#he’s continuing cycles!!!! he’s being evil!!!! im in love with him!!!

[sarcastic-clapping]

if kendall roy has a million fans i’m one of them. if kendall roy has one fan it’s me. if kendall roy has no fans i am dead.

[vatelixx]

The visionary, the willing executor,

Spencer Reid x afab!UNSUB!reader (written with mid!seasons Spencer Reid in mind)

SMUT!! copious amounts of angst (there’s traces of fluff in there as well if u get out ur magnifying glass)

BASED ON THIS SONG (it got so stuck in my head that I had to write something that correlated):

──── autistic spencer (it’s not explored that much, but it’s always gonna be present in my oneshots), evil evil reader (im not being dramatic this time. she’s literally a serial killer. like her ‘body count’ is copious. but idk, she’s kinda sweet. if u squint and ignore the bodies). They were in love ur honour !!! they’re still in love ur honour !!!! She pays him a visit two years after he found out about her homicidal tendencies (they miss each other, Spencer might also hate her a little but it’s okay, don’t worry about that).

Warnings: sub spencer (aaaaaaalways), maybe perhaps some vague, very faint mentions of switch!spencer but idk i blacked out writing this, choking, mentions of death and general behaviour that would get you a life sentence, praise more than degradation surprisingly, coming untouched, crying (you’d think that was a kink or something?), she fucks the good out of him, hopeful ending (eh, kinda), mentions of dante’s inferno, copious amounts of religious imagery, greek mythology references, this isn’t dead dove at all i promise.

w.c: 5k

a/n: everything i write has been so angsty recently. i’m working on something softer for my next upload i swear (alongside the requests, I promise, they’re being written im just a die-hard perfectionist). aaaaanyway, happy (belated) halloween!! It’s Spencer’s favourite season so i thought i’d write him getting destroyed by a serial killer (god when is it my turn????)

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Spencer would consider himself a good person, by default. It’s reasonable: a renowned member of the BAU, with intellect he’s weaponized for morality. The blood etched onto his hands is justified. Necessary evil for greater cause. He’s willing to blemish his skin for the virtue, for the lives of others.

He remembers naivety. He remembers being so fragile he could easily crack into fragmented pieces of wasted innocence. Maybe that’s been stolen from him now, maybe the ruins of his sacrifices are too sharp to touch upon still, but he’s good. He knows he will always be good.

And yet, there’s a bruise. Something ugly and distorted that stains his skin. Something that has the ability to crawl deep into his bones and leave behind a mess of pain. Something bad. Festering and tainted, it haunts him with every breath.

You.

You, who came into his life as an abundance of sunlight. Helios personified. Pretty and warm, and everything he needed. He wanted to kiss you: the moment he stumbled into the coffee shop, tousled hair, overworked and raw from a burdening case. When you took his order, marking constellations onto the styrofoam cup. Andromeda, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia. Later, much later, then when you became an indomitable presence to his apartment.

But for all the good he’s preserved, Spencer knows he’s not allowed to receive it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” is the first thing he says when he finds you waiting for him. He always knew you would come back; you’re bound to follow him indefinitely. Like his shadow, his guilty consciousness, his cracked past of addiction and pre-pubescent torment.

He let you go. When the act was over, the curtain drawn, when he saw you. Homicidal, the perpetrator of the case he was working on, malevolence packed into the frame of perfection, oh even still, he let you go. Free to continue the cycle of death, he was left to scramble in the mess of his own misguided heart.

There’s risk in reward, and reward in risk. You’re meticulous, hedonistic to the last detail. But Spencer? Well, he will always be the one loose end you could never quite force yourself to clean up. The thread that kept untangling, even as time passed. Cut it off, you should be rational, wash every bleeding trace of him from your skin.

But there’s irrationality in love.

Blood adorns your features; there’s no need to touch up your appearance, to return to the domesticated facade you once used on him. No, he’s been exposed to the ugly now. There can be no do overs, no back-tracking, game over try again doesn’t exist in real time.

“What are you going to do about it?” you ask, and god, hes just as beautiful as the day you left him. So perfectly real, with dragging exhaustion and pretty brown eyes to ease the sting of his tight-faced, troubled expression.

You didn’t cut the phone lines, nor move the gun he keeps stashed in his cabinet drawer. Down the hall, to the left. You know he won’t make any abrupt actions. Know, in an intuitive way, telepathic communication between past lovers.

“It was a gamble coming here, aren’t you pleased to see me pretty boy?”

Spencer has to fight every urge he has, every moral he believes in to not lunge at you; to not strangle your slender neck, crack you in half, destroy you the way you’ve destroyed his sanity.

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since you cataclysmically uprooted his routined life. He fell in love with softness, not the jagged edge of a blade.

“I let you go. Wasn’t that enough?” it feels too natural, fighting in his apartment, some sort of twisted lovers quarrel. There’s a definite list of everything he should do in this moment, and despite all logic, he just blanks at the sight of you.

“You had to come back. Rub salt in the wound. Do you get off on this?” a sigh falls from his pretty lips, “Actually, don’t— don’t answer that. We both know the answer.”

“I get off on you,” you correct.

It’s true. If he was to analyse you, profile your warped brain like his other unsubs, he’d find nothing but unyielding loyalty to him. For all the damage you’ve done, there’s always been one anomaly to your detachment.

He stands right before you.

And, sure, maybe you’ve got a leg up in this situation. Perhaps the distorted memory of you holds him back: lazy nights and tangled sheets, his body pressed up against yours. The way he’d talk, quantum physics, philosophy, rambles that dissolved into open admissions of feelings. There’s a lot that was fake, but to be a good liar, you have to add subsidiary details of truth.

God, he wishes the world would be cruel—a cosmic alignment of karmic righteousness that would grant him relief: some kind of justification for what he must do. But the universe is indifferent, nothing but a distant star, a fleeting speck of dust in the grand scheme of life. There’s no such thing as good or bad, only consequences.

Consequences. Consequences for his actions. Butterfly effect. He can comprehend it. But, there were many things he adored about you, while the illusion of love was tangible. The way your hair would curl just above your shoulders, your skin in the morning light. The way you’d laugh at one of his obscure Star Trek references, better yet his criticism on modern, inaccurate horror. He could stare at you for eons, as though he was trying to make out the secrets of the universe in the constellation lines of your scars.

The illusion of love, as it was. He sees you now with the clarity of reality, the same way a mirage fades away as you approach; a distortion of perception.

“And you get off on me. Even now. Don’t you?” you say, shifting forward to close gravitational space.

There’s no way to disregard this morbid connection. No psychological justification he can exploit to demean your feelings. You’re not a psychopath, nor anything that relates to a lack of empathy. You feel— you feel empathy for all of your victims, the line of bodies that mark your path. But it goes deeper than that. There was reasoning for your actions, just as there was for his.

“Say it,” you goad. And there’s satisfaction here, sure. Something mean and condescending. But there’s also hurt, because he was supposed to be a means to an end, and now, he might very well be your end.

“Say you miss me. C’mon boy genius, a few little words and i’ll have enough content to satisfy me for years. Don’t be mean— you know I hate being edged.”

He does miss you, every day that he wakes up, his bones too hollow and cold to leave his bed. The ache in his chest where his heart was supposed to be, too empty to function. No amount of caffeine can fill the void in his skull where thoughts of you used to reside. The longing, the desire for the past to rewrite itself.

“You’re sick,” he tries. But he’s not good at this. Not when the love remained after the inevitable fall out, not when the darkest parts of him still clung to want, even after he realised the truth.

“You’re sick, and..” he tries again, “and I hate how much I miss you. There? Is that enough? Are you happy? Got what you wanted?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “No. If I ‘got what I wanted’, I would still have you.”

Spencer dies. Metaphorically, literally, what does it even matter? He dies, respawns, and then kisses the admittance from your lips.

Instinctively, just like the past, your hands tangle through his hair, and perhaps there’s a sense of ownership to the gesture. The knowledge that he will always be yours. Scarred from your touch, returning to your lips like a dog with a bird. There’s a mindless attempt at anger on his part, biting lips and rough teeth, but just like always, he quickly melts.

He melts, and you catch him. Because for all it’s worth, lies and deceit aside, you’ve always loved him.

There’s something powerful to the gesture; knowing you have someone wrapped around your finger. Even after you’ve bared the worst of you, the ugliness of man-kind. There’s someone out there that will wipe the blood from your cheek, and kiss you through it.

“Oh, even better,” you mutter against his lips, “Much, much better. C’mon Spence, show me just how much you’ve missed me.”

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since he felt like he could breathe.

It hurts, it hurts so much, because there’s a sense of coming home to the kiss, and he just wants you to stay. To ruin him forever. To leave behind a deformed version of him, something unrecognisable and equally scarring.

You’re too loyal and he’s too susceptible to any form of attention. Because you want him, and it’s easy to fall into a cyclical cycle of self-destruction when you’re the catalyst.

“I did miss you.” he admits again. “You— crazy, homicidal excuse of a person.”

Spencer’s hand comes up to touch your cheek, the rough texture of skin meeting something soft. His thumb traces down the curvature of your jawline, a silent hello that doesn’t linger long, too soon to be replaced with his lips.

You push him back against the wall, a painful groan escaping your lips when you feel his hips canting forward, searching aimlessly for a friction you’ve both been denied. Two years. His body still aches for you. It’s primal, something perverted and tainted and so very good.

You knew this would happen. There was not a doubt in your clouded mind that he would deny you. What you do to me, I do to you.

“There’s my boy.” you mutter when you grip said hips, fingers finding their natural, fated position against divine bone. When he begins to find a stable pace, bucking up to meet you with every kiss that you press to his lips.

He whimpers when you touch him, soft sounds of need slipping past his parted lips into the confines of his empty apartment. He’s trying so hard to maintain composure, but he can’t find it in him to fight the inevitable. The ache of separation between himself and you. So he lets it happen, like he always does.

My boy, the possession goes straight to his head. One simple phrase and he’s untangling, breaking to pieces because yes, he is yours. And yes, he will forever want to be reminded.

“Mhm, mhm. Oh— oh, fuck.” he’s so hard, clothed cock pushing up against you with every movement. He could get off on less of you. He has. Every night.

And yes, it certainly feels like home. It’s only the thing your body has been aimlessly yearning for, day in and day out. It’s not fair, not fair to you, that you’ve allowed your resolve to crumble, your strategic, one-track mind, for the fleeting body of a past lover.

But then again, demeaning him to a past lover doesn’t even begin to articulate this.

You’re fairly certain he was put on this earth, just to torment you.

And you’re fairly certain you’ll always let him.

“God, you’re such a slut for me.” you say, drawing back from the friction just to prove your point. The disintegrating whimpers that bleed out of his mouth in response are enough alone to confirm.

His head falls back against the wall, baring that lovely length of his neck and its pretty bruises. He wants you to kiss him there, to leave one last mark before he says ‘I won’t see you again’ and means it this time.

“Don’t— don’t stop—” even as he speaks, a mess of jumbled words and breathless sentences, you’re still teasing him. He hates how much it works, how much he’d rather fall into the pleasure of your hands.

“Fine. Whatever. Yes. What do you want to hear? That it’s whorish the way I want you. That you’re able to just… corrupt me with all these dirty words, even though I have an extensive vocabulary. Even though i’m supposed to be—“

He’s not even sure what he’s supposed to be anymore.

“You know the extent of my devotion.” he concedes.

There will always be sadistic pleasure in reducing him to such an ignominious version of himself. You’ve seen it before, back when you were trapped in an artificial, yet domesticated, haze of bliss. But to hear it now? Even after everything has been said and done?

That’s a new type of pleasure.

You know he still holds onto the facade of you, aimlessly reaching for something intangible, something that never truly existed. “You want me to be good for you, huh? Just pack up my shit, leave it all behind, get better? Think about it. White picket fence. Coffee every morning. God— it would be insufferable. Coming home to feed the dogs, talking every night over the phone, begging you to be safe on a case, or or—“

Spencer breaks. Silencing your words with a pained whimper.

Usually, he doesn’t allow himself to think about that fantastical hypothetic. He can’t afford to. Months after he let you go, when the truth had been exposed to his naive eyes, he’d spend hours in a mess of aching limbs, dreaming up alternative realities where your hands weren’t stained from blood, and the most despicable thing you could do was make his coffee bitter.

So when you force him to open old wounds, to rehash past hopes, he falls apart. A whine escapes his lips, hips bucking, once, twice and then he’s coming untouched. Making a mess out of himself— and it’s sick, so very sick to get off on the thought of you permanent, the epitome of good.

Something he could hold onto without slicing open skin.

It’s not a good orgasm, it never is without your direct help, but at least it’s some form of release. In the aftermath, he blinks away tears, vaguely aware of the cum staining his boxers, creating damp spots through fabric.

There’s something painful, cutting to your gaze when you look at him. At the debauched sight, corrupted from just a few words.

Give it all up? For what? Him?

All things considered, it’s tempting.

“Spencer,” you mutter in the serrated moments between. When he’s still nebulous, caught in the aftershocks of abrupt pleasure. When he’s just gotten off, untouched, on the notion of a domesticated life with you.

He’s struggling to breathe. He’s spent nights gasping for you, reduced to the most debasing version of himself. So out of touch, you drove a blade through his back, catching his heart on the way.

“Why are you— doing this?” he asks, but before you can even answer, provide him with an explanation that will devastate, he’s lunging forward, kissing the lies that cling to your lips. Kissing you because his mouth hurts when it’s not attached to yours.

“One last time.” he says; he’s too intelligent, too intellectually adept, to allow this swallowing cycle of humiliation to continue.

But, underneath it all, he’s also inherently selfish for you. He’s fairly certain you were engrained into his skin, long before he fell into your barbed trap, teeth and penetrative ruin.

“Then you leave. You actually leave, never contact me again. No showing up at my apartment unprovoked. I have a good life without you. Understood?”

You scoff. He presses forward, “Understood?”

You don’t protest when he elucidates his life as good. Even if it’s quite the contrary. Even if he has to bare witness to depravity every single day, scrutinise his way through the minds of the most perverse. Perhaps this is a social experiment to him, perhaps you are the guinea pig, Laika sentenced to space. You know he loved you once, but it’s hard to comprehend the feelings remained unscarred, it’s hard to imagine you’re anything but a test subject now.

You look at him. Look at that pretty face. Your undoing. He could be your achilles heel, hamartia in its rawest form, or maybe you willingly chose to do this. Maybe fate, and divine intervention played no part in your attachment to him. Maybe it’s just chemicals. The logics explanation. Imbalanced, skewed chemicals.

“Don’t worry, boy genius.” you respond, “You won’t get anything, not even a postcard, from me. It’ll be like I never even existed.” no trace. D.C has always been a monotone cesspit of nothing anyway.

It’s cruel. Because if you leave, truly leave. And he never hears from you again, never catches you in his kitchen, drinking coffee with an unadulterated smile, then he will begin to forget.

The curve of your spine, the scars beneath your chest, the way your fingers fit into his own. The way he was able to memorise your body until he could draw it in the dark, when your body was pressed to his, when there was nothing but a false establishment of safety.

He knows he can’t forget. Not technically. But it’ll grow distant, it’ll be replaced with new normals and routines. That, that, he can’t compute.

“Good,” he says, kissing you again, kissing you because this is it.

Spencer wants you. In every sense of the word, he wants you so badly it’s killing him.

His bedroom still holds traces of you. That, itself, is a crime. But he just falls into you. The way lovers do. Your hands against his skin— his hair threaded through your fingers, your lips at the base of his neck. He lets you leave another bruise, a mark, a confirmation of possession, because even if this is the last time, he is, and always will be yours.

“Still the prettiest person i’ve ever seen,” you admit when he’s flushed naked beneath you.

There’s something in those doe-eyes, brown irises blown out of proportion, that hooked you. Even at the worst, it was still soft with him.

Slender frame, slightly arched, you want to bite into his hips, mark every inch of him as yours. It’s greedy, gluttonous, his messy hair, fanning out like a halo, the tangled curls he never bothers to properly care for.

“God, fucking look at you,” you grip his jaw, tilt his head back to bare that blemished neck of his. To have and to own. He’s so inexplicably different to you, so good it runs down to the bone. And maybe you’ve always been insatiable for what you’ve lacked.

He can’t take this. He can’t, not again. The past, the future will have to dissolve with this moment, because there will never be another again.

You will never get this close to him. It’s a terrifying thought, that this’ll be the standard of intimacy, of love - because he knows it isn’t. But he can’t risk the reality he’s faced with, the reality of living without this. Of living without you.

Your words only make it worse. He wants to beg you to stop. To cease the torture.

“Shut up.” He kisses you, as if to remind you that your mouth is made for kissing, for his lips, for a litany of dirty words that he can’t bear to hear. Those words are for someone else. For someone similar. Not him. Never him.

Defying fate. He gets off on being something bad beneath the surface. No one would ever expect it; boyish maladroit Spencer, the youngest of the team, willingly allowing, condoning, a killer to sink into his skin.

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” you respond, muffled against his lips. “If this is the last time, i’m going to enjoy it. Going to enjoy the sight of you, all desperate for me alone.”

“You assume i’ve ever been desperate for anyone else—“ he counters.

“Oh, that’s it. Keep talking dirty to me.”

“It’s not dirty. It’s a factual statement.”

You pull away, a trail of saliva bridging the space between your mouths. If there is higher power at play here, you want to curse, to spite your creator. Because if ‘things’ had been different, if you had been born from the same rib, this could’ve ended differently.

Or for that matter, never ended at all.

“Sit there and watch me.” you say, and Spencer hates the way he obliges. Pushing himself up against the headboard, he stares at you, at the way you position yourself, standing by the foot of the bed.

“Do you even know what you do to me? Do you even understand the gravity your existence has on me?” you continue, unfastening the lace corset that clings to your frame. When it drops to the floor, breasts exposed, you run your hands across them, catching pierced nipples for a vindictive moment of pleasure.

“I— uh,” Spencer is admittedly a little distracted. Sex had always been something ruinous between you two. Something that conflicted his lack of experience, forced him to adapt.

He always wondered how someone so soft, the epitome of light, could be this obscene. Now he understands.

“Lost your words? Come on, pretty boy. I thought you had an ‘extensive vocabulary?’ Hm?”

He wants to touch himself, to ease the pulsing throb that centres in his cock. But he doesn’t, because despite the time that has passed, he still knows your rules. “Don’t use my words against me. I’m being tortured.”

“Tortured, huh?” your hands fumble over buttons until you’re reduced to a pair of panties, soaked throughly, leaving scarce to the imagination.

“So so tortured. Oh my god, who are you? Can I please have my soul back?” he’s joking, but not really.

“Well maybe if you beg for it,” your words fade into a mess of moans, fingers slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. Spencer’s head spills back against the wall; he looks more affected by the movements than you.

It’s easy to fall back into old habits. Relapse.

“Come here, come here, i’m having an existential crisis.” he says, watching as you slip one finger, then two inside you, struggling to stand now. It’s strange how pleasure can reduce the most antagonising minds to vulnerability.

“Please— oh fuck, please. Please. Don’t make me watch, I can’t. Need you. Need you so bad.”

He thought he found the core of torture in you touching yourself, but he was wrong. Because when you crawl closer, when you slot yourself between his thighs, lips finding skin that only you have ever touched, he sees the root of evil in his brain. The ninth circle of hell.

It’s justified, he supposes. For all the good he’s done, he has betrayed. Himself, his friends, family, existence itself. There is not one thing he wouldn’t ruin, just to feel you. It’s incriminating, so yes, he deserves to freeze in Cocytus. He’ll willingly plead guilty, accept his entrapment in the ring of Caina.

“Poor baby, look at you.” you say, kissing his tip, catching the pre-cum on your tongue. Spencer responds: fisting bedsheets, fighting the restraint to buck forward, to find misplaced solace in the warmth of your mouth. He’s sprawled out across sheets now, lying back in a tangled heap of want. “Shh, it’s okay,” you continue, “I like my men desperate.”

“Desperate? Ah—,” he fights the urge to shut his eyes, too aware that this is the last memory he will ever retain of you.

You, painted into his mind. The final evidence left in the fire: mouth sinking down his length, taking him to the hilt, watery eyes and leaking mascara.

“This isn’t even desperation. You’re killing me. Just, oh oh— please, don’t. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum—“

Is it sick that he doesn’t want to? If only to prolong this transitory moment of destruction? Like the lotus eaters, he will always be mindless in the pursuit of more, more, more of you.

You draw back from his cock, only to press a soft kiss against the tip. The gesture alone has him reeling, has him begging to be saved, to atone for every sin he found in the comfort of your divinely crafted lips.

“Gonna let me sit on that pretty cock of yours, hm? Let me use you one last time? Promise i’ll be good,” a lie, “So so good.”

“God, yes. Yes, please. That would—“ You take him deep, deep enough that everything aches. He only feels alive when you’re wrapped around him, when there’s not an ounce of distance between your bodies, when he can touch the insides of you. Pry open the raw, unfiltered version of you.

He only feels alive when he’s sunk inside the harbinger of death. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt.

You’ve got one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed flat against his waist, supporting you through each bump of movement. Eyes like marbles, Spencer looks up, and wonders why this will never be enough for you.

You look back, meet his gaze, as if you’re Orpheus, predestined to turn around, to always return. Even if it’s just for one last second. Even if the fall-out is so much worse than pushing forward blindly.

Oh, hes certain you’re carving a hole inside him, something that will only grow and expand, imploring to be filled by it’s inventor. It’ll hurt, for the rest of time, he supposes.

When he finds your hand around his neck, he isn’t startled. Neither, when your thumb presses against his throat, applying pressure until the world cracks and fades, distorting his refined mind to the here and now. He floats, feeling transient in the curse of your touch.

“That’s it. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He is a sacrificial lamb. The priests favourite. He will take the knife every time, and thank you for it after.

You release the tension, hand taking his instead. For all the cruelty you possess, you’d never think to harm him. Not physically at least. The emotional damage, however, finds you both. There can be no happiness in either of your worlds, not when the memory of each other festers. “Good boy— taking it so well. God, no one is ever gonna compare.”

He cries at the words. Pretty tears streaming down his face, because the reciprocation to his undying piety will forever trigger the warped chemicals in his brain. Will forever reduce him to something saccharine.

“Love you. Love you so much. Don’t go. Please,” he fractures, “please don’t go.” he begs, besmirched words he’ll regret in the wake of his pleasure. They don’t count, and yet, he knows, in the most depraved sections of his mind, they’re true.

You ride him harder. Back curved, finding god in the washed-out body of someone fatally destroyed. “Not going anywhere— fuck, fuckfuckfuck. That feels so good. You’re so good,” maybe it’s a kink to ruin something so perfectly spotless.

Maybe it’s a kink that he wants it.

“Say it. God, just say it. This once.” for old times sake, he almost adds. But that wouldn’t be objectively correct. For all the intimacy you shared, you never once articulated those three words. Perhaps it was to save your dignity, to hold pieces of yourself in the lies you beautifully crafted.

His thumb runs over your clit, and in the tangle of your orgasm, he almost thinks you forget about his demand. But after, when you’re still taking him, when you’re still clenching, unclenching, clenching around his cock, when you know you own every part of him, you answer.

“I love you.”

He falls apart. Hips canting, body squirming, whimper after whimper escaping his bruised lips as he releases inside of you. Pushed deep, defiled to the limit. For a moment, everything is okay, everything will be alright, because there’s pleasure, and it’s you. It’s always you.

How can he justify falling in love with you again? How can he, when he still clings onto the artificial love of the past? He’s not sure his heart can handle one set of feelings, nevermind two.

He takes you again, well… mostly you take him again. In ways that have him polluted with the remnants of your teeth. Canine marks, etched deep enough to bleed. He hopes the swelling leaves behind perennial scars, anything to remind him. Anything to hold onto when you’re gone and it’s cold.

After, when you lie together, he presses his forehead against yours and wishes he was in any other universe. One where you’re happy. Where everything is pure and simple, clean from sin.

There was always truth in what we shared before, you admit. Lazy nights spent draped over the couch, kissing him to silence convoluted rambles. Your presence in the morning, bathed in holy glow, sunlight bleeding over the pretty sight of you. The first night he touched you and saw god. And then the following night, when he ascended all over again.

He wakes to find no body. He wakes to find nothing. It feels like self-sabotage, the promise that you would leave, even if it’s quite the contrary.

In the absence, abstinence of your presence, he discovers traces of you in everything he sees, all of it, everything consumed, returning to the simple thought of you you you.

When the first postcard comes, Portland, dreary weather— beaches and ports, there’s no anger. No exasperation that you broke your word.

You love him, it’s morbid, but for someone like him, it overrules everything. Sanity, dignity, his own stable existence.

You overrule everything.

[powdermelonkeg]

just saw ur gale/mystra analysis post. im new to the game and dnd lore and honestly… ur take on their relationship feels like the most natural/compelling one??? esp since its all too easy to simplify topics that have many facets and nuance….

thanks for sharing i love analysis and reading people’s takes on narratives : D

My pleasure! (Bee from the future here: congrats, you spawned another meta!)

I love complicated characters, WAY more than I like a clear cut-and-dry case. Flaws, to me, are what make a character compelling and lead to interesting stories about them with choices that can get them into situations. I'm both writing a fanfic and running a campaign where I'm playing as Gale, and in the interest of portraying him properly and in-character, I've gone into SUCH a deep dive into all the decisions and facts that make him him.

It helps to, y'know, also be in love with the fictional wizard, but I digress

The thing about Baldur's Gate 3 is that no character in there is perfect. I've seen a couple analyses about the theme of continuing cycles of abuse vs breaking out of them, but in my mind, in terms of the characters themselves, it goes like this:

The origin characters have just come out of the lowest situation of their lives (Lae'zel being the exception; being tadpoled is a gith's worst nightmare. You're seeing that lowest situation in real time).

Not the lowest point, mind. Gale's lowest was probably the day after he got the Orb. Wyll's was probably the day his father cast him out. Karlach's was the day she lost her heart. But the lowest, accepted normal for them is what they've just left.

They're then thrown out of their depth and forced to rely on you to live. That's #1 priority: living. We get the extremes of these characters before we get their nuances, because they're quite literally at their breaking points.

Then once we get to know them, we see their wants, their hopes, their fears, as they open up to us. Every companion's story is at their own pace, but they all have a moment where they ping-pong between despondency and desire. Sometimes that desire is what we know isn't good for them, like Shadowheart wanting to be a Dark Justiciar. Sometimes that despondency is only for a flicker, like Astarion's realization that he's condemned 7000 people to a half-life of tortured spawnhood for as long as he's been a vampire.

Romance lets us crack all that open more, because if you pursue a romantic partner, they see you as their closest confidant. They WANT to trust you, so they're more willing to explain how they see the world and what decisions they want to chase.

And then their endings. Those often get simplified as good/bad, continuing the cycle vs breaking away from it. But how is Duke Wyll on the same platform as Ascended Astarion? He's not evil, he's not even entirely unhappy. He might even have broken out of his abusive cycle with Mizora, if you played your cards right. And Ascended Astarion is overjoyed, even if he is remarkably more cold.

I think that the endings are less a dichotomy of "this is good for them" vs "this is bad for them," and more one of "bringing out their best traits" vs "bringing out their worst."

Wyll's worst trait is being willing to sacrifice his own wants for whatever people desire of him. His best is standing for what he believes in and ensuring people are safe. Duke Wyll leans into that necessity to turn the other cheek in the name of people who count on him, while the Blade of Avernus has seized that moral compass of his and forged it out of mithral.

Shadowheart's worst trait is blind obedience at the cost of her individuality, while her best is her desire to be kind to things that don't deserve to be hurt. Mother Superior Shadowheart's whole life is defined by Shar. Selûnite Shadowheart's life is defined by her hospitality, especially towards animals.

Karlach's worst trait is how willing she is to accept that things are (to quote her) fucked, letting despair override hope. Her best is her durability in the face of horror. Exploded Karlach would rather die than try to work out a solution in the Hells, because she's terrified of facing Zariel alone. Mindflayer Karlach has accepted her fate and decides to give up her heart and soul to go out a hero, losing who she is. Fury of Avernus Karlach is willing to keep fighting for a solution, and by the time the epilogue happens, she's got her sights set on one.

Astarion's worst trait is his desire for power over people. His best trait is using the tools he has to his advantage. Ascended Astarion has let his powerhungry nature and paranoia lead all of his decisions, with his sights set on dominating mankind. Spawn Astarion has embraced what he is, and carved out a life for himself where he can do as he pleases.

Lae'zel's worst trait is her blind fanaticism, while her best trait is her individual dedication, making her loyalty a marriage of the two. Ascended Lae'zel is a meal for the lich queen, turning a blind eye to all Vlaakith's tried to do to her and literally being consumed by her fervor. Champion of Orpheus Lae'zel has turned her loyalty into something productive for diplomacy. Faerûnian Lae'zel has seized her individuality by the throat and decided her own future.

And then Gale. Gale's worst traits are his hubris and, paradoxically, his low self worth. His best traits are his creativity and wonder for the world. God Gale is the embodiment of ambition, having burned away all but that in pursuit of perfection. Exploded Gale has let his remorse blot out all hope for a redemption in which he does not die, because he thinks he's earned it. Professor Gale leads his life by embracing the school of Illusion and letting his creativity thrive, teaching others to do the same. House Husband Gale has multiple creative projects he's working on, and Adventurer Gale is always finding new sights to see and wanting to share them with you.

There are arguments to be made on which ending the origins are happiest in, certainly, or which one benefits them the most, but each ending represents the extreme of a facet they possess.

So with all that, there's a sort of malleable method to figuring out the ins and outs of a character.

You take their endings—all of them, all variables they can have—and reverse-engineer the flaws and details they carry. Then you start to notice how those work into their approvals for minor things: Astarion approving of your taking of the Blood of Lathander, or Shadowheart approving of standing up for Arabella. Getting a list of approvals and disapprovals is helpful, but having those endings on hand tells you why they react like that to a majority of their decisions.

You take their romance-route explanations of how they act, and apply those to earlier decisions. Astarion's confession to manipulating you and Araj-prompted admittance to using himself as a tool brings to light how he reacts to your decisions, regardless of his actual opinions on them. Wyll's fairytale romance and love of poetic adages speaks to his idealistic nature, and why he takes a sometimes-blinded approach to decisions in which the "right" answer isn't always the smart one.

You take their beginning reactions to stress and use that to measure how future decisions impact them. Lae'zel locks down and gets snappy when she's scared, while Gale immediately turns to diplomacy. Shadowheart has gallows humor, while Wyll turns to quiet acceptance. If they break from these and seem even worse, you know the situation is more dire in their minds than having seven days to live.

And then you factor in all their fun facts and dialogue choices and backstories.

A wizard falls in love with a goddess and her magic, attempts to retrieve a piece of her power for her, is scorned for his attempt and is cursed to die.

Give that backstory to a Tav. Look at how it changes.

A chaotic good wizard fell in love with a goddess, thought retrieving a piece of power for her would be a showy bouquet of love, and was punished for not thinking things through.

A lawful evil wizard fell in love with a goddess's power, snatched the most precious thing she owned, tried to use it to barter his way through to the secrets she kept, and was given a swift retribution.

Same backstory. Same class, same act, same goddess. Wildly different connotations. Wildly different conclusions as to who is in the wrong.

If you take all there is to Gale, all that the game shows us makes up his character, and apply it to this backstory, you get what really happened:

A wizard, enamored with magic, fell in love with a goddess. His desires led him to want more than she was willing to give. In his well-buried fear of inadequacy, he concluded that the reason she wouldn't indulge his ambitions was because he just hadn't proven himself worthy enough. So he tried to prove himself, but he lacked the context for what he was proving himself with. And the goddess, seeing a weapon that had killed her predecessor, saw this ambitious wizard as losing his way and coming for her just like the weapon's creator had. She was angry, she withdrew his link to her, and he didn't know why. So he drew the conclusion that she took his powers to punish him, and let that encompass his fall from grace.

Was he wrong to reach for what was out there?

If you knew that the answers to everything you cared about were not only known, but kept by someone you loved—someone who adored you—what would you do to ask to see them? What if your curiosities were if there were other planets with life out there, or how dark matter worked, or whether or not we could one day travel in the stars? What if it was the potential cure to an illness that's little-understood, or the way to make a program you dreamt up, or the scope of the true limits of your artistic talents? Would your answer change?

Was she wrong to cut him off?

If you were once hurt, and the person you loved—the person who adored you—brought the thing that caused it to your door, believing you'd want it, how would you react to seeing it? What if that thing was someone you thought you'd broken contact with, like a friend or family member you'd been trying to avoid? Would your answer change?

That's the sort of scope that needs to be applied to this, on both sides. You have to take the perspectives of each party, and apply two analogies instead of one.

Gale saw the vastness of the universe, untold wonders, the solution to every question he could ever dream up, and saw Mystra as withholding this from him because she thought he just wasn't worthy enough. To claim Mystra knew his perspective does her a disservice.

Mystra saw a cruel weapon she thought long gone, in the hands of someone who could use it, brought right to her, and thought Gale was willingly following the path of Karsus. To claim Gale knew her perspective does him a disservice.

Should Gale have researched his prize more, so he knew just what he was obtaining? Should he have kept his hands off a cursed book that would devour him? Of course he should have.

Should he have given up on chasing his dreams?

Should Mystra have understood that Gale's pursuit of power was nothing like Karsus'? Should she have communicated when she was angry instead of giving the cold shoulder? Of course she should have.

Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt?

That's the root of their falling out. That's what leads to hurt being inflicted. Understandable, human reactions to the situations they perceive. Unhealthy, unwise choices made afterwards.

You work backwards from this to figure out their dynamic as Chosen and goddess. You work forward from this to understand more of where Gale and Mystra are during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Gale reached too high, and understands this. His goddess hates him, and he regrets this. Mystra isolated Gale, and understands this. Her Chosen wants redemption, and she wants to make it happen.

Just like we took Gale's character into account, we also have to take Mystra's.

A goddess is faced with a problem. She uses someone who's desperate for approval to solve it, by telling him to kill himself.

An evil goddess is faced with a threat to her reign. She sees someone who's unfailingly loyal and hates himself, and elects to have him tear himself apart rather than do anything about it.

A good goddess is terrified of the future. She sees someone who tried to hurt her, who's going to die anyways, and tells him to use it to save the world.

Same story. Same act, same power, same pawn. Different character. Different perspective. Different outlook on whether or not this is the right thing to do.

Mystra has died, multiple times, to people trying to stake claim to her domain. Someone appears with the very thing that could do it again, right as she's regained her stability.

She does not see mortals the way mortals do. She is timeless. She is eternal. She has a duty to protect billions of people, and one person lost to protect that number is more than worth the sacrifice.

People like to bring up the Seven Sisters as proof of Mystra's cruelty. For those unaware, Mystra asked permission to, then possessed, a woman, used her to court a man (with dubious consent from the woman), and bore seven children, all of whom were capable of bearing Mystra's power as Chosen without dying. The woman she possessed was killed in the process (reduced to no more than a husk, then slain by her now-husband, hoping to end her suffering), and the husband was horrified by the whole story.

Mystra needed Chosen in order to restore herself in the event that she was killed again, to prevent magic as a whole from collapsing and wreaking havoc on the mortal realm, like it had in the few seconds Mystryl had been dead. Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff, and the Seven Sisters contributed to this. The more Chosen she has, the better; what happens if Elminster dies? She can't afford to have all her eggs in one basket.

Mystra has Volo (yeah, that Volo) as a Weave Anchor, imparted with a portion of her power to prevent the Weave from shredding itself to pieces in her absence. All Chosen of Mystra are Weave Anchors by nature. The creation of Weave Anchors was mandated by Ao, the Overgod, and Chosen are the best way to make sure those anchors aren't drained by ambitious people hoping for godlike power. Chosen can, and will, defend themselves, unlike static locations (which Mystra also has). The anchors are why the Weave wasn't completely obliterated during Mystra's last death, when the Spellplague rose up, because they stabilized the Weave around them.

Everything Mystra does is in the name of the big picture, to prevent a catastrophe like the fall of Netheril from happening again. Her restriction of magic, her numerous Chosen, her creation of Weave Anchors, her destruction of those who would claim her power, it's all in the name of the stability she's been charged with. Dornal Silverhand's grief and Elué Silverhand's death, while regrettable, were worth it to bring seven more anchors into existence to save all of the Material.

So someone appears with the Crown of Karsus, potentially powerful enough to try to kill the other gods in the name of the Dead Three. She can't risk being a target of them. She can't risk the destruction of magic again.

Gale is going to die. He lives in fear. He begs for forgiveness.

In Mystra's eyes, she's offering him the best outcome. She'll let him die in service to her, to save Faerûn, and she'll forgive him. He's going to die anyways, and if he does this, she'll give him everything (she thinks) he could ever want in her realm. She's asking him to do what (she thinks) is the right thing.

"She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness."

Notably, she leaves the decision in his hands. She doesn't have Elminster lead him to the Nether Brain. She doesn't activate him as soon as he's there. When he lives yet, she doesn't revoke the charm that keeps him stable. And when he declines, when he lets it go and starts pursuing Karsus' path, she doesn't smite him on the spot.

She is (she thinks) being incredibly patient. If Gale is going to try to be Karsus II, she's ready for him. If he decides to walk off and keep the Orb, he's dug his own grave in the Fugue Plane (those who don't have a god to claim them roam endlessly as husks and form a wall of bodies around the City of Judgement).

From her perspective, she's not being unreasonable. But from the perspective of a mortal, she absolutely is.

"Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

This is a question she cannot answer properly.

I think a lot of characterization is lost whenever someone paints one of them as being totally in the right. But I also think you have to be invested in them as characters to want to see that characterization. If you want to write about Mystra, you have to try to get into her head, analyze the decisions she made, figure out why she thinks she was right, and follow the pattern.

Gale's sacrifice is a very predictable thing for her to ask for.

[gliphyartfan]

Good morning, afternoon or evening.

I'm not usually one to ask for anything, you know that well, but today...

Today I woke up curious, and I came to ask, if you have, any headcannon of the other links. Sage/Tears,Calamity/soldier,Koridai, Courage, First and maybe also about Shadow...that art of Dree left me thirsty for Four emo.

*inhales*

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠)

—Double Anon

Alright alright! I hear you! Took forever to search for my old discussion about them

and at the end of the day, I just asked Yandy and Dree to hand in what we talked about. (Thank you my lovely dears, I always adore you~)

Anywho (sorry for it’s all over the place!)

So here are those headcanons!

- Courage was a street rat who earned a name for himself by using his street smarts to provide for himself. He was noticed by the royal family and initially hired to be a guard in the Castle. After learning Courage is the hero he left to travel and adventure.

- Korodai was similarly poor and orphaned but worked his way up through the Church of Hylia, not taking any serious vows but still training to be the Hyrulian equivalent of a monk who can kick ass(so like a knight for the church). He was still pretty goofy and silly though in spite of his intelligence.

- The people in the church learned he was the hero and sent him to the Royal Family where he continued his training. Korodai’s journey in “Faces of Evil” is his first official journey.

- Courage is incredibly strong, similar to Twilight except even moreso. People don’t really see this coming because of his lackadaisical and unserious nature, they don’t expect him to actually be that powerful.

- Because of his history on the streets, Courage never knew how to properly interact with nobility and royalty, which is how his “love-hate” relationship with Wisdom(his Zelda) started. He was attracted to her but she didn’t like how he had no manners and thus started the cycle.

- Both Korodai and Courage are exceptionally clever and resourceful.

(….And if one is around, so is the other. They are a duo! )

——-

Im sure Calamity/Soldier (I call him Cal) is very much the silent stalker yandere.

I feel like he can’t feel himself being able to fit in with the chain.

Because all of them are heroes, but the Master Sword doesnt even answer to him.

Or at least hasn’t said a word.

Basically all of these guys around him are accomplished but well, him? He’s not so special. The only way he knows how is to be darling's shadow.

And therefore follow them and around?

Maybe he’s learned some manners being the princess' guard, so he treats darling like royalty and their word is law hahaha.

———-

Sage? Overprotective to the max.

If Sage is Wild but hasn’t met darling until his third adventure, I think he would be very willing to see darling as a goddess easier.

In his eyes, she’d be unlike anyone he’s ever known. This reverence might show in small ways, he’s always gentle with her, speaks to her with the utmost respect, and sometimes catches himself just watching her in quiet awe, as if he can’t believe she’s real.

Cuz Darling would be like a breath of fresh air for him since everyone around him took advantage of him or only cared about him being the hero.

he’d also have possessive streak that he keeps under tight control, but any hint of jealousy unleashes it. If he sees someone getting too close to Darling, he’d be tempted to step in immediately, but hold back with a calm, collected demeanor.

His icy gaze speaks volumes though.

Darling is worth any sacrifice, and he makes it clear that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if it means his own life. (Though (y/n) is definitely working on fixing that mentality if she is aware of it.)

Her presence alone eases the burdens he’s carried for so long, helping him feel grounded and human in a way he hasn’t experienced in years.

After years of being questioned or pushed to his limits, Sage finally finds someone whose judgment he respects without question.

If she tells him to rest or take a step back, he listens, even if every fiber of his being wants to protect her.

Though, he’s the type to stay up until she falls asleep, keeping a silent watch over her to ensure nothing can disturb her rest.

———

First feels like the one who’s more jaded than Legend??? Kinda?

Because compared to Legend, First canonically points out how he’s only used for convenience when he’s really needed.

Hmmm...I personal always imagine First being very soft spoken (well, when he wasn't angered to the point of raising his voice)

Not super soft spoken, not like he’s a fragile person, but very calming to hear.

And he loves every part of her, even if it pains him to see her in any negative/unhappy state.

Would he want to show her the true depth of his loyalty and love? Absolutely.

But he'd also want her comforted and happy.

If she ever drifts off to sleep in his arms, he's whispering all his words to her. All the things he'd held back on saying when she was conscious.

They'd be intense, overwhelming, very very...well...Yandere. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If she heard it, she'd definitely be frightened by the weight behind it.

But he waits until she's deeply asleep to do so. Maybe a small part of his hoping a small part of her acknowledges his words, even if he'd rather her not be aware what atrocities he'd commit in order to protect her.

First may be jaded, but he keeps his darker thoughts deeply buried. He despises anyone who threatens her happiness, his face a mask of calm while his heart seethes with unspoken rage. (You know how everyone agrees Sky has a scary face when angered? That’s First, he rivals Sky with his scariness except it’s colder.)

Behind the scenes, he’d handle any threat swiftly, never letting it reach her attention.

———

Shadow. He gives me vibes where he likes to cause harm for the fun of it. He enjoys causing chaos and despair and taunts people.

But he also yearns for companionship.

Shadow gets an undeniable thrill from causing chaos. He knows how to push buttons and stoke insecurities, loving the reactions he pulls from people.

But he’d be surprisingly gentle around (y/n), changing his dark sense of humor just a bit to make her smile.

When (y/n) pays attention to someone else, Shadow sulks like a petulant child. He’s prone to shooting them glares, muttering under his breath, and might even playfully (or not so playfully) trip them up just to remind her where her focus should be.

Shadow has no filter around people he doesn’t like, especially if they’re close to (y/n). His sarcasm can cut like a knife, and he won’t hesitate to call them out in the most biting way possible if he senses even a hint of a threat.

Shadow has a talent for inconveniencing others while staying just on the edge of innocence with (y/n). It could be someone’s drink spilling, their cloak tripping them up (or down a flight of stairs), or anything that paints them as awkward or foolish in front of her. He finds it hilariously satisfying.

Shadow wants to be the only one who can make (y/n) laugh, surprise her, or put a smile on her face. If someone else manages to get a genuine laugh out of her, he sees it as a challenge, scheming immediately about how he’ll one up them next time.

He’s not above showing his irritation in front of her if she’s giving too much attention to someone else. A muttered, “What, are they that funny?” or a dramatic sigh as he stands just a little too close, casting glances that all but scream “notice me instead.”

Shadow’s affection for (y/n) is one of the only things that holds him back from outright causing harm.

[notiddygothgf]

PROLOGUE

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: drinking (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: OMG! im so excited to finally start publishing this fanfic. ive been sitting on it for a minute. DISCLAIMER LOL I dont condone the behavior observed in this story (even if I myself would have done it in a heartbeat) anything for papa nanami. im so normal about him (I have daddy issues). if ur new around here, say hi! if you've read my other ffs then welcome back teehee. chapter is not beta'd. we die like men. (I would recommend listening to the song while u read)

★ w.c.; 3k

my kinda love; chapter index

THE HORRORS. He dreamt about them often. Most of his dreams were of a similar nature; long, detailed, brutal. Bloody, at times. When he wasn’t kept up by the memories, he was dreaming about them – as if they had followed him into his slumber. When he woke up, his burdens were heavy on his shoulders. He would repeat this cycle every day.

He was compensated rather well for his traumas. Well was an understatement. Maybe it wasn’t… after all, no amount of money could ever possibly make up for the things he had seen.

He repeated the same cycle every single day.

“Nanami?” A soft voice shook him out of his reverie. It was his therapist – a woman of short stature with long, brown hair and a business-casual outfit on. 

He raised his brows, doing his best to appear as if he had been listening the entire time. “Yes?”

“I asked you if you’ve had any romantic pursuits recently,” She answered. Her smile was warm, patient, but the clipboard in her lap said otherwise. He was paying for her time. “Any efforts to let new people into your life…?”

Nanami’s face wore a blank expression. He fiddled with the hands folded neatly in his lap. “As in… dating?”

“Dating counts, yeah,” She nodded. She tapped the edge of her purple pen against the page rhythmically while she awaited his reply. 

He thought of the innumerable faceless women he had spent the evening with. He thought of warm mouths, soft lips, and supple bodies; Countless beautiful women he had tricked into thinking they had a chance at something more than a one night stand. Every time a potential suitor came along, he found himself being scared away by intimacy.

Not sex. He was no stranger to that, nor to its remarkable ability to take his mind off of the stress. It was what lurked in the shadows that daunted him – the lingering touches, the good morning messages, the heartfelt gestures. He could handle it when he was the one dishing it out, but the moment the energy was returned, every single time, he would find himself running away.

It was a dangerous game. He knew he was an evil, cold-hearted, bad man. A part of him wished he could have done right by those select women he had courted (for rather brief periods of time). The more sensible part of him knew he simply didn’t have the time nor the energy to confront his issues and commit to a single woman. 

So he continued to ignore his problems – finding comfort in a warm bed and a warm body whenever he could. Sex made for one hell of an emotional crutch when it was the only thing that seemed to make you feel anything other than indifference.

Indifference. That was the only thing he felt these days. That, and the rush – the pursuit of animalistic passion in favor of neglecting his personal qualms. The temporary escape from his permanent issues.

“I’ve had quite a few,” He answered after a pause that seemed to stretch on for a moment too long. “Commitment is a bit of an issue for me, still, but I’m making an effort to work on it.”

Only partially a lie.

“That’s great, Nanami!” She smiled. She clicked her pen against the page, scribbling something down before she turned her attention back to him. “Tell me more about that effort. Have you been letting those emotional walls down?”

He fought the urge to grit his teeth together at her inquiry. If you can call ghosting three women in the last month and a half letting walls down.

“I’ll be honest,” He sighed. Sitting back in his leather loveseat, he crossed one leg over the other. “I’m starting to believe I’m unable to open up to another person on that level.”

“Don’t say that, Nanami,” She scribbled something down. Her eyes weren’t even on him when she uttered this. “I think you just need to put yourself out there a little more. Ease yourself into that intimacy you typically shy away from.”

Put myself out there.

He thought again of the countless women he had been with.

“Forgive me for being vulgar,” He admitted. “But I think I have enough sex.”

“Not that,” She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Intimacy and sex are two completely different things, Nanami – though they often intersect. You should try exploring non-sexual intimacy with a partner.”

“Non-sexual intimacy…” He reiterated. The term felt foreign as it rolled off of his tongue. “What do you mean by that?”

Was that what he had been missing? Non-sexual intimacy?

“Letting someone be vulnerable with you – being vulnerable with someone. The softness, that stuff that makes a relationship more than just physical. Other than love, that is,” She answered. Her manicured fingers smoothed over the page before flipping it. She was like clockwork. “There’s something healing about having a soft and, in your case, feminine presence in your life that you can be vulnerable with.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never acted,” He said. Casting a sideways glance at the analog clock on her desk, he asked, “Does that make me selfish? Shying away from non-sexual intimacy because I don’t understand it – even though I allow myself to indulge in sexual intimacy?”

“It makes you human, I think,” She smiled softly, writing something else down. Her brown eyes flitted up to meet him with unfounded warmth. “You should try letting someone in, Nanami. Might be worth a shot. What do you have to lose?”

Everything, was his first thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” He sighed anyway. 

The faint buzz of the neon sign before him grew louder as he approached it. It was hardly audible over the deep buzz of the bass coming from the other side of the door. The words “Cat House” blinked periodically, illuminating his tired face in its glow each time.

“You’re taking him to a strip club?” Nanami grumbled. Still, shutting the door of the sleek black vehicle behind him, he glanced at the glowing pink sign. “The kid is turning 21.”

After his white-haired-blue-eyed long-term-acquaintance stepped out from the other side of the SUV, the driver pulled off. Gojo wiped his hands off on the fabric of his suit. “Not just any strip club! My favorite strip club!”

“You’re a regular,” He sighed, shaking his head. “Of course you are.”

“You, my friend, need to learn how to have some fun,” Gojo hummed. He brushed past Nanami, making his way to the stairway that undoubtedly descended to the entrance. “Yuuji’s gonna love it!”

Nanami followed after Gojo, flicking his cigarette onto the ground below his feet. His footsteps crunched against the gravel pathway. “If this is what your definition of fun is, I don’t think you should have been the one planning out his birthday.”

“What would you have done? Take him to an arcade?” Gojo waved him off. He nodded towards the door the two men now stood in front of. “Kid’s 21, not 12. Let’s go inside.”

"Hard pass," Nanami answered calmly. He straightened his tie out, suddenly feeling rather overdressed for the occasion – especially considering the kind of establishment this was .

"Yes we are."

"I have better things to do."

"Like what? Moping and pouting at home?" Gojo interjected, reaching for his  arm – which Nanami quickly pulled out of his grasp. “It’s Yuuji’s birthday. Go celebrate with a lapdance, or something.

Gojo grabbed his arm again. Getting the strong feeling that he would simply try again if he pulled his arm away, Nanami let him.

“I will be doing nothing of the sort,” He grumbled. Still, he allowed Gojo to pull him into the entryway.

A low and seductive saxophone medley poured out from the speakers, and Nanami nearly considered turning back there and then. Gojo – with Nanami in tow – approached a rather scantily clad woman near the door. 

“Hi, doll. Party for Itadori?” He asked.

The hostess nodded. Gathering a few menus, she stepped out from behind the counter – wearing nothing more than a micro skirt and a bikini top. “Right this way,” she said.

The two men followed her into the club. Everything – everything – was pink. As pink as Yuuji’s hair, with red chairs and booths scattered throughout. It looked like the place had been designed by fucking Cupid himself. There were dozens of dancers strutting around the place – all of which wore tiny skirts and tight tops. 

Nanami didn’t miss the way Gojo’s eye’s trailed over the hostess’s ass while she led them over to their booth.

“The dancers here are phenomenal," Gojo said to him, raising his voice so that he was louder than the music. The stage was surrounded by at least 15 tables, all of which were packed with very excited-looking men. Conveniently enough, their table sat front-and-center to the stage. 

"Can I get you started with something to drink?”  The woman said, gesturing to the booth. “Or would you like to wait for the rest of your party?”

Gojo sank into one of the cushiony chairs at the table, and Nanami did the same. The cushion was a bright red velour. It was soft – he really didn’t wanna think about what sort of stories the chair could tell. 

“A strawberry margarita for me, please– extra dirty,” Gojo answered. He didn’t even have to look at the menu. Fuckin’ party animal.

The lady nodded, then turned her gaze to Nanami.

He had to think for a moment before he asked. “Do you have wine?”

“Yeah,” She hummed. “What kind?”

“Merlot, please,” He answered. “Bring the whole bottle.”

The lady nodded, and again, he caught the way Gojo shamelessly stared at the woman's ass as she walked away. Once he was certain they were alone, he asked his eccentric friend, "The drinks any good here?"

"You ask that after you order a whole bottle of it?" The man chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and rather conspicuously nudging Nanami’s leg with his foot. "They’re alright. The key is to get wasted enough that they taste better.”

That’s terrible advice. Nanami knew better than to try to argue with Gojo. He had long since learned his lesson. Instead, he tried to see the bright side of the whole situation. Perhaps this night out would help him take his mind off of everything

Yuuji and his friends had arrived only thirty minutes earlier, and they were already drunk. They were cackling loudly – so loudly that they were beginning to draw attention. Gojo, wiping away tears from laughing so hard, was clapping his hands together in amusement.

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Gojo went for the tequila bottle and poured everyone another round of shots. The clear liquid seemed to catch the light just slightly, just enough that it glistened as he raised his glass.

“Lovely students, gather ‘round!” He slurred, a drunken sparkle in his eyes. He tapped the side of his glass with a metal fork – the resulting clink cut right through the laughter.

The group hushed as all eyes focused on him. “I want to make a toast!” He announced after a dramatic pause. He glanced at poor Yuuji, with his “birthday girl” sash and matching tiara, and proclaimed, “I wanna thank all of you for gathering here to celebrate our beloved birthday girl’s special night!”

All eyes turned to Yuuji, who wore a dopey, beaming grin.

Gojo stood up from his chair, bringing the glass of tequila with him. Nanami watched with moderate intrigue – only because there was a 50% chance that his alcoholic beverage could wind up all over his shirt. 

“To Yuuji!” he declared, raising his glass high.

The group raised their glasses together. For a moment, Nanami felt a warmth in his chest – a rare moment of contentment amidst all of the chaos. Everyone was okay. They were here . Happy.

“To Yuuji!” They echoed.

He raised my own glass a moment too late, then threw it down the hatch. The bitter taste of the liquor as it flowed down Nanami’s throat and warmed his chest was not unwelcome. 

 Yuuji, however, nearly gagged on his, swallowing slowly before erupting into a fit of coughs.

Laughter erupted once again, and Nobara affectionately patted Yuuji on the back. As the group continued to revel in the celebration, the lights dimmed.

"Oh shit, I think the show is starting," Yuuji exclaimed.

"Quiet down, everyone! Gojo chimed in, his usual exuberance heightened by the alcohol.

As the lights dimmed even more, the atmosphere shifted. The group settled into their seats, anticipation filling the air. Yuuji, still wearing his birthday girl sash, looked around with wide eyes, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

The curtains gracefully rolled open just a moment later, ushering in a pulsating beat as a shadow emerged from the stage's depths. Gojo couldn't help but nearly roll his eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all. Gliding effortlessly to the stage's forefront was the dancer, adorned in a fetching ensemble—a pretty pink G-string paired with a matching corset adorned with little embroidered hearts. Her hair was styled into two low pigtails, and from where Nanami stood, he couldn't deny she was, well, kind of pretty.

The rhythmic beat filled the restaurant as the dancer began to sway her hips, accompanied by the provocative lyrics.

‘Tell nobody I control you

I broke you just to hold you,’

She placed a hand on her shoulder, trailing it around her neck before seductively sliding it down her glimmering, scantily-clad chest. The spotlight painted her feminine silhouette with hues of pink and red, and Nanami couldn't resist letting his gaze drift a little lower.

‘They can’t tell, but I love you,’

Grasping the pole behind her, the dancer executed snakelike hip movements. Her hands remained wrapped around the pole as she pressed her back against it, biting her bottom lip in a tantalizing squat. Legs opened, hips gyrating, she beckoned the audience forward. Nanami's eyes dropped below the belt once more as her body rippled enticingly to the beat.

‘Cause you’re loyal, baby,

I love when you’re submissive,’

She was undeniably gorgeous. Her attire accentuated her curves, and her movements exuded confidence and sensuality.

‘Love it when I break skin,’

Gojo, in his usual flamboyant manner, clapped his hands and whistled at the dancer. Nanami turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if silently conveying, "She's hot." Gojo simply smiled in return.

‘You feel pain without flinchin’...

So say it…’

She stepped around the pole, so that her long, athletic legs were spread in front of it, her back was straight, and her hands were clasped around the pole above her head. She demanded attention – something reflected by the hoots and whistles resonating throughout the room.

‘Give me tough love,’

Slowly, she slid into a squat.

‘Leave me with nothing when I come down,

My kinda love,’

From there, she crawled onto her hands and knees, arching her back, rolling her hips against the floor in a way that had Nanami’s eyes blinking rapidly. She grinded and crawled, eventually transitioning onto her back, where she backbended and then cartwheeled onto her feet again.

‘Push me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

His jaw would have been on the floor if he didn’t have an image to uphold.

Returning to her confident strides around the pole, she stopped to roll her body against it, smoothing her hands over her smooth bottom, eyes scanning the audience. Sliding her hands up her inner thighs, she flipped her hair up and then rolled back up slowly. She dropped down into another squat, then – spinning on the balls of her feet – she rolled over the floor, kicking her legs up into a split, hands on the ground, back arched.

‘ We don’t gotta be in love, no,

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

She’s amazing, he found himself thinking.

She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself back onto her knees, and arched her back – all while running her hands over her torso, her waist. Her hips rolled forward, making a little riding motion that made Nanami reconsider his harsh words towards his comrade earlier in the evening.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

Spinning around to face the crowd on her knees, she crawled onto her hands and knees. She arched her back slowly, sensually – in an almost feline fashion – with her ass and heels pointed up.

She pushed herself onto her feet, hands holding her heels, rolling up slowly again – this time dagging her hand up the length of her smooth, long legs. She reached for the pole, rolling her body against it.

‘Push me down, hold me down,

Spit in my mouth while you turn me out,’

Is she even going to use the pole? Nanami wondered. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. It looked difficult – something he could never imagine himself being able to do. And, shit, for what it was worth, she was putting on one hell of a show without it.

‘I wanna take your light inside,

Dim me down, snuff me out,

Hands on my neck while you push it out,

And I’m screamin’ out’

She hooked her leg around the pole – as if she had heard Nanami’s internal inquiry, and flipped up onto it. In one smooth motion, she seemed to defy gravity. Her legs were pointed up, straight towards the ceiling as the pole rotated slowly. Then, before Nanami could catch his breath, her legs split open.

‘Give me tough love,

Leave me with nothin’ when I come down.’

She looked so fucking… perfect, so remarkable. He found himself entirely hypnotized by her. Her back was arched, pressed up against the pole – hell, her whole body was bent backward. He had never seen someone do an upside down split in mid air with only their hands as support, let alone do it so effortlessly.

‘My kinda love,

Force me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

Her eyes scanned the shouting crowd with a seductive expression. She wrapped her legs around the back of the pole. Then, still upside down, she relaxed her grip on the base of the pole, sliding down until her hands met the ground. 

He was surprised her breasts hadn’t spilled out of their containers by now.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no,

I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.’

In one fluid motion, she opened her legs and cartwheeled away from the pole. She sauntered up to the front of the stage again, sliding her hands up her hips, her stomach, her chest, her neck. Nanami’s eyes followed her hands hungrily on their journey up, and then again on their way down, down, down. With her hands on her knees, she sunk into a squatting position. 

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

Nanami gaped at the stage. She was absolutely stunning. Her body moved with grace, and her long legs worked those heels in a way that left his head spinning. The way her hands gripped the pole ignited a desire in Nanami's fingers to reach out and touch her.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight, oh.’

Strutting to the stage's front, she sank back down to her knees, this time facing away from the audience. Slowly, she bent over backward, bridging off the stage into the audience. What struck Nanami the hardest wasn't the sparkle of her chest or the way her hair framed her pretty eyes; it was the way she looked right at him.

‘ Lock me up and throw away the key,

He knows how to get the best out of me,

I’m no fool for the world to see, 

Trade my whole life just to be.’

And Nanami, normally a man of composure, felt the blood rush to his face. He felt something stir deep within his chest – a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. Her half-lidded, smokey eyes gazed into his with the intensity of a thousand wildfires—unwavering, unrelenting, glimmering. She was fucking beautiful.

Droplets of sweat slid down her chest, and she smirked before extending her arm towards him. An unfamiliar, small hand gently caressed the side of his face. Nanami's heart raced, the scent of sweat and perfume leaving him reeling for more.

Then, as if nothing had transpired, the dancer pulled herself back onto her knees and continued with her routine.

Nanami's head spun, utterly captivated. He felt Gojo tap him on the shoulder. 

“She’s good, ain’t she?” He shouted over the sultry beat.

As the bills rained down around the captivating dancer, Nanami found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Gojo's words still echoed in his ears, but a stubborn sense of restraint kept him from joining in the display of buffoonery.

Gojo, undeterred by Nanami's refusal, slid him some bills anyway. "Tip her," Gojo insisted. Before Nanami could protest further, Gojo walked away.

Left alone, Nanami hesitated, his gaze alternating between the bills in his hand and the dancer on stage, who continued her mesmerizing routine, seemingly unaffected by the cascade of money around her.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

He yearned to be closer to her. It was a strange feeling – one that he hadn’t felt before. He yearned to see her, to hold her, to…

The bills felt weighty in his hand, a tangible representation of the internal struggle Nanami was experiencing. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision. With a determined look, he rolled his thumb over the bills one last time, then threw them up into the air.

Dollar bills danced around the woman as she moved, and she seemed to lock eyes with Nanami, a subtle smile playing on her lips. 

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

He wasn’t enamored.

No, he definitely wasn’t enamored with the absurdly pretty exotic dancer on the stage. That’s what he told himself.

And even though he had slandered Gojo for being a frequent patron of the club before that night, he joined the rank of regular himself not very long after.

a/n: hi pookie cookie bookie butts! I didnt like this specific chapter, but I never like my first chaps. thats why I make prologues lol!! the story will get much better I swear. tell me your thoughts, requests, remarks, etc in the comments, as always!! love u all <333 -Leo

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @mindurownbussines , @hearts4sid , @simplefools , @ynjimenez

wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

[cherryys]

why do you think yuuji isn't gonna make it? i have a lot of bets put on itafushi both dying or living (for Reasons i'm not gonna be annoying abt rn lol) so i like to hear why others believe otherwise

Oh god okay so

There are ALOT of death flags around yuuji, more than the people that actually died had lol but if i had to compose a list:

1. In Chapter 1, these are Yuuji's grandfather's dying words to him:

And i feel this statement of "when it's your time to go, make sure you're surrounded by others." Is going to play a big part in the ending, especially paired with the "save anyone you can, even if it's just one person" this translation doesn't say those exact words but the anime did so im gonna roll with it lol (if anyone knows what the og japanese version said please let me know!!!)

I think Yuuji is going to die by saving Megumi, surrounded by him (and others like Yuuta and Todo but im more focusing on Megumi because he is the start and the end of Yuuji's entire life purpose and ideals) and that would fulfill his grandfather's dying words of "save whoever you can, even if it's just one person. don't end up like me, [alone]. Die surrounded by loved ones" and i think that would truly be the best ending Yuuji would get after that, better than any hollow victory of killing sukuna but still outliving everyone else, alone. He had suffered enough in those few months, i think it would be cruel of Gege if he lets him outlive everyone else and still keep going with how much he's lost and witnessed.

This falls in line with the purpose he set for himself in Chapter 2:

He had already accepted that his life ends with Sukuna. That moment is when, for him, Itadori Yuuji ceased to exist and instead, Sukuna's Vessel. (Though the people around him try to convince him otherwise). Him doing those two things (Killing Sukuna and Saving People) as what his character's purpose in the story is, not living to see his 16th birthday (as despressing as that may be 💔)

2. In Chapter 203, Kenjaku says this:

This sort of ties into my earlier point of him and Sukuna's lifespans being interconnected thematically. Kenjaku here specifies Yuuji coexisting with Sukuna. As long as they are both alive, the cycle of curses (and suffering & pain) will never end. Even if Yuuji were to live on, he still has Sukuna's essence burned into him (whether that be because he'd been a vessel for so long or because of his lineage). He cannot get rid of the entirety of Sukuna, all his remains and all his ugliness, without getting rid of the one inside him first. That's why to completely get rid of Sukuna, he has to take himself out too.

Shoko even says this in Chapter 220:

By a narrative standpoint, he technically counts as an extra finger, still housing his Technique and his Evil Dredges, sort of speak. To completely defeat Sukuna, he has to go too.

3. A little fun fact about JJK, it was under threat of being cancelled all the way back since the Cursed Womb Arc. Because of that, Gege rushed to write that arc along with Chapter 9 as its subsequent "end" (though we know now Shonen Jump continued releasing it) and coupled with the fact that Gege said a while ago he already has the end of the story in mind, it's not a stretch to say that the end is going to parallel that Chapter somehow, with Yuuji sacrificing himself to save Megumi and them sharing a quiet moment (under the rain, or snow since its Dec 24 lol) where Megumi tells him again that he had never once regretted saving him, even after all the turmoil and pain it caused Megumi.

I think that would also be a nice send-off for Yuuji, the last face he sees is the one person he actually succeeded in saving and the one that saved him back, telling him that despite all the guilt he felt, all the pain he made himself responsible for (despite it not being his fault), he—who had a moral code so strict that he'd never save anyone that would kill someone in the future, yet saved him anyways, and stuck by his side after all that happened in Shibuya and told him to share the burden, the one person who never left him alone—never once regretted saving him, that the good Megumi knows is in Yuuji was worth it. And that despite the pain Megumi went through (and the pain Yuuji feels responsible for) he doesn't blame him nor regret that choice. And that he'd do it again even knowing everything.

I could go more into the other side of this argument of why Megumi being the one to die wouldn't make sense but i'd be rambling on for too long lmao i tend to go on restlessly 😞 im just really passionate about jjk and its themes

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

Another little essay on the mls5 finale

Tl;dr Gabriel Agreste Was Not Redeemed but it Makes Sense to feel weird and gross about it! And i think it was definitely Designed that way and did a very cool job of showing some complicated things

(Under a cut for ml s5 finale spoilers and also She-Ra spoilers because i’m comparing arcs, you dont have to have seen she-ra for this to make sense just, you will get spoilers)

Gabriel Agreste’s death reminded me IMMENSELY of shadow weaver’s death in she-ra. it left me with the same emotions. and i think they’re both Clearly trying to show the same thing

In both, there is this, almost *parody* of a heroic sacrifice??? There is a villain/abusive parent who is SHOWN repeatedly to be evil and to Cause Repeated Harm to their child/main character. But the main character can never quite renounce them because they’re always thrown the tiniest scraps at the very last minute. And this main character is trapped in a never ending cycle of needing to crawl back for help because despite it all they WANT to believe that there is some Pure Underlying Motive behind it all and that actually their parent DOES love them and IS good. Because who WOULDN’T want to believe that, especially in moments of terror and lonliness and the world falling to pieces???

And BOTH of these villains die by a “heroic sacrifice” that THEY think redeems them. They both die as a sacrifice ONLY when it’s a last resort and they’re going to die ANYWAYS if they DONT do anything. and they both make SURE that a child they’ve traumatized On Purpose is Watching Them Die Heroically. For both of them there’s this element of… their death is one last act of traumatizing the person they’re saving and ALSO one last act of making them feel Trapped and like they are In Debt and Have To Stay Loyal to their abusive parent?????

Like???? Gabriel LITERALLY does those tears that may or may not have been fake but were Definitely weaponized to play with marinette’s moral compass and catch her off guard. followed by the like… cackling evil villain act. Istg he was like Playing with marinette like a little ragdoll and Relishing in how Helpless she was as he made the wish. He KNEW he had her trapped, not just By The Miraculous but also Emotionally. He KNEW she had no one else to turn to. He KNEW he held the cards and he could say “make sure adrien remembers me as a hero” and that she’d HAVE to do it. Because he was about to die in front of her and she was going to be messed up by the whole thing and all these secrets and she wasn’t gonna have much choice other than to just Believe He Was Right And Good. As a coping mechanism.

And i think,,, there’s this aura of… he Genuinely thinks he has won. He thinks that he has succeeded in being a Good Father. He thinks that he has Manipulated and Snared his way into being a Hero and Right because he thinks that’s a thing you can do!!!! He doesn’t even consider changing his ways, not when natalie AND adrien AND ladybug all BEG him to listen. He doesnt consider treating anyone else as a person or admitting he could be wrong????? He just doubles down Harder and goes “hahaaaa i have manipulated and traumatized this teenager into continuing my lies and making up a narrative for me where im the hero… this is the same as being a genuienly good parent.”

And i GET the feelings of grossness bc that was a gross thing he did!!!! I agree!!!

But i DONT think he got to get away free or be redeemed????

If anything, it gave me the same gut feeling as shadow weaver’s death in she ra????? Like????? This is the Final Proof that he’s beyond saving because he cant even DIE without using it as one last opportunity to hurt someone he should be protecting????? And he doesnt even Realize that’s messed up he’s just like “heehee i win at tricking those stupid little teenagers into thinking im a hero” with no sense of self reflection.

After watching through that scene a few times i am CONFIDENT it was meant to come off that way and im not actually Sure how much they’ll address it??????

(And im also a teensy bit confused because??? I dont know who the target audience is at this point??? If it really is little kids as the target i am Sure they’ll address it blatantly but the show’s been getting darker and more Nuanced lately. But this is a different point)

but even if they DON’T!!!!! This is just!!! So similar to shadow weaver’s death in she-ra, another cartoon theoretically aimed at children and they DIDNT even address that one at all because it was just,,,,,, SO obvious that even if she DID save the main characters with her death she also used it as a way to twist the knife?????

And so far ive just been talking about Recreation Specifically???? But the REASON gane was dying was bc he literally CATACLYSMED HIMSELF with chat’s hand as a way to trauamtize ladynoir because he thought it would catch them off guard and screw with them!!!!!!!!!!

This is not the narrative saying “oh he had good intentions and was right all along uwu” to me, this was very clearly the narrative saying “sometimes people are so far convinced that theyre the only one that matters that they cant even DIE without using it as a way to hurt and manipulate everyone they should be supporting and wow can that screw people up when they’re left to pick up those pieces and leave them with a complicated mess of emotions.”

and also its saying that it is in fact okay to hate your dead parents if they sucked . And its okay to be have complicated feelings about it, u dont have to be able to make an opinion immediately or seperate yourself from the situation. Sometimes it hurts and you mourn what you shouldve had Anyway.

And i think just like she ra, this is a very Mature and Complicated take and its Okay to have mixed feelings about it, but i just wanted to reassure people that the ending absolutely did not say that gabe was a good person.

It MIGHT have said that the wish actually helped make the world better!!! We don’t know that part yet!!!!

But we DO know that it said,,,,, even IF gabe made One Good Decision, he did it at the cost of everyone he should have been supporting and died with everyone he loved hating him for Good Reason and he used his last seconds of life to traumatize and manipulate a scared little kid into telling everyone he was A Hero . And he was not above beating up and hurting said little kid (ladybug) for funsies. I think even IF his wish IS proven to be A Good Thing (big if) there will STILL be a very valid question of “was it worth it.” There will still be tons of trauma on adrien and marinette’s part that Isnt going away. And that is on him and him alone

[fujoshiwarrior]

limbus company 1 am (edit: now 2 am) ramblings (massive spoilers abound for canto v)

these are just some quick sleep deprived thoughts, and my analysis could be better, but i feel like talking about it anyway

i saw a post in the main tag talking about why the op really disliked canto v, and i don't wanna get into an argument and i don't want to vague the op in a way that makes it seem like im attacking them because im not, i just wanna talk about why i disagree with them

i don't think canto v was perfect or the best canto but i thought it was absolutely incredible (yes i did cry during the final boss fight), and i agree that starbuck and queequeg deserved way more screentime and development than they got (i also think the adaptation of queequeg from moby dick to limbus was woefully clumsy, which might have have been remedied by more time with her, though i still love limbus!queequeg)

however, i wholeheartedly disagree on ahab as a villain. i thought she was amazing. even if she doesn't really have any shades of gray to her, i think the point is that a lot of horrible, evil, selfish people genuinely believe what they are doing and their behavior is right and justified. furthermore, she was completely and utterly steeped in delusion and obsession to the detriment of herself and every single person remotely in proximity to her.

i need to say first that i've never read moby dick unfortunately, so i can't comment too much on limbus!ahab vs book!ahab. what i do know is that just like in limbus, ahab's obsession leads to the demise of every single crew member with ishmael as the sole survivor. since i haven't read moby dick, i had to consult sparknotes for a profile of book!ahab, and it describes him as much of a victim as he is an aggressor---however, i'll touch on that in a bit.

what i want to bring attention to is that both book and limbus ahab are characterized by sheer hubris, pride, and a god/savior complex. i want to bring attention to another classical literature character who is characterized by hubris and who also spends the entire novel on a ship: victor frankenstein.

this comparison might seem like it's coming from left field, but i promise i have a point. also, while i don't think limbus!ahab was overtly inspired by victor frankenstein, considering how obsessed pm is with literature i think there is a very low chance that kjh or at least one of the writers haven't read frankenstein. see also the parallels between angela and the monster/ayin and frankenstein in lobotomy corporation and library of ruina (especially library of ruina, where there is a direct connection between angela and lucifer related imagery, who the monster is also associated with). frankenstein ends with victor, after telling his, encouraging the sailors not to give up on trying to find a new passage channel in spite of the fact they will probably die doing so---victor has not learned his lesson, and now he's luring a group of sailors to their deaths.

ahab is so full of herself and so egocentric that even when she was facing the death of her very "self" (or...ego) she did not falter in her delusions, not even at the very, very end, and was happy to continue the cycle. the point i'm trying to make here is that a character being unambiguously bad and selfish doesn't necessarily make for a bad or uncomplicated character. i will concede though that op again has a point with the lack of screentime with ahab means that she didn't have the time to prove her complexities.

this brings me to canto v's ending. in the post credits scene, we saw the ahab somehow survived the collapse of the white whale (this is just speculation, but i think it has something to do with her ego awakening---judging off the cg art, i would guess the ego fused with the pallidification from the whale or nullified it entirely...or both maybe). i was initially disappointed by this.

however, we know very little about hermann's crew. as op touched on, and as i have touched on, ahab had little screentime and not a lot of character development. her now being a member of hermann's crew gives ample opportunity for further development of her character---i think we'll see why exactly she became so obsessed with the whale and why she is the way she is (the aspect of ahab as a victim, i imagine there's a deeply personal reason why the decided the whale was the source of all evil)

this leads to me another point op mentioned: ishmael sparing ahab.

op talks about this as a bad thing. i STRONGLY disagree.

the name of the game here is obsession. ishmael's new ego for this season is even named "blind obsession". from the 4.5 event, we saw that this obsession has been tearing her apart. several people theorized after that event, and during this canto, that she was for sure going to distort. the fact that she had a distortion effect behind her battle sprite made lots of people (including me) extremely confident that she would distort and be the boss of this chapter (outis said in part 1 that lcb doesn't need all 12 sinners to operate and you only use half in battle anyway).

if ishmael had killed ahab, she would have given into her obsession and may have *actually* distorted if she did. and she would have proven ahab completely and utterly right.

ishmael stealing away the opportunity to be the one to kill the pallid whale from ahab and leaving her to rot inside the collapsing whale with that knowledge is the best possible punishment ahab could have gotten.

that's why i didn't like the fact that ahab had survived, it felt like it defeated the point of ishmael's development and the canto itself. i changed my mind because the point of ishmael's character development was letting go of her obsession and being free from ahab, and ahab doesn't need to be dead for her to do that. and her involvement with hermann's group means an opportunity for a bigger and better comeuppance since she's probably going to have a new obsession soon enough.

[naggascradle]

i just finished hotd so im obviously thinking about it more but ive been really working to try to narrow down why i found hotd so much more fun to watch despite its flaws compared to my frustration throughout all of game of thrones with the character reductions and missing the point of the books.

first of all i think its down to the new showrunners understanding themes and like... what makes a story compelling in terms of characterization and what you can flesh out from a more barebones text. there's a lot to that you can have fun with & turning vague historical figures into a story to follow. i loved the alicent and rhaenyra background where we see them as children! episode one of season one is such a strong set up for the rest of the show and the themes it wants to deal with on the horror of motherhood and women being seen as vessels to carry children, which leads into the primary theme of the show and assumptions of people based on physical appearance.

which like, compared with game of thrones which seems sort of confused? about what it wants its themes to be for the show? like the books have a pretty major theme of the sins of the father sort of narrative and the cyclical nature of abuse and the way society pushes forward the abuse. the show removes most of these themes, oddly, like the biggest examples to me were tyrion's abuse by his father with tysha (this gets a mention in the show), the greyjoy family nightmare of abuse that just keeps going (the most we get on tv is theon being like my dad doesnt really like me :( and thats it but the books are pretty brutal in being like theon gets told someone's dad will beat them and he's like well my dad did that to me so idk what you want me to do about it.), arya's whole book narrative is how revenge begets revenge and in the process of revenge you will lose your own identity in pursuit of violence as a cycle, the point of the Others is to have the realms of men unite against an evil so great it will kill them if they keep doing petty squabbling, the list goes on. but the show doesnt really seem all that interested in playing with the ideas of cycles or what they mean? i honestly cant even tell you what i think the theme of game of thrones the tv show is. violence hurts people, i think?

hotd does a better job with picking a theme and running with it (the theme being what the assumption of a person means based on their physical traits; societally, politically, and personally). this is a major focus of a song of ice and fire as well, so it lends to the story of house of the dragon in a great way! we get larys who is disabled and his explicit discussion with aegon about how people will underestimate you and it will be your advantage (great parallel to doran martell in the books), the bastardy of jaecerys and his disgust with himself and following it up with him meeting the dragonseeds who have an entirely different view of being bastards (something id love to see more of in season 3, despite knowing jace's eventual end), rhaenyra & alicent obviously and the way people treat them as women. rhaenyra's conversation in episode one with aemma is suuuch a haunting one by the end of the same episode. alicent of course with her discussions about being undermined in front of her sons and how no one will be able to control them if she is continued to be shown as incapable in front of them.

anyway apart from themes hotd does also play with the concept of what adapting stories means, and how they'll play out differently on the screen, especially in a context of an adaptation along the lines of a historical fiction sort of show, as f&b isnt a chapter novel, more like an outline of how the history went. historical adaptations can be fun too in how the narrative is told, like giving nuances to characters when we just have their actions on paper. aemond unintentionally killing luke is up there for me in terms of "this is a really fun way to interpret the text" because all we know is that aemond killed luke when pursuing revenge over his lost eye, having their dragons act like actual animals with minds of their own in that moment was a strong choice! like of course vhagar will turn and try to kill a much smaller dragon for attacking her head on, she's a three ton massive sky beast. luke is a 14 year old with an adolescent dragon that's much more nimble, it makes total sense he could outjuke vhagar for a moment to get a direct fire shot on her. and it makes sense for aemond in turn to try to get control back of vhagar and fail. those are all incredibly compelling character choices to do when the accounts are so vague.

the other historical adaptation moment i really enjoyed was the dragonseed storylines (...enjoyed is a bit of an overstatement, i thought some of the dialogue for these scenes couldve been better.) where you can be like ?? who are these guys why do i care. until addam gets seasmoke and its like ohh those other two are the other two dragonriders ulf and hugh. got it.

honestly this is a very low bar in most shows but game of thrones really, really hated doing things like this except like once or twice (the only example i can think of is olenna tyrell getting a bunch of camera shots with the goblet at joffrey's wedding). game of thrones removed most of its foreshadowing in the tv show for major events that are borderline told to the reader that will happen in the books, and it makes the show a lot worse because it means it doesn't trust its audience can still be compelled by the story if they can figure out what will be happening (leading to like everything from s6 onward in terms of plot decisions lol), as well as made characters like ridiculously stupid in terms of their plans from the start because the show didnt seem to trust the audience in understanding what was happening in the story either? like the whole sansa being snuck out by dantos is... there for like one scene, but the book version makes it a whole shock twist that it was littlefinger arranging the whole thing (which was something you could pick up on beforehand, but from sansa's point of view she had no idea who was doing all this for her.), the show changes it to have petyr straight up tell sansa in the middle of the red keep "i'll sneak you out of here" and its like ?? people can say the characters got a case of the stupids in the later seasons but they definitely had the case of the stupids in early seasons too. why the fuck would littlefinger straight up tell her where everyone can hear him. this successfully lowers the stakes, makes littlefinger look like an idiot & everyone can guess who has sansa. like do varys's little birds mean something in this show or do they not.

i do think hotd leaves room to be desired with not making rhaenyra nuanced enough, but i can see where they really want the audience to root for her. regardless i dont think there's much where i was like "wow this character is ooc" its been pretty decently consistent about every character being consistent, and i do worry about if they start making rhaenyra have bad decisions itll be weirdly ooc lol. she's been shown to be prideful and wanting to be the only person making decisions & getting annoyed at others without her approval which i think is a pretty decent flaw to not make it overkill in making her an incapable ruler. idk i think rhaenyra is like. fine. as is. if she becomes bad at ruling id rather it be a slow progression over her control issues stemming from the way people treat her like she doesnt know anything and doing things without her approval. because it looks like they might lean into that and especially so after jace's and joffrey's deaths.

generally ive been reading everything hotd chooses to do as like this is a historical adaptation and some things will get changed for adaptability reasons. yes some things wont hit as hard if you loved them in the book but for the most part the changes have been in service of the themes i listed before, making the show feel like it has a purpose and wants to try and say something, so im more willing to forgive a lot of things in service of that.

anyway i wish we did have halaena's choice & nettles </3 those are the only two i dont really understand yet but im willing to wait and see how they play out

[wc-confessions]

I have a few,, that are on my mind, so im just gonna put them here

I wish the Erins actually went in depth about why Frecklewish's status in StarClan was changed. that would have been SO COOL to see if maybe she was framed, or maybe Mapleshade trapped her there, or maybe she was just annoying in StarClan and knowing StarClan they just banished her without a second thought. none of this wishy-washy "oh well she didnt do anything when the river was flooded, its not like that would have just added another dead body into the mix ig idk", yeah she's a character that has done some things that are not morally right but she doesnt get excited when kits die ffs.

I like seeing Mapleshade, she's our only long-standing female villain and it makes me really happy to see her. except when she's with thistleclaw. I hope she mauled him to death in the dark forest when she found out about Spottedpaw.

I wish warriors had more non-conforming characters. characters that directly challenged leaders and didnt give a fuck about clan order. SkyClan is really cool to me for that because they have weird names, have an interesting new role that would be so helpful in the other clans, and they just... I love them. I also love Squirrelflight because she fights Brambleclaw about all his shitty decisions. fuck anyone who says that she was in the wrong for that, Brambleclaw needs to get his act together.

Erins stop getting young female characters together with older male ones i will eat your shoelaces.

it always confuses me when people say spottedleaf continued thistleclaws cycle of abuse because like... in the books where she was alive, she barely talked to Firestar. like... the rest of it was a retcon. a dumb retcon that made her look creepy but a retcon at that. she didnt at all show any affection towards firestar. they were like coworkers.

I wish we had more cats that were a) willingly healers and b) were EVIL healers. IMAGINE THE POTENTIAL...

I hate to admit this but for some really odd reason I do like LeafCrow. not in the "oh hes done nothing wrong!!" idea, but because I have this really specific fanon idea of Crow in my brain that's just... idk, i have no idea why i like it, idk why i like crow, mothpool is better, but its just in my brain and it wont go away.

i liked bluestars prophecy, squirrelflights hope, and yellowfangs secret. maybe its because i read them when i was a little younger and i have an attachment to the characters but minus sandstorms comment in SH that ruined my perception of her I liked reading them. Yay bluestar being a character thats mentally ill and has had a pattern of this thats really really relatable, yay squirrelflight fighting brambleclaw and choosing what's right, YAY yellowfang, just yay yellowfang.

and finally, transmasc Hollyleaf and transfem Lionblaze. i love them dearly.

.

[monstersinthecosmos]

okay so i just finished IWTV....... oh my god!!! oh my god. it's embarrassing how insane this book made me. for the last 50 pages or so i was regularly taking breaks to run laps around my apartment like a lunatic because i physically could not handle all the pain and angst and despair coursing through my body LOL. i got so immersed in the story i forgot pretty much all of the background for armand you'd given me (and i can't remember most of it even now!!! my mind is in shambles) and still, very organically...... he became my favorite. even despite all of the. you know. and maybe even more so BECAUSE of it. i've just never witnessed an evil so heartbreaking!!!!!!!!!!? THE ABSOLUTE DEVOTION?????? DERANGED AND UGLY AND UTTERLY BEYOND REASON????!!!! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!! i'm sorry for vomiting all over your inbox i genuinely cannot conjure up any resemblance of coherence atm!!! THANK YOU FOR POINTING ME TOWARDS SUCH LUXURIOUS PAIN i LOVE it i want MORE! <3 <3 <3

oh my god OH MY GOd ,... omg... 🥹🥹

WELCOME WELCOME YES THIS HOW I FEEL EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE I WISH I KNEW WHERE TO EVEN START 

(I really feel like just answering with this meme and not subjecting you to a wall of text but I'LL TRY !!!)

GOD LIKE WHAT THIS BOOK DOES SO SO WELL AS LIKE IMMEDIATELY GROUND FLOOR OF THE SERIES LETS US ALL KNOW THAT ALL CHARACTERS COMMIT EVILS AND ARE NOT GREAT PEOPLE BUT THEY ALL WANT TO BE LOVED AND ARE TRYING LOL. 

LIKE LOUIS MOVES FROM ABUSIVE PARTNER TO ABUSIVE PARTNER UNTIL HE’S FINALLY SO DEAD INSIDE THAT HE CAN BE BY HIMSELF AND WALK AWAY.

AND LIKE IT’S SO HARD BECAUSE YOU SEE HOW CLAUDIA FREED HIM FROM LESTAT, AND THEN ARMAND FREES HIM FROM CLAUDIA. AND SOMETHING THAT ALWAYS FUCKS ME UP SO BAD IS THAT ARMAND HAS SUCH A SKEWED MAP OF APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR BUT HE’S NOT EVIL. HE’S TRYING HIS BEST, IN THE BEST WAY HE KNOWS HOW.

Wait hang on I’ll take caps off I’m so sorry lmfao I’m just really worked up. 

I think there’s a sort of meme-ier version of this like Armand going “hi 🙂 I killed your daughter 🙂 you can kill all my friends if you want 🙂 I won’t stop you 🙂 do you like me? 🙂"

But it’s actually SO TRAGIC god. Like I read IWTV as a story about domestic abuse and the family cycle, personally, and I see Claudia as an Oedipal figure. Louis is unable to get away from Lestat until Claudia makes it happen, and Claudia winds up being so cold and cruel and he’s stuck with her until Armand frees him. And there’s a lot of conversation about like, Armand being manipulative or what he did to CREATE this, how did he push them both where he wanted them, etc, but the thing that gets me is that when Louis wants to break up, Armand lets him leave.

And like SKIP WHAT I’M ABOUT TO SAY IF YOU DONT WANT A SPOILER BUT LIKE I DID MENTION THIS IN MY OTHER POST  —— but if you read Lestat’s book and get the background on how he and Armand met, it’s sort of the opposite where Lestat destroys Armand’s coven and Armand is so devastated about it, vs 100 years later he ALLOWS Louis to destroy a coven. AND HE GETS THE GUY!!!! In TVL he like BEGS Lestat to be with him and Lestat isn’t interested lol but he gets to keep Louis this time.

IDK IDK IM JUST REAL EMOTIONAL. 

And like !!!!!!!! God idk. If you read more of the books you get so many indications about how people in Armand’s life don’t respect him, and a lot of times people write him off because he looks like a teenager. They don’t take the danger of him seriously, which makes him even more dangerous. But it’s so heartbreaking reading IWTV and seeing how Louis respects him so much, and sees him as wise and calm, and needs him! 

And like maybe Louis is uniquely qualified to not judge people for looking like children because he has spent the last 90 years with a vampire child and respects her as an adult, you know?

If you keep reading you’ll see how much Anne Rice like retcons or how much the continuity flops around so like EVERY book will have a Doylist vs Watsonian conversation like, she never comes out and says that Armand looks like he’s 17 in IWTV and in the later books it’s a huge point every time he’s on the page just HE’S SHORT HE’S 17 HE LOOKS LIKE A CHERUB etc and maybe that’s because she hadn’t decided that yet but also maybe Louis is the only person who fucking respects him. :) 

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Cecio as companion thoughts

Ceio is a "my mental stability will be wayy better as a companion" kc so the main quest would be getting him to open up and embrace being neutral/chaotic good as oppose to suffering trying to be lawful & pleasing those around him. Being the kc accelerated his breakdown but as a companion there is time to help him before he goes fuck it im chaotic evil now

I think he stops being a paladin of iomadae whatever path, but if the kc was good enough at talking to him, he sees it as freedom & a positive. If he's been pushed lawful, he sees it as a major transgression and tries to atone through rigid conformity

So he can be lawful, neutral/chaotic good or chaotic evil. His father dies on both chaotic paths but Celia kills him on the good one. Not letting the father die heavily weighs him towards lawful.

Lawful- worst ending, he continues as part of the crusade as atonement for losing his paladin status [rejecting Celias offer to go with her] and is miserable inside, until he snaps and kills a superior officer, becoming an outcast/ sentenced to prison

[Lawful evil? He becomes a hellknight w Celia?]

Chaotic evil: the bad[?] ending, he becomes a politician after the 'tragic' death of his father, becoming a major player in Mendlev, and slowly tears apart the nobles and lingering crusaders he disagrees with. He's working with Celia in the shadows as some sort of revenge/Scorge removal of the corruption of the crusades

Neutral: he runs of to become a mercenary with Celia.

neutral/chaotic good: the good ending. Cecio rejects his father and lets Celia kill him, and becomes a force for justice and equality in Mendlev, helping re build it into a better place, not as atonement for losing his paladin status but as a way to build a better world. Celia proudly assists

He can be romanced by male kc's and it is very affected by how he is pushed.

what started this thinking, aka his vision in the lab,

Cecio... hmmm... on a quiet battlefeild a golden haired woman is holding him & telling them they love him, that they are sorry to have been gone and they are so proud of who he became, but then the woman continues ominously that he's just like her, which snaps him out of it [he wont admit to the kc he cant tell if its his mother or Celia] the implication being he's either 'dying' like his mother under the weight of duty or he's turning into the same monster as his sister.

[The kc as an outside force is the only one that can pull him out of the voctim/monster binary mindset & remove him from the cycle of violence]

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

halfway point only friends character rankings

(i am bad at rank so i tiered them, also i don't dislike any character this is more a scale of how many hours i lay awake thinking of them)

tier one: ray

ray: I think anyone looking at my only friends posts can immediately guess who my favourite character is and why. ray is THE character for me, i knew in the first episode before the title sequence that he'd make me extremely unwell (his "being known as a burden who is either professing his love for anyone who cares to listen or begging people not to leave him in his drunken desperation" captivated me ok) . besides relating to parts of his characters and story, i am thoroughly invested in this man and his emotions. like will he fall victim to the cycle he's already convinced he's doomed by? will he find a way out? will he continue living as self-fulfilling prophecy purely out of spite for himself and everyone around him? will he get better? can he get better? will he ever want to????????? i think i always had the potential like ray as a character but i also think the actor plays him in a way that has altered my brain forever (like i am not good at reading faces but the look on ray's face sometime feels like im looking into his thoughts, its thrilling) deciding to play ray as layered and complex and oosing with pain no matter the circumstance was a choice that made the character for me, and i also think it takes a lot of skill to have an asshole insult everyone close to him and ruin relationships he has no buissness ruining for most of his screentime and have the audience come away with "wow that guy is absoultey dripping in pain, i feel so much for him"

tier two: nick, boston, mew

nick: i love nick so much, maybe its my thing for pathetic little guys but something about him makes me scream throw shit whenever i see him. i'm obssessed with all the crime he commits, because he's such a cutie about it. like watching him get all sad listening to the topboston tape fully sympathizing with him and his little sad face to the point i forget he only has the tape cause he WIRETAPPED BOSTONS CAR. just excellant character, i hope his crimes being revealed leads to him looking more pathetic and then becoming 5x more evil but 10x more cute about it (i also am desperate to know what comes of him chasing after a man who has made it clear so many times he doesn't want him only for nick to fall harder like what is up with that)

boston: boston has always been a favourite character of mine because he may not be a good friend and he may not be a good person but one thing he will NEVER not be is entertaining. like if he is on screen your ass will be tuned IN, and for that reason i love him. what i want to see from boston in the rest of the series? i think he is an interesting case of how far is to far when it comes to friends doing you dirty, and im interested to see what the lasting impact to his relationships are and then the impact to how he views relationships in general. i think it'd be nice if there were consequences that made him reavaluate the way he treats other people, but i also find it absolutely necessary for him to retain his sluttiness. like it doesnt hurt anyone else, and i think he genuienly enjoys it, so i hope he keeps it along with his love for photogrphy (would love to see him get more into getting consent of people before he records them and spreads that around tho) stay messy my king 🫡

mew: mew was my designated little guy after watching the first episode but kinda got lost in all my love for sandray. i will say he shot back up towards the top after seeing this one post (i cannot find it now its lost under the thousands that have been posted since) about mew, control, and bdsm (and all the new meta that has come out since too tbh). also realizing around epsiode 4 we knew absoultey nothing about him as a person had me watching everything he did like there would be little clues left. i think its safe to say after episode 6 that the relationhip between sex and control will continue to be interesting as well as WHATEVER THE FUCK HAPPENS TO MAKE HIM ACT UP LIKE THAT IN THE BATHTUB anyway... i am here for his villain?? era

tier 3: top, sand, cheum

(again i tiered them cause im not good at straight ranking and this doesn't mean i like them any less its just they make me personally a little less insane then the others do)

top: i think he needs to be topped by mew and that it has the potential fix him, i've thought about this a lot (A LOT) and thats all i have to say.

sand: i am still kinda obsessed with him, like don't get me wrong. i like the way he mirrors the other characters while still maintaining traits that are specific to him. the fact that he has his heart broken by the belief that ray didn't truly care about him and only saw him as a distraction, distinced himself from ray, took insults and physical attacks from ray, and STILL chased after him because he knew ray was in an unsafe headspace speaks to how strong this guy is, cause you saw everyone else in that bar abondon ray to whatever self-destructive thing he decided to do next but not sand, never sand. anyway maybe its because i relate to ray so much that whenever i see sand on screen or think about him my mind gets overtaken by hearteyes (this is my way of saying i don't have many coherent thoughts about sand in my brain theres just 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰) anyway i can't wait to see how he develops, if we meet the sandtop mutual ex and what chaos that brings, and whatever the fuck happens with the sandray codependency dynamic and i am dying to know if he does indeed have something in his past related to driving under the influence and what it is about ray specifically that made mr "i can seperate love and sex" into the character we see now

cheum: my girl isn't in the show as often but whenever shes on screen with april i have to smile. anyway i wonder if we'll get an explaination as to why shes always presurring the rest of the friendgroup into monogamous relationships or if thats just who she is (i do think her lying to april about how she feels in order to keep them together at all costs was an interesting detail in all this, like is she scared of what it means to be single/alone, does she feel intense pressure to be in a certain type of relationship, etc)

anways this is inspired by @thatgirl4815 and my autocorrect broke so sorry if this makes now sense

[lesbianyosano]

Just kind of a general plot question bcs I feel like I’m blanking here. I know that within the story one of the huge themes are cycles of abuse (specifically among the port mafia characters) like the whole mori-> dazai -> akutagawa-> kyouka(?) situation but for the life of me I can’t remember what exactly the dazai mori catalyst beginning of the cycle event was. Obviously odas death was the big betrayal of trust that broke dazai away from the mafia, and there was that whole killing the former pm leader deal(was that it though??) because Ik fandom has a tendency of portraying mori as this cartoonishly evil abuser when he’s more complex then that (even if I don’t personally like him lol) but I feel like I’m completely forgetting everything about that whole dynamic lol. I hope you have a great day!

honestly i dont think there really exists a catalyst like that. i think the discussion about mori and dazai's relationship tends to get really weird bc it's always treated as a singular abusive situation between the 2 of them, completely taken out of context. as in, "mori's an abusive creep and everyone around him actually hates him for it", with disregard for the context of his interactions with dazai.

they are both mafia members, their relationship cannot be a healthy and supportive one specifically because of that. mori's manipulation and grooming isn't out of place, it's what funtioning in that system requires of him, the same way it's what was later required of dazai with akutagawa. it's less about mori being someone who's personally irredeemable and more that mafia needs to continually raise its new members to continue to exist, the abuse is systematic and will never cease to be treated as a tool as long as the organization is still in place. i'd argue it's the reason why beast mori manages to change and become a much more sympathetic version of himself. his relationship with yosano is similar, the abuse takes place because the military allows it. obviously mori is still very much complicit, but his utalitarian approach can only go so far due to the lack of institutional response

and i think this perception of abuse as something that only exists, and is perpetrated on, on a personal level is also what leads to this weird mischaracterization of mori's relationship with chuuya and kouyou. you see this in fanfics a lot, when they both secretly hate him because he's a pedo and abused dazai, which is absolute bullshit. they don't hate him, they seem to enjoy spending time with him even when they don't need to. they are both extremely loyal and strive to keep as him the pm boss, neither ever raises concerns to how he treats dazai, and elise also never gets commented on. fundamentally, they are no better than him. they are a part of this same organisation and it is in their interest to keep the power structure as it is. kouyou tries to groom and manipulate kyouka, projecting onto her, similarly how mori does with dazai. chuuya talks about wanting q dead (despite the weirdly popular hc that they're close and familiar). and im not saying this because i think anyone should hate them, or that people need to love mori all of a sudden, but because ignoring this flattens all of them as characters. they are meant to be bad people, in huge part because they choose to be (they could all leave the mafia the way dazai did lmao)

mori (i think) gets the most hate also because of his perceived sexual deviancy. you see this a lot, where people will make non stop jokes about characters being murderers/war criminals and how it's actually fun and cool (it is), but the moment the crimes go into a territory of sexual offense (sometimes real and sometimes perceived), those crimes can no longer be excused, and everything else about the character is forgotten. the lolicon gag with mori and elise is. weird yeah and it's perfectly fine to be uncomfortable with it, but as far as we know, there is nothing to indicate mori has ever sexually abused a child, the deal with elise is unclear, even if there are some questionable comments. and again, im not saying this to make him more likable or to make him less of a creep, it's just that i dont think this characterizaton leads anywhere, other than a twisted perception of like. half of the cast

sorry for going off asdgsafhdf ive been meaning to talk about this and you have unfortunately given me space to do so </3

[burning-thistles-bt]

I looked at various characters, and now im showing you guys it. I'll send in the other few character analysises after this.

Robinstorm reads as a grooming victim to me, the way he acts is akin to how spottedpaw had acted with thistlestar, albeit it was not romantic or sexual, he displays most of the same behaviours that grooming victims do.

He also displays the same behaviours and reactions of a traumatized child (meek, people pleaser, scared, etc) towards Lightningfur, to the point he was willing to literally exile himself to go with her because he didnt know who he was if he was not lightningfurs former apprentice

From the scenes that we've seen and behaviours in later chapters, Lightningfur physically abused him (and possible also mentally abused robinstorm) to the point he has scars and a torn ear (iirc)

He is unhealthily attaches himself to her, idolizing her the same way spottedpaw had idolized thistleclaw, in robins mind, lightningfur can do no wrong and do no evil, even after seeing her slaughter her own mother, the cat that birthed and raised her with love.

He also shows major panic and fear at the fact he considers himself to be "replaced" by featherpaw, he doesnt want lightningfur to discard him

He also quite literally cannot/does not know how to function like a proper clan member without lightningfur, he was literally forced into silence about what she did to him and how he was treated.

This also all happened while he was still mentally developing (aprox. 0-9 in human years, which converted should be aprox. 0-13 moons in wc time) and was easily impressionable, lightningfur employed groomer tactics (a.e threatening to hurt him if he spoke out, which is exactly what most groomers do), attacked him, i dont really like using this term but, she literally brain washed him into seeing her as literally unable to do no wrong/better than starclan and that what she did to him was normal.

He literally considers himself to be completely worthless and worse than dirt if he is not being ordered around by Lightningfur, seen by how hes implied to literally constantly try to be the perfect apprentice/warrior and make her proud him

This may be me overanalysing but whatever, also robinstorm reminds me of Choice by Jack Stauber and Pure as a lamb by Baby Bug :3c

HELL YES I AM LIVING FOR THIS ANALYSIS

you are SPOT ON literally Lightningfur is just continuing the cycle of abusing a kid, because Thistlestar did similar to Tigerstar as well (and obviously he was sexually grooming Spottedleaf, Grasswhisker, etc. as well). Lightningfur is NOT A GOOD CAT. At all. She HAS moments of "goodness," but not only is she OPENLY horrible about her actions, but in secret, she is way worse.

All of Robinstorm's scars ARE FROM HER, or her training. SHE RIPPED HIS EAR OFF and then told him not to tell anyone and also insisted he didn't need medical care for it! She wanted him to be strong and powerful and when it turned out, hey, babies don't come out the womb fighting soldiers, she was pissy and didn't want to "waste" the effort on him. She just wanted him to magically become good, but obviously he CAN'T, and he internalizes that. He just wants to be good for her, but he also knows that she doesn't give a shit about him!

While she doesn't give Stormpaw any scars, she is very verbally abusive and demeaning towards him too, even neglectful as a parental figure. The only reason she didn't hurt him physically too is because he was Silverstream's kit.

She was kinder and better towards Featherpaw for the sole fact that, not only was Featherpaw Silverstream's kit too, but Featherpaw looks like Silverstream. And Lightningfur would never hurt Silverstream.

All of this is 100% correct.

[dhdhhehdndbdbd]

oh. just kind of realized that i didn't love like you i shouldve. looking back at those texts; i am everything to you; you are just a burden to me. thats a harsh way of saying it. but i didnt love you like you deserved.. get hurt so much you eventually turn into the red flag, i guess..

i dont blame myself for pursuing it at the beginning. i think i was so tired of being hurt, so tired of being the one led on, so tired of being the one to be crushed, so tired of being used and hurt. i wanted nothing to hurt me again.

so when i found you, i guess i went searching for someone i knew wouldn't hurt me. even if it meant i wasnt all the way in, even if it meant that i didnt reciprocate what i had to. i was tired of being the one hurt.

i hurt you.

i needed a reminder that someone could love me; that someone out there was good, and could be good to me. even if it meant that im now the one hurting others.

maybe it wasn't right of me. maybe i shouldnt have continued it... but i couldn't stop. i mean, it was only 3 months. i know you will be sad and i know it will hurt but at least i didnt take up more of your time. we didnt spend real money, we didn't make any real decisions for each other. we're not married, there's no kids, etc. there's still a lot of hope out there for us.

its not right to expect you to be sitting there whenever i want to call. just because im lonely and i miss you. its not right to you. of course id like to check up on you and see how you're doing but i also need to respect you. (although, ive made it clear to him that if he needs space, i will go away. i think for now hes okay with keeping contact because there's the chance we will get back together).

ive been thinking, maybe this is how cam felt? of course, its not really comparable, since he was selfish and treated me badly, but wanting to continue contact afterwards? yeah, he mustve lost feelings for me but still wanted me around. well, i will not repeat what you've done. hunter has the right to slam that door the moment he feels like it, as i did with you. slam the door and don't look back. leave me here - i am full of love for you, and i always will be, but i must find my own place as well. dont we both deserve to find the ones for us?

im not an evil person. im not a bad person. i think i was hurt and just wanted to try something. i felt love, full and ready, and i wanted to drown in it, because i felt like id been starved. i just went through shit, repeated cycles, self-sabotaged, self-harmed. i wasnt ready to date when we dated. did you heal me? i think in little ways, yes. your love distracted me from the pain and reminded me of what pure, unconditional love felt like. and that i was enough. that someone would stick around for me... why? im not sure why. you really liked me, i guess.

we might. we might go on a date in the fall. maybe he'll come over to my dorm and we'll finally cook and i'll show you my new room. maybe i'll see how it feels then.

but for now its the end. the end of this, the end of us.

ive loved you, hunter. maybe it was not as full and real as it should've, because you were all in for me. (so fast? really?). but even so it meant so much to me. it impacted me so deeply. your love reached an ache, and for a moment, things were quiet. but that moment dissipated as soon as it came, and id be back to questioning if i should be with you. you deserve someone who is as sure as you. i loved you but not enough. i wasnt in love. it was comfortable, it was nice, it was reliable.

hah, thats what you said the last time you saw me. "it was nice".

it was. i hope you heal and i hope you find where you belong one day.