#this is written so badly end me

[littlefankingdom]

OK, which comics people consider "good writing" for Jason as Red Hood? Because it seems as if anytime he appears is labelled "bad writing" for his character. At this point, it seems only Under The Read Hood is good, but, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, one story from 20 years ago isn't enough to determine his whole character? Can he not change and grow? Get worse perhaps? Should he be stuck behaving exactly the same forever, which is at a point in his life where he was really not well mentally? And don't answer Lost Days, that's the story about how he grew to be like he is in Under The Red Hood, that's not answering how he should behave now.

Btw, this is not an invitation to tell me how you would write Jason as Red Hood or what you want to see him do, and what you want DC to do with him. I'm asking WHAT CANON are you basing yourself on.

[writer-room]

You ever just see people talk about the Percy Jackson books and know somewhere, deep in your heart, that none of these people have understood that this is a series made for middle schoolers. And that fandom will very frequently lie to them like, all the time. No, that character probably isn’t ooc, you’re just thinking of what the fandom turned them into. No, this book isn’t a horrible stain next to the others before it, literally all of them were like this. It’s Percy Jackson. It’s cheesy and occasionally makes a very questionable writing decision.

You gotta be in this for the long haul or jump ship my guys. Be cringe and free or be gone

[whoatemyshoe]

[shady-tavern]

The Tailors on Baker Street

Warning for implied/referenced domestic abuse and murder. Please take care of yourselves, this is possibly a bit darker than my usual fare.

***

There was a tailoring shop at the end of Baker Street, a small but rather popular store, run by a married couple. They were ever polite and friendly, sharing gossip with mischievous winks and listening to the trouble of their customers. 

Their wares were of good quality and it was said they could fix every dress and coat, no matter the rip. Whatever one needed, they had it and they were said to finish orders swiftly and as desired. Their fine stitches and detailed embroidery were the envy of many.

There was another rumor about them, shared in soft whispers and away from prying ears. When you had fled to your friend, terrified, helpless and bruised, admitting you couldn't take it any longer, she had told you there was a solution to your problems.

Go to the tailors at the end of Baker Street and present them with a daisy, your friend had told you, briefly dipping into her yard to pluck one, shoving the small flower into your shaking hands. Give it to them, they'll know what to do.

And here you were, in front of a modest, well taken care of storefront. A carriage bustled past behind you and you fiddled with the daisy, doing your best not to wear it down with your gut-wrenching anxiety.

It took more courage than should be necessary to set foot into the store, your heart pounding hard enough you felt it beat in your throat. There were some customers, looking over ribbons and fabric, before examining shirts, breaches and skirts, along with coats and dresses on hangers. They barely paid you any mind, too focused on their tasks.

You nearly squished the poor flower in your grip as you lingered by the door, fighting the urge to leave before someone spotted you.

"Welcome and good day, how may I help you?" a woman's pleasant voice made you flinch in surprise and you turned to the lady who had approached you. She was beautiful and well dressed, if simply, for work. Her dark hair was neatly pinned up and pretty earrings reflected the light. 

She wore a brooch, made of three daisies and her eyes held a strange, golden shimmer. You quickly chalked that up to the light falling in through the window. Some people simply had unique eyes, after all, but these held you captive for just a moment despite your body nearly shivering with stress.

"Um." You gestured with your hands, mouth dry and heart pounding. Her gaze fell to the slightly worn looking daisy.

"Oh, how silly of me," she said, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk ahead of her. "You're here to pick up a custom order, aren't you? Forgive me for forgetting, it has been such a busy day."

You wobbled a small, unsure nod and scurried ahead, head kept down. The woman led you to the back of the store, where real custom orders were waiting on a rack, all finished and well made. The space was clean and neat and had two worktables below the windows, one abandoned with a half finished blouse lying neatly on top.

A tall man looked up from the second table, pausing in sewing a silver button onto a dark blue coat. "Has there been an issue with an order, Milly?" he asked, mild and pleasant, voice the nice kind of slightly-deep. He was handsome, his beard and hair neat and well groomed. He was just as well, if simply, dressed as the woman and he, too, wore a brooch made of three daisies.

His gaze fell to the by now somewhat mangled flower in your hands and he hummed in understanding, setting the coat aside. You felt your shoulders hitch up a bit at his undivided attention.

"Please, take a seat," the woman said, gesturing to an empty stool. "We'll be right with you."

As you nervously perched, rather than sat, you saw her set out a sign and close the door to the backroom.

"How can we help you?" the man asked, calm and steady, his hands folded in his lap. 

His face was kind, but there was a glint in his eyes, something as cool and sharp as the scissors lying near his elbow. You noticed a strangely golden shimmer in his eyes as well, but you were too anxious and worried to wonder about that.

"We would love to know who recommended us," the woman added and while she smiled, pretty and charming, she too had eyes of sharp, cold steel. "We love to see our business grow in the right direction, after all."

You glanced between them, wetting your lips. "My friend, Jane Martin, said I should come here." 

Should you leave? Sure, you were terrified to go back home, but could they really help? Would they even believe you? Was it right to get strangers involved, maybe even hurt? 

Lots of people were in your position, stuck with people who mistreated them. Just last week they had fished a dead woman out of the river, face and neck bruised.

At your words, subtle tension eased out of their faces and their eyes lost the sharp coldness. "Miss Martin is a very valued customer," the woman said with a smile that truly looked pleasant now, not just pretty. Something about it made your shoulders relax a little. "Forgive our caution, I am Milly and this is my husband Julius, what brings you to us?"

"You seem a bit haggard," Julius added, a soothing tone to his voice that unexpectedly helped you take a calming breath. "I'll go and make us all a cup of tea."

Milly took a seat by the free table, most likely hers, arranging her skirts in an elegant motion. Their manners were as prim and proper as those of the upper class, though their fingers were callused and you noticed a small scar on Julius' wrist as he prepared tea.

"Take your time," Milly said, voice gentle and patient and you felt your throat tighten all of a sudden, tears blurring your vision. "Speak with us whenever you're ready."

"What about your store?" you asked, an unwanted rough quality to your voice that gave away your emotional state.

"No need to worry." Julius offered you a reassuring smile.

You had no idea how they did it, but their presences felt...pleasant. You usually didn't trust strangers, but looking at them, you found the tight grip around your heart and stomach easing. They did not look at you with pity, and instead their calming steadiness felt reassuring.

Even the guilt and shame felt muted as a gentle floral scent filled the air, sunshine casting everything in soft warmth. Under other circumstances you might have left again, not wanting to bother these kind, unexpectedly pleasant people.

But the fear that had driven you out of your house still sat in your gut like a block of poisoned ice. Once again you wished you had found the courage to back out of the marriage after you had accepted the proposal in front of your family. 

Your parents however had been all-too happy that you had married into a rich family and they did not want to hear anything bad about your spouse. They especially had cut you off mid-sentence when you had suggested going public. They would not want to risk the wrath of a richer family upon themselves.

Your father had suggested that it was your fault that your spouse was...unpleasant. That you weren't sweet enough, kind enough, accommodating enough. That you didn't listen enough, that you talked back too much. You hadn't spoken with your parents since.

You had gone to the police exactly once and you knew better than to do that again. Your spouse was a valued member of higher society after all and had made sure you understood how far their influence reached.

"Here you go," Julius said, handing you the cup of tea, his fingers carefully not brushing yours, and sitting down. "Speak freely, we will believe you."

You met their gazes and they were so steady and earnest you felt breath flow into your lungs properly for the first time in days. You believed that they would believe you. It settled something within you, your withered courage taking root and growing enough to help you speak.

Haltingly you told them the story, clinging to the delicate porcelain cup Julius had handed you. You couldn't bring yourself to take a sip, but the floral fragrance and the heat warming your cold fingers helped.

"Are you safe at the moment?" Julius asked after you finished your story.

"I'm staying with my friend." For now. For as long as she could hide you at her place without your spouse causing trouble.

"If you ever find yourself unsure where to go, come to us," Milly said, gaze serious. "No matter the time. One of us will let you in and you will be safe here."

You inclined your head, hoping you were never forced to take them up on their offer. It was strange, however, that you believed that, too. A part of you, more instinct than rational thought, already felt safer. It shouldn't be possible, not when you knew how powerful your spouse was. That simple tailors couldn’t stand a chance against someone who could crush them in so many ways.

And yet...it felt like fear had no place here. Banished from this room by sunshine and the presence of these two, who had eyes tinged in gold. Who looked at you with so much truth nothing could have shaken it apart. You realized that your fingers had stopped shaking, that your skin no longer felt cold.

There was a thread of calm that had settled within you while you had spoken, easing your heart and soul.

"There is but one thing we need of you," Julius said, drawing your attention. "Would you mind leaving the key to your home with us? You can retrieve it again at the end of the week, at which point you can return home."

"Oh, of course." You pulled the key out of your pocket, handing it over. "What are you going to do?"

Milly's smile could have been reassuring and compassionate at first glance, but all it reminded you of was a razor sharp blade held against an unprotected throat. Not your throat, you still felt that sense of safety, but more like a weapon waiting to drink the blood of its enemy. "We'll take care of things, don't you worry."

You should keep asking. You should ask what they were going to do. If you were a good person, like the priest preached you were supposed to be, you would ask for the key back and request they forget your visit. You should return home, obedient and quiet and accept the place you had been given. The hand fate had dealt you.

But your mouth felt glued shut and the courage rooted within you stubbornly grew a tiny bloom of hope. Fuck fate. Fuck God if this was what He considered just and right. You deserved better, you deserved to live without fear and pain. You handed over the cup when Julius held out his hand for it.

"Let me show you out," Milly said and you found yourself secretly glad to not immediately lose her company. "There is a carriage that will take you back to your friend." When you tried to protest, she silenced you with a sweet, genuine smile. "Let us look after you as long as you're here."

While Julius cleaned up the cups, Milly accompanied you to the front step of the shop and waved over a waiting carriage. "Make sure she gets home safe, Leopold," she said, offering her hand to help you into the carriage. 

"Stay safe," she murmured at last and for just a moment, you swore the gold gleam in her eyes was brighter than ever. You nodded and she closed the door, her gaze holding yours until the carriage lurching into motion. Even then you looked back at her and saw her watching you leave until you rounded the corner.

You gripped the thoroughly mangled daisy tightly and closed your eyes. You didn't dare pray, worried that god might notice and put a stop to things. But deep down, you hoped you would be free soon, no matter how it happened.

*.*.*

You returned to the shop at the end of the week, feeling exhausted and frayed, like an old, worn piece of fabric. Your friend had done her best to distract you and keep you busy, but it hadn't helped against the tension that wouldn't leave you.

It was early when you showed up and Milly had only just opened the store, since both had just finished setting up the last of their wares.

"Ah, good day, my dear," Milly said with unexpected warmth, stepping toward you as though you were truly welcome company. 

You were surprised to see how happy and languid she appeared to be. Her husband moved with the same deep relaxation when he bowed his head respectfully to you, offering a charming smile. 

Strangely enough, they reminded you of well fed cats enjoying a spot of golden sunlight. An air of effortless confidence surrounded them, a quiet strand of power that wove into the sense of safety that lingered all around them.

"I'm not too early?" you asked, your nervously wringing hands claming. Whatever they had done, it had made them very and deeply happy.

Milly's smile morphed into a grin and the gold in her eyes was brighter than ever before. She seemed so radiant you couldn't look away. She was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. "No, of course not. Are you ready to head back home?"

You didn't mention that the house of your spouse had never felt like home. The last time you would have called a place that, you had been a child of eight and had stayed with your aunt and grandmother during the summer months. After the falling-out your father had with his side of the family, you hadn't seen them again.

"I am," you answered anyway. You couldn't continue to live at your friend's place. Even if she didn't mind, she was currently seeing a particularly sweet gentleman and once they became serious about each other, you'd swiftly overstay your welcome.

Julius stepped forward, all fluid grace and pulled your key from his pocket. His eyes too seemed brighter than ever, making your eyes linger on his face. He really was so very handsome.

"All is well," he said, quiet and certain, when handing over the key, his fingertips ever so carefully brushing yours.

"Alright." Your voice was soft and you glanced between them. "Thank you. Do I owe you anything?"

"No, not at all, this was our pleasure," Milly answered, voice as sweet as honey and her smile felt like it was meant just for you. "Anything else we can do for you?"

"No, um, but really, thank you." You gave them a clumsy, heartfelt bow and they elegantly curtseyed back, an amused mischievousness to their smiles. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Our hair hardly minds," Julius answered. "Please, feel free to come back whenever you like."

"We'll be glad to help in whatever way we can, or just to chat," Milly added, leaning against her husband, both of them looking right at home with each other and within their store. "Be sure to speak to Leopold if you like, he'll take you home."

You couldn't help but smile back a bit and after a last dip of your head, you stepped back outside. An elderly woman bustled past you with her grandson, grandly telling him to pick whatever he liked best for his wedding.

You took a deep breath, so deep it almost ached in your lungs and you clutched the key tight. Was...was it over? Just like that? All your worries and fears could cease to be? Rubbing a hand over your face, you approached Leopold, who was softly talking with the horses, massaging their foreheads.

The young man, just barely out of boyhood, was happy to bring you home, helping you into the carriage and whistling as he started driving. You clung tightly to the key, nerves making your stomach squirm and your heart was beating harder, the closer you came to home. 

And yet, fear didn't claw its way up your throat. You believed the tailors that it was done and dealt with. You...trusted them, as inexplicable as that might be. It was as if a small bit of safety had stayed with you after your visit to their store and it accompanied you even now.

At last, Leopold stopped and you took a deep breath before leaving the carriage. "Thank you," you said, tipping him some money and his face lit up.

"Have a nice day," he said with a cheerful bow of his head, then drove on.

The house looked just like you remembered it, flowers blooming and nothing was out of place. Swallowing and taking another deep breath, you walked up the path to the front door. You unlocked the door, cautiously peeking inside.

Nothing. The house smelled like fresh air and the maid must've been by yesterday, for new flowers filled the vase on a side-table. Stepping past the threshold, you carefully walked onward, your steps sounding too loud in the silent house.

You found your spouse sitting in the study, breathing calmly and not reacting to your presence. The sharp stab of bitter disappointment quickly faded to startled realization. Empty eyes stared ahead unseen, no emotion visible on your spouse's face.

"Um..." You managed to say after a long moment, but it brought you no reaction.

Your mind rebelled, hurrying towards the excuse of drugs and poison and other mixtures, but deep down you knew your spouse was gone. The thing that sat there was an empty shell, no soul remaining, and you had no idea what to do.

In the end, after puttering around nervously for a few minutes, you ended up sending for the family doctor. The older man who showed up usually came for you, making sure you'd heal fine. 

"Oh my, this does not look good," he muttered the moment he spotted your spouse, hurrying onward. "When did you notice something was wrong?"

"I was visiting a friend for a few days," you said and his gaze was knowing when he glanced at you. "I, um, came back this morning and noticed how quiet it was. I was glad at first, but when I went in here to check..." You gestured at the limp, unresponsive body.

The doctor hummed in understanding, already reaching out to find the issue. It didn't take long before they sent for a carriage to bring your partner to the hospital. You were allowed to come along and nurses hurriedly wheeled your spouse away the moment you arrived.

You sat and waited, time passing both too fast and too slow. At last, a doctor approached you, quiet and apologetic. It seemed your partner had suffered an aneurysm and there was nothing they could do. Your spouse would be dead soon.

The tears that rose sharply were seen as tears of grief, instead of the soul-deep relief that swept through you. The staff was very kind, comforting you and letting you sit with your spouse, who didn't even make it through the night. Finally, you were free.

Afterwards you went home, standing in the large, rich house and you realized that it all belonged to you now. The money of your spouse belonged to you. But most of all, you were finally, finally free.

You broke down crying, helpless laughter mixing into the tears and the gasping. Afterwards you took a carriage to your friend's place, forgetting the late hour. You didn't want to stay in that house any longer than you had to. Your friend was startled when she opened bleary eyed, then grimly happy when you told her the news.

"They solve problems like that," she said after holding you in her arms. "The tailors. No one asks how they do it or what exactly they do and we don't rat them out either. I'm so glad they helped."

You fell asleep in her arms and when you woke, the sun shining through the window made you smile. Your heart felt like a newly uncaged bird, almost too afraid to fly and taste that freedom fully.

Hope bloomed like a meadow of wild flowers and you breathed through a new wave of tears. Your future had turned from a grim, dark end into something bright and open. It was all yours, yours to finally do with as you pleased.

The house was soon sold, the art within donated, along with a portion of the money. You fended off your parents, who swept in to try and weasel out money and power for themselves. They deserved nothing after marrying you off to someone they suspected would mistreat you and then left you in the jaws of a metaphorical wolf.

The air was growing cold by the time everything was taken care of and you had moved into a new place, your friend supporting you all the way. 

You only rarely suffered from nightmares these days and you slowly unearthed all the pieces of you that you had buried. The pieces your spouse had not liked, had despised. There was damage done, undoubtedly, and some days it felt like too much, but you had so many reasons to keep going. To keep moving forward.

There were people, however, who did deserve a piece of your newfound fortune. Leaves were crunching beneath your shoes as you approached the store at the end of Baker Street, this time not afraid. No, you were anything but afraid.

Julius was taking care of some customers as you stepped inside, a pleasant scent greeting you. A smile was on your face and you breathed in that steadfast safety that lingered with both tailors present. It eased your heart as it had the last two times and this time you couldn't help but sink into it fully, shoulders relaxing.

Milly approached you after ringing up a lady at the counter, smiling in warm welcome. "How lovely to see you again," she said and there was a brief, hard glint in her eyes. "I hope all went well?"

"Yes." You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small box. "I know you said no gratitude was necessarry, but I still wish to give you this. I, um, picked it myself."

She looked charmed and chuckled softly. "How could I ever refuse such a sweet gesture?"

Her fingertips were warm as they brushed yours ever so gently, while she accepted the box. Your hands tingled and you only realized you had leaned slightly towards her, when you caught yourself.

She held your gaze a moment longer, before glancing down and curiously opening it. A happy smile broke out across her face and her gaze grew warm and soft and this time you could admit to yourself that there was nothing normal about the golden shimmer brightening in her eyes.

"You are truly beautiful, inside and out," she murmured, closing the box again and your breath caught a little at her words. "Thank you, for this sweet gift."

You couldn't help but smile back shyly. Julius joined you in this moment, a satisfied customer leaving with a happy spring in their step. "Oh? Did my lovely wife get something wonderful?"

"Indeed." She grinned up cheekily. "And I am not going to share."

"There, um, there is no need." You pulled another box from your other pocket and Julius' eye brightened, that golden shimmer growing. "If you'd like?"

"I would love anything you'll gift me," Julius said, voice dipping a bit to something private, just for you. 

He accepted the box, his fingertips brushing yours softly as well, warm and slightly calloused. You curled your hands in, as though you could somehow hold both their touch close this way. Your face started to ache a bit with how much you were smiling now.

Julius opened his box, eyes widening slightly, before he looked up, his smile sweet and charmed. "This is wonderful, thank you."

"I hope you like it, both of you. And that I chose well." You resisted the urge to rock a little on your feet, something your spouse had always hated. You paused. Well, now you had to do it, even if it was just to spite the dark memories in your mind. "You gave me back more than I can put into words."

"Seeing a smile on your face is reward enough," Julius said and for a moment you swore he was about to reach out, before catching himself. "Happiness is a lovely look on you."

"I am happy." And you were. For the first time in far too long, you were happy again.

Ever since you had gotten rid of that house, ever since you had gotten your life back, no matter the struggle and darkness that liked to creep through your mind like seeping tar, happiness and light found you. 

It wriggled in through the cracks, surprised you on calm, sunshine mornings and came in the shape of your new, soft little cat. Every time you ate something sweet that had been forbidden before, every time you picked up a book your spouse would have taken away, it felt like you were stitching yourself back together. Crooked maybe, and never like you were before, but...this was already so much more than you had dared to hope for half a year ago.

"We could take a break," Milly offered, gesturing at the currently empty store. "Would you like to join us for tea, darling?"

The question held a tinge of promise and you found you wanted to reach for it. You found you were ready for what might be offered. "I would love to, thank you."

Milly smiled and went to close the store for the afternoon, while Julius guided you to the backroom, his hand a warm, light and most of all, welcome weight at your back.

You didn't care what they were, if they were human or not. You didn't care what they did to people like your spouse. Not when being in their presence made you feel as though you were wrapped in a blanket spun out of gentle, warm sunshine.

*.*.*

Part Two!

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[honeycreammilkshake]

with jjk ending so soon i've gotten even crazier about sukuita lately. i'm desperately hoping/praying that the ending is focused solely on them, since it seems to me all the other characters have gone through their arcs and their stories are pretty much told. i really want yuuji to be the only one who can stop sukuna, either by dying alongside him or somehow merging together with him by becoming his vessel again.

either way, i keep getting reminded of the ending of devilman crybaby.... what if there's a similar ending ahead for sukuna? maybe in his final moments he realizes everything yuuji was trying to teach him, that he really starts feeling love for the first time, right before either he or yuuji dies. just like how in crybaby, ryo/satan is trapped in an eternal cycle of indifference until he meets akira, and only realizes his love for akira at the very end when everything has been completely destroyed.

ryo was so set on destroying humanity and maintaining his own philosophy, just like sukuna is. they're both self-absorbed and completely convinced they're right in everything, but what if the very souls they mocked for being so emotional and too soft (akuna and yuuji) are the very ones who change them, and show them how wrong they were?

sukuna and ryo are both completely heartless and tragic in their own way, and i think that's why people like yuuji and akira eventually got to them... they were the only people who really tried to reach out and understand them, akira by being ryo's friend and yuuji for trying to teach sukuna love.

imo it can only be yuuji who ends this: he and sukuna have been bound together since the very beginning, and only sukuna has gotten to get so close to yuuji - in many ways, not just by sharing his body. yuuji hasn't been so upfront about his childhood to anyone else but sukuna, and i think that's definitely going to sit with the king of curses, no matter what he tries to deny.

even if sukuna can only learn love by having it all taken completely away from him (like ryo) there is still that potential there in him to realize his mistakes and change his hard-set ideas of the world. if a villain like kenjaku/geto can get an ending like gege gave him, then surely sukuna having his own character development for the better isn't so unlikely either.

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing i've noticed about obey me's story is that it generally delivers on big dramatic narrative moments, but often neglects the surrounding scenes and especially the fallout. there is of course, the oft-talked-about lesson 16, feat. mc's death that never gets brought up again, but then there's also s2's amnesia arc, which ends things with "mc has the ring so everything is completely fine forever"

om has a habit of doing this, where a realm-wide (or heck, universe-wide) problem is hand-waved away by the appearance of a convenient fix-it, which is usually either an object or just ~magic~ (magic as a plot device in om in general is handled poorly but that's a story for another day)

in some cases they just don't address the fallout at all. at least belphie talks about what he did in lesson 16 - but, see nb s2, wherein levi floods the entire devildom, submerging entire houses, and they don't bring it up again afterwards. as far as i remember too, belphie's mini-arc in this season wasn't really given room to breathe, either

but here's the main thing (spoilers for nb lessons 38 and 39)

i've just done these two lessons and in hindsight lucifer's mini-arc feels like a lot of missed potential

honestly they could have excluded diavolo entirely - his main purpose was to stall for time so that the brothers could show up. the moment where he kneels was cool (more on that moment later), but the way they've written him in means that the angels kinda. don't get to do anything? at all?

look - raphael has a gorgeous character moment at the end of 37 where he cries for the brothers' plight. like you don't understand this had so much potential!!! he didn't really do much in s1 (and might not have actually been himself??) so i was hoping this would be his chance to shine, but instead he's on the sidelines. simeon gets the most to do, and even then it's really not much. luke doesn't do anything, unless you count those blessings he and simeon give mc, but they don't really factor in at all??

what especially doesn't make sense about diavolo's role here is that lucifer turns on mc after they step in to protect him. this is meant to be a pay-off to diavolo's less savoury motivation for saving the brothers, revealed in his arc in nb s1, but all lucifer does is say it, get mad, then completely forgets about it once all is said and done

if that's all they were going to do with it, why bring it up at all? from a character standpoint, it makes more sense for mc to shield one of the angels - again, raphael this could've been your moment. (alternatively it could've been a call-back to the og s1 where mc shields luke in the underground tomb)

the appearance of the brothers was welcome, but at the same time i don't quite buy that they all got out of their respective predicaments completely fine. (also where did mephistopheles go??) lucifer also calms down very quickly, which is a great moment for the power of family, but at the same time i feel like he would've needed at least a few more dialogue boxes of him registering through his rage that his brothers were there. eh, this is more nitpicky than everything else

the brotherly moment was 10/10 though. love these guys <3

but i hated the final resolution so so much. sure, have god forgive him, whatever. but why would you end it all with a "papa loves you"???? if it had been raphael or simeon saying it, maybe i could get behind this as a symptom of the celestial realm's unhealthy society, but LUCIFER, whose greatest fear was revealed to be his father in s3 of the original story?

om has never made it seem like god's relationship with the angels was anything other than controlling and borderline abusive, and for some reason (if the poignant flashback is anything to go by) they've done a complete heel turn into "actually it's fine because he loves the angels". it could be read as representing how children often still cling to abusive/controlling parents, but i doubt it - especially coming from lucifer, who started a war and lost a sister in direct opposition to his father

and i get the whole deal with "lucifer was so beautiful as an angel" but it feels really disingenuous to the brothers' arc (about settling into the devildom and coming into their own as demons) to harp on about it. like, fuck that, have lucifer cast away the angel form, or at least have some pushback from him in the aftermath. have mc tell him "you're even more beautiful as a demon" or something

then in lesson 39 everything's back to normal. it's a very cute lesson and i had fun in the moment, but it feels off. there's no discussion of what happened, everyone's completely fine. there's got to be some psychological after-effects to all of that, no? for lucifer especially if not the brothers who got frozen as well???

though lucifer's dragon gift was very sweet. i can't stay mad at that old man

[desired-fantasy-writings]

Mixture Of Headcanons - Maxime Le Mal

Requested by: Nobody

Warnings: Sexual headcanons below NSFW cut

Readers Gender: Gender Neutral

Fanfic Type: Headcanons

Fanfic Genre: SFW and NSFW

Word Count: 737

A/N: As I'm writing this, I feel a tad embarrassed and confused that somehow a badly written French cockroach villian man pulled me out of my 2-3 year writer's block. Wtf-

Anywaysss, onto the regular headcanons and some relationship headcanons, a mixture of things.... for this whimpy whiney shit (I say this lovingly.)

[Headcanons and some ramblings in the tags contain some spoilers. If you haven't watched DM4 yet feel free to swipe by this]

SFW

• Mans will not shut the fuck up about himself, how great he is and how everyone else fucking sucks and he's perfect in every way. VERY sassy, self absorbed, snobby, has anger problems (obvious), and secretly clingy. He thinks he's the shit. You'll just have to... "indulge him" by listening to every small thing he got bothered by that day. Every little thing can set him off. Cannot let grudges go.

• Obviously his thing is that he talks with his hands... a lot. It's one of many ways to tell what type of mood he's in at that moment. Frantic, heavy hand movements, and fingers twitching? He mad. Quick bursts of movement, doing quick little claps and finger tapping? For sure in a good mood.

• Maxime cannot hide his emotions, like at all. One of his weaknesses. He's VERY animated with his body language and voice.

• Many people will not agree with this one, so bare with me. From my own observation he has many traits and behaviours of someone who has a undiagnosed narcissistic disorder, or some other type of undiagnosed personality disorder. [This is just a headcanon of mine please don't jump me- 😭]

• By his fascination and obsession with bugs, I wouldn't be surprised if he was autistic or ADHD... or not, idk. He kinda act like me fr.

• I can imagine when he was still partly cockroach he wore gloves due to increased sensitivity, before the transformation he only wore them as a fashion choice. After AVL de-transformed him, they couldn't reverse everything. What was left was the antennas, some of his strength, and the heightened sensitivity - even afterward he still continues to wear gloves to prevent himself from overwhelming his senses.

• Seen many people theorise that Maxime feels phantom pain often and a great need to spread his non-existent wings and extra limbs after the de-transformation. It makes a lot of sense... It's quite interesting, as sad as it is...

• Fixing, fiddling, and tinkering with anything is one his ways to calm down, also could be considered a type of stim. Uses his cane for the same purpose. Maxime has to fiddle with something in his hands or he'll get absolutely fidgety and agitated with the extra amount of energy he has built up. Often wants someone to be by him as he tinkers and talks away.

• Has a fine taste in fashion (maybe not the giant ahs green coat he has.. but it find it cute.) The outfit he has at the end of the movie though? GAWDDDDDD where do I ever start? BLUEEE IS HIS COLOURRR. (Alsoooo I 100% believe his outfit was inspired by Balthazar Bratt, btw-)

NSFW below the cut! Don't read if it makes you uncomfy.

NSFW

• Soooo his voice... he's well aware people find accents a turn on, so uses it to his advantage when he sees fit ...And on his partner especially (let's just pretend Valentina isn't in the picture). Often when he wants their attention he slows his speech, making sure to drag out every word he says as he flirts with them, letting his French accent go on full force - seeing if he can get any reaction of them. As he does he impulsively switched between English and French. If his partner don't know a single bit of French.... Just for fun he'd speak so many dirty words to them in French, often leaving them confused trying to figure out what he just said to them. If they do speak French like he does, it's fair game. If he doesn't get a reaction out of his partner, he'll keep being persistent til they do, the man does NOT give up easy. (Being mean and teasing his partner is 100% his love language.)

(If his partner have a voice kink, and Maxime finds out, good luck never having a moment of silence ever again-)

• Maxime's kisses are so divine. IT'S not because he's french and that's the stereotype... But he certainly does live up to it. How he kisses his partner can determine how he's feeling in that moment, either wanting attention and love from them... or more, his kisses leaving them a gasp every time. There's never a dull moment, especially when he dips them out of nowhere to give them the best french kisses... Also best be careful, he bites. ;)

• I can see him being the type of man to not rush things, but make it so painfully saken slow for his partner til they break and can't stand it. He loves to be in control, and controlling when his partner can have what they desperately need for some sort of release... He thrives off of it. Torturing them and watching his partner squirm and beg is one of his greatest pleasures.

(If his partner "wrestles with him" and wins, which most of the time unlikely... Maxime's all theirs, their in control now. His partner can do whatever to him.... But careful, he likes to fight back.)

• Will make his partner suffer by making them watch him please himself, knowing how much his partner needs him and want to please him as they watch, struggling to stay put. He just smirks and chuckles the whole time, his accent tickling his partner's ears, adding even more to the torture and pleasure they'd feel later on.

• With how expressive he is, he does not hide it at all in the bedroom. From groans, moans, growls, whines - this man does everything. He feels no shame showing his partner how much they affect him. The look of amusement that covers his partner's features hearing him being so loud gets him even more turned on.

• Is very grabby. By the end of it his partner will be covered in scratches, bruises, hickies, and bite marks. Maxime is surprisingly stronger than he looks, easily pinning his partner down with his skinny frame. Can grip too hard sometimes. When this man gets horny.. HE'S horny.

• Maxime's antennas are extremely sensitive... According to him in DM4. I can imagine them being an extremely sensitive erectile zone if rubbed just right. Depending on his mood it can either go both ways - a wholesome cuddle session with his partner... Or they'll be in either of each other's lair for the rest of the day not leaving the bedroom.... His partner is in for an aggressive, loving ride. I can imagine his antennas twitching more too.

• Maxime is thicker than most. Has an average length just enough to be comfortable with, but his girth will definitely take some getting used to at first. It starts curved upward from the middle, has many veins and textures for his partner to experience.

• Is a very cleanzy man, trims himself quite nicely just enough to have lovely peach fuzz.

• If his eye twitches when he's angry..... Imagine it twitching as he gets close, ahahahah...

• Again, WILL NOT, shut up. Not a single moment will there ever be a silent moment. Talks SOO much shit, so much filth it can honestly get overwhelming with how much he is saying as he pounds into his partner. He's such a little shit as he does this. He knows exactly what to say to get them squirming, whimpering and their blood pumping.

• It's hard to understand him half the time - his English words getting mixed with his native tongue French. In the heat of the moment it's incredible to see, seeing him get so into the intimate moment between his partner that his words get all jumbled up because of them~

A/N: I have so many more ideas and theories for this french fella. I may or may not write more.... If the people demand for it... 👀👉👈 (Hold me accountable plz I'd hate to go into an writer's block again-) I'm pretty rusty from writing atm I'll probably rewrite this a bit later.

[rosehippiefield]

Some people dislike logic route for Shin's inactivity, thinking it is inferior to his previous behavior, but... I feel like him not having energy left is natural. While him not doing much may be yet another trick or manipulation, maybe he's just that tired. For a guy who has witnessed sister figure's death, has lived in constant tension last four days, was hit with a frying pan (given how abnormally weak he is) and on top of that has to deal with ex-friend that had ruined his life Shin is doing relatively alright.

I'm honestly surprised by his ability to still maintain something similar to composure

[lildoodlenoodle]

If one person likes this I will do a deep dive essay into spider noir Eyes Without A Face with my own insane takes/interpretations

[deus-ex-mona]

look at these images that are seemingly unrelated to each other. what do you see?

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

You know, I'm glad that some of us take the step to embrace things that we like even if they're "cringe" or "objectively bad"

But perhaps we could take the next step forward and embrace the idea of reading into books/shows/movies/etc even if they don't seem deep. Perhaps we could understand that the two kinds of media aren't either "shallow and meaningless so you're weird and brainrotted to read into it" or "incredibly and profoundly deep in every way so if you don't analyze every single angle of the thing then you're brainrotted". Some media is deeper than others, but all I propose is that no matter how deep it seems it's acceptable to dig into the thing and take the media seriously instead of just assuming that because of ____ thing (such as target audience or how cringe it is) the media not deep and will never be deep and everything good about it happened on accident.

[ahatintimepieces]

Scully, you're not going to believe this... but remember that ahit pokemon au that's a mash-up of the coliseum games and detective pikachu where Snatcher is an Eevee that can see shadow pokemon and Hattie is going on a journey to find her missing father, Luka Andersen, while rescuing shadow pokemon from Team Mafia and more? Yeah. It's been three years but I finally updated! In this chapter, Hattie confronts the C.A.W agents! I don't know how often I'll update but I hope you enjoy! Until next time!

[orcelito]

Ykno when ur lookin at an artist and ur like "man, I want to commission art from You, Specifically"

I have something in mind for a scene that's coming up in ITNL (whenever I start writing again) that would be really cool, & I know Exactly who I'd want it by... except they don't have open commission slots 😭😭😭

I can be patient, though... I have been patient before...

[villainvillain]

oop ALREADY seeing cold takes that are just "i thought the finale was good so if you didnt you are clearly just watching the show wrong and you missed the point of everything ever" like ok can we just accept that the world is more nuanced than that and doesnt always revolve around ur thoughts and opinions

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

the amount of DISDAIN I get from some ppl saying that blue flag is written for the straights.

girl I did not stay up til 6am reading this manga, tearing up and crying bc of how much I saw myself in characters like touma and masumi and how painfully relatable their pain/struggles were just for you to say that blue flag is for the straights

be so fr rn

[cat-dragron]

I'm still so mad that August Kitko was such a mid book and like I would go do far as to say maybe it was bad but it's likely it just wasn't for me.

And then I read Hell Followed With Us and realize hey now... there's a lot of similarities between these two books and wow i am enjoying this other book way more. I almost want to dig into that and figure out why. Can you ever dislike something so much you want to take a scalpel to it and dissect it to find the bloody heart? Yeah that's what I'm feeling with August Kitko... it kinda sucks but I need to know why it makes me so mad.