#she’s not a person or at least doesn’t present herself that way

[ajedisith]

Damian is a key character for the SpyxFamily story moving forward. He had the fourth most panels after the main three in 2024. Endo focused quite a bit on Damian so far, from his developing friendship with Anya, strained relationship with his father/family, deep connection with Emile/Ewen, and positive interaction with Loid. This leads me to believe that he will have a bigger role in the upcoming story arcs. Afterall, he is the son of the supposed villain of the whole story. And I do believe Anya and Damian are the central dynamic of this story, at least for now and how Endo set it up 100+ chapters in.

Although him and Anya are not yet friends, they are on their way to a friendship. Their relationship grew a lot from him being a very mean bully, to him sabotaging some of his chances at personal happiness in favor of Anya’s comfort. He is the first person in the whole story to hear about Anya’s telepathy from Anya herself. That’s a huge deal. I believe it foreshadows that he’ll learn the truth and they will be the only two to know about her telepathy for a while before anyone else finds out (ie. his friends, Becky, etc).

Moreover, I find it interesting that Damian first interacts with Loid in a setting where he is both vulnerable due to his father’s looming presence and guided upward by Loid’s encouraging comments (regardless of how fake they were because they may be more genuine later on). Damian is left with a positive impression of Loid and it’s likely he will have more interactions with the Forgers that will leave him wishing he could have that for himself.

Endo also emphasizes both Damian’s strained family dynamics and stabilizing friendship with Ewen and Emile.

His dysfunctional and depressing home life is meant to be a contrast to Anya’s peaceful and fun one, illustrating that found family can be just as powerful as a “real” family. Damian and Anya find themselves in these contrasting environments and, as we’ve already begun to see, they will play an important role in the pair’s dynamic moving forward. Damian craves Anya’s family dynamic, a present father figure like Loid, and loving mother like Yor, while Anya understands Damian’s desire for his father’s approval, because she herself doesn’t know for certain if Loid actually loves her. She mostly thinks about two things — operation strix and Sy-On boy because deep down she wants Loid’s approval and love.

Damian’s friends are one of the few stabilizing aspects of his life. They are a constant, reliable part of his life and their presence humanizes him and creates a space for him to grow as a person instead of the machine that it sometimes feels Eden Academy wants him to be.

It’s always fun to speculate about the future story, so if I’m wrong, that’s totally okay! I love hearing about what other fans think of the future Damian and Anya, so please do share your thoughts!

[deerprynce]

Daisuke and Jimmy’s relationship is so interesting and I don’t see it get talked about nearly as much as some of the other characters. I also see it get misinterpreted quite often.

Jimmy is not outwardly antagonistic towards Daisuke. The only time he gets close to this is during the birthday party. And remember, he lashes out at everyone during this scene. If anything, what he says about Daisuke is pretty tame in comparison to the things he says about Curly or Anya.

His rapport with Daisuke is always somewhat friendly. He has a nice conversation with him right at the beginning of the game, 2 months after the crash, where they joke amongst themselves. Jimmy tells Daisuke to not let Swansea get to him. Keep this in mind for later.

When Daisuke gets drunk off the mouthwash, he tells Jimmy about insecurities that he has presumably not told anyone else. We can say that he’s only telling Jimmy this because he’s intoxicated, but I think it speaks to the relationship the two have.

One thing to note about Daisuke is that he trusts Jimmy, and after the crash he’s basically the only one to do so. Swansea is plastered 24/7 and very clearly doesn’t respect him, and Anya. I don’t even have to explain that one.

But Daisuke still remains by his side, and Jimmy takes full advantage of this.

Let’s check back on that line I mentioned earlier, where Jimmy tells Daisuke to not let Swansea get to him. Jimmy wants Daisuke to think higher of him than Swansea, and presents himself as a kinder individual who Daisuke can trust. It’s a small line but it speaks volumes about their relationship.

We’re skipping forward to after Daisuke’s death (don’t worry, we’ll talk about it). Daisuke and imagery surrounding him appears the most out of any of the crew, mayyybe second to Curly. We see his personal items, his grave repeated over and over in a graveyard, we see him run away from the camera, his face appears when you try to turn around, his body is in a coffin, we crawl through the vent and we see the axe buried in the side of the wall around it.

And it’s because Jimmy feels the most guilt about how Daisuke died. Because it’s entirely his fault and he recognizes it. These hallucinations are purely guilt speaking.

Jimmy knew, on some level, what he was doing.

He knew that he was manipulating Daisuke, though I do think he still liked him at least a little. He knows that this death is entirely on his hands.

Ok, let’s jump back to before Daisuke dies (we’re skipping around like the game now!). This is where that manipulation idea comes into play.

Jimmy doesn’t tell Daisuke what’s going on. Jimmy knows that Anya has locked herself into medical and is going to kill herself. But when Daisuke asks what’s happening (by the way, he asks Anya this question) Jimmy cuts in and immediately brings up Curly. He makes it seem like Anya is going to do something malicious towards Curly and there’s no time and she can’t be convinced and they have to go go go.

And we see why he does this. Daisuke, throughout the sequence where you roofie Swansea, keeps repeating that they should just talk to him. But if they just talk to Swansea and Anya, then Daisuke will find out about the fact that Jimmy raped her. Jimmy can’t have this because, as I said earlier, Daisuke is the only one left who still completely trusts Jimmy. So he has to keep that information from him.

(I want to make a seperate post where I talk about why Anya also kept this information from Daisuke, so i'm leaving this point here).

Finally, let’s talk about the thing Jimmy says right before Daisuke enters the vent. I think that this is the most telling exchange when it comes to their relationship (take a shot every time I say their relationship and you too can pass out in front of utility).

Daisuke is nervous, for obvious reasons. And Jimmy, the figure who has been supportive (“don’t let Swansea get to you”) and friendly, turns around and uses the insecurities that Daisuke brought up previously to coax him into the vent.

When Daisuke is drunk, he tells Jimmy that he believes he’s not good at anything. And right before the vent, Swansea tells him he’s not a good mechanic either. This clearly upsets Daisuke on some level based on his reaction.

This is just a precursor to what Swansea says right before Daisuke dies, but Daisuke doesn’t know that. It’s a topic for another ramble.

Jimmy was present for all of this, and tells Daisuke that he’ll make everyone proud, he tells him everyone is counting on him. He’s using these insecurities to get Daisuke to do something insanely dangerous.

And I think, based on how often Daisuke appears in his hallucinations, Jimmy knew what he was doing. He knew he was being manipulative.

When Daisuke is bleeding out, Jimmy realizes how badly he fucked up. He’s panicked and trying in vain to comfort him, but internally he knows this is entirely his fault.

I see a lot of fan content where Jimmy is outright mean to Daisuke, and that’s just not really how they are portrayed in the game. Jimmy mistreats him, but he doesn’t do it in an incredibly obvious way. And that’s just good storytelling baby.

All this to say that Daisuke and Jimmy are genuinely fascinating and I wish this relationship got explored more by the fandom. There’s so much going on there!

[boydykedevo]

Would testosterone have fixed Dahlia Hawthorne? Almost certainly not, not on its own. However I do think she should’ve at least considered it

[p0orbaby]

All I Want for Christmas

summary: your daughter didn’t get the one present she really wanted

warnings: none !

a/n: thank you for the request, i hope you like it !

word count: 2.9k

-

You notice something’s off with Eliana two days after Christmas. At first, it’s subtle—an anomaly so slight it could almost be chalked up to post-holiday fatigue. Normally, mornings with Eliana are chaotic in a way that feels both exhausting and oddly necessary, as though the house depends on her noise to keep it from crumbling into silence. She bursts into the day like a firework: her small feet slapping against the wood floors, her hair a wild halo of dark curls, her voice ricocheting between pitches as she narrates her life in real time or belts out whatever song has recently embedded itself in her psyche.

Today, there’s none of that. She lingers in her pyjamas—a pair with faded unicorns that she refuses to let you throw away despite the fraying cuffs—long after breakfast. When you remind her to brush her teeth, she drags her feet, her movements lethargic in a way that feels rehearsed, like she’s trying to stretch each step into eternity. It’s the absence of urgency that unsettles you. Eliana thrives on urgency. She once cried because Alexia beat her to the front door when the postman rang.

But this morning, there’s no competition. No noise. No off-key rendition of Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo echoing from the bathroom as she “forgets” to spit out her toothpaste. You’re struck by how quiet the house feels. Not peaceful—just wrong.

By lunch, the feeling hardens into certainty. Eliana picks at her sandwich with the detached precision of someone performing a task they’ve been paid to complete. She peels the crust away slowly, meticulously, her small fingers working like a jeweller inspecting a flawed diamond. The crust sits in a neat pile beside her plate, untouched. So do the carrot sticks you’ve artfully arranged into a star shape—an attempt to disguise healthy food as something fun. Usually, she’d at least nibble on the points before declaring them “too crunchy.” Today, she doesn’t even bother with the charade.

And then there’s the Coke. You could write a thesis on Eliana’s Coke-stealing habits. How she waits, biding her time like a cat stalking prey, until you’re sufficiently distracted—mid-sentence, mid-bite, mid-thought. The moment your guard drops, she strikes: clutching the can with both hands, her face breaking into a grin so triumphant it’s impossible to be mad. You always let her have one sip, though you draw the line at more. She doesn’t push her luck; she knows where the boundary is and takes satisfaction in skirting it.

But today, the Coke sits untouched. You leave it on the table deliberately, watching her from the corner of your eye, waiting for the familiar rustle of movement. It doesn’t come. She doesn’t even glance at it.

Alexia notices it too. She’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing the cutting board she insists on hand-washing because the dishwasher “ruins the wood” (a claim you’ve never verified but don’t argue against). “She’s been quiet today,” Alexia murmurs, glancing towards the living room. Her tone is casual, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

You follow her gaze. Eliana is curled up on the sofa, her knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on top of them. The TV plays some saccharine animated film about magical snowmen and plucky penguins—one of those films where everything sparkles unnaturally, and the characters blink too often. Normally, Eliana would be transfixed, laughing at all the wrong parts and narrating the plot aloud despite everyone already watching. But today, she’s motionless. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, as though the screen is a window to a world she can’t quite enter.

“Maybe she’s tired,” you say, though you don’t believe it. Eliana doesn’t do tired. Even as a baby, she fought sleep like it was a personal enemy, crying herself hoarse rather than admit defeat. Sleep was a battle you rarely won outright; most nights, you settled for a stalemate.

Alexia doesn’t look convinced either. She dries her hands on a dishtowel, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know,” she says. “This isn’t like her”

It isn’t. And that terrifies you in a way you can’t fully articulate. You watch her from the kitchen doorway, your hand resting lightly on the frame, as though bracing yourself against an invisible weight. She looks small. Fragile. The kind of fragile that makes you want to wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her from the world.

But it’s not her size that unnerves you—it’s the silence. Eliana’s silence feels like an absence, like something crucial has been taken away without your permission. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, though you don’t know what.

And that, more than anything, is what scares you.

-

You get your answer that evening, during bedtime. Eliana’s room is a testament to her devotion to pink—a monochromatic sanctuary where even the air seems tinged with a rosy hue. The walls are painted a soft blush, a decision you regretted halfway through applying the third coat but one you could never take back once she saw the finished product and declared it “princess perfect.” Her duvet cover is a riot of pastel stars, most faded from repeated wash cycles and the occasional chocolate milk spill. On her bedside table sits a lamp with a shade adorned with tiny ballerinas, their poses forever frozen mid-pirouette.

The bookshelves, crammed to the edges, are an organised chaos of her literary life. Picture books dominate the lower shelves—familiar titles with tattered spines that you could recite in your sleep (Guess How Much I Love You has practically become your mantra). Higher up, a collection of chapter books gathers dust, ambitious purchases she insisted on during a trip to the bookstore, her eyes wide with determination. She struggles with the longer words but refuses to ask for help, insisting on piecing together syllables with the kind of stubborn grit that feels both infuriating and endearing. She gets that from you.

You tuck her in with the practised efficiency of someone who has made a ritual out of bedtime. She clutches Mr Snuggles, a stuffed rabbit so battered it looks like it’s survived a war zone. He’s missing an eye, his fur matted beyond recognition, but to Eliana, he’s irreplaceable. You know this because you’ve tried to replace him—multiple times, in fact. You’ve scoured boutique toy stores, online shops, and even eBay, searching for a plush rabbit with vaguely similar dimensions. Each attempt has been met with disdain. “It’s not him,” she always says, clutching Mr Snuggles tighter as though you’d threatened to take him away permanently.

“You’ve been quiet today,” you say, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. Her hair has reached that awkward in-between length where it’s too long to leave unchecked but too short to do anything meaningful with. She hates the hairdressers, the stiff capes they drape over her, and the stylist’s endless chatter about her favourite Disney princess. You’ll have to bribe her with ice cream to get her there.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze drifts upwards, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as though it holds the answer to some unspoken question. Her fingers tighten around Mr Snuggles, her thumb absently stroking the spot where his eye used to be. Finally, she speaks.

“Santa didn’t bring me what I wanted”

Your stomach twists in the way it does when you know something is wrong, but you can’t yet identify what. “What do you mean?” you ask, keeping your tone light. “He brought you loads of things. That dollhouse you’ve been asking for since May, the colouring set with the glitter pens—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice soft but resolute. “I wanted a sister”

You blink. “You wanted what?”

“A sister,” she repeats, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he didn’t bring me one”

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. Your brain cycles through a series of fragmented thoughts: What? When? How? You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Alexia to materialise in the doorway, her presence offering a lifeline. But the hallway is empty, save for the faint hum of the washing machine on its spin cycle. You’re on your own.

“When… when did you ask Santa for a sister?” you manage, your voice strained with the effort of keeping a straight face.

“At school,” she says matter-of-factly. “We wrote letters. Miss García said we could ask for anything we wanted”

“And you asked for a sister?”

She nods, her expression solemn in the way only a six-year-old can manage when they think they’ve been wronged.

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me? Or Mamá?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise”

You press your fingers to your temples, as if physically holding your head together will help you process what you’re hearing. A surprise. Of course. Eliana watches you with wide eyes, her expression expectant. It dawns on you that she’s waiting for an explanation.

“Well,” you begin, your words slow and deliberate, as though carefully navigating a minefield, “Santa doesn’t… bring people as presents”

“Why not?”

Because it’s illegal. Because Santa isn’t real. Because your wife and I can barely handle the one child we already have.

“Because,” you say instead, stalling, “that’s not how it works. Sisters are… different. You don’t get them from Santa”

Her brow furrows, and for a moment, she looks startlingly like Alexia—her small face drawn into a frown of concentration, as though dissecting your words for hidden meaning. “Then where do they come from?”

You pause, the weight of the question settling over you like a heavy blanket. There are a dozen ways you could answer this, most of them wildly inappropriate for a six-year-old. You settle on, “From Parents, sweetheart”

She considers this for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side. “So can you and Mamá make me one?”

The question hangs in the air, absurd and sincere in equal measure. You feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh. Or cry. Or both. “It’s not that simple, Eliana”

“Why not?”

Before you can answer, Alexia appears in the doorway, her hair pulled into a loose bun, her face flushed from the effort of folding laundry. She takes one look at your face, at the strained expression and the faint sheen of panic in your eyes, and bursts out laughing.

-

Later that night, after Eliana is finally asleep, you and Alexia sit in the living room, letting the weight of the day settle over you. The room is dim except for the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, blinking lazily in alternating patterns. The air smells faintly of pine needles and the remnants of the vanilla candle Alexia lit hours ago but forgot to blow out. There’s an almost sacred stillness in the house, the kind that feels rare and precious when you have a six-year-old.

Alexia hands you a glass of wine, her fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than necessary. She sits beside you on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her and pulling a blanket over both of your laps. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie—yours, you think, judging by the way the sleeves swallow her hands—and a pair of faded joggers. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves around her face, and there’s a faint smudge of mascara beneath one eye that she hasn’t bothered to wipe off.

She looks tired but beautiful, the kind of beauty that feels effortless and intimate, like a secret only you’re privy to. It makes your chest ache in a way you don’t entirely understand.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “our daughter asked Santa for a sister”

You exhale, shaking your head as you take a sip of wine. It’s red, something bold and expensive that Alexia brought home last week. She has a knack for choosing good wine, even though she always claims it’s pure luck. “She did”

“And she’s heartbroken Santa didn’t deliver,” Alexia adds, her tone half-amused, half-disbelieving.

“She is,” you say, setting your glass on the coffee table. The table itself is covered in the detritus of Christmas: an abandoned roll of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors, and the instructions for the dollhouse you spent three hours assembling on Christmas Eve while Alexia supervised with a glass of champagne in hand.

Alexia leans back, stretching her legs across your lap. Her socked feet are warm against your thigh, and she wiggles her toes absently as she looks at you. “What do you think?” she asks, her voice light, as if she’s testing the waters.

“About Eliana asking for a sister?”

“No,” she says, her lips twitching into a small smile. “About giving her one”

You laugh, a short, sharp sound that feels more defensive than amused. “You can’t be serious”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” you repeat, incredulous. “Because we barely survived the first time around. Do you not remember the colic? The sleepless nights? The time she screamed for three hours straight because she didn’t like the colour of her bib?”

Alexia tilts her head, as if genuinely considering your words. “She was a baby. That’s what babies do”

“Exactly. And you want to do it all over again?”

Her smile widens, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes now. “Maybe”

You groan, leaning your head back against the sofa. “You’re insane”

“I’m not,” she insists, nudging your thigh with her foot. “Think about it. Eliana’s older now. She’s more independent. She’s in school most of the day. We’re not in the trenches anymore”

“The trenches,” you mutter, reaching for your wine again.

Alexia shifts closer, her foot still resting against your thigh. “I loved it, you know. All of it. Even the hard parts”

“You loved it?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I loved being a mum to a newborn. Watching her grow, seeing all the little things she learned every day. It was… magical”

You glance at her, and the soft, wistful expression on her face makes something inside you twist.

“And you,” she continues, her voice lowering slightly, “you were amazing”

“Alexia,” you say, a hint of warning in your tone.

“I’m serious,” she says, her hand finding yours beneath the blanket. Her fingers are warm, her grip gentle but insistent. “You were. You still are. And when you were pregnant…”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

She grins, her teeth catching the light. “You were insatiable”

“Oh, for God’s sake”

“It’s true,” she says, laughing now. “I could barely keep up with you”

“You managed,” you mutter, taking another sip of wine.

Her laughter fades into a softer, more thoughtful smile. “I’m just saying,” she says, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again”

You study her, trying to discern if she’s really serious or just testing the waters. But there’s something in her eyes, a quiet certainty that unnerves you.

“You really want another baby,” you say, not quite a question.

She nods. “I do”

“And when were you planning on telling me this?”

She shrugs, looking faintly sheepish. “I don’t know. I guess I was waiting for the right moment”

“Like now? After our daughter guilt-tripped us with her Santa request?”

Alexia laughs, and the sound is warm and infectious. “Exactly”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable”

“I’m practical,” she counters. “Think about it. We can afford it. We have the space. The time. A great support system. Mami would love to help us out again”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to tell her we’re thinking about having another baby? You know she’ll start knitting booties the second the words leave your mouth”

Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “Let her. Eliana would love matching booties for her and her sibling”

The image of Eliana holding a tiny, wriggling baby flashes in your mind, unbidden. It’s too cute, too perfect, and you push it away before it can take root.

“It’s not just about logistics,” you say quietly.

“I know,” Alexia says, her voice softening. “But we’ve done this before. We know what to expect now. And we’re not the same people we were back then. We’re stronger. Better”

You glance at her, at the quiet confidence in her expression, and feel a pang of guilt for doubting her. She’s right, of course. You’ve come so far since those early days with Eliana. But still, the thought of starting over feels overwhelming.

“I don’t know,” you say finally. “It’s a lot to think about”

Alexia nods, her thumb still tracing slow circles on the back of your hand. “I’m not asking for a decision tonight. Just… think about it”

You nod, letting your head rest against her shoulder. The wineglass dangles from your fingers, forgotten. The weight of her hand on yours, the steady rise and fall of her breath, grounds you.

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Then Alexia speaks again, her voice so soft you almost don’t hear her.

“She’d be a great big sister,” she says. “Don’t you think?”

You close your eyes, letting the words settle over you. In your mind’s eye, you see Eliana again, her wide, hopeful eyes as she clutched Mr Snuggles to her chest. You see her laughing, running through the park with a smaller version of herself trailing behind her.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “She would”

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 7: The One Where the Queen Asked, “Did That Go the Way You Thought It Was Gonna Go?”

I’m probably one of the few people in this fandom who find Antonia entertaining.

Goddammit – put down your fucking pitchforks!

I didn’t say I liked her – I simply said I found her entertaining.

If Antonia’s existence bothers the fuck out of you, you’ll likely enjoy my commentary here.

*And, right about here is when I’ll slip in my disclaimer: this is my opinion only; merely speculation based on information that is out there in the public realm.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes, Antonia. I don’t find her entertaining because I think she’s a great dancer. Is she? You tell me. I mean, I have two left feet so just about anyone is better than me.

And, I have never seen a picture or video where she’s made me “like” her as a person. In fact, she comes off more like a villain, but not a brilliant villain (I might like her, then). She’s more like an Iago to, say, Deux Mois’ Jafar.

I just find her so fucking reckless, but in the most amusing way possible. If she were a movie, I’d give her 4/5 stars. The movie would be a low-budget comedy, of course.

In my opinion, she loves to troll the fandom and I’m convinced she must have notifications turned on for Nicola. The patterns started patterning early on during the World Tour (and probably before). The problem is, she’s just not great at trolling. Her attempts always fall flat, and she ends up making herself look like, well, a tryhard (hence why her movie only gets 4/5 stars).

I’m not sure what Antonia ever was to Luke but, at a minimum, I will (begrudgingly) say they dated. I know some people don’t want to hear that, but she was a player in this game for a reason. Rumor also suggests she, at the very least, squatted in Luke’s flat (and I don’t mean in THAT way).

That said, I believe she was officially taken out of the game at the end of July. However, that doesn’t mean she wasn’t still making noise from the sidelines.

One of the most humorous (in my opinion) “rah rahs” Antonia pulled was on September 28 when she posted some stories of herself at a theatre. I’m not sure if she could have been any more obvious when trying to show us her phone screen. The screen was lit up, her thumb pressed against it, and angled almost directly at the person taking the picture.  We get it, honey. You want us to see what’s on your screen. Not surprisingly, it appeared to be a blurry ass picture of Luke.

Big whoop, right? Well, actually it was because the Conscientiously Stupid took this as confirmation Luke and Antonia were together (again) and the Sincerely Ignorant swallowed their cyanide pills without water (again). And, the Fact Finders, while trying to resuscitate their dearly beloved Sincerely Ignorant friends foaming at their mouths, immediately called “bullshit” (again). The picture appeared to be old and, to be honest, it was too blurry to tell who was on the screen – although I will concede it could have been Luke. In fact, I tend to believe it was an old picture of Luke based on what happened next.

The problem with Antonia’s play style is that she doesn’t seem to catch on to the rules. She moves her pawn two spaces because she can, not because it advances her game. She has this nasty habit of ignoring, say, the opposing party’s pawn, which is in position to en passant her overly confident pawn.

Nicola had been living high on life throughout the month of September, which, in my opinion, is quite possibly the reason why Antonia seemed a bit unhinged by the end of the month (jealousy can make us do crazy shit). Among other things, Nicola had the Emmy’s (and the Wordle), the Gucci show, and, on October 1, she was presenting Simone with a Glamour Award. By this point, I believe Nicola had had enough of Antonia’s gameplay. The phone screen had struck a chord.

So, what does Nicola do?

She plays the game right back but not like she normally does with Scrabble boards, Dewy Skin Creams, and BTS wedding footage dropped at the perfect moment. This time, she does it with a power move that left her hands virtually spotless.

On October 3, Halley Brisker, Nicola’s frequent hairstylist, posted a set of four pictures to his Instagram grid, three of which showed Nicola casually posing for the camera and one showing Nicola in the process of having her hair done. It was the latter picture (#3/4 in the slide deck) that perked every Lukolas’ ears.

Low and behold sat a man, his face conveniently covered by a hairdresser’s arm, but his hands in full view. Hands that, at this point, we (embarrassingly) know too well. To date, no one has debunked the theory – more like, assertion – that the man in the picture is Luke.

Nicola liked this post by Halley, and even commented, “You legend [red heart emoji].” You’re welcome to read between the lines on that one.

I’ve always believed this Halley Brisker photo dump was Nicola’s very clever, albeit indirect, way of telling Antonia, “Checkmate, bitch.”

The point of this entry is not to convince you that Antonia is a red herring (she is), or that Luke is in the Halley Brisker photo dump (he is), or that Nicola plays the game better than most (she does). No, the point of this entry is to tell you Antonia’s game is over (because it is). Antonia lost.

So why does she remain on the roster?

Because, collectively, we as fans keep her there, sitting along the sidelines in her collapsable camp chair making noise with her cowbell. We pay attention to what she posts. We talk about what she posts. We argue over what she posts. We panic about what she posts. WE keep her in the game.

How about we don’t?

Why not start off this week with a positive change? And, not just for the USS Lukola, but for yourself as well.

If you’re following Antonia on social media (for sinister reasons) – stop. Meander over to Instagram, X, Tiktok, whatever, and unfollow her. Don’t look back. Stop checking her page. If you see or hear she has a new post, ignore it. Move on. The first day will be hard. But, the second day will be easier. You know where I’m going with this…

I mean, Luke can’t quietly unfollow her if we’re constantly looking in that direction, right?

P.S. If you need more convincing that Antonia’s shelf life has expired, I have a CliffsNotes response for that: https://www.tumblr.com/threeacttragedy/767137910999957504/great-blog-but-if-all-was-not-good-with-l-and-a?source=share.

P.P.S. Moving forward, I don’t give two boiled rabbits about what Antonia does. I will most certainly refer back to her in a historical sense (she does fill in bits and pieces of the Lukola timeline), but if she posts a crockpot tomorrow, don’t expect me to comment on what could be in it.

P.P.P.S. If you have any understanding of what the little chessboard I’ve dropped in to my picture means, I salute you.

[eeldritchblast]

Wyll Ravengard Deserves Healing Too

Every origin companion in Baldur’s Gate 3 is traumatized in some form or another, and they all deal with it in different ways. That is only realistic. But let’s take a deeper look at the inequality between how these stories of trauma are written and presented to the player. Because when we do that, it is extremely noticeable that there is one character who never receives the same level of catharsis bestowed upon everyone else: Wyll.

Shadowheart was abducted as a child to be raised in an abusive cult. When this is brought to light, the player is able to help her confront her abuser and find her parents again. Even if her parents die, Shadowheart is at least given closure; she has a whole scene in which we see her finally break down into tears, and the player can comfort her.

Gale ended up with an orb of Netherese magic inside him, ready to explode and destroy not just him but everything in his radius. He went into a deep depression and relied on Tara to keep him alive, pre-game. His goddess/ex-lover then tasked him with a suicidal mission. But Gale is able to confront Mystra and either regain her compassion or reject her and forge his own godhood. Either way, Gale is able to heal physically and emotionally.

Lae’zel, much like Shadowheart, was also raised in a torturous environment, only to realize that her Queen Vlaakith is nothing but an abuser and a user. She is able to ally herself with a rebellious faction rising against Vlaakith, not just freeing herself but potentially her entire People.

Karlach was betrayed by Gortash and sold to Zariel, who replaced her heart with an infernal engine, making it impossible for Karlach to keep living outside of the Hells. Even if she doesn’t end up with a cure, the player can at least help her confront Gortash, and like Shadowheart, she gets a whole special scene for her to finally work through her bottled up emotions.

Astarion was enslaved and tortured by Cazador for over two-hundred years, who would have used him in a ritual that resulted in his death. The player can help Astarion confront Cazador and potentially kill him, which leads to Astarion getting a small scene where he cries out in a mixture of emotions.

But what of Wyll? At just age seventeen he was given the choice of either selling his soul to Mizora, or see Baldur’s Gate fall to a dragon cult. The terms of his pact prevented him from telling the truth about the situation, resulting in his idolized father banishing him. Ever since, he was bound to Mizora, and we see how she treats him in game as if he’s a dog. Wyll is just as traumatized as his companions, and yet, where is the ability to comfort him? Where is his closure? It’s all disregarded, in favour of more content with Mizora.

Wyll’s personal quest at the start of Act Three has him forced to choose between giving up his soul to save his father, or freeing himself and seeing his father die. Now, it is possible – though difficult – for the player to rescue Duke Ravengard themselves even if Wyll breaks his pact with Mizora. But even if this is so, reading Mizora’s mind results in the player hearing her admit she will never stop trying to harm Wyll’s father.

The reason you can read Mizora’s mind is because she is just there, hanging out at your camp! There is even a sex scene between her and the player available! Just imagine for a second, if that was Cazador or Viconia in Mizora’s place. Mizora is nothing but Wyll’s tormentor, just like Cazador for Astarion and Viconia for Shadowheart, and yet she is permanently there, giving witty one-liners and trying to seduce the player. Attack her, and she only disappears to reappear again, unharmed. You cannot get rid of her, and it’s played for laughs.

Wyll deserves comfort. Wyll deserves a chance to show his emotions, too. Yes, I’m aware that part of his character is that he tries to downplay his concerns in order to maintain his heroic persona, but that just means it would have been even more powerful to finally gain his trust enough for him to share how he feels with the player, truly.

Wyll is the only Black companion – and only one of two visible characters of colour, period. (The other being Karlach, who while yes is a tiefling, based on her facial features in the full release of the game is East Asian.) It is hard to believe it is all just coincidence that it is the only Black companion was given no opportunity by the writers to receive any significant emotional support or show any significant relief from his trauma. Statistically, African Americans who need mental health treatments receive less than 50% of treatments that white Americans receive. This is despite African Americans having 20% more likeliness to undergo serious psychological distress than white Americans. [X]

No, Wyll Ravengard is not a real person, and I am not attempting to equate a fictional character to real life struggles. My point here, is that the way in which Wyll was written mirrors the way in which the mental health of Black men and boys in real life is systematically ignored and downplayed, with the belief that they can and must “tough it out”. My point here, is that I have a hard time believing the prejudices and stereotypes against Black people did not contribute to Wyll’s lack of content. Specifically, the lack of content related to his healing.

[demigod-shenanigans]

Re: Reyna joining the Hunters and why I think it’s actually really depressing

So for a variety of reasons I’m not a huge fan of Reyna’s arc ending with her joining the Hunters of Artemis. Part of that is rrverse characters should be allowed to be single without joining the eternal celibacy club, but that’s not a problem exclusive to Reyna. I also think handling asexuality in the context of celibacy by choice is… messy by default, especially if it’s your one confirmed ace character.

Beyond that, though, there’s a bunch of context surrounding Reyna’s life and personality that just make that choice seem really sad to me?

I’ll split this into three thematic subsections and put the second and third one under the cut because this got pretty long

Reyna and her sense of duty:

I highly suspect Reyna’s fatal flaw is her sense of duty. This is never explicitly confirmed (because no one except Percy and Annabeth has confirmed fatal flaws), but duty is the theme her entire character revolves around. Basically from birth she’s raised to believe the fate of New Rome lies on her shoulders. A lot of her actions in the books explicitly link back to her sense of duty.

She runs herself ragged trying to find Jason and trying to manage a job made for two people on her own before Son of Neptune.

A lot of her conflict stems from the fact that what is necessary to protect her home (leaving her post and following Jason) inherently clashes with the rules of that home.

Reyna also actively chides others (like Lavinia in ToA) for leaving their posts and not sharing that same sense of duty.

Because of this, like Jason, Reyna is never really able to be a kid.

Joining the Hunters sort of does a good thing in that it allows Reyna to gain some distance specifically from New Rome, which her fate and also a lot of her trauma regarding her upbringing revolves around.

But it doesn’t allow her to be a kid any more than being a praetor at Camp Jupiter did. Potentially less so, actually, seeing as the Hunters are basically always on the move doing something important while at Camp Jupiter you probably have regular days off and a city to visit and relax in always right around the corner.

Reyna lays down one duty and immediately commits herself to the next one. She doesn’t grow and learn that she doesn’t have to carry the fate of the world on her shoulders. She just trades one burden for another.

—————————

Reyna and her emotions:

The timing of Reyna’s choice to join the Hunters seems really off. New Rome is mostly destroyed and just suffered a catastrophic amount of losses. Reyna absolutely has a right to step down as a leader, but this seems like an odd time for her to do it, especially considering she just completely up and leaves instead of at least sticking around to help rebuild her home and then join the Hunters after. As someone so fundamentally defined by her duties and her loyalty to New Rome, why does she spend half a day off-screen and then suddenly decide actually she’ll leave her destroyed home and all those grieving people for someone else to deal with? It just seems really out of character for her.

This begs the question: is Reyna really making that choice because she figured out it’s what she wants, or is it because she can’t deal with what happened? Because looking at all the destruction and attending all the funerals—deaths that happened while she was technically in charge but unable to be present, people she was supposed to protect—reminds her of every way she’s failed her home?

Also, Jason just died.

Jason was Reyna’s best friend for years. He was the first person she allowed herself to grow close to after her sister left her, and very possibly the first person she ever fell in love with. She never properly got to make up with Jason. Very likely they were both afraid to be hurt again. They both thought there’d be time for it later. But there wasn’t. There isn’t. She only got her best friend back in a coffin, and even in death, returning to New Rome (to her) wasn’t Jason’s choice.

Reyna leaves the place where they grew up together, the duties they used to share and all the memories—memories that were just hers, no longer his, since he never properly got them back—two days after she watched his pyre burn.

How much of that is her leaving because she wants to, and how much of it is the fact that she can’t keep her walls up and keep herself going in the place that used to be theirs, where Jason’s ghost is staring back at her at every corner? How much of her leaving is her unwillingness to deal with her grief?

Reyna running away from her feelings is an ongoing theme. It makes sense from a lot of different angles why she’d do it.

She was raised by an abusive father who often turned his feelings (what child Reyna would have seen as “love”, but was primarily paranoia/anger) against her and Hylla.

It’s also addressed directly that Reyna worries if she feels nervous or scared, her emotions will cause the camp to worry as well—her power is quite literally to project her own emotions outward, so if she does that with negative emotions (intentionally or unintentionally), it would cause problems. Suppressing them feels safer. On top of that, in her role as a leader, she has to provide a certain sense of confidence and assurance even when she herself doesn’t feel it.

Joining the Hunters instead of facing those feelings is not exactly a great way to heal in that regard.

————————

Reyna and the weight of Bellona’s prophecy:

As far as we’re aware, Camp Jupiter has faced more threats in the few years Reyna was in charge than it has in centuries. First the Titan war (which Reyna must have arrived partway through, depending on how early the Romans even knew about and were involved in what was happening there), then the war with Gaia, then the Emperors.

And obviously that’s not actually Reyna’s fault—Reyna is, in fact, a huge contributing factor to why these disasters weren’t a lot worse and didn’t claim even more lives. But this is all put on the shoulders of a girl who knows her fate is intricately linked to the legacy of Rome.

A girl who is already convinced that her love is fundamentally destructive and keeps other people from being happy. Her father spent her entire childhood suspicious of Reyna potentially betraying him—and, because she ended up killing him in self-defense, it’s very easy for a traumatized ten year old to internalize that maybe that suspicion was totally warranted. Then Circe’s Island gets destroyed. Then Hylla finds her happiness with the Amazons by leaving Reyna. Then Jason leaves her, seeming so much happier with Piper and Leo than he ever was with her.

Everyone she loves always seems to be happier without her.

So maybe the best thing she can do for New Rome—a home that she loves and that has faced so much destruction in the short time she’s spent there—is to leave.

Maybe the best way to keep New Rome safe (because New Rome’s survival is linked to Hylla and Reyna’s bloodline continuing to exist) is to make herself immortal and preserve it that way. Because, unless Reyna dies in battle, she could live centuries—potentially thousands of years—as a Hunter. She can’t ever properly go back to the home she loved, because that’s not how the Hunters work. But she’s still bound to her fate by her blood. She’s still doing her duty to New Rome by living as long as she can.

It’s not something she can ever be free of.

The worst thing about this is I think Reyna choosing to find a fate for herself outside of New Rome could have actually been a great way to conclude her arc, but god do I wish it was executed differently and actually given proper exploration/space to breathe instead of just resolved by taking her off-screen for a few hours and then sticking her with the group of female warriors that barely gets to have any plot relevance outside of conveniently coming to people’s rescue.

[novaursa]

A Lion's Leap (under the dragon's eye)

- Summary: The king announces the betrothal of his youngest daughter, you, to Tyland Lannister. But even the Lannister Lord is taken off guard, as there has been some miscommunication regarding the proposal.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: namesake

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Tyland Lannister paced back and forth in his chamber, wringing his hands and mentally preparing himself for what felt like the most dangerous conversation of his life. Not even the thought of facing down his brother Jason after their last argument felt as terrifying as what he was about to do: approach Rhaenyra Targaryen for advice. On how to woo her sister, no less.

The marriage was only a week away, and despite his best efforts to appear composed, Tyland was at a loss. You were kind, gentle, and far less fiery than your older sister, but in truth, he barely knew how to connect with you. He had decided to give you a small trinket, a gift to show his affections and intentions, but what sort of thing would you appreciate? Something personal, meaningful—but what? After hours of agonizing, he had concluded that only one person could help him, even if she would rather throw him into the Dragonpit than give him advice.

And that person was Rhaenyra.

Summoning every ounce of Lannister courage (and pride), Tyland found himself standing outside her chambers. He adjusted his tunic for the tenth time, tried not to wipe the sweat from his brow, and knocked, his knuckles sounding louder than intended. The door opened slowly, revealing the princess herself. Rhaenyra looked up at him, her expression immediately turning guarded, and Tyland could feel the temperature drop several degrees.

"Lord Tyland," she said, her tone cool, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tyland swallowed, feeling as though he had just entered a dragon’s lair. Which, metaphorically speaking, was exactly what this felt like. "Princess Rhaenyra," he began, attempting a polite smile that probably looked more like a grimace, "I was hoping I could... seek your counsel on a matter of importance." He hesitated. "Regarding your sister."

Her brow lifted, and she crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Regarding Y/N?" she repeated slowly, clearly intrigued but not yet lowering her guard. "This should be interesting."

Tyland took a deep breath. "With the wedding approaching, I... I wish to make her feel more comfortable in our union. I intend to give her a small token of my affection, something meaningful, but I... confess, I do not know what she might appreciate most." He shifted awkwardly, waiting for the inevitable snide remark, but to his surprise, Rhaenyra simply studied him.

For a long moment, she said nothing. Tyland could practically hear the wheels turning in her head, as if she were deciding whether or not to indulge him in this request. Finally, she sighed and gestured for him to come inside.

"Very well," she said, her voice carrying that authoritative tone she so often used. "But let me make one thing clear, Lord Tyland." She glanced over her shoulder as he followed her into the room. "I still don’t particularly like the idea of my sister marrying a Lannister. Any Lannister." The way she said it made his name sound like a bad taste in her mouth. "But..." She paused, turning to face him again. "Since this is happening, I suppose it would be in Y/N’s best interest for you to at least try."

Tyland gave a nervous nod, feeling the weight of her words. "That’s all I wish to do, Princess."

Rhaenyra studied him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to detect any insincerity. After what felt like an eternity, she finally relented, though her voice remained cautious. "Y/N doesn’t care much for jewelry or gold," she said slowly, watching his reaction. "So if you’re thinking of presenting her with a necklace or some grand ring, you may as well throw it into the sea."

Tyland blinked. "No jewelry?" That had been his entire plan—some beautiful Lannister heirloom or a finely crafted trinket, something shiny and expensive. He immediately started panicking inside. What else was there? "Then... what would she appreciate?"

Rhaenyra exhaled, clearly not thrilled to be aiding him in this venture. "Y/N prefers simpler things," she continued, her tone begrudging, as if she couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. "She’s thoughtful. She likes things that have meaning."

Tyland leaned forward slightly, his desperation growing. "Such as?"

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, as if holding back something. She glanced toward the window, clearly weighing her options before speaking. Then, in a voice so low that Tyland almost didn’t catch it, she muttered, "Honeycakes."

Tyland blinked. "I’m sorry, what?"

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked back to him, and she scowled. "Honeycakes," she repeated, clearly annoyed that she had to say it again. "She has a soft spot for them. There’s a particular kind made with cinnamon and a bit of lemon zest. She’s liked them since we were children."

Tyland stood there, staring at her in disbelief. Honeycakes? He’d been expecting some grand revelation—perhaps a cherished family heirloom or a rare flower from the gardens of King’s Landing. But no. Honeycakes. Cinnamon and lemon zest, to be precise.

Rhaenyra caught the look on his face and smirked, though there was a hint of reluctant amusement in her eyes. "What? Surprised she isn’t pining for a crown of gold?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "My sister’s tastes are simpler than you Lannisters might expect."

Tyland felt a strange mixture of relief and bemusement. "Honeycakes..." he repeated, half to himself.

Rhaenyra sighed, clearly done with the conversation. "If you want to win her favor, find those cakes. But don’t make a spectacle of it." She fixed him with a look that told him exactly what she thought of grand, Lannister gestures. "Y/N values thoughtfulness, not showmanship. Keep that in mind, Lord Tyland."

He nodded earnestly. "Of course, Princess. I... I truly appreciate your help." He bowed, though he couldn’t quite shake the strange image of presenting his bride-to-be with a basket of honeycakes before their wedding day.

Rhaenyra didn’t bother to hide her smirk as he turned to leave. "Good luck, Lord Tyland. You’ll need it."

Tyland Lannister felt as though he was walking into battle. Not with a sword, mind you—he’d gladly take a sword over the delicate parcel he was carrying in his hands. The package was small, neatly wrapped, and smelled faintly of honey and cinnamon. He could only hope Rhaenyra’s advice was sound, though he still had lingering doubts that honeycakes were the key to winning over a Targaryen princess.

He had spent the entire morning overseeing the creation of these cakes, much to the confusion of the castle’s cooks. Tyland had never concerned himself with culinary matters before, but today, he hovered over the bakers like a general over his troops. The result? A batch of perfectly golden cakes, warm with the flavors of cinnamon, honey, and a hint of lemon zest. Now, with the prize in hand, Tyland approached the gardens where he knew you often spent time with your ladies-in-waiting.

As he entered the gardens, he spotted you sitting under a tree, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves around you. You were surrounded by a few ladies, all of whom were laughing softly at something one of them had said. The moment felt peaceful, idyllic—until Tyland realized he was about to intrude on it, honeycakes in hand. Here we go, he thought, straightening his shoulders and adopting what he hoped was a casual, confident stride. In reality, he probably looked like a man trying to act casual while delivering baked goods to royalty, which is to say, he looked incredibly awkward.

You noticed him approaching and smiled, though there was a hint of surprise in your expression. “Lord Tyland,” you greeted softly, causing your ladies to quiet and glance between the two of you with interest. “What brings you to the gardens today?”

Tyland cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of how out of place he felt among the roses and lilacs. “Princess,” he began, holding out the small package as if offering a peace treaty. “I... thought you might appreciate these.” He paused, then added awkwardly, “A gift.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity piqued. “A gift?” you repeated, your eyes drifting to the bundle. “What is it?”

“Uh... honeycakes,” Tyland said, his voice cracking just slightly on the word. He felt like a fool standing there, a grown man delivering pastries like some kind of bumbling suitor, but it was too late to back out now. “With cinnamon and lemon zest. I, uh... I heard they’re a favorite of yours.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and for a brief moment, Tyland worried he had completely misunderstood Rhaenyra’s advice. But then, to his relief, your face broke into a delighted smile, and you reached out to take the bundle from him. “Honeycakes?” you said, your voice filled with genuine happiness. “Oh, I haven’t had these in so long!”

Tyland blinked, startled by how quickly your expression had brightened. You unwrapped the parcel with eager hands, revealing the still-warm cakes inside. Without hesitation, you picked one up and took a bite, your eyes closing briefly as you savored the taste.

“They’re perfect!” you said, beaming at him. “Thank you, Lord Tyland.”

Tyland felt a wave of relief wash over him, though he was still a bit taken aback by how easy it had been. You seemed so happy, genuinely pleased by something as simple as honeycakes. For the first time since this entire betrothal had been announced, Tyland felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all.

The ladies-in-waiting exchanged glances, clearly entertained by the scene, but Tyland barely noticed. He was too focused on the way you smiled as you continued to eat the cake, your delight evident in every bite. He had never seen you so at ease before, and the sight made something warm stir in his chest.

Still, the moment wasn’t without its awkwardness. Tyland stood there, unsure of what to do now that you had accepted the gift. Should he sit? Leave? Compliment the flowers? He cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I, uh... I’m glad you like them,” he said, feeling rather out of his element. “I thought... it might be something meaningful.”

You looked up at him, your expression softening. “It is,” you said, your voice gentle. “It’s thoughtful. Thank you, Lord Tyland.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to say next. You continued to eat the cake with such genuine enjoyment that it almost made the awkwardness worth it. Almost.

After what felt like an eternity of standing there, Tyland finally found the courage to sit on the nearby bench, careful not to intrude too much on your space. The silence that followed wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it was... well, a bit awkward. You looked at him with a kind smile, clearly sensing his discomfort but not pushing him to speak.

“I... wasn’t sure what you liked,” Tyland admitted after a moment, his voice a little quieter now. “But I wanted to try. To show you that... I’m trying.”

You regarded him thoughtfully, finishing the last bite of your honeycake. “I can see that,” you said, your tone warm. “And I appreciate it, truly. It means a lot.”

Tyland felt a strange sense of accomplishment—something he hadn’t expected when he first started this endeavor. For the first time, he felt like he had made a connection, however small, with you. There was still an awkward distance between the two of you, but it wasn’t as insurmountable as it had felt before.

As the two of you sat there, surrounded by the soft sounds of the garden and the distant chatter of the ladies, Tyland couldn’t help but feel a bit more hopeful. This marriage, which had once seemed like an impossible task, might turn out to be something different. Something better.

Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be such a terrible mistake after all.

The great hall was alive with the sounds of celebration—music, laughter, the clinking of goblets—and Tyland Lannister found himself in the very center of it all, though it felt like a whirlwind he was somehow caught in. He glanced to his right, where you sat next to him, radiant in your wedding finery, your presence as serene and composed as ever. At least one of us looks like they belong here, Tyland thought with a nervous sip from his goblet.

King Viserys, sitting at the head of the table, looked positively jubilant, his rosy cheeks practically glowing from the wine and the joy of the occasion. Every now and then, he would raise his cup to no one in particular, chuckling at something that seemed to amuse only him. Tyland suspected it was the fact that everything had gone smoothly, despite the strange, tangled mess of the betrothal in the first place.

Rhaenyra, seated a little further down the table, was sending Tyland sharp looks. But, to his relief, they weren’t the I’m going to feed you to a dragon kind of looks she usually reserved for him. No, these were more the I’m watching you kind, which, while still intimidating, felt significantly less lethal. Perhaps her sister’s obvious happiness had softened her a little—though Tyland wasn’t foolish enough to think she would ever fully approve of a Lannister as a brother-in-law.

Daemon, however, was another matter entirely. Leaning lazily in his chair with that unmistakable smirk plastered across his face, he hadn’t said much during the feast, but his eyes had been on Tyland more than once. And every time their gazes met, Daemon’s smirk seemed to widen, as if he knew a secret that Tyland didn’t. It was, frankly, unsettling.

Tyland shifted slightly in his seat, trying to ignore Daemon’s gaze, when the first of the lords began to approach the newlyweds.

Lyonel Strong, ever the statesman, stepped forward, his smile warm and genuine. “Lord Tyland, Lady Y/N,” he said, bowing slightly. “Congratulations on your union. May it bring great strength to both your houses.”

“Thank you, Lord Lyonel,” Tyland managed to say with a polite nod, grateful for the safe, neutral tone of the congratulations. Lyonel Strong wasn’t one for scheming or underhanded dealings—just the sort of man Tyland preferred in moments like this.

But Lyonel wasn’t the only one approaching. The next figure who came into view made Tyland’s stomach flip just a little: Otto Hightower, Hand of the King and, perhaps more importantly, the very man responsible for mixing up the marriage proposals in the first place.

“Lord Tyland,” Otto said, his voice smooth as silk, his smile conspiratorial as he leaned in just a touch too close. “Congratulations on this most fortuitous match. It seems my... suggestion has borne fruit, wouldn't you say?”

Tyland stiffened slightly, managing a tight smile. “Indeed, Lord Otto. Your... foresight was certainly... unexpected.”

Otto chuckled, a sound that made Tyland want to check his coin purse, just in case. “Ah, unexpected, yes, but beneficial, wouldn’t you agree?” He straightened up, giving a small nod in your direction. “The realm is stronger for it, and I daresay House Lannister has found itself in a most advantageous position.”

Tyland could feel the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. Advantageous position. Yes, Otto expected gratitude. And not just the kind exchanged over pleasantries at a feast.

“As we move forward,” Otto continued, his voice lowering slightly, “I trust you’ll remember those who’ve helped place you where you are, Lord Tyland.”

Tyland’s smile faltered slightly as he nodded, already feeling the strings that Otto was undoubtedly weaving around him. “Of course, Lord Otto,” he replied, his voice carefully measured. “Your assistance has not gone unnoticed.”

“Good,” Otto said, his smile never faltering, though it held the slightest edge of expectation. “Very good.”

And just like that, Otto moved on, leaving Tyland to reflect on the many ways that conversation could come back to haunt him in the future. But before he could dwell too long on it, another voice interrupted his thoughts, and this one he knew all too well.

“Well, well, well, look at you!” Jason Lannister strode forward, his usual swagger on full display, followed by several other members of their family, who were all beaming as if this were a victory for House Lannister rather than a wedding. Jason’s grin was wide, bordering on smug, and Tyland braced himself for the inevitable teasing. “You’ve managed it, little brother! A princess! You’ve done the family proud.”

Tyland fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Jason,” he greeted, trying to keep his tone civil. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Jason clapped a hand on his shoulder, far too pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t be modest! A Targaryen bride! I didn’t think you had it in you, truly.”

From the corner of his eye, Tyland saw you hide a smile behind your goblet, clearly amused by the exchange, and something about that small gesture made him feel just a bit lighter. At least someone found Jason’s antics amusing.

“And what a bride you’ve got,” Jason continued, his grin never faltering. “Lady Y/N, you’re far too good for my brother, but I suppose he’s luckier than he deserves.”

You blushed slightly, though you managed to smile at Jason. “Thank you, Lord Jason,” you said politely, clearly trying not to laugh at his exaggerated praise.

Tyland groaned inwardly, already anticipating the endless teasing that would follow in the weeks to come. But despite Jason’s smugness, there was a genuine warmth to his congratulations. Tyland couldn’t help but feel that, in his own ridiculous way, Jason was proud of him.

The rest of the Lannisters offered their congratulations, each one with varying degrees of sincerity, but Tyland couldn’t help but feel more hopeful as the night wore on. There was something comforting about being surrounded by his family, as chaotic as they were, and sharing this moment with you by his side.

As the music swelled and the feast continued, Tyland glanced over at you once more. You were laughing softly at something one of your ladies had said, your face lit up by the glow of the nearby candles. For the first time, he realized just how lucky he truly was. What had started as a mix-up, a political maneuver he had been dragged into, was starting to feel like something much more.

Maybe, just maybe, this marriage would be more than a strategic alliance. Maybe it would turn into something he hadn’t dared hope for—something real.

As the feast began to wind down, Tyland Lannister found himself seated with a goblet of wine in hand, but not really tasting it. His mind was spinning, already working out how he might navigate the dreaded bedding ceremony. Maybe he could politely refuse—after all, he was a Lannister, and surely that carried some weight. Or perhaps he could find a way to subtly remove himself from the hall before anyone had the chance to call for the old, humiliating tradition. Yes, he could—

But before Tyland could formulate an escape plan, he noticed Daemon rise from his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes. A sense of impending doom washed over Tyland, and he immediately stiffened. Nothing good ever followed that look in Daemon’s eyes.

Daemon raised his goblet, drawing the attention of the entire hall. “My lords, my ladies,” he called out, his voice carrying effortlessly over the murmurs of the crowd. “Now, as is tradition, we celebrate the union of my dear niece and her new husband.” His grin widened, and Tyland’s heart sank. Here it comes, he thought, mentally preparing for the worst.

“But,” Daemon continued, his voice dripping with mock solemnity, “we are a house of dragons, not sheep. So, I say we leave behind the old customs of the bedding ceremony, and instead…” He paused, clearly relishing the moment as all eyes turned to him. “Instead, it’s time for the bride to saddle her husband upon the back of her dragon.”

Tyland’s goblet slipped from his hand, clattering onto the table. He was too stunned to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Saddle? Her husband? On a dragon? His mind struggled to process the words, but Daemon’s smirk left no doubt—this was very much real.

Around the hall, murmurs of confusion and amusement rippled through the guests. Tyland’s gaze shot to you, but before he could say anything, his worst fear was confirmed when King Viserys—his father-in-law—joined in, clapping his hands together and laughing heartily.

“Now, that is a fine tradition!” Viserys exclaimed, clearly pleased. “No need for the old ways, not with dragons in the family!” He looked positively delighted with the idea. “I agree with my brother. Let my daughter’s husband show his bravery by riding Silverwing!”

Tyland felt the blood drain from his face. He had never felt further from his Lannister pride than in that moment. This had to be some cruel jest, a nightmare, perhaps. But no, it was all too real. He glanced at Daemon again, who was leaning casually on the table, watching Tyland’s horror unfold with gleeful satisfaction.

Across from him, Rhaenyra looked positively delighted, her lips curling into a smirk as she exchanged a glance with you. Tyland had no doubt she was enjoying this far too much. Her amusement was only compounded by Daemon’s outlandish proposal, which had, of course, been accepted by none other than the king himself.

Tyland’s mind raced. Saddle her husband? On a dragon? He wasn’t sure whether to faint or flee. He wasn’t even sure which option was worse—public humiliation in a bedding ceremony or being strapped to the back of Silverwing like a sack of potatoes.

You, seated beside him, must have sensed his panic, for you reached out and gently touched his arm. “Tyland,” you said softly, your voice calm despite the absurdity unfolding around you. “It’s all in good fun. No one expects you to actually ride Silverwing.”

“Don’t they?” Tyland croaked, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes darted to Daemon again, whose smirk seemed to widen with every passing second.

You gave him a reassuring smile, though your own amusement was evident. “Daemon enjoys making people uncomfortable, but he doesn’t expect you to ride a dragon. It’s just a joke.”

Tyland blinked, trying to absorb your words, but it was hard to find comfort when Daemon’s eyes were still fixed on him like a cat playing with a particularly entertaining mouse.

“I assure you,” you continued, “Silverwing isn’t saddling anyone tonight.”

Tyland exhaled in relief, though his heart was still racing. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered, glancing warily at the dragonlords at the head table. “Because I’m not exactly fond of being... airborne.”

At that, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “I’ll make sure no one forces you into the air,” you promised, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

But before Tyland could fully process your reassurance, Daemon raised his goblet again. “Well, Lord Tyland,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, “are you ready to embrace your Targaryen heritage and take to the skies?”

Tyland swallowed hard, feeling the eyes of the entire hall on him. He opened his mouth, searching for a polite way to decline without looking like a coward, when Viserys, still chuckling, waved a hand.

“Leave the man be, Daemon!” the king said, clearly enjoying himself. “Let him have his peace. There’ll be plenty of time for dragonriding later.”

The hall erupted into laughter, and Tyland felt his face flush with both relief and embarrassment. He shot a grateful glance at Viserys, who seemed more than satisfied with how the evening had turned out.

Daemon, still smirking, raised his goblet in Tyland’s direction. “Another time, then, Lord Tyland. But remember, it’s only a matter of time before you’re one of us.”

Tyland forced a smile, nodding stiffly. “Of course,” he managed, though he hoped that time was very, very far away.

As the laughter died down and the feast continued, you leaned in slightly, your voice low enough for only him to hear. “You handled that well,” you said with a teasing smile.

Tyland shook his head, still feeling a little shaken by the ordeal. “I’m not sure well is the word I’d use,” he muttered, though your soft laughter brought a smile to his face despite himself.

He took another deep breath, relaxing a little as the mood in the hall returned to its earlier festive atmosphere. It hadn’t been the disaster he feared—though it had been close. And perhaps, as he glanced at you beside him, smiling and clearly amused by the absurdity of it all, this union wasn’t going to be as terrifying as he had once thought.

As long as Daemon didn’t try to strap him to a dragon again.

[bella-goths-wife]

How the Vs are affectionate with pet reader

Velvette, vox and Val x assistant reader

Warnings: Valentino, SA mentions, forced affection, the Vs are terrible people, abuse

Vox:

At first, the affection between you two is very forced for vox

He’s affectionate with you in the same way he’s affectionate with his fans

Simply an arm around your waist or a squeeze of your cheek

It’s simply a tactic to disarm and charm as much as possible

But as time goes on, and vox grows more accustomed to your presence and eventually his affection changes

As he begins to mold you into his personal entertainment and possible heir, his affection become harder to define

It’s a mixture between what could be seen as fatherly affection towards you, and the sick possessive streak within him to keep you close to him at all times

And sometimes there is an ever present threat of violence as a backdrop for his affection

What could start out as a hand on your shoulder in a paternally proud moment could easily turn to a hand tugging on the collar around your throat to get you to pay more attention to him

What could be misconstrued as a comforting hug to an outsiders eye could easily be turned to a suffocating attempt to keep you close

With every affectionate action vox bestows on you will always come with the condition that abuse may be added into the adoring look he gives you

In all honestly, vox doesn’t understand where he stands with you when it comes to affection

He knows that realistically he shouldn’t see you as a surrogate daughter, but his mind says otherwise when he sees one of his habits rub off on you

But sometimes the pure happiness and possessiveness you bring out of him disgusts him so much that a hand on the shoulder just has to turn into a hand wrapped around your already delicate throat

He needs to remind himself and you that no matter how much he sees himself in you, you will always be his weak pet

“You can teach a dog many tricks to make them useful, but at the end they will always be a mutt at their masters feet” he had said to himself when he feels his paternal feelings for you grow too strong

He lies to himself and states that your easily replaceable, but he knows deep down that if something were to happen to you

He’d electrify the entire pentagram if it gave him enough light to find you in the dark

Velvette:

Velvette is not an affectionate person at all

Even to the people she cares about, like the Vs, she never feels the need to give unnecessary affection

So affection from velvette is extremely rare

The best you’d get from her in a day to day situation would be her linking her arm with yours as you walk

And that’s only after you’ve been her pet for months at least

But there have been rare moments of softness from her

After she’s had a particularly stressful day, she’ll command you to sit in front of her as she traces the intricate musical note scars etched into your face

Following the patterns carved into your soft skin always has a calming effect on her, but she’d never admit that to anyone

If she’s in an extremely good mood she’ll hug you tightly or she’ll do your make up and hair herself instead of making her employees do it

Once when she was in an extra good mood she gave you a small kiss on the forehead in celebration before hugging you and then commanding you to get her a business partners on the phone

Fair to say, any affection between you two must be on her terms

If for some ungodly reason you tried to initiate affection with velvette and she’s not in a extra extremely good mood then your getting pushed to the floor and ridiculed to tears

The only time other than her good mood that she’ll accept you initiating affection with her is when you’ve had a breakdown and your extremely vulnerable

She tells herself that it’s because she wants to use it to manipulate you, but it’s mostly because even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she does care for you

Your her pet after all, her loyal little doe like stray who her and the Vs saved from the streets

And she makes sure to remind you of that fact every time you squirm in her hold

Valentino:

Valentino swears that he can’t remember how to give platonic affection

It’s been so long since he’s been affectionate with someone he hasn’t hooked up with, is currently hooking up with or intends to hook up with

And he didn’t care about that for the first few months of your employment, he just treated you the same as the rest of

And his touch and affection was sexual in many ways but didn’t cross that boundary surprisingly

He tiptoed the line between sexual assault and inappropriate behaviour like a professional

But after he admitted to himself that he didn’t have sexual feelings towards you and he actually had a small part of himself caring about you, he tried to stop his touches from being seen as predatory

His inappropriate hands drifting too low when he put his hands on your shoulder turn to him ruffling your hair in what he thought was playful

He tried to make his touches more platonically motivated, but to you his every touch held a sexual undertone because of his past actions

His every touch made your skin crawl as it begged you to scrub it until his touch had been eradicated from your body

But all you could do was hold still and pray for it to end quicker

Because if you don’t appreciate his attempts at making you feel more comfortable for him, then he can easily go back to making his touch uncomfortable again

[salethe2]

I’ve seen a lot of takes on this scene, and honestly they’re all so interesting, so I decided to give my perspective.

Okay, starting with Armand’s costume, which Carol Cutshall absolutely nailed. Here’s what she said about Armand’s costume design:

—“One of the things about Armand is he is so ancient and so powerful that he always presents himself as very open. Whereas some of the other characters are very covered up, he’s always very open because he really doesn’t see anyone as a threat to himself. He didn’t have any predators or any reason to be on guard, or be armoured.”

Personally, I find this design choice fascinating because, despite being a predator at the top of the food chain, vampires like Armand, especially as a coven leader, would normally need to remain vigilant. Yet, he’s completely at ease, even surrounded by other vampires.

I mean, look at him here. Sure, it’s not the deep, open V-neck shirts he wears in the interview scenes, but his outfit is still loose and open. And he’s literally surrounded by a group of vampires he knows are plotting against him. He even has his back to said vampires and yet, he’s not the least bit nervous in either situation!

Even with Daniel, he’s not nervous or afraid because he doesn’t initially see him as a threat.

So, if Armand isn’t scared of his own coven—a bunch of vampires ready to kill him at the first opportunity—or Daniel, who could potentially expose all his manipulations, then why on earth does he go into full armor mode to meet a seemingly inconsequential human he’s never encountered before? He’s literally in a turtleneck, shielding his most vulnerable area for crying at loud!

A for body language—honestly, Assad Zaman deserved an Emmy for this scene. We see Armand being aloof, a little suave and condescending, employing the whole, “I’m a four-century-old vampire; you’re just a lowly human” tactic. It’s like he’s sizing her up, wanting to understand who she is while simultaneously aiming to provoke her, curious to see how she will react.

As for his questions, he frames them in the way you might expect a coven leader to interrogate a human he’s about to turn. Questions like, “How will you survive? Are you okay with killing people and being a monster?” It almost seems like he’s trying to make her reconsider her decision to turn, but it’s all a facade.

Because the question he really wants to ask is the last one, and when he finally approaches it, his entire demeanor shifts.

He sheds the suave demeanor and shifts to a more serious tone, embodying what Louis describes as his "post-apocalyptic look." He towers over Madeleine, gazing down at her in an attempt to intimidate. At this point, Madeleine's expression turns genuinely nervous, perhaps even frightened—and understandably so. Yet, she holds her ground. It's then that Armand poses the crucial question he had come specifically to ask.

“And what will you do in a few decades when she throws herself into the fire? Because she will.”

Now, why does this question seem familiar? It’s because Armand has previously made a similar statement to Louis. He had forewarned Louis that Claudia’s mind was bound to deteriorate over time. Now, Louis tearfully countered that Armand couldn’t be sure of this, yet part of him probably recognized the truth in Armand’s words, which likely contributed to his emotional plea for Armand to look after her.

Armand realized then that Louis, despite his deep love for Claudia, lacked the resolve to keep her grounded, effectively sealing her fate, which seemed all but inevitable by that point. He even assigns Claudia the role of Lulu as a way to infantilize her and further break her spirit—almost as a test to gauge Louis’ reaction. Unfortunately, Louis does nothing about it, while Madeleine clearly recognizes it for the manipulation it is.

And what does she do next? Madeleine quickly gets Claudia out of that outfit and into one more fitting for her. By doing this, she threatens Armand’s plans without even realizing it.

It’s also interesting to note that the only time Armand is ever truly angry with Claudia is when he sees her with Madeleine. This reaction underscores the threat he perceives in their bond, disrupting his control of the situation, and here is why.

When Armand posed the question to Madeleine about what she would do when Claudia throws herself into the fire, her response was:

“Or maybe she won’t. You don’t know. Maybe I’m what she needs to survive.”

And the way she meets his gaze as she says this marks a shift in their conversation. Throughout their entire conversation, Madeleine often looks away and breaks eye contact, but not in this moment. Here, she meets his gaze head-on. Even though she is clearly nervous, and likely a bit scared, she holds his gaze because she is sure of her words. This is a powerful moment where Madeleine not only asserts her belief but also turns the tables—now, it’s Armand’s turn to feel uneasy.

Of course, you don’t see it in his face, but it’s evident in his body language. The way he becomes closed off, his hand fidgeting, and his gaze fixed ahead as if deep in thought. He doesn’t even refute her.

Even with Lestat, when he warns him about Nicky, Armand doesn’t stay silent; he confidently affirms his insights, and Lestat—of all people—clearly believes him. But with Madeleine, it’s a different story. He goes silent, not uttering a word in response. He doesn’t attempt to persuade her because he recognizes that her mind is made up, her resolve unshakable. But perhaps the words that really hit home for him were “You don’t know.” This was probably the words that sealed Madeleine’s fate because the last thing you want to say to a master manipulator and control freak like Armand is that they don’t know something. Because now, all of a sudden Claudia’s death isn’t a certainty anymore and he can’t just sit back and wait for her to lose her sanity. He must take matters into his own hands now.

Anyway, one might think that Madeleine and Claudia leaving, thereby leaving Louis all to Armand, would satisfy him. After all, one of the first things he asks Claudia and Madeleine is if they’re considering returning to Paris, and you might assume Madeleine’s answer pleased him. However, her answer doesn’t satisfy him, not after what Madeleine says soon after.

Madeleine’s words confirm that Claudia indeed loves Louis, and because Madeleine loves Claudia, she persuades her to return to Paris despite her obvious and valid disdain for the city. This revelation proves to Armand, even if they leave Louis, Madeleine and Claudia will always remain a significant part of Louis’s life. For Armand, this is intolerable. To him, Claudia is a dangerous manipulator and a competitor of Louis’s attention.

So even if they all lived happy, separate lives, Armand’s nature is such that he cannot live with the doubt and fear that Claudia might draw Louis away from him. Having been abandoned too many times in his life, deeply wounded by those closest to him, and left behind for others, he cannot risk experiencing that pain again.

Thus, in that moment when he speaks to Madeleine in the apartment, he decides that both she and Claudia need to be eliminated. I believe this was the real reason Armand was there under the pretense of turning her. He needed to evaluate how much of a threat Madeleine posed to his plans, and upon realizing she was basically a live grenade, he knew he needed to act swiftly to get rid of her. Because as long as Madeleine is present, so will Claudia, and as long as Claudia exists, Louis will never truly belong to Armand.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Alastor x Reader Master List

My Alastor list is getting crazy long so I am giving it it's own post just so my big Hazbin Hotel Master List doesn't get too confusing.

Other Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

List of Things I Won't Write

Series are marked in purple

Requests are marked in pink

Suggestive are marked in orange

NSFW are marked in red

Make You Wish Master List -> Y/n has known Alastor since she first ended up in Hell. When he disappeared? She thought her life was over. Seven years have passed since then and slowly but surely, the 1950s housewife turned murderer has made a life for herself, full of good decisions and some bad ones. What will happen when Alastor turns back up again, sending the world as she has made it into chaos once again?

What Can I Do For You (Alastor x Reader) → What if the deal Alastor made that is controlling his power was with Y/n?

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader) → Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

→ Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader) -> Reader wakes up in Alastor's room at the Hotel after the events of Understand.

Wrath (Alastor x Overlord!Spouse!Reader) → Y/n’s anger in finding that after seven years, their husband has returned to Pentagram City and decided not to tell them.

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader) → It is too late for him to change things now. It doesn't matter what else has happened, that he's gotten to know her, seen her light. Some broken things can never be fixed. 'You came' 'you called' but make it sad.

→ Unrequited Pt. 2 -> Reader steps in when Alastor is attacking Husk.

→ Unrequited Pt. 3 -> Alastor refuses to let Y/n be present for the battle against Heaven and will do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if she hates him for it.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader) → Alastor and Y/n have a deal with Lilith where until a soul is redeemed at Charlie’s hotel, Y/n is under her control. Alastor will do whatever it takes to get his wife back, but that doesn’t mean he won't get a little sad a lonely along the way.

Loving You (Alastor x Gn!Reader) → Valentine's day special :) The story of how Alastor and Y/n realized they had feelings for one another.

Sweet (Alastor x Chubby!Reader) → Hurt//comfort. A random demon insults the reader and Alastor comes to comfort her, later dealing with the demon in a typically Alastor way of handling such a crime.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader) → Fake dating trope. Y/n and Alastor met when they tried to kill one another, how could they not end up at least a little bit in love?

-> Cover Up pt. 2

→ Cover Up pt. 3

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader) → Y/n just wants to watch the world burn. Being married was a boon at first but later, rather inconvenient. When she died, she did everything she could to avoid her husband and continue her work but fate had other plans.

→ Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

→ Till Death do us Part pt. 3

Prepare for Battle (Platonic!Alastor x Platonic!Cat Demon!Reader) → Alastor and Y/n have been engaged in a prank battle for decades. What happens when just a few days after Alastor reappears in the Pride ring, Y/n joins him at the Hazbin Hotel?

Rhapsody Master List → Gn!Reader. Alastor and Y/n have been taking down the overlords of Hell together for years but Y/n has had a secret and Alastor knows it. They each go their separate ways because of this but what happens when years later their paths intersect once again. Loosely inspired by Raine and Eda in The Owl House.

The Guilt (Alastor x Reader) → Y/n was the one person he never meant to kill, but Alastor didn't have a choice. Years later, much to his surprise, they run into one another in the depths of Pentagram City.

Pretty Bunny (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Alastor catches Angel and Y/n getting ready for a night out and stops Y/n from going. Hurt/comfort.

I Myself am Strange and Unusual (Alastor x Living!Addams family!Reader x Lucifer) → Y/n is bored and summons some demons. 

The Love (Alastor x Reader) → Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Frostbite (Alastor x Reader) → History repeats itself in odd and uninvited ways. Life cycles on even in death.

→ Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader) → It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

→ Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

Mishap of Magic (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Alastor’s magic backfires and Y/n is there to help. Who would have guessed that a situation such as this would give him the last push he needed to tell her how he felt? 

Destruction//Creation (Vox x Alastor's Ex!Reader x Alastor) → Alastor refuses to let the past die and Y/n would rather pretend it never existed.

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader) → Alastor meets his shadow.

Masquerade (Alastor x Angel!Exorcist!Reader) → Y/n is sent to the Hazbin Hotel as a spy.

Downfall (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader) → Y/n see’s Alastor talking to Rosie and thinks she is what he wants in a woman. Little does she know, he was meeting with Rosie to ask for advice on how to talk to Y/n.

What it Means to be a Person (Alastor x Cyborg!Reader) → Y/n gave an arm and a leg to the fight against the exterminators and feels she has lost her humanity by the bionic replacements Lucifer and Charlie gifted her in return. Alastor reminds her that not all is lost, she can still dance, after all.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Chubby!Gn!Reader!) → Alastor likes the fact that Y/n has begun matching their lipstick to their nail polish -- loves it, in fact. What he doesn’t like is that other people have started noticing. (this one is a bit… weird so I am marking it as suggestive.)

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader) → What happens when Alastor spots his ideal target, Mimzy’s newest hired talent? What happens when they evade his capture? What happens when, slowly, he begins to realize -- Alastor doesn’t want to kill them? At least, not anymore.

Drawing Down the Moon (Alastor x Ancient Roman!Witch!Reader) → Alastor reencounters an old friend.

[literatureloverx]

Just use this blog! I would love to get your thoughts in Chuuya since you do such an amazing job with Fyodor. Would be awesome to know your ideal types for the other bsd guys (..well chuuya mainly)

Such a cutie patootie request 🥹 I love it, and I’ve been wanting to write about this for a while now!

I’m a bit nervous about writing a character who isn’t Fyodor, but I really hope I can meet your expectations. ❤️ I would hate to disappoint. 🥺

Just a heads-up: I’m also planning to write about Dazai’s, Nikolai’s, and maybe even Akutagawa’s ideal types at some point. ❤️

Chuuya x fem!reader, Chuuya x ideal type!reader.🧡

Chuuya’s ideal type

In my character analysis post for Fyodor, I mentioned that Fyodor is not a "darling-neutral" character, which suggests that he has a very clear and non-negotiable ideal type.

However, this is certainly not the case with our beloved Chuuya.

Chuuya is genuinely "darling-neutral," but I’d like to depict an ideal type nonetheless, as I believe he has some aspects he would greatly admire in a woman.

Although I can’t recall where I read it, it was mentioned somewhere that Chuuya appreciates elegant people with a good sense of fashion.

When I think of such a person, I immediately picture an elegant woman who knows how to carry herself effectively and gracefully.

A good sense of fashion often indicates high self-esteem and self-worth.

This leads me to believe that Chuuya’s ideal type would definitely be someone confident.

It’s important to clarify that confidence doesn’t mean being loud or mean.

Imagine someone who is elegant, feminine (but not hyper-feminine), and confident.

This person would not be gracefully meek or silent but would act, look, behave, and move with class and confidence.

Given Chuuya’s own pride in his male strength, his keen sense of fashion, and his confidence brimming with pride, I believe he would fall for such a person almost immediately.

However, his ideal partner should not challenge him in a way that disrupts his sense of harmony.

This is precisely why he says he hates Dazai; it’s not that he hates Dazai himself, but rather the constant challenges Dazai presents that unsettle him.

Chuuya is a proud man in every possible way, and he wouldn’t easily tolerate disrespect or undue challenge.

In terms of physical appearance, I don’t think that attributes like hair or skin color, height (even though he is 5'3"/160 cm), or weight would be of significant importance to him.

However, I don’t believe he would be attracted to someone who is obese. Don’t get me wrong—he is strong enough to carry someone regardless of their weight, but it’s simply not his vibe.

“If a person’s body is prominent, it should be due to athleticism.”—Chuuya, probably.

Still, I don’t see him caring much about your fitness level either.

When I said he is "darling-neutral," I genuinely meant it.

I believe that Chuuya could easily fall in love with a shy, more masculine, sincere, or careful partner.

He has a beautiful and deeply humane heart, which allows him to see the best in his partner, no matter their characteristics.

However, this is not in a naive way—he would guide his partner to the right path if he sensed something might be off.

On the emotional side, Chuuya loves challenges, but his life is already filled with them. He might seek rest in his partner’s arms rather than being constantly challenged.

He would likely get bored with someone who is only loving but not truly engaging, as he is not a passive person himself.

Chuuya is active in whatever he does.

Chuuya is active in everything he does, so he needs a partner who can at least keep up with his lifestyle.

As a feared man and a valuable part of the Port Mafia—an executive, no less—his position should not intimidate his partner.

This is why I believe he wouldn’t keep his situation a secret.

He wants a true partner, someone loyal to him who also has a life of her own with meaningful activities, so she doesn’t feel alone or isolated when he’s not around.

His ideal partner should be independent and capable of taking care of herself, but also willing to let him take care of her—not because she needs it, but because she wants it.

This is how Chuuya expresses his love, through grand gestures and physical affection.

His partner should accept this wholeheartedly.

Loyalty is one of the most important aspects of Chuuya's relationship with his partner. He is loyal until the end of time, and he expects the same in return.

Then there’s his expensive wine collection—he’s not a heavy drinker, but he enjoys a good glass of wine now and then, especially when celebrating or unwinding after a long day.

He would expect his partner to share these peaceful moments with him. His vulnerable state when he drinks and relaxes gives him a sense of domestic warmth.

I’m not sure if this is a common interpretation of Chuuya’s character, but I see him as a somewhat possessive lover—perhaps not possessive in the typical sense, but definitely territorial.

Sexually, he may be very possessive, but in other aspects, he’s more about asserting his territory.

Because he won’t take it lightly if someone flirts with you or eyes you, you’ll need to be someone who can maintain a certain distance from others when necessary.

This is why I envisioned an ideal type for Chuuya who is classy, carrying herself with elegance and confidence, rather than someone who is chatty or bubbly.

Chuuya is territorial, and while you’re free to do as you please—go shopping with friends (he would even give you his black card), meet them anywhere, or engage in any activities you like—he barely has time for himself.

So, when he does have time for the two of you, he would expect you to set everything else aside to spend that time together.

That is why he needs someone who is ready to make sacrifices when needed.

Edit: I practically forgot to mention any real sexual content about his potential darling, so here they are:

I don’t think he would care whether his partner is a virgin or not, but if you are, he’d be very proud to be your first and would strive to make your first experience as beautiful and sensually unforgettable as possible.

However, I can’t see him being attracted to someone who is "too open" with sexual encounters, like someone who sleeps around.

This simply doesn’t align with the image of a woman who carries herself with confidence and grace.

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

I’m just gonna post this now cause I saw something that irritated me and I’m about to spiral. Mel thee Medarda😍.

What this fandom has done to her… Is the exact reason why existing as a black fem in a predominantly white ( including white gay) fanbase should come with reparations. This woman is a child of war and pilgrimage. It doesn’t matter that she was a Medarda. she was still a child! That ish will change you and it’s clear in her interactions with her mother she at the very least saw the endings of wars and campaigns, I can’t imagine those being pretty. Mel being the black sheep and lowkey scapegoat child of her family is not talked about either. As a teen she is sent away from the only support system she knows doesn’t matter if it was toxic, it was still familiar, to a brand new land where she had to build herself up again as a TEEN (probably since they never stated when she was casted out)! She spent her formative years in Noxus, where the strong survive. It is not surprising that while she detest violence and aggression, she uses her guile/ persuasion aggressively. By the time Arcane season 1 starts Mel is a young woman in her 20s on the council (the youngest council member too) and like Tok’s said Mel is a young woman who is extremely sure of herself… as a front. Mel is a woman who actually hates herself or at the very least is an extremely aware of how little all this means to the people that matter to her. We see this in the first scene of Mel in the show, where Elora reminds her of the fact she is the richest person in Piltover and Mel quickly remarked saying “And yet I remained the poorest Medarda”. The fandom quickly took that as Mel being power/money hungry when in reality that self depreciation was coming from a real place of insecurity. She knows how the Medardas’ are and how little they care for the fox and it bothers her. She’s not doing this for power in the way that it is presented. She’s doing this to prove a point. That her mother is wrong and the fox can be powerful. She is also trying to convince herself of that too.

From what we can gather in the show through her flashback and interactions with Ambessa, it’s clear that Mel definitely was considered to weak willed and soft spined for Noxus. I mean Ambessa says that to her before she casted her out. The fact that Mel apparently can still say the quote verbatim shows how scarring it was.

Mel is a woman caught in the extremes. She wants to uplift Piltover to prove herself to her family but also knowing what that means she also wants to protect Piltover from Noxus.She is a woman who has a love overflowing but has nowhere to pour into until she meets Jayce ( I’ll save that for a MelJay post though). I think because of how reserved Mel is,due to her upbringing and Ambessa literally discouraging, it’s not really discussed how Mel is probably emotionally stunted.

I have a lot more I can say about Mel as a character, she is literally my number 1 since season 1 but this post is already long and all over the place but this is a tip of an iceberg of how I digested her as a character.

Ps someone on TikTok said Mel was the Arcane version of Apollo and it makes so much sense(she is the beautiful child of an affair but is also the light bringer and a patron of the arts). Her and Ambessa was definitely a Greek Tragedy, at least to me.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

I’m a little nervous talking about this, but I’ve had these thoughts for a while and want to get them down somewhere, so here we are!

There’s a common discussion within TMA of the Idea of human vs monster, and where the line between that is drawn, and this discussion especially applies to the avatar’s and their feeding habits, their desires to hurt others — their hunger. But, I think, that mentality can often lead to the real question being ignored, and that’s the question or choice.

It’s a common theme within TMA, and is prominent within the Becoming of avatars, and what they do after.

A good way of understanding Jon’s feeding in s4 isn’t through the lens of how human is he, rather it’s through the lens of how similar he and Melanie are. He and Melanie act as foils to each other during s4, their actions and choices emphasising their opposing paths.

The gist of it is both wanted to hurt people. It felt good. Both admit to this fact.

And the reason they chose it, is because they’re hurting. Melanie admits to this outright. She’s been angry so long, with little else for her, lashing out and desperate to survive, and suddenly, she has this thing etched into her bones, telling her that this anger is righteous, that hurting herself and hurting others is good. Both are aware that this isn’t good, of course, but it’s so hard to let go of that little, reassuring voice, because doing so means confronting yourself, and your struggles.

I speak as someone with C-PTSD, but this is a very realistic depiction of how it feels, at least to me personally. When you’ve been so powerless for a long period of time, and suddenly, something or someone tells that it’s okay to lash out, to hurt, it’s easy to fall into the destructive cycle, because hurting other people, taking away their power, it gives you a sense of control back, a sense of power.

It isn’t right, of course it isn’t, but it just feels so good.

This is again shown by Melanie and Jon’s separate paths.

Melanie ends up choosing to recover after the bullet is removed, when she could have just as easily found a new, self-destructive path to go down, and it’s not just because the bullet was removed. Taking away her agency here takes away from her arc. She chooses to accept help and she really does work on bettering herself. She doesn’t want to hurt people anymore. Jon doesn’t do that. He feels he can’t. He’s had his power taken from him more times than he can count, been at the mercy of people and monsters, and finally, finally he has power again. He’s put in the position of the tormentor and it feels good. He finds satisfaction in it. And, as with Melanie, there’s a little voice in the back of his head telling him this is right, no matter how guilty he feels afterwards.

He makes excuses to himself, tries to rationalise his own actions as a way of coping, finding a reason to do it again because it’s all he has. It’s a comfort. Is there a supernatural element present? Absolutely! The relationship between Entity and Avatar is one that can just as much parasitic as it is symbiotic, but I think more of Jon’s character is lost by dismissing his darker choices. If anything, the darker choices emphasise his compassionate choices, and vice versa.

Jon can be a victim and still hurt other people; that’s an important thing to acknowledge. Avatars are not just their fears, there is far more to their hunger than that, and they are who they are because of their choices and wants.

Basically, Jon and Melanie are wonderfully written characters and I really love the themes of choice in TMA, can you tell?

[fulcrums501st]

On micro-expressions and their effectiveness. (ft. example from s1ep3)

Micro expressions communicate effective info only when deliberately and specifically calculated into the scene from the start.

the issue with peope justifying writing in s2 with micro expressions isn’t that we shouldn’t use expressions to understand a story, they’re obviously intentional and they are an aspect of storytelling. The issue is that s2’s writing is messy and inconsistent, and thus so are the conclusions we draw from the character expressions. Especially if we are supposed to infer character motivations ONLY from expressions. Character motivations/internal conflicts are left up to interpretation in s2 when they should be deliberately clear and explored within the story instead of being left to random facial expressions.

the writing surrounding the scene with the expressions must be specific, so that the audience understand the specific context and intention behind the expression. s2 is cluttered making this hard, and it makes the micro expressions present unreliable in understanding character motivations and thoughts because they are left vague and up to interpretation. when these should be fundamental aspects of characters are specifically explored and clearly showed.

Micro expressions can’t tell us these things when the writing itself doesn’t surround the expression with enough specific context in the story for us to be able to catch what it means. Thus, micro expressions can’t be used as an alternative to dialogue or direct action all the time when the writing itself is so all over the place.

Example of micro expressions in s1 that work to tell the story with specific intention cuz the writing and directing surrounding the moment is clear, deliberate, and precise.

A man asks about a little girl’s sister, holding a knife behind his back. Hiding his intention to kill the little girl. But that is clearly his intention. At least, originally.

The girl is clearly distressed.

So she flings herself into the nearest person to her. Disarming the knife the man concealed.

The moment is slow, and gives us the chance to take in what is happening. Just as the man does. And he is caught off-guard, stunned.

The girl declares that she was left and that her sister is no longer her sister. The still stunned man, listens as we deliberately zoom in on his face, to take in the expression. As we will take in his thought process.

He looks to his own brother, who betrayed him, left him, whose betrayal decided he was no longer his brother.

We zoom in on the man’s expressions, again, as he looks down on the little girl. He connects that she has been abandoned by a sibling, just like he had.

Earlier in the episode, there was another crucial deliberate, and striking expression that we saw from this man: fear and vulnerability. when faced with the same violence his brother used when betraying him years ago. It humanizes the man by showing us how on a such human level this betrayal was still hurtful and traumatic, no matter what he preaches about moving past it. It is still a memory that sparks vulnerability from this unique trauma. A sort of soft spot.

The man, clearly empathizes with the same type of betrayal the little girl is now facing. This same moment of vulnerability that he evidently has not fully moved past from. A trauma that he relived that same day. He hugs her, comforts her.

The man’s complex thought process and change in motivation is deliberately expressed with expressions only. Every line. Every shot. Everything had specific intent and vision, as the script does, and the moment is paced in a way for us to take in the character changes that are occurring.

s2 leaves micro expressions up to interpretation as it does with many of its character arcs and motivations. Leaving the conclusions the audience makes from the scenes inconsistent and sloppy, unlike s1, because we are not deliberately led to understand our characters with these expressions. in this scene the shots and expressions show us what Silco is thinking a because it is parked paired with the specific and deliberate context (his relationship to Vander) and very intentional dialogue(“she left me, she is not my sister anymore”)

This allows us to understand his thought process and motivations, mostly without words. Expressions must be deliberate and paired with specific context for us to properly understand the character’s thinking. The directing itself must emphasize the expression and context if the expression itself is the main way a character’s thought process is being conveyed. And the scene must be paced in a way, and point to specific beats in a way forces the audience to understand what is being communicated. The direction must come into play.

s2 does not do this as effectively, because the writing is inconsistent and cluttered. Making the micro expressions lazy and unreliable arguments for character intention/motivation.

[wetnoodle]

I don’t think I could hate silco.

Do I think he’s a good person? Are any of us truly good?

Does he do bad things? Yea but it’s at least in the name of the greater good. At least he doesn’t just do it because he can.

Zaun is a very fucked place with a very fucked system. He’s doing what he thinks needs to be done in order to at some point be able to rein it in and make it better.

He wanted to give Zaun a fighting chance against Piltover. He wanted to make them equal. And in a place where there are no rules. And people talk with violence. You’re going to have to make some very awful choices in order to not only take control, but have enough power to fix it.

I’m not trying to excuse his behaviour. I’m just saying I can see why he would make the choices he did. And I know there were most definitely better ways to handle it. But he did what he could with what he was given and the life experience and hardships he was dealt.

He may not be a good man. But he’s a good father.

He’s not only present but active in Jinx’s life. He encourages her passions and creativity. He lets her decorate his things. And he obviously doesn’t mind. Cause they’re on display to anyone who comes into his office. And I’m sure if he was more stern or scary at getting her to stop, like we all know he is capable of being, then she would fear him too much to keep doing it.

He comforts her both emotionally and physically. She’s having a hard time and she seeks comfort in him. By hugging him or sitting with him. Or being held by him. And he talks her down. Tells her she’s allowed to make mistakes but it doesn’t make her the worst thing ever. That she’s enough. He reminds her that they’re family because he knows it’s the things she needs to hear. She was literally wanting to die and who did she see. Not someone to torment her. But her dad. Showing her what to do with herself.

He took in his best friends child even though they tried to kill him. And he loved her with everything he had. Even in his death he was still comforting her. Not angry she killed him. Just reassuring her that even now he loved her. He chose her.

I’m not saying he’s the grade an example of what a dad should be. I’m not saying he didn’t benefit from her or manipulate her. I’m not blind to how he did her wrong too. How he tied her up in his war. I’m not saying he’s the best. But I’m not saying he’s a bad dad either. He could have been abusive. He could have enforced the ideas that she had grown up with that she was a ruiner. He could have not even taken her in as his kid but as another pawn. He could have made her do those things for him, but he gave her choices. He guided her.

I’m not saying he’s innocent but he’s not guilty. It’s not as simple as that.

He may not have been the one to change Zaun, but he’s raised the girl that could.