere behind you.

"Do you know how embarrassing it was to be escorted to the courthouse? I bet newspapers will have a field day with this!"

"And any journalist who writes a word about this will be brought before me."

You tried to get his robes off him but were having trouble with the diamond encrusted broach holding the cravat in place.

"Argh, why do you insist on decorating yourself with all of these useless baubles!"

"Well, someone has to support the local businesses. You do your bit to see Baldur's Gate restored, I do mine."

"Oh, shut up," you laughed, finally getting a glimpse of his chest and running your hands down soft skin with a sigh.

"Feeling happier dear?"

You felt a breeze on your shoulders and then Astarion's hands cupped your breasts.

"No, I'm still annoyed at you."

"Well then I must double my efforts."

Clerks scuttled about the endless, winding halls, each wanting to impress their superiors.

A loud thump was heard, and a tremor reverberated throughout the building, making the panes of glass zing in protests.

A young human clerk gasped, "What in the hells is going on?"

"Judge Ancunín is questioning the Hero of Baldur's Gate," another replied with a yawn, seemingly not worried.

"This sounded bad, do you think he will need a hand?"

"What, ya mean since his own hands are full?"

The other clerks tittered, picking up scrolls and putting them back on the shelves.

"Oi, stop being mean to the newbie!" someone called from a distance.

"Or be even more of an ass and let him barge in, that would be even more entertaining," a tiefling chortled without looking up from his scroll.

"So, no one is in danger?" He said slowly, not really sure whether he was meant to ignore whatever was going on during an interrogation.

"Nope, in fact, I'm pretty sure that next couple of days are going to be easy," the tiefling took another scroll and added it to the pile in front of him.

Another tremor went through the building, making an ink pot fall off the desk.

"What do you think is going on there?" the young clerk whispered to the co-worker that seemed fairly friendly, unlike the rest.

"Aw crap, don't tell me that no one explained the birds and the bees to you yet?"

"Oh. Oh!" He gasped, a blush dusting his cheeks as realisation set in.

A halfling carrying thick tomes past his desk stage-whispered to no one in particular, "This one is not the sharpest quill, right?"

"Shit! Code Arsehole! Judge Buttershed is in our wing!"

An elf burst in, every head turning in his direction. The clerks stopped laughing, one hurrying down the hall towards Judge Ancunín’s office whilst the rest got to work with impressive speed.

"Why are you even covering for Judge Ancunín?"

The tiefling rolled his eyes at the newbie but graciously chose to reply.

"Because in spite of his eccentric ways and borderline obsession with the Hero of the Gate, he is the best we've had in years! Do you want to have to rewrite all your scrolls because your handwriting is neither here nor there?"

"Gods, do you remember the 'no use of magic above Level 1 in governmental buildings’?"

"Pft, that was nothing,” a handsome elf with long hair put up in a severe, tight chignon scoffed. “I heard they used to have gremishkas just to make sure no one used magic on site.”

"He's here!"

Most would not understand what the commotion was even about. To a casual observer, Judge Buttershed would appear fairly unremarkable. Just a short, portly man with a sweaty face and capricious expression whose spectacles were woefully unfashionable even a century ago. His whole demeanour screamed that he disliked everyone in this room immensely and could not wait to go back to his wing, where according to him things were still done the right way, and settle into his chair in his office.

"I heard that Ancunín was late for court yesterday. Again. Although, judging by the disorder I see here,” he boomed, a little spittle flying forth, “this is of little surprise. Therefore, I feel it is my duty to give him a stern talk."

"Considering his status, your Honour, is that wise?”

Judge Buttershed looked down his nose at the half-elf who dared contradict him.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do? I will make sure to fire you first once Ancunín is out of here,” he pointed a fat finger at the clerk.

Expecting to see fear and reverence in forest-green eyes and finding neither, he cursed under his breath and made his way down the hall, muttering to himself and shooting hard looks at whoever happened to cross his path.

Thus assured that he was doing the only thing that would save Baldur’s Gate judicial system from collapse, Buttershed burst through the doors, all righteous anger, ready to deliver his judgement. Only to find his rival and the Hero of the Gate sipping tea, engaged in amicable conversation.

“Oh? To what do I owe the honour Buttershed?” Astarion quirked a brow. “What was important enough for you to barge into my office without making an appointment with my secretary?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, you- you- charlatan! You know full well that you have no business sullying these halls with your disgusting presence!”

“Astarion? Who is this? I will make sure to mention him the next time I pay a visit to Duke Ravengard,” your voice was pleasant enough but the look you levelled the intruder with spoke volumes. “In fact, I was going to call on Ulder tomorrow. Luckily, with us being old friends and all, I hardly need to bother to make an appointment!”

Judge Buttershed was defeated, and he knew it. Whilst he was prepared to take on Ancunín, feeling that he could successfully make a case and prove that the elf committed professional misconducts, the Supreme Marshall of the Flaming Fists was not someone to trifle with. Bidding his farewells to you only, he left the room in a flurry of silk and barely concealed complaints muttered under his breath.

“Now, my dear. That was most impressive,” Astarion purred, taking a sip of tea.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you shrugged, picking out a particularly scrumptious-looking biscuit and happily crunching on it. And then selecting one more, wondering if Astarion would mind terribly if you took the rest with you.

“I mean, you accuse yours truly, saying that I abuse my power. But are you any better?” he set his cup aside to place a kiss on the corner of your lips, your cheek and under your jaw. “It’s nice to know that the heroes are as bad as the rest of us.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Astarion,” you popped the biscuit into your mouth with a smile. “Now then, I must leave. Seeing as I missed most of my appointments for today and have to reschedule, don’t expect to see me for a while.”

His hands tightened round your middle, head resting in the crook of your neck.

“Must you leave?”

“For now. But I will make sure to come by in the next few days or so, okay? I miss you when I’m not around you,” you admitted, looking at him from underneath long lashes. “But there is so much to be done still… I feel selfish. For feeling so happy.”

Ah. And that was your most vexing quality that he exploited so readily when you first started travelling together. Your damnable selflessness. He loved you for it. He hated that you extended it to others.

Astarion sighed into your shoulder and withdrew. You felt the absence of his warmth so acutely that it took all your willpower to turn around and walk out of his door at that moment.

Astarion got you arrested on five more occasions before he finally summoned the courage to ask you to move in with him. Not for any particular reason. You were barely home as it was, so did it really matter which space you cluttered up with your armour and such? Which corner you tossed your boots in at the end of a long, tiring day?

Astarion, of course, being quite meticulous, made sure to organise your things for you. He began by colour-coding your undergarments drawer. To which he got a mixed response, considering he expected nothing but enthusiasm and gratitude.

A year into you living together, Astarion tossed a book onto your shared bed with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Dearest, I got you this. Considering you might not have enough reading material.”

“The ‘Court of Love’? Let me guess, you saw the title of this smutty little number and just couldn’t pass by?”

“Something like that. Would you indulge me by reading out a passage or two whilst I get ready to retire for the night?”

You narrowed your eyes. Something seemed off.

“What are you up to, Astarion?”

“My love! Your suspicions wound me!” Astarion crawled onto the bed and leaned against the bedframe.

You didn’t trust him for one second, but decided to play along for now, being a little curious yourself.

“The culprit was dragged in front of the magistrate. Her heavy breasts heaving with every laboured breath, nipples erect and pointing in his direction… Oh gods, this is terrible!” you chortled, making yourself comfortable and putting your head on Astarion’s bare chest.

“Isn’t it? Go on then, I want to hear what happens next,” he grinned, twirling a strand of your hair around his long fingers.

You giggled and turned the page.

“The magistrate rose in one swift movement, his eyes flashing and muscles flexing. He moved slowly, a predator circling his prey. Her eyes followed him, heart hammering as he breasts rose and fell with every breath, her nipples-  What is with this writer and nipples?” you rolled your eyes.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

Astarion was clearly having a whale of a time, though he seemed to be familiar with the text, his attention directed at you, as if wanting to make sure he caught every reaction, every expression.

“Are the nipples meant to be moving around so much? They could be out there directing foot traffic! I’m guessing that you picked this up at Sharess’?”

“Indeed, I did! And who are you to judge the quality of this book!” Astarion said with an air of a mother defending her child. “I’ll have you know, it was sold out in hours! I worked hard to get my hands on this copy!”

Then something clicked in your mind. You read the next two pages quickly.

“Magistrate Arunin and the Hero of the Coast? Astarion, is this based on us?” you looked at the cover at the book to check the name of the author. And sure enough, it was the Fist that arrested you for littering and then two more times after that.

“I’m going to kill him!” you growled, throwing the book on the floor. “And I don’t mean that in a cutesy way. I mean I will literally run my sword through him,” you pushed against Astarion’s chest. The elf gripped you tighter to stop you from leaving, as you were clearly intent on making good on your promise in spite of the late hour.

“Being a slave to the quill is truly a dangerous profession these days,” Astarion laughed, flipping you over and manoeuvring you so swiftly that you felt a little dizzy until he had you pinned against the bed.

“Now, whilst that murderous glint in your eyes is truly fetching, I think our energies would be better spent on each other rather than on some writer. Besides,” he went on, popping button after button open and pulling your shirt open slowly, fingers trailing along your skin, “I hear that he is planning on writing a sequel. And I find myself eager to read what depraved adventures the magistrate and the hero will get up to.”

Your words of outrage were quickly cut of by insistent lips as Astarion kissed you, tongue darting out through the smallest opening in his mouth to coax your own to open. And then there was no more talking, just groans and sighs, and gasps and moans.

As night bled into morning and you were fast asleep, Astarion congratulated himself on his usual practical sagacity, as once again his sound judgement resulted in an outcome most pleasant. Perhaps you were not keen on his brilliant plan at first, but you had no reasons to complain about his ways of going about getting what he wanted now.

And thus assured that he was always right, Astarion pulled you closer and closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[sankta-wraith]

In Defense of Asher Sorrengail

Onyx Storm has resulted in Asher getting a lot of hate, and while I do get it (dedicating your 2 year old to the goddess of war is not generally considered good parenting,) I think there is more to it, and, similarly to some of Lilith’s bad parenting decisions, it does come from his love for Violet more than anything else.

I have two theories about why he did it, although this first one is slightly more nebulous. The conclusion that Violet comes to is that he thought he could “fix” her EDS, but that just doesn’t seem to fit with what we know of him. Asher was a scribe, not a rider. He favored logic above all else, and knowing that, I find it hard to believe that he would plan to do something as risky as dedicating his youngest child to one of the most dangerous goddesses just because he though she needed “fixing.” He would have researched it extensively before committing to that course, and even though there probably isn’t much readily available material about dedicating children to the gods, we already know that Asher was capable of looking beyond what the government allowed most scribes to study. Any research he did would probably have told him two things, A) dedicating a child to the gods doesn’t magically cure all their problems. Admittedly this isn’t exclusively stated in the text, but I think if the gods just healed every child who was dedicated to them, the practice probably wouldn’t have been outlawed. B) Dunne is one of the most dangerous goddesses to serve. The epigraphs state over and over again that Dunne is demanding, and doesn’t show mercy to those don’t have her favor. Violet even uses this when she kills Theophanie. Even if Asher did decide for some reason that he had to dedicate Violet to one of the gods, I can’t imagine him choosing Dunne for the purpose of healing her. It would have made the most sense for him to choose either Amari or Hedeon. As a scribe, he would probably have more faith is wisdom than war, and as someone from Amarilis he would view Amari as highest of the gods. Basically, it doesn’t make much sense for him to risk dedicating his daughter to Dunne just for the chance that it might “fix” her. I think that during his research into the venin, he found something that convinced him that the only way to protect Violet was to dedicate her. Maybe it was something about the original six, maybe something about the irids, but I think something convinced him that he needed to give her to Dunne. I think whatever he discovered will be brought up in the next two books, and might have the key to defeating the venin.

This next theory is way less likely, but I like it anyway. In this scenario, there’s no secret about the venin or anything, he just does it because he can’t stand to see her in pain. I’m pretty sure that Violet was around two years old when she was dedicated, but even if my calculations are wrong, she couldn’t have been more than three. Imagine 2-3 year old Violet who wants nothing more than to play with Mira and Brennan and Dain, but she keeps getting hurt, and she’s frustrated and in pain and there’s nothing anyone can do. It must have been horrible for Lilith and Asher to see their baby girl constantly injured and crying and having to live with the fact that they can do absolutely nothing about it. I like to think that for a year or so after Violet was born, Asher spent all his time trying to find a cure, not because he though she was broken, but because he would give anything to make her stop hurting. In that case, taking her to Unnbriel would have been a last resort, and he probably felt incredibly guilty about for the rest of his life.

So those are my two theories. Personally I think the first one is more likely, but I like the second one more. What do you guys think?

[crusty-chronicles]

Stubborn

Synopsis: In which our two favorite demons tend to and scold Reader for being careless during a fight. Separate drabbles btw

Kurama 🦊🦊🦊

The first thought that crosses his mind is one of anger. How dare that feeble demon even think to put it's hands on you. The next is that there's blood. So much blood seeping from the wound on your side. The decision of what to do is made without hesitation. He wasted no time rushing to your side. Lifting up your shirt slightly to heal the wound.

The others would take care of the fleeing demon. For now, his top priority was you. Making sure you'd be okay. But apparently that wasn't how you saw it. Pushing his hands away with the little strength you had.

“I'm fine. Don't worry about me. You should go after that thing with the others,” you tried to sway.

As if your life wasn't more important.

Like he didn't cherish you more than anything.

His gaze hardened, maneuvering you on your back to get a proper look at your wound. Summoning his spirit energy in his palm and pressing it firmly against your side.

“You'd think of me so callous as to abandon my injured lover?” He questioned.

His accusation temporarily shocking you.

“No but-” ‘you shouldn't be wasting your time with me.’ you wanted to say. But you were cut off before you could finish.

“Then there's nothing more to discuss. When I'm finished, we'll go right back home. Yusuke and Kuwabara are more than capable of handling this by themselves.”

You once again shifted around, trying to get him to stop. The case came first. It should've come first. Not you. You were hurt, but wouldn't die from it. It was pointless wasting energy on something you could manage with on your own. Kurama shouldn't be focusing on you when there was still an important mission at hand.

He gave you a glare and that was all it took to have you stilling.

“Why must you insist on being difficult? Don't you know that I'll choose you every time? I'll always choose you over any fight, any mission, any person. No matter what, it's always you, so sit still and let me heal you.”

—------

Hiei ⚔️⚔️⚔️

Impulsive, impulsive, impulsive.

He sees red the second your body hits the floor and you struggle to get up. A dark crimson trailing down your forehead.

Damn whoever hurt you, and damn anybody who dared get in his way.

He quickly slays the one responsible for your injury. Not even giving them enough time to process what's happening before it's over. When that's taken care of, he makes his way over to you. Shooing the group of your friends away so he can inspect your injuries himself. Despite the protests from a certain troublesome reaper.

“Let me see.” It's more of an order than a request.

But instead of complying, you turn your head and try to stand. Trying your best not to make a big deal out of nothing. Only for Hiei to shove you back down.

“I'm okay. It's just a scratch.” You brushed off, but he wasn't convinced in the slightest. Moving to wipe off the blood from your forehead.

You grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“Don't. It doesn't hurt, so leave it. And anyways, you shouldn't have killed that guy. He needed to be brought in for questioning.”

Your words only further irritating the three eyed demon.

It seems you didn't quite understand the importance you held in his life.

He would have slayed thousands for even looking at you wrong. And here you were defending some cretin who'd committed an offense that was deserving of a fate worse than death. Sometimes he hated that human heart of yours.

“Shut up. You don't get to run your mouth after being so foolish.” He scolded. Moving to heal your injury with his spirit energy. He didn't do it often, but you were always a special case. You were special.

Yet you continued to try and avoid his help.

“I'm fine!”

“Argue any further and I'll put you to sleep myself. You think I care about some low life over you? You must have a concussion if you believe that.”

Then his next words were softer. For your ears only.

“Your life takes priority over anyone and everything, got that? You're mine, and any creature that dares lay a finger on you will have to deal with that consequence.”

----------------

[faux-ecrivain]

1950s househusband x gn reader

marinette4943 asked: Hey!

I saw your yandere housekeeper and loved the way you wrote it. Do you intend to do a next part?

If so, could you tag me in it?

————————————————————

Name; Angelo

Thirty second official post

@marinette4943

————————————————————

From Part 3; 

        He is absolutely whipped for you, everything you do is committed to his memory, and he inches closer to you with every passing second. “You’re welcome, so, are you going to give me a tour of the town or some advice to settle in, and get along with my neighbors?” He didn’t want to, but he figured that it was best to be as helpful as possible. That way, you’ll trust him the most and will come back to him whenever you need help. You, however, scoot away from him, eventually ending up near the end of the couch in a corner. “Oh, uhm, certainly. I’ll be happy to give you advice and a tour, but I was hoping we could simply have a friendly chat first…” Angelo responds hopefully, he just wants to get to know you and does want to talk about anyone else.

              However, something you said earlier caught his attention. “Unexpected? Wh-what do you mean by that?” He questions nervously, his wide eyes nervously glancing at you and his bottom lip quivering at the thought of you hating him. You tilt your head, slightly confused and then you try to clarify without sounding rude. “Well, back where I’m from men don’t often wear dresses, that’s all.” Before you can clarify any further he interrupts you, which was quite rude and he apologizes for that, but doesn’t stop talking. “Sorry for interrupting, but you don’t like it? Does my fashion sense upset you?” He inquires his expression shifting into anxiety and his mind begins to work in overdrive. His hands squeezes the cloth of his dress and he twists the fabric. Angelo doesn’t do well with rejection, of any form or shape. 

          Suddenly this conversation seems very awkward to you and you regret opening your mouth. “That’s not what I meant, that dress looks great on you. It’s just someone have to get used to, that’s all.” He smiles and he seems content with your response. “Really? You mean it? Thank you!” It isn’t often that he gets a compliment from anyone and it’s been a while since anyone he was interested in complimented him (excluding his spouse, he loves his spouse so very much and is very interested in them). Angelo relaxes and leans his head on your shoulder, which causes you to cringe and push his head away. He whines and leans against you once more, this time he wraps his arms around your arm and nuzzles your neck. Now you’re very uncomfortable and have begun to regret your decision to let him inside.

 ———————————————————-

 Subtly, you try to push him away. You didn’t want to be rude, but his unnecessary affection was making you extremely uncomfortable. Sadly, his grip on your arm does not loosen and seems to tighten. Angelo scoots closer, he’s so close that you could count each one of his eyelashes. He sighs, seemingly unaware of how close he is, or maybe he knows and just doesn’t care. You clear your throat and lean as far away from him as you can. “Ahem, so, about that tour…” You smirk awkwardly and try to make a simple conversation, if only to alleviate the discomfort you felt. He acknowledges your words with a hum, but doesn’t respond for quite some time. It’s silent and awkward as you try to ignore the very obvious bedroom eyes Angelo is sending your way.

        You clear your throat again and try to get his attention. “Ahem, Angelo, could you please let go of me or move away?” It takes a moment for your words to sink in and when the do, Angelo shoots away from you. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed with embarrassment and his mouths is agape. It’s clear that he’s absolutely mortified by his behavior. Immediately he begins to apologize. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, Neighbor! That was so inconsiderate of me, Oh! I feel so ashamed! Oh, I should go, I shouldn’t behave like that around you!” Part of his apology sounds a bit like an excuse, but you can tell by his expression that his apology is sincere. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Oh, I’m truly sorry if I did!”

          You chuckle and wave off his worries, you begin to placate him, and attempt to halt his incessant apologies. “Oh, it’s alright, Angelo. It really isn’t that terrible, I was uncomfortable, but I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it.” Oh, he certainly meant something by his actions, it wasn’t anything sinister, but it was something that Angelo wasn’t ready to face. He was experiencing so much turmoil, the very idea that he almost betrayed his spouse made his physically ill. He could never hurt them like that, sure they weren’t the best spouse, but he still loved them. “No, I-I have to leave, I-I can’t-Oh!” Angelo struggles to breathe, his previous actions set in, and he felt like crying.

         He has to leave, Angelo couldn’t stay another minute is your presence. Especially when he’s constantly tempted to crawl into your arms and never leave them. Once more, you try to reassure him, but he doesn’t listen. “Angelo, it really isn’t a big deal. I’m sure you meant nothing by it and nothing came of it, so it’s alright. Let’s just sit back down and enjoy a nice, civil conversation.” It sounded as though you were trying to calm him down, and that made him feel even worse. Well, the way he felt when you expressed concern for him, made him feel even worse. “No, no, I have to go. My sp-spouse is coming home soon an-and I don’t want to disappoint them.” He tries to reason with himself and his desires, but it’s not working.

       Mostly because his heartbeat seemed to increase with every word that you spoke, he knew what that meant, and he couldn’t give into such sinful desires. He had to stay loyal to his spouse, although, thoughts of loyalty seemed to remind Angelo of the way his spouse has been behaving recently.  Which causes his brows to furrow and halts his apologies, as his mind wanders to his spouses recent behavior. His spouse has been distant (more so than usual) and they keep coming home late. Normally, he wouldn’t worry about that, but each night they come home smelling like cheap perfume, and then he starts to think about the recent rumors he’s heard. The ones about househusband Damian and his cheating spouse. This causes Angelo to consider the idea that maybe his spouse is cheating on him, and the very thought is appealing to him. It causes him to be sick, and he nearly faints. (Luckily you caught him before he could actually fall, and now you’re fussing over him, oh, his heart can’t take it!)

         No, he can’t give into temptation. He has to stay loving and loyal, it’s not that hard, and surely his spouse will take notice of his devotion. He just has to keep trying, right? It doesn’t matter how exhausting it is or how much easier it would be to allow his new neighbor into his heart. Angelo has to remain strong, and eventually, he’ll be rewarded for his loyalty, won’t he?

————————————————————

    (I don’t really like this installment of househusband Angelo, I’m not proud of it, but I figured that if I do a bit of writing about one of my favorite OCs then I might get back into writing. But, who knows, I’m a creature of habit and writing is exhausting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and hopefully, I’ll be back to writing at a normal pace again.)

[iovetecchou]

That Funny Feeling ⧸ Dazai Osamu

༞ Contains...! !TW! this fic contains heavy topics such as: suicide, depression, anxiety, and self-deprecating thoughts. hurt/comfort type beat, hugging, gentle touches, hand holding, swearing, suggestive implications but NOTHING actually happened! kunikida is just silly, dazai really is a sweetheart in this ):

༞ GN Reader.

༞ 2,494 words.

a/n: if you have struggled with your own mental health past or present, just know that you are not alone. i love you and am so proud of you for still being here and pushing through each day, no matter how difficult that can be. never be afraid to rely on someone close to you when things become too much to bear, you are worthy of living and deserve to be loved.

Some people just aren't cut out for life. We are all dealt a hand, some cards interchangeable. But for the most part, they mold us; and make us who we are. They map out the rest of our lives. So what are you supposed to do when all the cards you've been handed don't play in your favor?

Even the interchangeable cards; you discard them only to pick up more rotten ones. Your judgment is poor, and your decision-making only gets you stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

You envy the people who were gifted better cards. People who were not condemned from the start. Those are the people who make something out of their lives, the ones who are deserving of taking up space.

You know this sounds self-deprecating, and yeah, it is. But to you, it's also logic. You think that's why you dislike Dazai Osamu.

When he talks so freely about death, his desire for a perfect suicide. It makes your stomach turn, not for obvious reasons, but for selfish ones. He plays off his pain as a joke so no one thinks twice about it when he asks a pretty stranger to "commit a double suicide" with him.

You try so hard to conceal your suicidal thoughts, hiding your depression behind a pretty mask. Showing up to work each day with a smile on your face and a "can do!" attitude. 

You and Dazai really are the same in that aspect, masking your pain so it's less noticeable to others around you. 

Your abdomen twists into knots when he talks so freely about suicide because it causes your mind to wander and your mask to slip. Dazai always seems to pick up on that slight change in you when it happens, too. His chestnut eyes bore holes into your profile from where he sits beside you. You can feel his eyes on you as you try to smile brighter, putting on a chipper face as Kenji updates you on how the cows on his farm are doing.

You hate it. It feels like he's reading your mind; retaining all your deepest darkest secrets. Does your face really give you away so easily? No... It can't be that. You've been working at the Detective Agency for a long while now, and since then, no one else has ever assumed something was wrong with you. 

If they only knew how pitiful your life really was. As much as you love all your colleagues at the Agency, you hate working. Waking up is exhausting, and you dread the repetitive daily routines you're forced to accomplish. On your off days, you sit at home alone- by choice. Interacting with others is draining, and when you're urged to participate in social activities, the anticipation and anxiety eat away at you until the day finally comes. 

Much like today, the day you've been letting eat away at you since the mention of a work party was brought to your attention. You practiced different smiles and laughs in the mirror, shaking your head and trying again when your "act" seemed too unnatural. You probably changed your outfit ten times before ultimately deciding on the same old thing you usually wore. 

Your hands were coated in perspiration as you balled your fingers, making a fist. You took in a shaky breath as you brought yourself to finally knock on Chief Fukuzawa's door. He welcomed you with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of his head, stepping aside to let you through. Immediately, you felt his eyes on you. Dazai watched your little performance as you greeted everyone, and when it was finally his turn to watch your act up close and personal- you froze. 

His eyes were too intimidating. You felt exposed in front of him. It irked you that he had such an effect on you. Why was it so easy to pretend with everyone else but him?

"Aww, where's my greeting?" Dazai smirked devilishly at you, raising his eyebrows slightly as he leaned in close. All-encompassing, invading your personal space. 

You remained quiet. You were on the outside looking in, screaming to yourself to say something- anything. Your gaze shifted to the floor as your hands came up to bunch up the hem of your shirt, rolling it between your fingers; an attempt to self-soothe. 

"I..."

"Oi! Stop teasing them, Dazai," Yosano shouted from the kitchen, plum-colored eyes still fixated on the fizzy concoction she began making for herself.

The sound of Yosano's strong voice ripped you from your stupor. Your head shot up, only to notice Dazai was still gazing at you- studying you. 

"I would do no such thing! I'm hurt that you think so low of me, Yosano!" Dazai's intense gaze finally eased up on you as he whipped his head around to face Yosano. The tall brunette man clutched a hand over his heart in feigned affliction. 

You took that as your opening to slip away, excusing yourself to the restroom. You hardly noticed the way Dazai's attention was drawn back to you at the sound of your hurried footsteps. "Hey- wait up!" 

You quickly pulled the bathroom door shut behind you. You could hardly look at yourself in the mirror, too ashamed of yourself for freezing up back there. The cool tile floor welcomed you as you sunk, curling into yourself. You hugged your knees as they drew closely into your chest. You could feel your rapid heartbeat in your throat, anxiety rising by the second.

"You know, I wouldn't be sitting on the floor if I were you. Let's get you up." Nothing registered until you felt firm hands grasp your biceps. A strong force drawing you up to rely upon your shaky legs. 

"Why- what are you..?" Your sentence fell off. You weren't entirely sure what you were trying to ask. Your mind was too convoluted with disappointment; shame for yourself. 

"The door was unlocked so I figured I'd let myself in! You weren't looking too hot out there, and I wanted to check up on you." Dazai's warm hands still cradled your biceps, untrusting the support your trembling legs half-heartedly gave you in your current state. 

"I'm fine," You chuckled out of nervousness before continuing, "I'll be out in a minute, so you can just go." You could tell by how Dazai looked at you that he didn't buy your lie, not even for a second. 

He let out a deep sigh, large palms moving up to your shoulders before he blurted out, "Stop, just- just stop. You're not fooling me, so quit it with the peachy-keen act. Why do you insist on hiding behind a facade?"

"Why do you?!" You shouted back. You brought your hands up to swat his hands off your shoulders. The shift between distress and rage made your legs feel more grounded. 

Dazai gaped at you for a moment. He genuinely looked taken aback before his face shifted into a tepid expression. He let his arms settle against his sides, his demeanor appearing more taut than usual.

"This isn't about me. Stop deflecting." His voice was eerily calm, making you feel unsettled. Seeing a more serious side to Dazai was far and few between for you. 

"But it is! I hate you... I hate you so much. You- you..." Your vision began to blur as tears spilled past your lashline and down your sullen cheeks. How embarrassing, you thought. Crying in front of the man that made your stomach turn. 

Dazai brought his hand up to your cheek, brushing away the onslaught of tears with the pad of his thumb. "I believe that hatred is displaced. You just don't want to acknowledge that."

Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as you drew your hand to grasp his wrist. You tugged with all your might to pull him from your cheek, but no give. Dazai stubbornly kept his large palm on your face. The warmth from his hand seared your skin. It was neither comforting nor unpleasant. Just... unfamiliar.

"You're wrong, I hate you-"

"No, you hate that you see yourself in me."

Your hand fell from his wrist. He was right, and deep down, you knew that. But you refused to admit it. It was shameful. You liked to hate Dazai because it took attention away from the real problem at hand, yourself. 

Dazai let out a sigh as he continued to wipe away your tears. "Tell me to stop if you hate it, but I'm going to hug you now." Before you could process, Dazai embraced you. His hand that was caressing your face only moments ago now cradled your neck. His other arm wrapped around your frame, enveloping you.

"I understand your pain well... I can see myself in you too. But I don't despise you, you know. I actually... worry for you. You try so hard to pretend that everything is fine. It must be exhausting."

It felt like your heart was being squeezed, as if your ribcage was collapsing in on itself. His words shot right through you, as did the guilt. You had been so unfair toward Dazai up until now. Using your displaced disdain for him as a distraction because you were too much of a coward to hold yourself accountable.

It ached so much to come to terms with. Your arms felt heavy as you pulled them up to wrap around Dazai's lanky frame. You quietly sobbed into his chest, grasping your hands into the back of his shirt desperately; as a small child would cling to their mother. 

Dazai hummed softly into your hair, welcoming the silence with open arms; as he did you. You were sure all your colleagues were wondering why Dazai and yourself had been in the restroom for so long, but you hardly cared at this very moment. 

For the first time, in a long time, you felt seen. Like you didn't need to hide when Dazai was in your presence... because even if you did- he would know. Being vulnerable felt similar to what you imagined walking a tightrope hung across two tall skyscrapers entailed. So, to say you were apprehensive about this was an understatement. 

However, in the same breath, it felt freeing. It took a little bit of weight off your shoulders to share your burdens with another person. But never in a million years did you think the person who brought you solace would end up being Dazai Osamu. 

"I'm sorry, Dazai- I'm so fucking sorry. I-"

"It's okay. Believe me, I treated people a lot worse than this from my own displaced hatred," Dazai interrupted. Caressing your hair softly, hyperaware of the wet feeling seeping through his shirt and smearing over his skin from your tears before he continued, 

"Just... just promise me you'll talk to me if it ever becomes too unbearable to handle on your own. I know how it sounds coming from me, I'm a hypocrite- huh? But trust me when I tell you… you are deserving of this thing we call living. Even if you can't see it yourself, I can... and I will remind you of that fact until I'm blue in the face if I have to." 

You pulled back from Dazai's chest as you sniffled, eyes scanning his stoic face. He smiled at you softly, rubbing up and down the sides of your arms in a comforting way. "There you are. I was beginning to think you cried your face off!" You chuckled at his dumb quip, letting your fingers untangle from the cloth adorning Dazai's back.

"Well, this is embarrassing... and I'm sure at this point all the others think were up to no good in here." It was Dazai's turn to laugh as his hands drifted lower, grasping yours softly. Your fingers intertwined as a lopsided grin painted your face.

"So let 'em! Who cares? The only thing that matters is that your heart is beating and you're here. Still standing in front of me." Your smile dropped slightly, the urge to cry bubbling back up, making your throat tighten.

"Dazai," You tightly squeezed his hands within your grasp. Scared that if you loosened your grip for even a second, this moment would be gone before you could say everything you needed to. "I'm really glad you're still here, too."

Dazai closed his eyes for a moment, his smile wavering. "There's so much pain in the world... sometimes it's hard not to notice it. I couldn't shut it out every time I felt your distress. That's why I kept a close eye on you all this time. I'm not just some creep with a staring problem,"

You both laughed at that sentiment before he continued, "I know with each day those painful thoughts are waiting for you. But it's not only that, there's also possibilities. Possibilities you can only discover as long as you're alive."

Your hands still clutched his with great force. His words caused you to cry once more as Dazai's eyes softened. He quietly cooed at you, whispering "don't cry," so gently, it was almost inaudible.  

"Dazai... I hope you know the same can be said for you, and your life," You paused, trying to swallow that lump in your throat before you continued. "I... want to help you- help you live. I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but as long as you're still here I will do whatever I can to help you. I swear it."

Your tear-filled eyes bored into his chestnut ones. Desperately hoping your words got through to him. Dazai inhaled a shaky breath, eyebrows raising slightly. His lips curved into a tight-lipped smile before he let out a small chuckle. "You're really something else, you know that? Not even ten minutes ago you were shouting about how much you hate me. Now we're best buds... how cute!"

You knew he was deflecting, you guessed being vulnerable was just as daunting to him as it was for you. Before you could say anything more, the door flung open. Both Dazai and yourself whipped your heads in the direction of Kunikida shouting. 

"Dazai! Just what do you think you're doing- wait a damn minute! What did you do to Y/N to make them cry?! Get away from them this instant you damn pervert!"

Kunikida gripped Dazai by the collar, dragging him out of the restroom. When your hands untangled from his, you felt uneasy. There was so much more you wanted to say, but it would just have to wait... for now. 

You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself at the sound of Dazai shouting for you to help prove his innocence from presumably the living room. For the first time since you stepped into the bathroom, you looked at yourself. Taking in your disheveled state.

Ah, there it is again. That funny feeling. 

don't accuse me of making this a self-insert, i will cry!

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

question, have you written anything about ian's avoidant attachment?? i just dont really see anyone mention it even though its a big part of his character

i’ve said things about it off and on but i’ve never really talked about it in depth, but i’ve been wanting to post more so i’m gonna take this as an opportunity to:)

i do think it’s strange that nobody talks about it because as you said, it is SUCH a big and important part of his character. even in season one minor things like him running upstairs when people tried to help him with his broken nose or bigger things like running away from the chaos at home to go see mickey. the way fiona acted when he left also indicates it’s a common occurrence. ian always runs away. we even hear stories about him running away as a kid, specifically from his foster home with carl (there was probably abuse going on, but still, he runs away from conflict frequently and later on we see he can’t commit).

a lot of ian and mickey’s relationship early on wasn’t like how it ended up being, where ian runs. instead it was mickey always running, and we all know why- fear. i think he was trying so hard to keep mickey because he really was in love with him but also because he was so used to being left or being treated like garbage, and he didn’t want that. then obviously, season three he leaves, and the mania contributes for sure but i definitely think a big part of it is again, his tendency to run away. fiona even says, “he’ll be back when he’s back” (which i hated), but again it kind of proves he runs a lot. this time he just ran further and didn’t return for months.

anyway, ian’s avoidant attachment becomes more prevalent around the season five break up, which i could talk about for days because i feel like ian’s perspective isn’t talked about as often. but one of the reasons that he leaves is because they love each other and he doesn’t want mickey to be stuck with him, he can’t commit to this and he doesn’t want to drag mickey down with him. after this we see his struggles with commitment more often, visiting mickey in prison is a pretty good example, which is also something i’ll never really hate ian for. he tells svetlana that he doesn’t want to go because he’s done with that part of his life, he wants to leave everything behind him. when mickey shows him that he tattooed ian on his chest and asks him to wait years for him, it’s a big commitment, which ian is afraid of. he even states in season ten his parents contributed to this fear. he’s never known much about commitment, his parents could never commit to him, the men he fucked never commited to him, and mickey did, but it scares ian away.

season seven is pretty obvious, also. trevor wants a relationship and that also scares him away, and there were definitely other levels to it, but i’ve always viewed his hesitance for another relationship as a part of that. trevor wants commitment, ian isn’t good at that; and it shows when he runs off with mickey (after saying he’s staying and won’t do that). when ian and mickey talk while stargazing the night before mickey goes over the border, i could tell ian wasn’t going to go with him. mickey asks if ian ever thought of him, and ian says he did, but his demeanor to me always still seemed anxious. he realizes this is a big decision, and while he’s already made a lot of big commitments doing this whole thing with mickey, i feel like that’s when he realized. mickey’s leaving behind nothing, but ian’s leaving behind everything. his family, his job, trevor, probably even his stability. i don’t think i even need to talk about him leaving mickey at the border, because again, it was unsurprising and caused by fear and fear only. love was never a factor, and i think mickey must’ve known that.

there’s other examples within the next two seasons, like how he grieved, him hiding from the cops and running away after dyeing his hair black, but it’s always the most obvious when he’s in a relationship with mickey, because their attachment styles contradict each other. knowing he’s getting released on parole was a big thing, because to me, it was apparent he didn’t want to leave but also couldn’t wait to. his whole thing with mickey where he screams “i wanna be where you are!” and mickey responds with, “you don’t get to be.” was a big thing and showed a change in ian’s relationship with attachment. he was willing to throw his whole parole for mickey. it was growth. the marriage license is a whole other thing.

10x08/10x09 are pretty important episodes to me looking at it from ian’s perspective. he does love mickey and that should never be questioned, in fact, it irritates me when people imply he doesn’t, but he was afraid. the way his hand hovered over the paper was fear, and in 10x09 it all goes back to 5x12. ian’s bipolar, he doesn’t want mickey stuck with him. i think in the courthouse he did a good job of explaining why he didn’t want that. frank and monica had so many weddings and he’s watched so much shit go down, and he’s no stranger to being compared to monica. in season nine he states he doesn’t know who he is anymore, and i feel like he’s struggled with that for a while. he ends up marrying mickey, but there was so much trauma and fear he had to push past to do so. he asks mickey how he knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with ian and everything that comes with ian, and obviously mickey is fine with all of that, he loves ian, but ian isn’t sure. like i said, he’s been left so many times and he’s seen what his disorder did to his mother, he’s seen frank and monica’s relationship, and he’s scared. debbie even tells him this. that’s why i felt like his whole promise thing made sense, it symbolized commitment, he tells mickey he can commit, but mickey doesn’t buy it (and i don’t blame him). he learns he has to marry mickey, he has to commit, he has to say vows. and he does, and the whole monogamy conversation further proves he’s still learning and trying to overcome everything.

i dont know if i even answered that question or not and just rambled, lol, but i tried😭😭

[librathefangirl]

i gotta get up in like 6 hrs but i can't sleep so here have the oh shit nnt thought of the night:

the only demon in THE demon hating club

this is a sentence my brain just came up with to describe Stigma Meliodas, and isn't that fucked up?? Like that was a very fucked up thing Meliodas put himself through. I feel like we as a fandom don't talk enough about how fucked up that was (shadowed by all the other fucked up things meli went through)

Because... not only did Meliodas' decision to join Stigma cause every demon to hate him, it also meant that he decided to spend his days around people who hated him or at the very least his race (that cannot have been good for his mental health which let's be honest probably was really shitty to begin with because of the dk and his childhood)

The goddess in the horn really wasn't that far off when she said he had no allies. Like obviously she wasn't right, but she wasn't entirely wrong either

Cause let's think about that in regard to Stigma Meliodas. We don't fully know how most of the members of Stigma felt about Meliodas, but considering they talked about slaughtering "every last one of the damned demon race" when Meli was literally RIGHT THERE (and none of them were like hey lucy maybe we shouldn't commit genocide) we can assume most of them wouldn't care if Meliodas died and probably only tolerated him being there because they had no choice (and if he was on their side then he wasn't on the enemy's side)

The way he responds to King (as Gloxinia) questioning his loyalty just seems so resigned, like he has been over this time and time; he knows Stigma don't trust him and he knows there's nothing he can say to change that, only his actions (him not betraying them) can prove he is actually on their side and not some deep undercover spy for the demons

Anyways I'm getting sidetracked- ALLIES! The only people in Stigma we know considered Meliodas an ally and friend are: Elizabeth (of course), Drole and Gloxinia, and then Rou

First let it sink in how fucking short that list is, and then let's think about each of those allies and what happens to them...

Elizabeth. Well. She dies. Horribly. And like I'm not even talking about the whole curse thing, I'm talking about how goddess Elizabeth died and Meliodas had to continue living. HE WOKE UP NEXT TO HER DEAD BODY. That was another very very very fucked up thing that happened (that we also don't talk about enough me thinks - cause like... he died. but then he didn't. but then she was still dead right next to him. and he didn't even know about the curse. he thought she was dead dead and he was alive. she was gone forever. and he was still living and now alone. very fucked up)

And then we have Rou. Rou who befriended Meliodas. Rou who knew Meliodas was a demon and didn't care and still called him a friend. Rou who only joined Stigma to get revenge on Stigma. Like yeah Rou didn’t hate every demon but he still brought that kind of hate and violence (regardless of his reasons). And was then also killed (by one of Mel's allies no less)

Which brings us to Drole and Gloxinia. Who had every reason to hate Meliodas (being the kings of their respective races) but still saw Meliodas as an ally and friend. Drole and Gloxinia who Meliodas then lost. Not to death but to the very side Meliodas himself had left in order to join Stigma. Who then also got sealed away for 3,000 years (leaving Meliodas not only without Elizabeth but also without his friends). And thennnn 3,000 years later, the same allies/friends are now Meliodas' enemies. (Hell Gloxinia is one of the Commandments who actively attack Meliodas in the fight leading up to Meli's literal death

And

Yeah

It's fucked up

It's also now only 5 hrs until i gotta get up so...

TLDR; The First Holy War era deserved more attention in canon and Stigma Meliodas went through some really fucked up shit

[szkunas]

SORRY, YOU LOST! ౨ৎㅤtoji fushiguro.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤokay, toji needs to admit it. you’re magical, or something because he genuinely intends to change for you, as stupid as that sounds. unfortunately, he decides to go out to gamble one last time. when he returns, his worst nightmare comes true.

featuring ♰ㅤREDEEMED toji fushigiro X fem!reader.

warnings ♱ㅤANGST ! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH ! no happy ending ! toji is a little ooc i guess ! BLOOD + DEATH ! assassination mentions ! violence + murder ! gambling addiction ! toji thinks about making you a housewife ! marriage mentions

author’s note ♱ㅤhi. im not dead, lol. just trying to post a lot of things together. i took a small time for myself, to rest, and now i think i can come back with writing with these posts and the event! <3 i hope you all like it, its my first time trying to write for toji

WHOEVER WAS THE IDIOT who invented pachinko, toji hates them deeply. it was probably some very bored and very greedy man. the world will become a better place when those tired, money-crazy expressions disappear. until then, pachinko machines and gambling games will squeeze every penny out of him. or not. no more.

there is a clear reason why some countries strongly prohibit betting shops and casinos: betting is one of the strongest addictions that runs through the sick and desperate, emptying them of their worries for a few seconds and taking the money from their wallets in exchange.

technically, gambling is prohibited both in japan and in many other places around the world: but pachinko, horse racing and speedboat racing, as well as casinos, exist through loopholes in the law. after all, everyone’s true god is money, and taking all of this off the market would shake the economy of the country that seems forgotten by any god in the eyes of toji.

he knows that spending a lot of money on bets is not the wisest decision to make, but he always has faith that he will win next time, when the next time never comes. however, he only has a percentage of his latest work. the rest was well sent where it would be safe: to you, who keeps the money safe and secure from a murderer addicted to gambling.

toji knows you want a lot. you want him to give up his life as the sorcerer killer, you want him to give up his stupid gambling habit, you want to settle down somewhere quiet and start a family. and he wants that too, even if his heart of stone doesn’t let him show it.

but, he hopes you understand that the mere fact that he lets you sleep next to him at night is a sign of trust. he trusts you not to open his throat with a knife while he sleeps, which says a lot about how he feels about you.

even though your relationship has lasted a long time by his standards, what scares toji is the fact that he doesn’t want to leave. he wants to stay, he wants to come back to you at the end of each mission. he wants to let you take care of his wounds, and he wants to dry your tears when you cry for him. in fact, he doesn’t even want you to cry unless it’s from happiness or pleasure.

which is strange.

he only knew love for one woman, and after her passing, he believed he would never again fall in love with anything other than the green notes that create his happiness and destroy his present simultaneously.

a dead wife and an abandoned child on his resume is not what any woman is looking for in a guy. his difficult personality, his history of lack of commitment, his disappearances for days and his addiction to gambling only make everything worse for him. women are drawn to toji like fish to a hook, but they don’t stay long. it lasts even less if they don’t have money or cut off this source of income from his life.

but when he hears the sounds and clicks of the surrounding machines, he can only think that he would stay with you even if you were living on an old mattress in a dark alley.

because love can be as intimidating as it is overwhelming. it can hit a man’s world with such force that it makes him rise from where he is. make him stop making bad choices and, little by little, improve to give you the life that the woman he loves wants. he looks at the nearest clock and sighs. one last game. one last time, he will spend some stupid change waiting for a prize that never comes.

and from there, who knows? and from there, who knows? stop this idiocy of gambling every last penny, work a little more so you can get by for a few months. maybe start a savings account so when you have kids things will be easier?

he waits, and stops. so many times he has seen the message of defeat on machines similar and different to this one. sorry, you lost. the most common phrase for someone who appreciates dopamine more than money in their pockets. but he is surprised when the winning pattern appears on the machine. a winning one.

toji immediately turns to an employee. okay, that was weird. he usually loses any and all bets. this is probably a sign that this is the right path. who knew, the advice of morally sensible people works. don’t use drugs (they don’t work in his system), don’t overindulge in alcohol (which also doesn’t do anything in his system), be responsible and have a stable job. he just needs to review what he achieves in that last part. sorcerer slaying is not exactly a stable job, which every wife dreams of having a husband working with.

wait, did he just mentally call you his wife? take it easy, clown. first, you have to get past your fifth dating anniversary.

but the idea is undeniably attractive. maybe if he gets some good, well-paying work beyond assassination, you can become a housewife. only if you want, of course. toji will drop dead before he forces you to do something you don’t want to do.

the idea is a little cute — really cute, actually. he loves seeing you coming home from work stressed. seeing you angry makes him strangely excited. it’s like getting turned on by playing with fire, and he just wants to make the flames burn hotter. however, he knows how to respect his space when things get serious. that’s one of the reasons he doesn’t want you in an office job.

reduced to a sad cubicle, an idiotic boss and customers as miserable as you, anxious for the time to leave or for him to pick you up. this is not the life he wants for you. okay, toji needs his own fucking car to pick you up from work. this goes on the list of what to start buying to have a responsible life.

as he changes the balls in the pachinko machine, he watches the prizes carefully. normally, it’s just junk that you sell in a random store to make real money. but there is a kind of golden pendant, a butterfly. he asks the employee and takes the item in his hands. he’s a bit of a muggle and extremely cheesy, in his vision, but it’s only fair that in his last bet, one of the few ones he wins, the prize goes to you.

you, the true angel that exists on earth. you, patient and caring, who accept his mistakes and didn’t abandon him when he gave you a thousand and one reasons to do so. you, who he would like to see at the altar and have children with. fixing his own life and making his life better, that’s what he must do now. for you.

waving to the employee who is already used to his presence — after all, toji doesn’t plan on seeing him again — he puts the pendant in his pocket and walks peacefully home, lost in thought. some idiot bumps into him in a hurry, but he’s so strangely happy he can’t even stay mad.

the guy in question looks like he’s on something, with his hands in his pockets as if he’s hiding a weapon and his pupils dilated. His paranoid face is looking in all directions, and Toji knows that look — he’s trying to run from trouble. probably fucked it up and attacked someone. toji shrugs.

well, it’s not his problem.

he just takes out his cell phone and presses the call button on your contact. toji wants to go directly home, but if you want some food or some other gift, he would like to know now. your profile picture is actually adorable, and he caught himself just a moment before smiling like a fool.

the nighttime streets of tokyo don’t stop as he presses the phone to his ear. cars go too fast, and night lights make the city seem more alive at night than in daylight. two rings, three. you don’t answer, and toji groans, checking the time before waiting a little longer. it is weird. usually you are the one who calls, or you are the one who answers almost immediately. and it’s too early, so you can’t be sleeping.

maybe you forgot your cell phone at home and went out to get something you forgot at the office. it would be just like you. he can already hear himself teasing you. airhead. he gives up calling when there is no answer after four tries. he doesn't want to look desperate.

his steps are lazy, light. he’s gotten used to walking quietly due to his line of work, but toji has his chest puffed out like someone who knows what he wants in life. this is a new and at the same time well-known occurrence. his second chance just fell into toji’s lap. not all men are that lucky. and he doesn’t intend to waste it, risk everything and lose everything again.

may his past have taught him the valuable lesson of staying close and protecting those you love.

that’s why, when he turns down the street and stops in front of your house (which has also been his house for almost two years), he freezes. there are some police cars parked in front of the door. okay, maybe some idiot tried to rob the house. are you okay? the idea of you getting hurt makes his blood boil.

but his heart sinks like a crushed animal when he sees the ambulance present. no. what the fuck is going on? he quickens his pace, not caring about the yellow tapes — oh, god, there shouldn’t be yellow ribbons. not here. not in your home, not in the safest and happiest place in the world. do not cross slaps him in the face, making his heartbeat increase. is that fear, in the back of his head?

he had goosebumps. not the good kind.

a police officer comes over to talk to him, explaining that he can’t be here, that this is a crime scene, sir. but toji is faster, his hand searching for the pendant he bought you through a stupid gambling game.

“sir, i’m going to have to ask you to leave—”

“this is my house, i live here with my girlfriend. what the fuck is going on?”

the police officer stops, as if he didn’t expect that kind of response. he checks something with another officer over the radio, and toji is about to punch everyone to go and look for you. what the hell is going on? he only left for three hours and about ten minutes. this shouldn’t be happening.

his green eyes stay focused on the ambulance, on the house that is being ransacked. your house, god, your wonderful house. he waits for you to come out from behind the ambulance, from one of the doors of the house, for you to come running and for him to hug you. but there is nothing like that. you don’t show up, and he suddenly feels like his throat is closing up.

the officer who owes him an explanation that keeps him calm and tells the truth at the same time — after all, a guy with the size of toji freaking out isn’t what anyone wants to face — gets his attention by gently clearing his throat. he looks like a newbie. excellent. you’re nowhere to be found, and toji is getting explanations from a damn newbie.

“you mentioned you live here with your girlfriend, sir—?” the man inquires, and toji crosses his arms, irritated. “can i ask where you were earlier tonight?”

“fushiguro. i’m fushiguro, yeah, and i live here for, two years now. i was out. buying stuff ‘nd all. why do you need to know?”

the officer sighs, his face sad. “you will need to make a statement later, mr. fushiguro. however, this doesn’t have to be immediately, we intend to respect your time with…”

“with?” toji grits his teeth, nearly snapping. “c’mon. i don’t have all night. where the hell is my girlfriend?”

there are some voices shouting instructions in the background, and toji doesn’t pay attention until something appears in the corner of his vision. he turns his face away more quickly than ever, giving the nervous policeman no time to warn him that he shouldn’t do that. and the sight before him makes him freeze.

the paramedics are zipping up a black bag and putting away the equipment they initially brought. toji is no stranger to blood and dead bodies—his body count is high in more ways than one—but he swears he’s never felt so sick. the butterfly pendant falls from his hands and clicks against the floor, with a slight *clink*.

it’s your body. they are putting your body inside a black bag. god, he only got a glimpse, a second, but he’s sure it’s you. pale, motionless. declared dead.

you, dead.

bile rises up his throat thinking about a million things. If he had arrived earlier, could he have helped? he definitely wouldn’t let that happen, what took him so long with the pachinko machine? Was this random, was this chosen? did they kill you because of him, because of him and his stupid career?

he wonders if you suffered. god, the thought of you scared and screaming as you fight to defend yourself makes toji almost go insane immediately. this is— real. and it is not a nightmare, where he’ll wake up besides you, on the bed. you would smile and comfort him out of his scared thoughts. but no. you won’t ever smile anymore.

never again.

he is so out of it for a moment, it’s as if nothing else exists. his ears won’t stop ringing, and it’s like his head is going to melt at any second. he turns to face the officer, who has been trying to get his attention for apparently five minutes.

“we’re sorry, mr. fushiguro. there was a complaint from the neighbors. we’re still not sure what happened, but it was certainly a homicide. maybe random. as it turned out, someone broke into the house and—”

“murdered my girlfriend.” he completes, his hands clenching into fists. toji excuses himself — and the poor officer can see the pain he’s trying to hide with anger.

he’ll probably get called out for a dozen things. identify your body. give a statement, be ruled out as a suspect, god. like he would even touch you like that. the idea is so disgusting he can’t even process it. but it does not matter. it does not matter anymore. his new, peaceful life? fuck that. you are dead.

and so is his heart. again.

toji walks away from the prying ears of the police, and he hates the fact that his hands are shaking as he calls shiu. and old friend and trustful dealer, he needs to ask two things.

“hey, shiu. when you hear this, give me a call as soon as you can. i am serious. i need another job, as quickly as possible, also.” he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, taking deep, angry breaths. “i need to ask a personal favor. investigate something for me, and i want the name and address of every person involved. alright?”

he wonders what will he use when he finds whoever did this. a gun? a knife? it doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore. he steps on the butterfly pendant as he stares at the sky and wishes for blood to pay for yours being spilled.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. THANK YOU FOR READING <3

[bengiyo]

Only Friends: They Can't Sit With Me

I’ve been trying to find the words to express my consternation about Only Friends properly for weeks. Now that we’ve finished the show, I think I can say it plainly: The show just isn’t that deep, and the characters are unintentionally some of the worst gays you know. They can't sit with me and mine.

In so many ways this show avoided saying much for most of its runtime by just presenting the characters and putting them in situations. This would generally have been fine until the final episodes where the push to marry off the characters within their actor pairs coupled with the decision to punish Boston exclusively for any of the wrongs he had committed this season.

I hate feeling like I must defend Boston, because he was not a good friend to his squad. He introduced Top to their group just to fuck with Ray of all people for some reason. Then he got jealous when Top took a shine to Mew. He fired Ray at Top and Mew, and misrepresented a video he took of them to get Top to hook up with him one more time. (As a note, I also hold responsible for his decision to fuck around with Boston and withhold that information from Mew as well, but we’ll get there.) However, Boston is one of the only people in this show not using sex as leverage over the person he’s with or hounding people about putting out.

I hate that this show kept comparing other characters to Boston when Ray is fucking around with Sand while he’s seeing Mew. Top and Mew are playing their little stupid games about sex the whole time. Nick is pretending to be okay about stuff that he isn’t and using a sex tape as blackmail. Boston becomes the victim of blackmail and revenge porn in this show! Why is he the one who deserves to be punished for anything wrong that he did exclusively while everyone else is in “happy friend land” at the end of this show?

Also, what the fuck was the point of Boeing? They introduced Boeing as like a final boss but he revealed NOTHING about any of the characters, especially Top! Force did such a thankless and difficult job in this show only to get stuck in an enigmatic character that we can never get a secure read for. Boeing showed up and seemed like he was more of all of them, and we learned nothing because of his intrusion, and he gets rejected in the most perfunctory way possible as the final source of drama. Disappointing.

As I reflect on this show, I wish it had been episodic instead of a serial. The problem Only Friends has is that in the end it becomes a single story that took 12 weeks to tell. All this drama was so aggravating because these homos DO NOT have each other’s backs. Mew helps Boston out of a sticky situation just so he can be morally superior to Boston. Top helps Ray out of a situation and many of us thought that Top could have been the one who called the cops on the party! Cheum decides to castigate Ray AS HE’S BEING ARRESTED FOR DRUG POSSESSION. Cheum accuses Boston of assaulting her brother under false pretenses, never offers him a real apology, and then thinks that Boston should abase himself before the group at the end. If this show had been episodic, each episode could have been about a gay issue within this group and resolved itself within the episode while continuing larger arcs.

I feel like the angst between Boston and Mew went to waste. Why are they jealous of each other? Why didn’t they hate fuck? Mew is a virgin and Top was his first time. Why did we not unpack how Mew views himself after having sex for the first time? He had been holding out for so long and we never spend time with him really understanding how sex impacted him. Why wouldn’t he touch Ray at that point? Sure, he was never into Ray that way, but what is the core of his sexual preciousness?

This show spent the entire final episode taking a victory lap around Boston losing everything and celebrating these dysfunctional ass couples getting together, only to end on a scene of Mew being interested in Mix’s character as Top looks on worried. What a terrible place to end. We never understood Mew’s thing about sex and especially Top. We never understood Top. After dunking on Boston one final time, we end on Mew wanting to flirt with someone else? Terrible.

These people are still young, but this is not what community looks like. These characters are mean to each other in a way that makes me really worry about the shit that this queer team had suffered as they came of age and entered the scene. I believe in queer community. I believe in helping the people in our spaces even if I don’t like them personally. Even at their worst in Queer as Folk, those guys and gals had each other’s backs. Where was that energy here?

They are truly terrible friends. In so many ways, I was grossed out about the way a bunch of homos turned on the slut in their group only to end the show on a game of spin the fucking bottle where they made Sand make out with Top. It feels so weird that a group of queer people essentially ostracized one of their own for failure to conform with monogamous norms. NOT A SLAY.

Beyond that, I feel like most of the cast didn’t even get to play against type! Khaotung playing drunk so consistently was impressive, but he’s always been a pretty, rich, shit stirrer in most of his roles. First is always a grumpy simp. Book is always the virgin. Force got to be a jerk in a really fun way, but we never understood the interiority of his character. Mark and Neo got to do different stuff, and I really hope Neo gets an award for the way he fully embodied Boston.

I had a lot of hope for this show, but in the end, it will just be remembered as an amusing romp that fell flat in the back half for me. With that, I am done with Only Friends, and hoping to be done with GMMTV in a while, honestly. Between this, Hidden Agenda, Dangerous Romance, and a Boss and a Babe, I’m quite over it.

We wrote so much about this show trying to mine depth from it and the well was too shallow. It’s alright for us to admit that this show wasn’t that deep. We can admit that it was just a lot of fun for a few months. “This show is fun” (read: easy to fap to) and “This show is good” can form a Venn diagram, but that is not a circle. You gotta know when to fold ‘em.

[the5thcellar]

I actually think Luke is serious about A. That age gap is typically what men marry these days. I think he's crazy about her and was taking it slow after a long term break up before going official. That shows intention, planning, and wanting her. I wouldn't be surprised the official IG couple post is coming soon.

I'm just upset that they took it this far with promo. Tom and Z were meeting each other's family outside of work early on, so to say you are officially brining him to meet the fame was a bit much. Closing your eyes when she touches your face? Grade A acting. I hate that it makes me believe he was never attracted to an amazing woman like Nicola. I feel dumb for falling for it all. I hope Nicola finds a handsome guy who will love her proudly.

that's a really interesting take tbh! ive actually never considered he was serious about her in the sense of marrying - but of course this is purely based off the vibes I get and is entirely my own view.

one of the reasons i say this is because luke doesn't seem too inclined to keep a completely friendly distance between himself and nic - i heard that the QC leads india and corey were shipped really hard by fans as well and he had a gf during the whole press run - and towards the end india and corey started posing separately on carpets (i.e. no touching, no friendly hand around shoulder even during photos etc) because they wanted to emphasise that they were really just friends.

luke in contrast seems to have no qualms about blurring lines - and one of the reasons the more rabid fans kept insulting Antonia was a direct result of the fact that he kept stating his "single" status to press. I think he could have helped Antonia avoid a lot of the flak she drew by just stating that he's seeing someone. but maybe he felt it would draw even more attention to his private life and her? idk. i don't want to puzzle over his motivations because I don't believe they are too complex - I've said this many times before and I'll keep saying it - no matter how good a man seems (and I do believe Luke is very good and sweet), trying to justify anything they do is still a sure path to disappointment.

more importantly: please don't feel dumb for falling for the hope that nic and luke could be together! i really don't think they were being deliberately disingenuous - i actually think the opposite - i think they themselves are often confused about what they really are and it's just easier to define it as being great friends. it's strange but i get the feeling that they see each other as a source of potential - it's simultaneously impossible and also the easiest thing in the world for them to envision a reality where they're together - there just seems to be many barriers to it happening for real. they're comfortable living in the liminal space between great friendship and great romantic love - it definitely explains why nic said she doesn't have a relationship in her life that's anything close to what she has with luke. I think there just needs to be a decisive push for them to ever move out of this grey area. it'll have to be something massive for it to ever happen... and it's not something I hold out hope for (again, just to avoid disappointment!)

this got really long; I wish nic and luke all the best and I think they have something very special with each other. I think life has many many stops along the way and I don't think luke has found a final stop in his romantic journey with antonia - they are both very young and they don't have the vibe of "together forever" couples - if they did (since luke is such a big believer in love at first sight) - he'd have laid down a commitment a lot sooner.

again I want to emphasise that this is all MY POV - it's the vibe I get. I'm WELL AWARE I don't know these people irl. There's always criticism of how parasocial fandom and stan behaviour are but I think most fans - myself included - are very conscious of the fact that the way we perceive and interact with celebs is completely one sided. I'm also not a psychic or clairvoyant or anything of the sort. i just strangely feel a lot of things all the time and ive never been chill a day in my life 😂

sending you lots of good feelings and healing - I feel your hurt and unease and disappointment because I feel the same, but it gets easier to accept with each day that passes.

[cranberrv]

when i was your man

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston wants you back

(warnings: mostly fem!reader but can be read otherwise, just a few remarks towards the reader being fem)

tulips were your favourite flower. dallas never remembered.

you had spent what seemed like forever trying to get dallas to be what you imagined to be a perfect boyfriend. get him to be the kind of guy you see in movies, the boy who isn’t afraid to be with you in public, the boy who takes you on fancy dates and the kind of boy who buys you flowers. but he never did, not once. love letters never showed up at your door, he never put his hand around your waist or took you out on a date.

you got over him quickly. he broke up with you because you got ‘too attached’, and he hates commitment. you were just one of the many girls who fell for his boyish grin and charm, who’s gaze went blurry and blind when any red flags seemed to uncover, ignoring every horrible attribute about him.

a new boy came into your life about a year after the breakup, a soc, someone who treated you with the respect you wanted and gave you the life you needed. he had the money to take you to fancy restaurants, and he always bought you roses, the most romantic flower there is.

when he got down on one knee, you had no doubt into your mind and said yes. his proposal was too good to be true, everything thing about him was. he proposed on a vacation in the tropics, by the beach. there were tears in his eyes. you had never had a man cry for you. not dallas, not anyone.

planning the wedding was easy. you were having red velvet cake, the venue was in your backyard, keeping it close to home, and you were going to wear the most beautiful and expensive outfit. your fiancé was in charge of deciding who to invite, and he invited everyone you wanted to be there for your special day.

simply put, you were in a pure state of bliss. what every little kid dreams of is a perfect lover who will give you everything you want and more, and now you have that.

there was one topic your fiancé did avoid, though, and that was dallas winston. your lover did not like him, not one bit, he became bitter towards dallas after you opened up about how he didn’t treat you like you mattered, which was all you wanted. you felt it was a bit excessive, if you even dared to utter his name, he’d interrupt and change the topic. and dallas certainly was not invited to the wedding.

at the end of the day, you shouldn’t care about that. you spend a lot of your time convincing yourself that it doesn’t matter that your lover is being rude to your ex boyfriend, it’s not like dal treated you right, anyway. it doesn’t matter, right? it’s better he’s not in your life.

on the day of the wedding, something felt off. you saw your reflection in the mirror as your friend did up your dress, and you didn’t see a girl who was tearing up with joy, ranting to your friends about how perfect your fiancé is. you should be, your lover was perfect and life was magical. you felt ungrateful for the gift life gave you. yet, in the mirror you saw a confused and unsure person looking back at you. someone who didn’t know what they were doing, someone who didn’t know the difference between love and lust, a scared kid who rushed into a decision purely out of the need to feel wanted after a past relationship.

as you’re standing, staring at you and your outfit in the mirror, your friend goes up to the vanity (which you’ve yet to sit at), and picks up a small bouquet of flowers.

“what’s this?” she says, holding it up and examining it. “did your boy give this to you?” she teases.

you look at it. “oh,” you hadn’t noticed that before. it’s not roses. he always gets you roses. this time, it’s tulips. tulips wrapped with light parchment paper and a lace bow. “yeah, i guess so.” she hands you the bouquet, and a small smile spreads across your face. so he did remember.

your friend talks to you for a bit longer, and eventually leaves the room to go grab the hair stylist from downstairs. you’re then stood in the room alone, staring at the bouquet of flowers with a smile and rosy cheeks.

a few minutes later, the door creaks open. you perk up. your face falls, eyebrows raising every so slightly with surprise. cold umber eyes and a smirk that never quite reaches his eyes, a sentence that perfectly describes dallas winston.

shock turns to frustration. how dare he just sneak in here on your special day? he’s probably just planning on ruining it, maybe he’s already got into a fistfight with the groom.

“jesus, dallas, what’re you doing here?-“ your voice is still quiet, not wanting to alert attention.

“you look cute.” he interrupts, eyes not leaving you for a second, drifting across your hair and your pretty outfit. they stop at the bouquet of tulips. “d’you like the flowers? they were expensive.”

your eyes fall onto the bouquet, and you look back up at him. you ignore both of the shocking statements, trying to get him out of here. “you’re not supposed to be here—“

“i was wrong.” he interrupts again. “i was wrong for everything. look, you know i’m not one to say this, and i’m sure as hell not one for these romantic gestures, but i messed up. i thought i could get over you, i mean, broads are easy enough to get over, but i just can’t. your name loops my mind all day and it’s fuckin’ stupid. now you’re with someone ten times better than me, and i know i’m probably too late, but please, don’t say yes. i can treat you how you should be, i promise. i know i don’t have a good history with girls, or with you, but i can try. i’m willing to give it my fuckin’ all for you, i’ll remember your middle name and i’ll take you to the movies, i don’t know. but you’re my gal, y/n, i can’t let my gal run off with someone else now, can i?”

there you’re stood, staring up at him with the bouquet in your grasp, hands shaking and tears silently streaming down your face. your mouth keeps opening and closing, at a loss for words. “why now?” you say after a few antagonizing long seconds. “i mean- i’m stood here on the day of my wedding, and- and you chose now to tell me this?” your voice is breaking a bit, but you’re doing a good job at keeping your cool.

“i’m telling you this cause i know you’ll make the wrong decision otherwise.” he answers.

“well what am i supposed to do now? god, you can’t just do that, dal, i don’t wanna walk down the aisle with another boy on my mind,” you sit down on the chair by the vanity, feeling lightheaded and trying to gather yourself.

“i want you to walk down the aisle and know there’s another boy who loves—“

sometimes you wonder what he was gonna say, but you decided to interrupt him. “we’re not sayin’ that word again, dal.”

maybe you’re just in denial. the word ‘love’ associated with dallas seems so right, and you’d rather die than admit that.

he goes over and kneels beside you. this kneel feels more important than your fiancés was the day of the proposal. “y/n, i’m just being honest. you think you’d be cryin��� if it was some other guy? you wouldn’t. i may not know the little things but i sure as hell know what you’re feeling right now.”

his words hit you like bricks. you don’t want it to be real that you’re crying because you still love him, crying because you love another boy more than your very near future husband. “i’m an awful person, dal,” all your emotions come out at once, small sobs that you try so hard to contain so people don’t notice. “please just go, dal, i can’t do this.”

“and then you go off and make some stupid decision with some guy that ain’t me? don’t think so, y/n.”

“he doesn’t deserve this,” you start speaking about your ex. “he doesn’t deserve me loving another guy.”

you’re speechless after that, crying in your vanity chair. his hand grabs yours as you break down, sitting there in this hurt. you hold his hand so tightly, never wanting to let go.

he’s there for you. he’s always been there for you. lurking in the background, spending his time loving you and watching how quickly you got over him. you knew it was too good to be true. you knew the decision was too rushed, that there was a reason why you instantly moved on. now you knew exactly why.

“i think i’m still in love with you, dal,” you say softly after you recollect yourself enough to speak.

he chuckles. “you think?” he says sarcastically. you did just spend the time you should’ve been getting ready for your wedding crying over him.

you furrow your eyebrows, not in the mood for jokes. “lay off, dal, i mean it.”

he releases a small breath. “you wanna get out of here, then?”

you hesitate, thinking back to your now heartbroken fiancé and your loved ones that will be extremely disappointed in you for leaving without a word, but you nod. dal always had a way of making you do reckless things.

maybe the guilt will always haunt you after you leave, and you’ll find yourself always thinking back to the day when you were just a young and dumb kid who hurt so many people by wanting just one, or maybe you’ll find yourself with a version of dallas who is trying, who is more open to commitment and to spending time with you, a version of dallas who remembers tulips are your favourite flower.

[wildxenomorph]

Ok so I saw sonic the hedgehog 3 last night and I want spill my thoughts

SPOILERS BELOW

I really liked that Shadow was explicitly described and portrayed as a kid—he’s Sonic’s age (minus the 50 years in stasis, where he clearly didn’t age physically or mentally)… he was manipulated by Peepaw Robotnik, he was a hurt child that was used by the govt and later someone he considered something akin to family………

Anyway that scene of sonic and shadow sitting on the moon… ahh damn it makes me tear up to think about

Also I like that sonic isn’t perfect—I like that he decides he needs the use the master emerald, he goes back on his promise with knuckles and tails and is ready to actively fight his friends to get to it, both to stop the evildoers and to get revenge for his/their father… he leaves his team after promising they would always work together, and he realizes that what he’s doing is wrong, realized that killing shadow wouldn’t make Tom better, it wouldn’t reverse what happened, and it would only make him regret taking a life

And seeing that compassion, that ability to make a difficult choice, even in emotional turmoil, has such a profound effect on shadow, because suddenly he’s seeing someone going through something similar to him, who begins responding like him before… not. He sees an option, a path, that previously wasn’t even considered—forgiveness, moving on… etc

I also like that knuckles calls sonic out when they square up over the master emerald. He explicitly tells Sonic that he’s in no mental state to make such a drastic decision, but he trusts Sonic enough that he lets him get the emerald anyway, and despite not agreeing with his choice he still turns up with tails to help out at the end.

I really hope that shadow is not just dead now, though, because clearly they plan to continue this film series (metal Sonic and Amy seem to be coming next, based on the after credits scene)… I’d like to see shadow pulled into Sonic’s funky little family with two parent humans, a dog, and a handful of mutant alien animals…

Let shadow learn how to have a family again, to move on, to honor and remember Maria but live a fulfilling life because it would’ve made her happy to see him happy

Also let him get some mfing therapy

Oh, also, I really appreciate that they used the super shadow coloring from sonic adventure 2, where shadow is more of a silver-gold rather than the bright yellow-gold of sonic (shadow’s coloring is way more like Sonic’s in the shadow the hedgehog game, and I kind of hate it)

Really my only complaint: about the film, besides them not hinting at or showing shadow surviving (please don’t kill my blorbo) {Edit; I have since seen a second end credit scene that I missed—thank you to everyone for sharing!! My boy lives!!!), is the fact that Rouge is just not around… which like, she absolutely wasn’t necessary, plenty of characters are/were omitted but I feel like with the pattern of introducing characters in pairs (Tails and Knuckles in 2, Metal Sonic and Amy in presumably 4), it’s weird that Shadow didn’t have some other character introduced in the same movie… Rouge could have helped with the infiltration of G.U.N., for example… but again she’s not necessary and it doesn’t really take away from the movie.

Final complaint is the G.U.N. lady, her name escapes me… the one who acted as essentially a secondary antagonist and was trying to secure the weapon keys. Tom gets the key from her by impersonating the other G.U.N. guy who died, and that’s the last we see of her!! Feels unresolved imo (though I wouldn’t be surprised if we see her again in 4, perhaps accusing Sonic of crimes committed by metal, maybe leading to a similar city escape-framed by lookalike situation that happens in adventure 2 with Sonic and shadow)…

Oh and last thing: I do think the movie spent a bit too much time on the Robotnik’s… it could’ve used a bit more shadow screen time imo…

And those are my unorganized thoughts fkejjdjndidkejs fun movie def recommend watching it

[right-there-ride-on]

Is Diego as bad as Dio?

From my time in the fandom, I often see people discuss Diego as 'a more humanized version of Dio'.

Well, what does that mean? Is he more sympathetic? Is he a better person? Why do some people prefer him over the original? Here are my thoughts on the matter! (sorry in advance)

This analysis will be more broken up than my previous ones, but I thought it'd be fun to do a close examination of Diego as a character to try and find the ways in which he differs from his counterpart. I'll be doing this primarily through analyzing his motivations and his dynamics with other characters. I didn't go back and reread Phantom Blood, so the comparison to Dio's character will be from memory. However, this essay will serve primarily as an examination as Diego, so hopefully not having a direct comparison to Dio won't affect the contents of the analysis too much.

Chapter 29: Scary Monster (Part 2)

Motivations:

Backstory: it's important. I think Diego's expanded backstory, in comparison with Dio's, is automatically a boon to his character. The beginning of Phantom Blood is very fast-paced; furthermore, although we're told about Dio's upbringing, we are only really shown glimpses of it. The placement of Dio's backstory at the beginning also means that the more heinous acts he commits, the more inclined we are to forget about the why; and the less with sympathize with how drastic his actions are.

Dio rejected his humanity, but somewhere in the Phantom Blood the why behind it was lost. Was it because of his hatred of people? His desire for power? Both? Neither? A desire for a sense of control? In my opinion, simply due to the execution of Phantom Blood (i.e. seven year timeskip) it becomes clouded as to what extent Dio's backstory factors into his actions and to what extent he was 'always going to turn out this way'. In my opinion, events in the narrative rendered Dio's tragic backstory, in a word, ineffective in terms of explaining why he acts the way he does. While his backstory is not necessarily forgotten, as Dio commits more atrocities it appears almost inconsequential to who he is and his motivations for seeking power. Speedwagon claims that Dio was 'born evil'. I'm not going to debate how true or not true that statement is, and again I want to say that while his backstory may appear inconsequential to his motivations later in the story (in the sense that, 'he was always going to turn out this way' or 'he has done more evil than was done unto him'), it's not. However, it is allowed to be forgotten about, as in Parts 1 and 3 the focus shifts more onto Dio as an antagonistic force than Dio as a character.

In my Paralleled Monstrosity: Dio and Diego post, I briefly talked about the differing ways in which Dio and Diego separated themselves from humanity by embracing that which is 'inhuman'. Dio 'rose above' humanity by taking the next evolutionary step into vampirism. He became faster, stronger, and better than that which he hated. I'll argue that Diego did the opposite; he 'descended' into monstrosity. Like Dio, he saw himself as above the people surrounding him; however, I think what helps to 'humanize' Diego, despite this descent, is that his cruelty is a reflection of his understanding of the world. He's self-centered and callous, but realistic in the sense that he does not go out of his way to commit evil to those who have nothing to do with him. More so, his values can be understood in the sense that he does not have a sense of compassion, and is apathetic at best in his treatment of those around him.

Chapter 30: Scary Monsters (Part 3) - The descent

With Diego we see not just what motivates him and the 'whys' behind his hatred, but also how that motivation affects his present actions - a character writing decision that, in my opinion, was lost with Dio (bar Part 6). After the beginning of Phantom Blood, Dio seems much more motivated by his hatred of the Joestars than the backstory we're given. And it's fine thematically and everything, good vs evil, but like I said it makes Dio's backstory feel almost inconsequential. Maybe it's supposed to be (fate and everything) but for me it doesn't work. Furthermore, Diego explicitly hates the society he's surrounded by. His goal is fairly mundane - gain a position of power and control the people he looks down on - though we see this goal slowly escalate over the course of the story.

Chapter 40: A Silent Way (Part 1)

Chapter 75: D4C (Part 8) - Johnny's words from Scary Monsters still ring true: Diego longs for 'authority' and 'eliteness'. But I think it's interesting that Diego says "I won't try to 'dress it up'", given his usual propensity for smooth talk.

Compare with Dio, where his motivations almost immediately changed from 'steal the Joestar fortune -> take control of england via vampires' when he learned about the power of the mask. Something similar happens to Diego when he learns about the Corpse, but the structure of Steel Ball Run, as well as the presence of a 'bigger bad', puts Diego not in the position of overall antagonist, but relegates him to rival / pseudo-protagonist (particularly during the D4C arc). If you're interested in a partial breakdown of why he's such an effective rival and oppositional force to the protagonists, check out my analysis of Catch the Rainbow. Diego's escalating goal makes it so that he is essentially on equal footing with Johnny and Gyro for the duration of the narrative. He doesn't need to be as intimidating or as much of an overwhelming force as Dio, because that's not his role in the story. All this to say, even in what is essentially Diego's introductory arc, a more in-depth backstory, motivations in-line with his actions, and a changed role in the story already puts him in position to be a worthy successor to Dio. Yet all these factors also mean that, at his core, Diego is a different character.

Even so, he and Dio are fascinatingly similar.

Character Dynamics:

Firstly, I want to examine Diego's first meeting with Valentine. Diego overheard everything Ferdinand spilled to Johnny during the Scary Monsters arc; however, it isn't until his loss in Catch the Rainbow that he swallows his pride and seeks out Valentine to do business.

Chapter 40: A Silent Way (Part 1) - Chronic yapper says "let me get straight to the point" then proceeds to have the most speech bubbles in the entire scene

Both Diego and Dio are very prideful characters; however, they are willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to fulfilling their goals. Dio hates the Joestars to his core, but he plays along for seven years to further his goal of seizing the fortune (despite missteps with Jonathan by showing his true nature during their youth). Diego similarly swallows his pride in order to accomplish his goal of defeating Gyro (not Johnny, for some reason), though notably he refuses to be 'partners' with someone. Diego explicitly says he wants a subordinate.

Chapter 40: A Silent Way (Part 1)

Diego and Valentine are certainly interesting to contrast as well. Despite losing his father, Valentine presumably lived pretty well, and enjoys many privileges as not just part of the political elite but as the President of U.S. of A. I also say Valentine lived pretty well because this is what he says about Diego's proposal:

Chapter 40: A Silent Way (Part 1) - 'it's a win-win situation! Give me Manhattan Island!' hes so funny for that

Or does Valentine hate Diego because he's British? Hm...

Despite agreeing to Diego's terms, Valentine has no intention of upholding the deal. And as a matter of fact, neither does Diego. I think they both know this about the other; hence why this standoff is so tense. I do think both Valentine and Diego being the type to go back on their word paints an interesting parallel in their natures as power-hungry people. Furthermore, this meeting foreshadows not just Diego's poor treatment of his allies, but also Valentine's attempted deal with Johnny. Funnily enough, Johnny the only one who sees through both of their facades and understands their true natures - he takes no shit and I love him for it.

For some more insight into Diego's thoughts on Valentine, and the elite in general, we can look at his interactions with Mike O.

Below is Diego's reaction to being dismissed by Mike O. Also, from the information Mike O. gives him, Diego for a moment thinks that Gyro and Johnny are dead; so the last panel of the first page doubles as a reaction to that news as well. I wonder why we get such a big panel of his closed-off expression?

Chapter 48: Tubular Bells (Part 1) - Valentine calls Diego 'peasant scum', while Diego regards Valentine's subordinates and by extension Valentine as 'trash.'

Diego's partnership with Valentine inevitably turns sour. It wouldn't be wrong to count Valentine among the long list of Diego's allies that he backstabbed.

Chapter 70: D4C (Part 5)

To bring this post back to Dio and Diego, compare Diego's treatment of his 'allies' to how Dio treats his subordinates in Part 3. Neat parallels!

Now, the real reason I made this post: Diego is a total bastard and we need to stop pretending he's not. Compilation of him having zero empathy or compassion for all the people he fucked over! he's just a guy.

Chapter 48: Tubular Bells (Part 1) - he dgaf

Chapter 62: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap - does anyone know why Magenta would be so fucking convinced Diego is coming back for him. did he blow him or something. the jpeg was named 'what the hell is this'

Chapter 62: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap - See: thirty seconds prior. Diego has the information he needs and dips. he still doesn't gaf

Chapter 66: D4C (Part 1) - 'lmao wekapipo wasn't that guy you killed your friend?' im criing. magenta he rlly did not gaf abt you

Most egregiously, his treatment of Wekapipo.

Chapter 70: D4C (Part 5) - this was actually so foul. Also another Diego + Valentine parallel. Compare Diego's dismissal of Wekapipo as Wekapipo being intended all along as a stepping stone for him, with Valentine's belief that Lucy's death will serve him well in fulfilling his goals of Pax Americana.

And, this is less obvious, but yes, Diego did intend to fuck over Hot Pants as well. These are the terms of their bargain:

Chapter 73: D4C (Part 6)

The terms of their cooperation: Hot Pants will take the corpse, but Diego will receive everything he wanted at the time of A Silent Way (assets and a position of political power), as well as what he initially wanted even back in Scary Monsters: revenge on his father. But Diego, like Dio, wants it all. Hot Pants is not an ally, but another subordinate - a tool.

Chapter 75: D4C (Part 8)

Diego never intended to hand the corpse over to Hot Pants. Hot Pants' offer was enticing, but that's because it was easy. If things had gone Diego's way and HP had opposed him, I have no doubt he would have disposed of them too. In the event of a fatal disagreement, in all likelihood he would have simply set out on his own to track down his father. HP's resources would have just made it easier. I think it's perhaps a nod to Dio and Diego's natural charisma that HP seemed to believe Diego would follow through on their bargain. However, HP is also not naive, so the extent to which they had confidence in Diego's word, I can't say. It would have been interesting to see that confrontation play out.

There is only one ally of Diego's that didn't end up dead: Johnny. It was very brief, but Diego and Johnny did work together to take down Valentine in the parallel universe (Johnny also showed up in the base universe to help Diego, though he was unable to do anything). This team-up is the only time we really see Diego in trouble; in all the other team-ups, Diego is either hanging in the background (Soundman, Magenta), or in control of the situation (Wekapipo, Hot Pants). With Hot Pants, they planned the fourth fake Valentine as a tactic prior to the confrontation; however, Diego is still the one doing most of the work / controlling the situation in that confrontation. Diego relying on Johnny in Philadelphia is the only time he ever put his faith entirely in any of his 'allies'. I think we can read this incident as a parallel to how Jonathan was the only person Dio ever respected as an equal. It's not stated explicitly, but Diego relying on Johnny may imply something along those lines.

Chapter 70: D4C (Part 5)

I talked about this scene briefly in my Does Johnny Actually Hate Diego? analysis, but I just find this interaction so interesting. Especially when we're talking about it in the context of Diego's allies, and how Johnny is the only one who sees through him. When Diego kills Wekapipo, Johnny is a witness to it. Diego appears to feel some kind of way about this:

Chapter 70: D4C (Part 5)

But sadly, that last panel is only closure we'll get on their relationship. I DO want to point out, however, that after this point, Johnny's feelings towards Diego appears to have marginally softened - similar to how Jonathan witnessed all the atrocities Dio committed, but still found it in his heart to forgive him. Maybe it's not to the same extent, but Johnny now includes Diego as part of the 'everyone' collective working against Valentine :)

Chapter 73: D4C (Part 6)

Chapter 76: D4C (Part 9)

My god this post is tangential as fuck. Anyway, let's answer the question: Is Diego as bad as Dio?

Chapter 74: D4C (Part 7)

Well, kind of. He certainly plays a different role in the story, and his motivations are perhaps more understandable / consistent (in the sense that they evolve and are not abandoned), but at their core both Diego and Dio are selfish, prideful people. I think Diego is just a bit better at hiding it, and is perhaps a bit more levelheaded.

Let me put it this way: Dio chose the mask. He desired power and to transcend humanity; he didn't want to control people through politics or climbing the social ladder. Dio rejected humanity in its entirety. He wanted to enact violence against them, and killed whenever it suited him.

Diego did not choose Scary Monsters. Nonetheless, he embraced it. Diego sought, above all else, control (an interesting contrast with Scary Monsters, a primal and instinctual ability). He wanted the power to give back as good as he got; he wanted to trample on those who had trampled on him. He condemned society and isolated himself, but he also blended in well, and played along when it suited him. Dio couldn't stand to keep playing along; Diego could. Diego didn't reject his humanity. He already saw the worst in people, and in adulthood treated people as they had treated him in his childhood: uncaring and callously cruel. Scary Monsters allowed him to act on the worst parts of himself and, like Dio, use violence to achieve his goals. Diego saw himself as above the everyone, and would do whatever it took to externalize that superiority, hence why his goals escalated from getting revenge on his father to seizing control of the corpse in the hopes of finally gaining the control of society he had chased for so long.

Dio may have had the generational hatred and the world-ending schemes, but Diego is perhaps a more realistic portrayal of everyday evil. Dio started out as a poor boy with something to prove; he, like Diego, was a victim of the system and an abusive father. But I think where Dio fails as a reflection of the evil that was done unto him, Diego succeeds. Diego lacks compassion and a desire to improve the world; rather, he just wants to be the one in control of the system.

If you read this far, thank you! Hope this was coherent!

What do you think?