#typical morally grey character stuff

[me-you-and-my-medication]

Moral ocd around fiction is the worst. because I can't even connect or get attached to characters anymore unless they've done little to no wrong. and if they've done something problematic (regardless of if they've grown/leaned from it) I will feel crushing guilt for ever enjoying them. It has taken escapism from me

[yandere-romanticaa]

I'm so fucking tired of seeing this big yandere blogs everywhere. All you people do is decimate and destroy beautifully crafted characters in favor of making them fit into the cheap yandere archetype.

18k followers is a big number but I don't know why so many people stick around.

I could answer this ask in so many ways, but I'll be nice and humor you.

Yes, there definitely is a surge in dark romance/yandere content these past few years, particularly on Booktok where the most popular books typically have a very messy and morally grey male lead, typically followed by an insane level of smut. Some of the criticisms on there are valid and I even find myself agreeing with them, this also includes yandere fanfiction.

However. The beauty of fanfiction is that you are allowed to ignore the canon. But, in order for fanfiction to work properly, the author needs to be familiar at least somewhat with the canon, accept that canon and then throw it out the window because why not.

The point of fanfiction is to have fun. Dark romance received a boom because people (god I hope so) understand that this shit would not fly in real life, and it's just easier to indulge in it in various forms of media.

You probably won't care for my answer because I have a suspicion that you're just here to be a hater. Regardless, I hope this ask perhaps helped you understand why people like this stuff so much.

[millersamour]

different devils (series prologue) - joel miller x f!reader

“We’re all in the same game; just different levels. Dealing with the same hell; just different devils.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Summary: You're one of Jackson's longest, and most reclusive inhabitants. You're Tommy's patrol partner. You raised an adopted son. Now spending every day doing what you can to keep the devil at bay. Until Joel Miller shows up, with a fourteen year old, and the same kind of demons.

(collage made on pinterest)

Series Warnings: set during outbreak, violence, descriptions of body mutilation, use of weapons, reader is 21 in prologue but 34 in main story, age gap (joel is 56), eventual smut (will tag accordingly), darkish! joel, reader is also a violent survivalist, reader has a similar joel/ellie dynamic with an oc!, raider/cult subplot, typical disturbing stuff in media about zombies/apocalypse situations

Prologue Summary: After nine years of surviving the apocalypse you meet some people who offer you the chance to start over.

A/N: straight up no joel in this :/ sorry lol, this is just character plot because i love angst and slow burn!!!! we support traumatized morally grey fmcs in this house <3

-

Prologue

March 2011 

You had been tracking a doe for about an hour when you heard the sounds. Deep gurgling and clicking echoing from somewhere you couldn’t see. 

Fuck. 

The deer seemed like a lost cause if there were any more than a single one of those unforgiving creatures lurking nearby. 

With one last glance to the deer, its light brown fur shining in the morning sun, you tucked the bow underneath the thick leather strap of the quiver at your back and made quick work of climbing a thick tree.

You watched the creature below from about twenty feet in the air. The deformed body weaving between the trees, dragging its feet through the wet vegetation. Growths emerging from its skull covered any trace of its former humanity. Bright fungi absorbing the very idea that this thing had ever bore resemblance to a person. The bow in your grasp followed its movements as it veered left, and thankfully, away from your campsite. 

Not wasting any arrows today.

With a sigh of relief, which sounded more like a huff of annoyance, you surveyed the area a final time before deciding to make your way back to Leon. You dismounted the tree, landing the last few feet with a thud and took off back into the thicket. 

Rope and sticks had been used to hold up what had once been a tarp, now just a small sheet of plastic, to create a makeshift tent. It was completely useless against the cold but it had kept you dry from the torrential downpour that had plagued your travel the last few days. The first signs of spring were always welcome after months of cold and snow, but you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt you felt after surviving another winter. 

Leon was awake now, nursing a small fire. He grinned as he watched your form emerge from the treeline. The early morning gave you a respite, where it could just be you and Leon. Not what you had become part of. 

“Anything good?” He asked, eyes trailing from your face to glance at your empty hands. 

“No” You shook your head. “Damn clicker came outta nowhere and spooked the deer I spent an hour tracking” You huffed, slumping beside him. 

Grimacing, he handed you a thermos and you sipped. Warm water flooded your mouth and sternum as it landed in your empty stomach. You hummed, savouring the temporary warmth and handed it back to him. He pulled a small bunch of cloth from his backpack and you grimaced at the only remnants of food you had left.

It had been almost six months since you and Leon had been on your own and almost a full two years since you’d left the QZ.

-

You had only been twelve on outbreak day. But you could recall those memories like it had been yesterday. Stepping off the school bus, doing homework, and eating dinner with your parents, before heading off to bed. You remembered the soft pink of your bedroom. The quilt at the foot of your bed. The toy rabbit you’d slept with since you were born. 

But the sounds of alarms and glass shattering and screams had woken you. 1:02 AM flashing bright green on your alarm clock. You had crept downstairs. The noises outside drowned out by the fear of what would be waiting for you. 

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, you saw the pool of blood first. Crimson leaking into the cracks of blue kitchen tiles, staining the grout. You had hesitated before entering, not knowing what you would see once you turned the corner and passed the door frame. 

Her hair was splayed on the floor like a halo. Strands matted with blood. Her body, stiff in death, looked like she had been knocked back, like someone had shoved her. Peeking around the corner, you saw a huddled form leaning against the fridge; its white exterior marked with streaks of red, fingerprints smeared across family photos and a drawing you had made for your father’s birthday.

Quietly you had called out.

 “Dad?”

The hunched form had looked up at the sound, neck craning in an unnatural way. Strained breathing, like someone was trying to speak with lungs full of water, and growling sounds punched passed his lips. Sounds you had only ever heard in nature documentaries, sounds of pained and hungry animals who relied on teeth and claws and blood to survive.

Suddenly everything was happening to someone else. Like you were watching your life unravel from someone else’s eyes. 

It wasn’t you when your dad slowly rose to his full height, his hands and mouth covered in your mother’s blood. It wasn’t you when he lunged forward, hands reaching for your small form. It wasn’t you who ran away, taking the stairs two at a time while he slipped in what was left of your mother; still warm. It wasn’t you who had thrown open your parent’s bedroom door, slamming it behind you. Who had searched in the dark, for salvation, for safety, for something that could keep the monster at bay. 

The banging on the door was only getting louder, and you had hoped this was all some kind of nightmare. The kind where you woke up crying and your mother would be there to stroke your hair and sing until you drifted back into a peaceful slumber. 

But it was real and you had found the bat that your dad had kept stuffed in the closet.

Your small fingers clenched around the handle and you struggled to keep yourself upright. The image of your mother, her soft skin and dimpled smile flashed against the images of her broken body, of her abdomen peeled open. You could still hear the strangled breathing of the creature outside the door. 

No longer your father, only wearing his face. 

You pushed your back against the wall, feeling the reverberations through the wall as he slammed his body against wood. It was cracking and wouldn’t hold for long. 

It wasn’t you who had watched the door splinter. Who watched him shove his mangled form through. Left shoulder broken. Arm dangling loosely at his side. It wasn’t you who struggled to slow your breathing as his unseeing eyes stared into the darkness, streetlights peeking through the blinds to illuminate his grisly appearance. But it had been you. It had been you who had clenched her jaw, teeth grinding against teeth. Tightening your grip and stepping behind him as he wandered into the center of the room. It was you who heard the floorboard creak and had raised the bat before he even turned around. It was you who had swung and swung and swung. Until what had been your father no longer was. 

Just a bloodied heap on the ground. 

You had been found a few days later, hiding in your closet. Bat sticky with dried blood, still clenched in your hands. They had taken you, kicking and screaming, to what would become the Phoenix QZ, and your home for the next eight years. 

-

Movement startled you from the memories you pondered often, trying to conjure images of birthday parties and the photographs that lined your childhood home. But, all you were left with was the weight of two corpses and the shame of survival.

 Andy came through the tree line. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his smile bordered on feral. You had to stand to see what he was holding in his hand. 

Rabbits. 

“Little early for your ass to be up, isn’t it?” You chuckled, walking over to examine his prize.

“Early bird gets the worm” He grinned, holding the rabbits higher up. “Just taking a page from your book” 

He wasn’t wrong. In the last six months, you had been almost solely providing food for the four of you. Feeding Leon had been no problem, it was something you’d been doing for the last five years. But, Andy and his brother, Warren, hadn’t been pulling their weight. And you often had to remind them that they begged for your help and you had offered it to them, if they helped keep Leon alive. 

The commotion must have alerted Warren, because the older brother emerged from his own makeshift shelter. 

It had been a while since you’d caught anything substantial. Relying mostly on birds, fish, and other small wildlife to feed yourselves. But with spring slowly making its appearance, you knew there would be animals everywhere in the coming weeks. 

But rabbits, especially three of them, were enough to excite the four of you. Grinning at each other for the first time in weeks. 

Andy and Warren were whopping, hollering expletives in excitement. You moved to grab Andy’s arm, needing to shut them both up. But movement to your left had you throwing yourself out of the way.

The clicker. 

Fuck. 

You should’ve killed that stupid fucking thing when you had the chance. It was on Andy before you even had the opportunity to scream. It grabbed at his chest, seeking grip wherever it could find, and sank its teeth into the skin of his throat. They fell forwards together, limbs tangling together, wrestling for purchase. 

Warren came from behind, the branch in his hands colliding with the side of the monster’s head, sending it flying off of Andy. He slammed the wood into its skull, watching as it twitched and went limp against the wet ground. 

Andy lay on the ground, clutching his chest and reaching towards his neck. His eyes locked with yours. Panic stricken, wild. You knew that he was dead. They all were. As soon as one of those things got a decent grip, it was over. But that didn’t mean it was okay. It had been almost nine years, and everyone still fought like hell against the inevitable. 

Warren was crouched beside his brother, trying to stop the bleeding. He pulled off his own shirt and you winced, seeing the scars that littered his back. The same ones on both Leon and yourself.

With a hand on your bow, you pulled an arrow from your back and gently nudged Warren’s foot with your own before taking a step back.

“Warren” You warned, your voice low.

He jolted, eyes leaving his brother to meet yours, glancing between your face and the weapon in your hands. His hands pushing wet, bloody fabric into his brother’s wounds.

“I..I can’t… what?” 

“We have to do it and leave” You glanced over your shoulder at Leon, who had stepped further back, watching with a frantic gaze. “We can’t stay here. Warren, none of this is fucking easy, but Andy’s gone.” 

The older man, only twenty-three himself, looked back towards his brother. Andy’s breathing was shallow, ragged. He had already lost so much blood.

It never took long. 

Warren’s body shook as he sobbed, as he understood what you meant. You had to put Andy down, and you had to do it quickly. But his shoulders slumped and he shook his head. 

“Warren..” You warned again. “You need to step away from him..”

He huffed, breathy and wet, and crawled away from the fading remnant of his younger brother. You didn’t have to look to know that Leon was gone, probably behind a tree, hands over his ears. It was the plan. When shit hits the fan, get low and stay low. Until you call it clear.

You sighed, stringing the bow. You aimed, closed your eyes, released a quiet breath and let go. 

Andy lay limp on the ground and you hoped that wherever he ended up, it was better than this. 

Shaking your head, you whistled your signal to Leon and set your bow against a stump. The teenager came peeking out and your heart clenched at the tear tracks carving through the dirt on his face. 

“Look out!” He screamed suddenly, eyes flicking behind you. 

Before you could even register, the side of your body made contact with the ground. Looking up you saw Warren, huffing, eyes red rimmed. He held the branch again. You threw up your arms, ready to deflect the fatal blow, but it never came. 

The deep cut of a shotgun rang out through the air. And you caught the way Warren’s eyes widened and then rolled to the back of his head before he slumped to the ground beside you. Scrambling, you sprang to your feet and launched yourself towards Leon.

“Easy there little lady” an unknown voice spoke up, shotgun in hand. “I’m not gonna hurt’cha, I just need you to put your hands up”

The sound stopped you in your tracks. You could see Leon with his arms already in the air. 

Another rule: do everything you can to not get shot. Smart kid. 

You twirled back towards the man with a smirk. 

“You just killed my buddy there, not sure if I should trust you” 

The man with the gun tilted his head slightly, confused, but kept his gun trained on your form. He was older, probably mid fifties, with dark skin and dark hair that was peppered with greys.

“He was going to kill you” It came out unsure. He was right, but why?

“Occupational hazard?” You quipped back. 

He sighed and looked over his shoulder. Fuck. You were hoping you could distract him long enough to either get the gun, or at least to get Leon out of here. But if anyone else showed up, you were screwed.

“Maria!” He called out. “Over here!”

A woman came from behind him, presumably Maria. Her eyes widened at the sight. The clicker, Andy and Warren, Leon and yourself. You were almost twenty-one, but the hunger made you look closer to Leon’s age, only fourteen himself. 

Maria tapped the man on the shoulder and jerked her head, needing to speak to him. He nodded and refocused his gaze on you. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” He grunted. 

You nodded, looking back at Leon and offering a small smile. They didn’t seem like raiders, or slavers. They looked clean and well fed. They didn’t look FEDRA either, but you weren’t about to test the limits of their mercy. Either way, they would either kill you or they wouldn’t. For Leon’s sake, you hoped whatever happened, if it came to it, it would be quick. 

They spoke a few feet away, glancing back towards the two of you every couple seconds. The man struggled to force his gaze away, turning back to the woman and grimacing at the words coming out of her mouth.

“Maria-” He went to grab her arm but she slinked away and came to stand before you. 

She offered her hand. You hesitantly accepted, coating her fingers in dirt and blood. She barely spared it a glance before rubbing it into the denim of her thigh. 

She smiled gently. “I’m Maria, that’s Elton” She said, motioning to the larger man behind her. She seemed tough. You felt more comfortable under her gaze, more than anyone who had looked at you in the last two years. 

You offered your name and turned towards the younger boy. “That’s Leon” You motioned for him to come over.

He took a few hesitant steps before lacing his fingers through yours and reaching his other hand towards Maria. She took his hand, shaking it. Anyone else could have missed it, but a flicker of something, maybe longing, passed over her face when she locked eyes with Leon. 

“Are you related?” Came from Elton. 

Leon’s hair was lighter than yours and his features were still coated in a thin layer of baby fat. So, most people believed that he was your brother, half at least, and you never corrected them. But, something in Maria’s eyes and the way she watched you, made you want to be honest. You shook your head.

“Known him since he was eight, been taking care of him ever since” You didn’t often talk about Leon’s biological family. They were FEDRA officials, but when rations started dwindling a few years after the outbreak, they didn’t hesitate to drop the youngest of their children off on the steps of the QZ’s orphanage. Where you had been for the last three years. 

“How old are you?” Maria asked, glancing between the two of you. 

“I’m fourteen” Leon blurted, looking up at you with wide eyes. You squeezed his hand twice. A signal you had first used in the orphanage, after you’d been beaten for stealing or for lying. Leon would sit beside you and read, occasionally squeezing your hand. You’d squeeze back twice if you wanted him to keep reading, three times if something was wrong.

“I’m twenty-one” You speak, not meeting Maria’s eyes. 

“What are you doing out here?” Elton’s voice came over Maria’s shoulders again, kinder. You realized that the two of them had to be related. Father and daughter maybe?

“It’s a really long story” You try, unsure of how to explain the last decade of your lives.

“Give us the short version” Maria tries, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“We..um..we escaped raiders before the winter…” You fumble. Yes you had been with raiders, not exactly prisoners, but these two didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Maria’s eyes softened and she looked back at Elton, who’s face betrayed him at that moment. You could tell he was confused. Not many people survived the winter the way you had done. 

“You’ve been living out here?” He asked, glancing between the makeshift shelters and your bow, the only real weapon you had. 

You nodded. “Here and there, I tried not to stay in one place too long…” 

They both nodded, movement was essential. Unless you had the means to defend yourself and your camp, it was better to stay out of the way. You’d learned that when the Phoenix QZ tore itself down. 

“Where are you from?” The question came from Leon. You know that he noticed their clothing, their guns, the way they seemed sated and well-fed. Leon always noticed details, things that a lot of other kids deemed unnecessary. 

“We come from a community”

“A QZ?”

Elton laughed at that. “Jackson’s not like a QZ. Sure we got walls and jobs, but ain’t nothin like one of those prisons” 

“Jackson?” It was your turn to ask a question.

Maria nodded. “We’re a community that helps each other out and keeps each other alive. As long as you earn your keep and stay out of trouble. You could come back with us.”

“And we should trust you? Why?” You had reason to be defensive, to be unsure of what these strangers were promising. 

“You’ll just have to find out.” Maria smiled, looking back towards Elton.

For the first time in a while, you felt something like hope. That you had survived the last year for a reason. That Leon could finally have a real home.

“Take us there” 

You felt Leon’s grip tighten. You squeezed back twice.

-

Thanks for reading!! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed <3

[necrotic-nephilim]

I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.

But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.

As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?

oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be

Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot

Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)

Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.

Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up

Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.

Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.

Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.

[another-goblin]

Random thoughts on Sunday and new Tingyun

Now that they officially teased playable Sunday, I'm worried about something. The game tends to introduce important things about characters to then completely disregard them (I think Blade is the biggest victim of this; I might make a post about it. I mean, currently he's just like a grumpy but harmless socially awkward uncle. He might have been a bit mean to our friend, but it's all in the past, right? Nothing bad worthy of addressing. Not like he was teased as a cosmic-level threat, a spirit of vengeance fueled by pain and madness who subjected DH to decades, if not centuries, of exquisit torture and killed thousands of innocent people).

So Sunday is basically a typical "morally-grey" vilian, doing a very bad thing "for greater good." And let's not forget what he did to Aventurine. He prodded into his past, knowing that it's a very painful topic to him, with no reason basically, just to show that he has an upper hand. And then just doomed him to 17 hours of absolute torture and inavitable death in the end, knowing full well that he isn't responsible for Robin's "death." Again, vilian behavior.

How is the game going to deal with it? My prediction - by completely ignoring it. He's going to be just a normal chill guy who just loves his sister. The story will handwave everything he did off as his mentor's fault or something. I really hope I'm wrong. A character being forced to face and process the bad things they did and achieve character development through it would be a first for this game. But just wait and see them completely neuter one of their most interesting, complex, and morally-grey characters.

BTW, they really have a tendency to remove responsibility from characters. 

Whatever Blade did, it's not his fault because he was driven crazy by mara and Jingliu's torture. But it's not her fault because she was driven crazy by mara and whatever Yingxing and Dan Feng did to Baiheng. But it's not their fault either, because although they kind of still exist enough to create some kind of connection with these past events, it's not enough to bear any responsibility for what their past selves did. A lot of very bad things happened, but nothing is anybody's fault, how convenient. Similarly, what Cocolia did isn't her fault because she was controlled by stellaron. I hope they won't do something like that to Sunday.

Speaking of new characters, not gonna lie, I'm very excited to see new Tingyun (also glad to see a new version of a non-Astral Express character).

I hope she's not some messed-up zombie reanimated by Ruan Mei, but our good old actual Tingyun. But her return to Luofu is going to be awkward. I mean, we had a whole sad little event, everybody saying their heartfelt goodbye to her and stuff, giving her postimous gifts. A bit impolite of her to return alive now. 

But that finally puts an end to the idea that there are stakes and that playable characters can die. After so many fakeouts, it loses its impact; even if they actually kill a character for good one day, nobody will believe it. My prediction: next they'll find a way to make Misha and Gallagher "real boys."

btw isn't it weird how they make very similar characters sometimes? First we have two 5-star young barefoot girls, who are physical destruction and have very similar mechanics. Now two 5-star fire nihility foxians with pink tails.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

Zenix’s little tangent in Episode 35… doesn’t entirely make sense. Or at least I don’t like parts of it and so I’m gonna bitch.

Tw I speak a little bit about abuse and cults at the end.

Zenix: “I’m sure garroth told you… didn’t he? How he found me? He must have… you were always his favorite. Isn’t it funny how he found me around the same time the old Lord was murdered?”

That’s just the beginning of it, of course.

But… Zenix saying this doesn’t really… fit.

SKs kill people in order to gain immortality (typically guards who kill their lords, but it’s established in episode 31, Criminal Brains, that it’s not only guards and not only lords). This is usually someone they knew in their human life, that’s just how it’s always been with SKs, that’s the whole… tragic romance of them. Whoever they dedicated their mortal life to will be the sacrifice to their immortal life.

Whether Zenix is saying he showed up in Phoenix drop shortly before or after he killed the lord is nothing to me, because either way, it’s clear they don’t have that bond. Even Azura states that Zenix swore himself to GARROTH. And the later established lore that sks have permanently red eyes after killing their person doesn’t even apply to Zenix in this case, because he had brown eyes the entire time we knew him, up until they clearly decided that he was the one who murdered the old lord and scrapped Vylad’s involvement.

Because up until this point… all evidence pointed to Vylad. From flashbacks of him standing outside of the old lord’s house with a flint and steel to Sasha basically outright saying it, everything has pointed at Vylad. And I’m not saying twists are a negative, red herrings are fun, but nothing good ever comes when you mix jesson and red herrings… clearly. So this was just… not a good twist. I’ve been keeping track of a lot of stuff and there just wasn’t enough for me to justify it as something pre-planned. But if someone else has another opinion I’m happy to hear.

This is something they do a lot with Zenix. Even with the original reveal that he was a bad guy, they retconned Brendan’s statement of events to make him look worse. They turned Zenix using him like a human body shield into Zenix going out of his way to hurt Brendan, though it didn’t need to be done. It just made him seem unnecessarily cruel.

And now they’ve retconned who killed the old lord to make Zenix look worse again. And I think this is because Jesson cannot cope with moral ambiguity.

Vylad and Zenix are the two most morally ambiguous characters up to this point. Zenix has an evil lean, no doubt, but a lot of his actions lack any known motivation, especially his kind actions, or moments when he does things that are objectively good but… we don’t know why, in order for us to actually understand his moral compass. Sure he is evil-aligned, but he is clearly not fully evil. He has shades of grey… and so does Vylad. Vylad clearly has a good lean, but we don’t know enough about him, and we know he is evil-aligned (he is shown to be peers with Gene and Sasha in earlier episodes) so it’s very… vague. Hazy. Morals? Questionable.

But then Jesson went— HOLD UP! Make Zenix explicitly bad by stating that he was the one to kill the old lord because he wanted immortality… and make Vylad explicitly good by stating that he was the one who hindered Zenix from killing more people.

It wss more interesting when Zenix was just some guy who did bad stuff and had an unknown backstory, and some people rooting for the good in him.

And when Vylad was spooky as fuck.

But that’s too much nuance, give a clear morality to the gay men.

Dont make SKs interesting by giving Zenix red eyes for attempting to kill the man he dedicated his life to! No! Don’t expand the lore by making it obvious that the reason that SKs have to kill their loved ones is to mirror cult/abuse tactics that distance the victims from any real support system they could have to escape! Dont give Zenix red eyes even though he failed at killing Garroth because the bond between them is irreparably damaged despite Garroth’s denial of it! Don’t do that! That’s too much nuance!

[yurnu]

The thing makes me insane it is fact Lucifer and Lilith the heroes of free will ,who don't believe in concept of authority have created a system based on slavery and classism which they are also on top, and fandom/viv just ignore/justify that!

Te funny thing I like more Ls in old fic where they were asshole but they knew that and in fact love their child and were fucking jailers of sinners. I find them more fascinating,also because they felt guilty about heaven war but they don't believe can ask for forgiven.

They were fascinated grey moral characters than we are writter pet!

It's ironic to tell the truth. That the supposed lords of free will have created such a system of slavery. Lilith, being the one who supposedly promoted freedom has Alastor as a slave through a contract (although it is also said that it is Roo).

The truth is that I have a personal theory, kind of stupid, but I believe that all this is like an allegory of a circus (Alastor mentions it or an allegory is made in an image of the pilot.).

And if you think about it, it makes a bit of sense.

Lucifer dresses like a circus presser, even his face has those marks as if it were paint for clowns, the tone of his phone is the typical music of circuses.

Charlie would be the tamer of beasts (the sinners).

Vaggie would be like, I don't know, the sultry hostess? I can't think of anything. Maybe the girl who sells you stuff in the bleachers?

And the spectators would be us, the fandom, and maybe the angels, to watch this disastrous show to laugh at the ridiculousness that happens. To mock or be bored by them.

[zmichelle1234]

Which TDP characters would be the HTTYD gang’s favourites (in a universe where the HTTYD gang can access TDP for some reason) with little to no explanation

Hiccup- Callum and Ezran and Janai. He can relate to Ezran with the whole ruler thing as well as the connection to dragons, ending war and stuff. Like Ezran, he also typically prefers to deal with things without bloodshed. However, like Callum, he’s not opposed to the occasional murderous intent(I am using The Longest Day from RTTE as an example, like, exhaustion literally made Hiccup 10x more murderous). Like Callum, he dealt with being in a life he didn’t fit into and then when he found the thing that clicked with him, he became obsessed. I feel like he’d also like Janai a lot with the way she was handled in arc 2, plus the new ruler thing as well. Hiccup struggles in his role as Chief and it was never something he truly wanted but leading is something he is good at.

Astrid- Amaya. I feel like she can relate to her whole “doing things alone” thing she mentioned in The Great Bookery and she’d also admire her strength and intelligence.

Fishlegs- I feel like he’d have a hard time deciding but he’d adore a lot of the side characters like Kazi and Terry, Kazi for their love of books and Terry for his kindness.

Snotlout- Soren. They both want to make their fathers proud.

Ruffnut- Nyx. She’d find her witty humour entertaining.

Tuffnut- Villads. He’s funny and he has a pet bird. He also gives like the best advice.

Heather- Claudia. Vibes ig. Dark haired morally-grey girlies rise I suppose. She’d find her fascinating. They also both have that dedication to their fathers that often puts them into precarious situations.

Dagur- Rayla. I’m just thinking about what Dagur said about obsession and vengeance consuming you and then I’m thinking about Rayla leaving to hunt Viren. Plus he’d just be her biggest cheerleader.

[iamafanofcartoons]

20 Ways how you know you might like RWBY?

Remember, there is no best show ever. Every show has its ups and downs. We’re just going to explain why RWBY is a show worth watching, that’s it.

1) Do you like ATLA, TOH, SPOP and LoK? -> Chances are, you’ll also like RWBY. Its not the same, and its never meant to try to be the same. But it does carry similar things.

2) Do you like stories with badass women taking on the roles typically held by male protagonist?  -> Then you should like RWBY.

3) Do you like stories with found family themes AND positive Step-family relationships?  -> Then RWBY should be on your list.

4) Do you enjoy stories with in depth fantasy lore and history?  -> Then RWBY would be a fantastic show to watch, because it does have them.

5) Do you like analyzing shows that have lots of significant hidden details, foreshadowing, easter eggs, callbacks, and references?  -> Then you’ll quite like RWBY.

6) Do you enjoy watching character development?  -> Chances are then that you’ll like RWBY.

7) Do you like slow burn WLW relationships?  -> RWBY, because BUMBLEBY KISSED TWICE, BABY!

8) Do you like shows with badass soundtracks made specifically for the show with lyrics that even add foreshadowing and other fun details? ->  RWBY has that.

9) Do you enjoy shows that are all about hope and love in the face of despair and hate?  -> RWBY!!!

10) Do you like shows where all of the characters are based on fairy tales, myths, legends, historical figures, etc. with wee details added here and there to give clues as to who each person is based on?  ->RWBY

11) Do you enjoy shows that are more light hearted and fun but then also still get into serious topics like dealing with loss, alcoholism, PTSD, abuse, neglect, abandonment issues, etc?  -> RWBY

12) Do you like badass fight scenes where the animation just keeps getting better and better as the show continues? -> RWBY

13) Do you like Warrior Nun and other similar shows? -> RWBY could very well be enjoyable for you too

14)Do you like long form story telling where details come back from all the way in the beginning of the show? -> RWBY definitely does that. We’re on Volume 9 and they brought up stuff from back in Volume 1 during it.

15) Do you like shows that are even better when you rewatch them cuz you can then pick up on all sorts of details you missed previously that MAKE SO MUCH MORE SENSE NOW and make you love the show even more? -> RWBY is so damn easy to rewatch

16) Do you like stories that constantly subvert expectations in brilliant ways? Like in ways that MAKE SENSE? -> RWBY!

17) Do you like stories about HOPE that aren’t just naive and blind to everything and to reality? -> RWBY 100%

18) Do you like fantasy-mecha type weapons that can transform and badass n creative character fighting styles? -> Have I said it enough yet?

19) Do you like shows with INTERESTING villains that actually have interesting backstories and motivations that isn’t just simply cuz they’re “evil”? RWBY

20) FINALLY:   Do you like shows that take a very fanservice concept (girls fighting monsters) and gives them stories, personalities, development, and Bechdel-passing relationships, while it takes two male power fantasies (gritty edgelord who uses prolific violence and morally grey actions to pursue a noble goal, and tactical mastermind who makes difficult sacrifices for The Mission) and made them failures?...--> Again, RWBY.

Here’s something else to consider for you

https://yinyangofnevermore.tumblr.com/post/710346324045856768/so-youre-considering-watching-rwby-or-youre

Just remember. NOBODY is saying that RWBY is the best show out there.

We’re simply saying its a good show and that its enjoyable. So please? We’re simply asking you to give this show a chance.

#greenlightvolume10 #greenlightrwbyvolume10

[roleplayfinder]

⚰️🪦🕊️ lf a 18+ mxm original character rp!

.ೃ࿐ im 18, so my partner must be 18+! lf someone who likes to chat ooc and wants to be friends not just rp business associates!

.ೃ࿐ lf dynamic characters, preferably morally grey or evil ones. i typically play switches/sub roles when it comes to that stuff so pls keep that in mind, but i have dynamic ocs!

.ೃ࿐ pls be comfortable with dark/dead dove content!

interact if interested and i will DM!! thank you!

.

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 11 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: what does it mean for your world to be torn apart?

words: 7.7k

chapter warning: graphic descriptions of sex, violence and gore. smutty fantasies (p in v, oral-f and m receiving, dubcon), nude photos, catfishing, revenge p*rn, coercion and manipulation of a minor, references to cancer treatment

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. sexual situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. drug use. coersion. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Please don't date a mob boss.

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you can't name the Mambo #5 women then gtfo.

a/n - Originally this chapter and the next were intended to be one part, but the word count was far too long. I encourage you to read them together! Read this one first! Also, it might be fun to listen to the official Sugar and Vice playlist on Spotify for the next two chapters.

Back to Part 10.

Part 11

What does it mean to be pulled apart?

Peter knew. He was experiencing it first-hand.

It was glorious.

Heaven was the only thing he could think of, and he wasn’t even sure he believed such a place existed. But if it did, it would be here—in between the thighs of the woman he’d die for. 

She looked so delicate beneath him. So tiny against the black ocean of silk sheets in his bed. Her arms were outstretched, a black-leather cuff binding each wrist. Her legs were also spread wide. The sight was breathtakingly lewd—body trembling, goosefleshed, inner thighs dripping wet. He loved the way her hips squirmed beneath his hands. It made it even more fun to hold her down. 

It was almost vulgar, a shameless, pornographic display. But she was an angel, after all. How could anything be vulgar about an angel? How could anything be shameful in Heaven? How could something so sweet be a sin?

Honey. He remembered how his mind used to wander into dark territory. It was somewhat embarrassing, how often it would happen. He’d be standing in line at the coffee shop watching her work, or watching her whip up a batch of cake batter in his kitchen. Suddenly, the thought would attack his mind: like being struck by lightning. He would wonder if she tasted as sweet as she was, while silently observing her with a crooked half-smile on his face, cock half-hard in his pants.

She tasted better than he ever could’ve imagined. Uniquely sweet and still somehow floral, like honey and lavender. Honeysuckle. No wonder birds and bees couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Hummingbird wings beat beneath his chest as his tongue lapped at her petals, devouring the nectar he’d find. 

He was addicted to it. Whimpering for it. Jesus, he was a goner.

He’d never stop. He wanted to stay in Heaven forever. Just him desperately consuming her with mewling pathetic noises as he ground his crotch helplessly against the bedsheets. He wanted to stay there and weave his tongue through her folds—fuck, he was gonna come just from eating her out, blow his load in his pants like a fuckin’ teenager—until she begged him to stop. Until he’d pulled every last beautiful noise from her.

She was crying from pleasure. Screaming from it. He knew it. He was splitting her in half, as much she tore him apart. He was in pieces. Fragments. His love, and pain, and soul all spilling out for her. 

Only for her.

The water was warm. The steam filled his lungs. Heat settled in his chest and burned like fire. His hands were buried in her sopping wet hair. She was wrapped around his fingers. Wrapped around his cock. Her face was pressed against the shower wall as he gazed hungrily down at the place where he was impaling her. Every thrust of his hips was a dizzying jolt of electricity. 

He was obsessed with the view, watching his cock slip in and out of her folds. Fuck she’s so tight. It hurt. There’s nothing wrong with a little pain, though. Nothing wrong with a little blood.

Her mouth felt so tight. Watching his cock slip in and out of her lips. Her throat closed around his length. He gazed down at those hypnotic, sparkling, watery eyes. Fuck he could see his head going down her throat. She was so good to him. So good. 

Perfect angel. So good on her knees for him. Sucking him so well, the berber carpet of her closet rubbing burns there, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Such a tough girl. 

Such a pretty girl. Wearing that beautiful little lavender dress he bought for her. He knew she’d like it. He knew it’d look perfect on her—goddamn potato sack’d look sexy on her—the second he saw it in the store, he knew. Babydoll. It suits her so well. Like it was made for her. 

Like her mouth was made for him. He gripped her chin tighter. Her pussy was made for him. He began to thrust into her throat, couldn’t help himself. Her whole body was made for him. 

Lace and silk flowing down it. His cum would be flowing soon enough. Dripping all over, coating her face and tits and tongue. Looking up at him with those beautiful eyes as she held her mouth open for him like a good girl, tongue stuck out greedily, savoring every last drop. Nothing wrong with being greedy sometimes. His good girl. 

His cum streaming down her face. 

Her tears streaming down her face. 

His tears streaming down her face.

He snapped his hips faster, fucking her into his creaky, old twin mattress. The lumpy one he slept on every night since he was 5. He’d proactively shoved old t-shirts in the cracks between the bed and the wall to muffle any potential pounding. 

He was pretty sure that May and Ben might have suspected he was foolin’ around and stuff, but ever since the Sex Talk Debacle of 2008, he would prefer a wrap it up, stop means stop, and never to have that conversation again.

“Peter... oh god, feelss s’good...” he heard a breathless whisper that shot straight to his cock. 

He looked down to see the most gorgeous green eyes in the entire world staring up at him. Blissed out. Euphoric. Corn silk hair spread out on his pillow like a halo around her head. Fair skin, apple-cheeks, kissable freckles, and peony-pink lips. An angel.

Heaven. He was in Heaven. The sight of her made him want to fall down and worship. Made him want to cry. Bury his head against her belly and sob and scream and have her pet him and run her fingers through his hair and rock him and cradle him and promise that she’d never leave him again.

It had been so long. “Gwen...” he panted, a groan bubbling up in his chest. “God, Gwen, I’ve missed you... s-so fuckin’ much—”

“I love you,” she gasped a hushed reply, nearing her climax. Like whispering a secret. So quiet, so the other angels couldn’t hear. “I-I love you, Peter—I love you always...”

He was being torn apart. He wanted to die, the way she tightened around him.

“Fuck, fuck, Peter, don’t stop!”

He opened his eyes. Honey was beneath him again, in his childhood bedroom. There was blood everywhere in the sheets. Streaming down her face. Coating her breasts. Covering her arms. Covering his hands. 

“Peter, please, don’t stop,” she whined, and who was he to deny her. She was a goddess and this was her kingdom. 

Perfect girl. Such a good girl. 

“I’ve been so good for you, been so, so good—”

don’t stop.

Stop, just stop—

—don’t fucking stop—

—Peter, snap out of it, stop!

“Pete, wake up!” 

His eyes popped open just as he felt himself falling over the edge. The sensation was terrifying. Like plummeting in a dream. Disorienting. 

Light pierced his eyes like flaming swords. The hum of neon rang in his ears like a jet engine. He tasted bile on his tongue, but his mouth was drier than a desert. Throat was sore. Great, is this the flu? How long has it been since he was sick? Gross taste in his mouth. Awful metallic scent in his nose.

His muscles locked in place. Brain short-circuiting. 

Blood. He smelled blood.

“Pete, can you hear me? Are you still crazy?” Eddie’s voice punctured his eardrums, and Peter reached up to cover his ears protectively. Lashes fluttered, dark eyes roving around. The picture came into focus.

He was in a room. A dark room. No windows. With ugly carpet and ugly modern furniture that reeked of cigars, cigarettes and old vodka. 

It was a small lounge of some kind. Through the walls he could hear bells and laughter and shrill screams of excitement. 

Broken glass littered the patterned floor, multiple recognizable fragments that were once full bottles of Belluga, Russo-Baltique, Chopin, and good old-fashioned Belvedere. 

He was on his back. Looking up at Eddie Brock, who looked even more worse-for-wear than he normally did. “Talk to me, buddy,” he anxiously muttered, leaning over his boss. 

Also, this was not the person he expected to see after... whatever that was.

His throat was too sore to respond in words. Instead he groaned, rolling over on his side. Hissing in pain that radiated in his chest and ribs and hands. His hands were bloody.

He swallowed hard. Heart pounding. “Honey...” he whispered, worry and confusion taking over.

“She’s safe,” Eddie replied, and it only sort of gave him some relief. 

He twisted around, assessing the room. The furniture had been turned over. It looked like a tornado shredded the space. Attempting to get up was difficult, especially as Peter tried to conceal the rapidly weakening hard-on in his trousers. 

“What about you, how’re you feelin’?” Eddie’s voice chimed in again, voice softer. “What do you see? What do you remember?”

He didn’t want to talk about what he remembered, worried that the bulge in his pants had already given him away. Peter squeezed his eyes closed, the orbs feeling like sandstones lodged into his skull. He groaned, “Uhhh... shit... I... uh...”

He remembered... 

His time in Heaven. The closet. The bedsheets. Honey. Gwen.

No, none of that’s real. None of that happened.

—you’ll never see them again—

Focus, Parker.

—youre a monster and monsters never get to heaven no such thing—

“Pete,” Eddie repeated, this time more firmly. “You with me?” 

Peter looked up at the other man, reading his 5 o’clock shadow. Gazed at the concern in his hazel-gray eyes, the old scar cutting over his left brow, and the dark, puffy bags beneath. He really hadn’t slept in days. What the hell happened?

White hair. Long white hair. Smelled like bergamot, and cedar, and tobacco.

Silver. On her eye lids. Around her neck. Chrome-like. Two tiny patches of shiny silver fabric just barely covering massive, fake tits.

Peter swallowed hard, heart pounding. “I...” 

Silver thong, garter belt and thigh harnesses to match. She looked like a disco ball. Turning, twirling... gliding around a silver pole. Silver eyes, or maybe that’s just the way they looked when she looked at him. Gazing at him seductively. All over him.

Silver tongue. 

He tasted bile coming up his throat. “I... don’t...” Brought the back of his hand up to his mouth to keep it down.

What had he done? What the fuck—?

He looked down at himself in confusion. His black shirt was torn open. Dark pants ripped, shredded in some places. There was a giant black hole in the middle of his memory. 

He was home. In his home, in a meeting, in the parlor— He broke the piano—

“That was almost 3 days ago, man,” Eddie chimed in. Peter stared up at him, gobsmacked. Stunned. Confused. Worry set in Eddie’s eyes, the corners of his mouth downturned. “You’re in Vegas.”

Horror. Filling his eyes, his chest. Shock. Heaving. His throat was tightening up because of it. “Wha...?” Peter murmured in disbelief. “Wh-what...?” 

Like a spooked cat, he clamored to his feet, the whole world tilting as he came to an abrupt stand. 

Blinking rapidly, trying to see into the dark spot in his mind. Black holes consume everything. All light swallowed up. His belt was unbuckled. The fly still fastened tight. His shirt was torn and bloody. Blood all over.

“I...” Peter thought he was going to be sick. He thought he’d scream. “What did I—?” His gaze traveled over the room as he stumbled backward. That’s when he caught a glimpse of it. 

Red hair.

He was trembling. Creeping towards a toppled-over chaise lounge, staring unblinkingly down at the horrible pattern of the carpet. The stains on it. Blood.

Long, white waves of hair, spread out like a halo, stained red with blood. Not his blood. 

Hers. The silver woman who was flirting with him. Bugging him. Teasing him. Shamelessly trying to seduce him. Sat in his lap and poured vodka down his throat and filthy promises in his ear, before dragging him ‘somewhere private.’

“Oh, god,” Peter gagged. Her broken body was spread out in front of them, her blood painting the floor and walls. 

The silver woman’s body was torn apart. Ripped open. Separated. Two halves.

Peter’s legs gave out, dropping to a knee, tears streaming down his cheeks. “God, what did I do?” he breathlessly gasped. There was so much blood. Her skin wasn’t even visible. 

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t lose it!” Eddie babbled, jumping into view. His form obscured the body as he took Peter by the face. His skin was ice cold. “It’s not what it looks like, alright? Don’t— don’t you fuckin’ throw up! Don’t throw up, that’s your DNA!”

As if he cared about going to jail at this point. Peter was already dead inside. Maybe he needed jail. Supermax. Maybe he needed the electric chair. 

“Eddie...” he shivered, voice trembling, “what-what’d... I-I don’t remem—” 

“She was an assassin,” Eddie explained, gripping him by his shoulders. Peter’s glazed over expression swam with confusion. Drowned in it. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, annoyed by the awkwardness of the situation. “C’mon, man,” he grimaced. “You really thought ‘Silver Sable’ was her name?” 

Peter blinked, eyes bugged out. Eddie let out a straight-faced groan, shocked by his boss’ naivety. “Silvija Sablinova was her real name,” he added. “A finalist on the Kremlin’s Got Talent, and guess what her talent was? Cuttin’ throats, man. She’s the leader of the baddest hit squad money can buy. And you were on her list.”

Peter’s skin was stone cold. Shaking his head in disbelief, his brows pinched together in shock. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, “I saw the whole thing go down on the security camera footage. Sorry, buddy, she wasn’t that into you.” 

Peter’s face flushed red, and he looked away. 

“Looks like Kingpin wanted to send you a message.” Eddie looked over at the body, grimness returning to his tone. “Message received, I guess.”

Peter shoved him back angrily, breaking his grip. The dryness in his eyes was only now being counteracted by tears threatening to spill. They burned like acid. “You think that matters to me? I killed her! I did... that.”

“In self-defense,” Eddie argued, then pointed at Peter’s chest. “Not before she got a few good licks in.”

He followed the end of his finger to his chest. Looking down beneath his shirt, he could see bloody gashes oozing beneath the fabric.

Eddie chuckled at the sight in disbelief, “Dude. She stabbed you with a sword—”

“You think this is fuckin’ funny?” Peter snapped, eyes burning hot. “Do you have any idea....?”  The air left his lungs before he could finish the sentence. He felt hollow. Numb.

Eddie wasn’t smiling anymore. He glared right back. “Yeah, Pete,” he said with clipped words. “I do.”

They were deadlocked in heated silence. Finally, Peter stepped backward. Body weary, as it always was after a blitz like that. But this time, it was different. It was worse. 

Squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears. He gripped his hair, letting out a frustrated cry that sounded more like a growl. The agonized groan of a dying animal.

“I got rid of the camera footage, but we gotta get out of here,” Eddie mentioned, anxiously eying the door. “Get back home before anyone else sees you.”

“I-I don’t...” Peter wiped his mouth, unable to keep that smell at bay. Now he could taste the metal on his tongue. 

“Look, this was not random, okay?” Eddie countered. “How did Kingpin know where you were? None of the rest of us did! We’ve been lookin’ all over the East Coast for you. This isn’t circumstance, this is strategy. He went after you for a reason.”

Peter’s eyes were fixed on the floor, tears blurring his vision. “The woman, I-I didn’t...” he sniffed, his voice trembling. He gnawed on his lip to prevent the wobble. “I didn’t want to... I would never do—” 

He was unable to speak further. Unable to breathe. 

Assassin or no, the images from whatever ‘hallucination’ Peter had been having, juxtaposed with the violent scene he ‘awakened’ to, made him sick with self-loathing. It was like throwing a bucket of ice water on him. A bucket of flaming napalm. 

Guilt churned in his stomach. He was ashamed. Mortified at himself. When he squeezed his eyelids closed, all he could see behind them were Honey’s eyes. The look of betrayal on her face. He didn’t even remember how he got there. He didn’t remember anything.

A blackout. 

“You weren’t you,” Eddie said, his tone endearing. “Not really.”

When Peter looked back up, tears running down the bridge of his nose and cheeks, he realized he was looking at a friend. Maybe his only friend. The only one that saw him for what he truly was, and didn’t run away in terror.

Maybe he should, though. Peter certainly scared the shit out of himself.

This was an awful idea, Honey thought, standing outside of the ajar door to Peter’s office. She was half convinced that it would never work— it was impossible, given the enhanced security. She told him. Begged him.

Her puppet master didn’t care. Assured her, via text, that when she got to the door, it would be open. The cameras wouldn’t see her, they’d see a loop instead. 

She had no idea how John was able to pull that off, but he was capable of anything.

He reminded her of that with a series of photos. This time, they were screenshots of an Instagram chat. The tiny profile pic was undeniably Gabriella. The conversation was intimate. Flirty. Then a little inappropriate. Then straight-up graphic. 

She’d sent pictures—christ, what are you doing, Gabby, you never send pictures!—the kind that would make a young girl want to die of embarrassment. 

Or just die. 

And John fucking Walker had them.

It infuriated her. Honey cried for three hours out of sheer rage. It was so wrong—so fucking wrong, that motherfucker, how did he get into her phone? how was he even allowed to have pictures like that? they’re illegal! 

And the more she read over the screenshots, the more she paid attention to spelling and punctuation. The more she began to suspect that John had always been the only recipient of those photos. A catfish caught.

Over her dead fucking body, she thought. She’d die before she’d let him touch her.

And standing in Peter’s office, snooping quietly through his files, that was likely going to be the outcome.

If the threat of harming her sister wasn’t enough, there was a separate gnawing fear inside of her. It had been three days since she’d seen Peter.

After that night, he took off without a word to her or anyone else. She waited for him. After what she saw him do to his guard, she was scared out of her mind, but she waited anyway. He didn’t come home that night. Or the following day. 

And when she asked questions, nobody would give her a straight answer. And the following day, everyone vanished. She was practically alone in the penthouse, except for the 12 other faceless guards who didn’t dare speak to her. Apparently, it was a death warrant.

Now it was Day 3, and she felt like giant bats were flailing in her belly. Where could he have gone? And why did he not at least call her and tell her where he was, or if he was alright? She still didn’t have her own phone (officially) but there could’ve been some form of communication. 

Was she being naive to think that they had that kind of relationship? She wasn’t allowed to do anything without him knowing about it, but he could disappear for days and not tell her anything? How was that fair?

What if he was with someone? Someone else?

She stowed that sharp pang away, not wanting to dwell on it. She was not jealous. She was safer with him gone. He was a monster. She was not jealous.

She was stupid. This was dumb. She had no idea what John was even looking for, but his desk and the drawers showed nothing to indicate where Peter had gone. She sighed, anxiety filling her chest, worried that she wouldn’t have anything to offer him that would satiate his hunger for cruelty.

She stopped at one of the shelves in the built-in bookcase. There, on top of a book, was an item that she’d never noticed before: a metal rangefinder camera, silver with a bumpy black grip and amber-coated lens. 

She didn’t know anything about cameras, but it felt heavy in her hands. She thought it was probably heavier than cameras should be. It looked old. She tested the weight, carefully turning the device over in her hands, inspecting details. 

On the front of the camera, in the top right corner, there was a little badge with an embossed atom symbol. The front also had letters ‘GSN’ and the word ‘GYashica.’ She’d never heard of that brand before—wait, was that GYashica or just the letter G and the word Yashica? Maybe it wasn’t a G. It wasn’t a G. Probably.

The top of the camera had words that were easier to read: Electro 35. A Yashica Electro 35. Old. Vintage. Kinda beat-up. The inside of the camera had a label on it too, from an embossed office label printer: PROPERTY OF PETER PARKER.

It made her smile. Her eyes glanced up at the book the camera had been sitting on, and that’s when she noticed it wasn’t a book at all. It was a box that looked like a book, like the kind that her mom used to use to hide all of their money.

Curiously, she set the camera down on a lower shelf and reached up to retrieve the box. 

Inside: Photos. Real, physical, color photos printed on old photo paper, not like the kind that some people can print off with a printer at home. She remembered having one of those wind-up film cameras once, but those pictures never looked as good as these.

Candids, all of them. Taken with a skilled eye.

A woman, middle-aged, with a wide smile. In mid-conversation, it would seem, with bright eyes despite how sullen they looked. She was sitting up in a chair, an infusion pump beside her. A yellow, daisy floral bandana was wrapped around her head. Her hair was not visible.

The back of the photo had a date. May 2006. Her brows went up as she flipped the photo back around, taking a closer look at the woman. Not May 2006.

May. 2006.

Her lips parted, not realizing she was going to come face-to-face with the May Reilly. May Parker. Peter’s Aunt May. The woman that became his surrogate mother. The ‘fighter’ that defeated cancer. The only mother he really knew, lost in a rain of gunfire. 

Next photo.

An older man, white hair matted down, his upper half drenched. He was sitting in a tight space on a kitchen floor, in front of a sink cabinet that was wide open. In his hand was a pipe. In the other was a rag he was using to dab at his face. Also visible: May, looking a bit older than in the last photo, doubled over, tears in her eyes. Both of them laughing their asses off.

The back of the photo read ‘You should’ve just called a plumber, Ben. 2011’

A chuckle escaped her lips as she put the scene together. She could imagine May’s voice repeating the phrase, and somehow could imagine the man pictured in the photo stubbornly holding out. A warm smile stretched her lips. 

They were so happy. Once upon a time.

Next photo. She gasped.

The woman’s eyes were so green. The brightest green eyes she’d ever seen. She was beautiful. Cornsilk hair framed the apples of her cheeks. It was a closeup, somewhere outdoors. Somewhere cold. A thick-knit beanie was pulled over her ears, and the tip of her nose was bright red. 

Gwen. That was the only word on the back of the photo. 

Honey turned the photo back around, now with her jaw agape. Her brows were furrowed. Gwen. The girl of Peter’s dreams. Beneath that photo, there was a strip of photos in sequence, like the kind taken in a photo booth.

Gwen and Peter. Smiling. Silly. Kissing. Sweet. 

How could something so sweet make her heart ache? He was happy. Once upon a time. 

She pursed her lips together. 

This was stupid. She was stupid. Why was she being stupid?

She turned the strip over to find another handwritten phrase: Do I have to lose you too????

The pang in her chest remained, but this time it was for Peter. And for herself.

With a heavy sigh, she put the photos back in the box. When her fingertips touched the bottom, it moved. She blinked, confused. The bottom of the box was fake.

Tilting her head to the side, she worked her fingernails under the edge of the bottom insert. She pried it up, revealing more photos hidden underneath.

Her eyes went wide, her breath stuck in her throat. Horror.

Gwen again. But these... were different. She was naked. Different poses. Limbs laid out in scandalous ways. 

Honey blushed, pulling her eyes away. Her face warmed and her heart began to race. 

This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. She shouldn’t be looking at this. 

She glanced back at the provocative photos. By the look on Gwen’s face, she was a willing subject. Each picture was taken with a singular intention. Each one, a small taste. Hands gripping her breasts. Another with her ass raised in the air. Looking directly at the lens with a finger hooked between her lips, the other hand slipped between her spread legs. Another closeup of her exposed nipples and her sultry smile, semen covering both. Provocative. Passionate. Pornographic. 

This was wrong. 

She imagined Peter taking these photos. Imagined him directing her, manipulating her body in whatever way he wanted. A doll for him to play with. 

Sweat beaded on her neck. Why was it so hot in that room? Why did her face feel so hot?

Hands shaking, she shoved the photos back into the box. Snapped the lid shut, returning it to its position on the bookshelf. 

Her whole body was trembling. She was aching. 

What was wrong with her? Why did she have the disgusting urge to shove her hand in her pants and just—

“Can I help you find something?” Peter said from behind her. She gasped, spinning suddenly, her hand knocking into the camera. The heavy metal object slid off the shelf and plummeted to the floor. She watched the device falling with horror.

Until it was caught. Peter was suddenly there. Like he’d teleported in the blink of an eye. His wide fingers closed around the camera. He’d saved it, just inches off the ground, before it was destroyed.

She was instantly relieved, then immediately doused in an ice bath. Her whole body went stiff, like she’d electrocuted herself. She was stunned, motionless. His dark eyes landed on hers. Peering up at her, inquisitively from his leaned-over position. Slowly, he straightened out, full control over every muscle. He loomed over her, looking down at her horrified gaze.

“I—” she gasped, babbling. Struggling. “I-I...”

“That was close, wasn’t it?” Peter murmured, studying her too intently. 

She looked down at the camera in his hand, and looked back up at him. A subconscious step backward reminded her that her back was flat against the bookcase. She felt trapped again. Cornered. Her eyes were saucers, staring down the barrel of his gaze. 

“Thank god, you caught it!” she laughed nervously. Her heart was pounding. She swallowed hard, grinning wide. “Nice reflexes.”

Peter watched her carefully, scrutiny playing in his eyes. The bat in her stomach had grown to a full-sized pterodactyl. 

Honey cleared her throat. “Sorry, I... I shouldn’t have been playing with the camera. I was just, um, curious, I guess. I-I don’t even know how to use one.” She wrung her hands idly, digging her thumbnail into her palm. “It looks old.” She said it with a lilt at the end. Turning the statement into a question. 

He glanced back down at the camera. “Uh... yeah... It is.” He looked back up at her, the tension falling from his face. “It’s, um... Yeah, I got it at a garage sale a while ago.” He pursed his lips, somewhat shy. “Good little camera.”

She rocked on her toes, the smile beginning to hurt. “Does it still work?”

He met her eyes, molasses flowing once again. “Yeah. It-it does.”

Honey nodded, trying to cover up the awkwardness, like smoothing out wrinkles in a bedsheet. “You shoot people, huh?”

He raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Your shirt,” she answered, thinking back to the first night she spent in the penthouse. “The one I borrowed that first night?” His face softened as soon as he recalled what she was talking about. “‘I shoot people.’ I get it now.” She giggled. “It’s funny.” 

He watched her smile, and listened to her laugh, and looked away. Unable to hide the reddening of his ears. The flush in his cheeks.

“Um,” Honey carefully began, observing his reaction carefully. “Maybe... maybe one day you can show me how it works? Teach me a little bit about photography?” His eyes darted up to meet hers, flustered and wide. 

Lips pursed, he stared at her in a daze, taking forever to respond. He nodded. Silently. Then, “Y-Yeah, I, uh... maybe.”

He reached over her head and put the camera back on the shelf, on top of the closed ‘book’ where it had been sitting. She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze, stepping out from underneath him. She fought the urge to run out the door. 

“What are you doing in here?” Peter asked, turning towards her. 

She turned around to face him, taking the sight of him in. He looked tired. His hair was messier than she was used to. Floofy. Like he didn’t use any hair product, which for him, was strange. 

He wasn’t dressed like he normally was—just a black, short-sleeve collared shirt with a couple of buttons loose at the top. Skinny black jeans. She wasn’t used to seeing him without at least four articles of clothing. It was odd. Unnerving.

“I was looking for you,” she answered, her brows knit together. It was technically the truth. “Are you okay? You-you look...awful.”

He raised a brow. “Thanks—?”

“No, no, no,” she shook her head. “I just meant...that...” 

Her eyes darted to the corners of his face anxiously. She spotted a small knick on his forehead. An almost-healed wound that looked old, but one she had never noticed before. Her brow curled at the sight. Her hand came up of its own accord, and before she knew it, her fingers were gently brushing the healing skin near the wound. 

Her gaze was warm. Sincere. Genuine concern.

When her fingers touched his flesh, he froze. Jaw clamped tight. Lashes fluttered closed. 

Against his judgment, against everything he believed about what he deserved, he leaned into her touch. Heat built up behind his eyelids, his eyes beginning to sting from the mounting wave. A shiver traveled down his spine. 

Just one gentle touch, and the entire world went away. He felt her hand go still. Or maybe time had stopped. He was afraid to open his eyes back up. Afraid that he was stuck in another dream. Her heart was pounding. So was his. 

When he finally peeled his eyes open, she was staring at him with a look of confusion. Worried, but not in a bad way. Stunned, but not scared. She narrowed her gaze, studying his eyes, and it made him want to hide. Like she could see through him. See into his soul. 

She swallowed dryly, pulling her hand back slowly. His heart clenched, and ached, and wailed, and longed for the warmth of her skin as soon as it was gone.

She fixed her gaze on him, chewing her bottom lip. “We were worried about you,” she said. “I was worried about you.” Seeing through him. Those eyes. 

—youre a monster and monsters never get to heaven—

Peter gulped down whatever tears were threatening to fall, stopping them. Hardened his gaze. Inhaled sharply. Winced at the feeling of broken shards of glass near his heart. “I’m, uh... sorry about that,” he nodded, avoiding her gaze. “I... I just needed some space.”

She recoiled slightly. “From me?”

His eyes grew wide with alarm, “No. No, no... no, not from you. That’s not what I— No, never, I just—” 

The words dropped off. He closed his mouth, flexed his jaw. “Um...” That sting came back to his eyes, betraying him. “Sorry.” His gaze dropped to the floor as he said it. 

The stench of blood lingered. Couldn’t get it out of his airways.

She shifted her weight between her toes, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s... um... it’s okay. I’m just... glad you’re home.” 

Home. 

He lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes once again. She wasn’t lying when she said it.

Home. He took a slow breath. Anywhere she was, that was his home.

“I know we don’t owe each other anything,” Honey said, coy. “And I know you really like rules, so... could we add one? If... if one of us isn’t home, could you at least—I don’t know— tell me you’re okay? At night, if-if you feel like you need to be away again.” The timidness of her voice broke his heart. “So I don’t worry?”

He looked at her like he’d just discovered a planet. How long had it been since anyone worried if he didn’t come home? How long has it been since he was home?

Eyes glistening, he couldn’t find the words. He just nodded. His mind was spinning with guilt, grief, loneliness and longing. Over a decade’s worth. Shyly, his eyes darted around. He hadn’t thought about the fact that she’d been in the room when he killed the Rat—Dexter Bennett, that two-faced asshole, always knew he was dirty—and therefore, witnessed the brutality of his rage. 

She saw him at his worst. Sometimes, Peter felt like his worst was all he had to offer. The fact that she was worried instead of horrified was unbelievable.

“Do you want to get dinner sometime?” she blurted. 

His head snapped over, eyes widened. “Wh... what?”

Her voice was thick with anxiety. “I-I’ve been thinking about it, and... and I mean, we have dinner together all the time, but-but it’s different, because we’re at the house—and there’s nothing wrong with that! It’s just—um, it’s not really anything special. Not that I want something special—like, I’m not asking for a Michelin star or anything—also, why are the people who make tires in charge of judging what we eat? That’s so weird. But anyway, I was thinking, since—y’know, everything has been happening so fast, and... we... sometimes, I feel like we-we barely know each other, y’know?. Or, y’know, in a... deeper way, a-a more.. A closer way. And, y’know... that’s why I thought that we should... should—”

“You wanna have dinner? With me?” he sounded stunned beyond belief.

“Yes!” Honey responded with a relieved sigh. Then, she back-tracked. “I mean... not like... a date, or anything—” 

He grimaced subtly, trying to hide it. 

“Unless... Unless you want it to be?”

His breath caught in his throat. Looked up at her, like he was caught in a dream. Held that gaze for as long as he could, then looked away. Bit his lower lip. Pocketed his hands in his jeans. “That depends,” he said, shifting his molasses eyes to her, sparkling with charm. “You got any plans this Saturday night?”

There he was. Her friend. Honey failed to hide her teeth, feeling a blush travel up her neck. “Um... not particularly.” She smiled, tension lifting. At the sight of her friend, the bats in her stomach became butterflies again and threatened to lift her off the ground. “Why?” 

At the sight of her smile, he returned a thousand-watt grin. She couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her lips. They were teenagers again. Like schoolchildren, nervously swallowing stupid smiles, both of them trying to regain their composure.

“Because,” he said, his voice like honey, “I wanna take you to dinner.” She blushed, and he fixed her with a warm gaze, only cooling a bit. “And I wanna prove myself, that I-I... that I’m more,” he swallowed hard, the sincerity returning to his words. “More than just—”

The words fell away from his lips, his heart plunging into sorrow. She saw the drop, her smile fading at the sight. Goddamn doe eyes. She felt suddenly guilty. Alarmed. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, no, I gotta say this, just let me say this,” he puffed, refocusing his intent. “I haven’t always been good to you. I know that. And I want you to know that I can be better. I wanna prove to you that I know how to treat a woman right, and... That I can treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” He swallowed hard, voice evening out, “You make me feel things that I didn’t even know I was still capable of feeling.”

Her eyes grew wide at this admission. He meant it. 

Dozens of feelings he thought were extinct. Joy. Mercy. Nerves. Excitement. Affection. Love.

“Hope.” He muttered, speaking the word like it was the name of a long-lost friend. “And for that, I know dinner is meaningless. But... it’s a start.”  He gazed at her endearingly, and it made her heart swell. 

“Yes,” she said, her smile equally bittersweet. “I’d love that.”

This wasn’t a date. Not the date. Peter assured her as much. 

Their date was Saturday, and it was Friday. And this wasn’t it.

She felt ridiculous. Stumbling around in an ivory-and-gold-sequined Versace mini dress she honestly mistook for a long-sleeved shirt. 

Hours before, Felicia raided her closet, tossing items at her with a fired-up ‘surprise, bitch, you and me are goin’ out!’ 

Felicia picked the shirt, laughing when Honey asked for the pants. She chose a carefully-curated item from the shoe collection—lace-up your boots, soldier— and chucked them at her. Disappointingly, they were not combat boots. Instead, it was a pair of black, pointed-toe Jimmy Choo stiletto pumps with crystal ankle straps. 

Honey brought up her concerns—how am I supposed to walk in those and not show my ass in this tiny shirt?— which Felicia also laughed off.

Because it wasn’t a shirt. It was an actual dress. And now, Honey felt like she was gripping the hem like the edge of a cliff, with wobbly legs like a baby giraffe on stilts.

“This... this isn’t the date,” Peter swore, sensing her discomfort as they pulled up. He opted for another Saint Laurent pairing—a burgundy velvet blazer, black silky shirt and black gabardine pants, along with Louboutin leather oxfords.

There was a row of freezing club-goers shivering on the sidewalk outside in a line wrapped around the block. Peter helped Honey out of the SUV, and guided her straight past the line. Keeping a respectful few inches of distance, he held his palm near her lower back as they walked through the entrance of the trendy, luxurious nightclub simply known as ‘Web.’ 

Which was a stupid name, she told Peter. 

Turns out it was his club.

And this wasn’t the date. It was business. 

Peter and his associates needed to visit a friend, he explained. This ‘night out’ was really a show of force, Honey realized. He was bringing his top lieutenants, Felicia, Miguel, and Eddie, to the party, as well as at least a dozen other faceless guards, who were told laughably to ‘blend in’ to the crowd.

The inside of the place was overwhelming. Instantly, her senses were overloaded. It was enormous, which made the exclusivity confusing. Sounds and sights and sensation hit her from all sides, a mixture of sirens, lasers, colored spotlights, confetti and fog cannons shooting off. At this stage, they were protected from the sweaty, bustling crowd below, observing the raging party from a balcony. Occasionally, she was blinded by the bright flashing of a 100-foot LED wall, which served as a backdrop for the DJ and could also light-up Times Square if they were close enough. 

Instinctively, she clutched Peter’s arm, worrying her rouge lip with her teeth. The feeling of her warmth set fire to his body. “This won’t take long,” he assured her, apologetically.

“Okay, Dad,” Felicia chirped, skipping up to them and hooking Honey’s free arm in hers. “If it’s okay with you, we’re gonna go out and play, byeeee!” She whisked her away, dragging her towards a staircase. Honey gave Peter a dizzied look as she was lead away.

His muscles pulled taut as his Honey disappeared from view. An ominous lump weighed down his stomach. He would’ve never brought her here at all, if it wasn’t his name on the lease. Felicia insisted that she needed a little freedom. A chance to blow off steam. And an opportunity for Peter to not come off like “a creepy, stalkerish, Nirvana’s-First-Album psychopath who collects her hair to make dolls.”

He grimaced at her comparison. I’m not that bad, am I?

After he tore someone’s head off in front of his whole crew, he figured his reputation could use a little improvement. And Peter wasn’t keen to leave her alone at home again, especially after Vegas.

“You doin’ okay?” Eddie asked quietly. Peter glanced over at him, yanking his downcast eyes from the floor. 

“Um,” he said, clearing his throat. Barely loud enough for the other man to hear. “Yeah, I’m just...uh, I... ” 

—monster... betrayer... parasite—

“That devil on your shoulder again?” Eddie asked with a sympathetic frown. 

Taking a deep breath, Peter nodded his head, rubbing his face tiredly. Eddie quietly observed him, then glanced around to make sure no one else was in ear shot. “Look, uh... I don’t wanna go into the details but... just so you know... nothin’ happened.”

Peter looked over at him, confused. Eddie stared back with an awkward, unsynchronized, conspiratorial wink. The other man knitted his brow incredulously. “What?”

“Y’know,” Eddie said, leaning in closer. “In Vegas.”

Peter’s face flushed red, brows raised. 

“Remember I said I scrubbed the security footage,” Eddie whisper-shouted, more conspicuously than he intended. “I scrubbed it. Saw everything.”

Peter’s eyes bugged out. “Wait, what?”

“Not everything!” Eddie whisper-exclaimed urgently. “I mean, nothing came out. Like, your junk didn’t come out. I didn’t see it.”

Peter felt his soul leave his body. He stared at Eddie him in horror, mouth agape, desperately shaking his head ‘no.’ 

“Like she was all over you,” Eddie whisper-explained, “in your fugue state, but it was nothin’ R rated. Didn’t make it past second base. No penetration, y’know? Except for the sword, when she—”

Peter threw up a hand, grimacing, “Okay, I don’t really want—”

“Your virtue is still intact, is what I’m tryin’ t’say,” Eddie whisper-blurted, like ripping off a bandaid. “Y’know. Your honor hasn’t been... uh... fucked away, I guess.”

Tight-lipped, Peter nodded rapidly, side-eyeing him. “Yeah, no, no, I appreciate that.”

“I’m just lookin’ out f’you, is all. I jus’thought you should know—”

“No, I get that. Got it. Thank you. Thank you—”

“In case you were broken up about it, y’know?"

“Yeah, yeah, thank you. Let’s...” Peter cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. Swallowing his mortified embarrassment, he added, cordially, “Let’s... uh... let’s not talk about this ever again, yeah?”

“For sure,” Eddie whisper-agreed.

Peter took a deep, steadying breath, glancing around at his group, hearing them grow impatient.

Miguel glared at them from a distance, dissatisfied. “Are we gonna do this, or are you two gonna keep flirting? At least somebody buy the other a drink.”

Perturbed, Peter leveled a stern gaze at Miguel, silencing him. He then turned back to Eddie. “Keep an eye on them, will ya?” he asked, with a head-nod towards the dance floor. Worry in his eyes.

“Sure,” the other man nodded. Eddie left to look for Felicia and Honey, feeling the burn of judgmental gazes from the rest of Peter’s crew on his back. 

Rowdy shouts echoed from a separate lounge area perched above the crowd, the sounds lost and buried by the thrumming base of a Masked Wolf mix. Peter and Miguel glanced over at the sound of the commotion.

Scantily-clad models presented at least a half-dozen, ice-filled chillers of expensive bottles to a table like sacrificial offerings. They approached the altar with lit Roman Candles, the sparks from the fireworks raining down like the Fourth of July. A dozen other women—at least one of whom was an actual supermodel— gave praise with flutes and glasses raised.

With a skeptical glare, Peter narrowed his eyes on the center of everyone’s attention—the god they were all there to worship. His old friend. Professional boxer and future heavyweight champion of the world, Danny ‘Iron Fist’ Rand.

“You’d think he’d be taking it easy, especially right before a big fight.” Peter turned towards the voice of another one of his associates—the manager of the club, Jessica Drew. 

The gorgeous woman strode towards the group flaunting a cardinal red, wide-leg jumpsuit with citrine-jeweled embellishments on the halter neckline. Her fluffy, blown-out coils were pulled up high in a wide, red, ruched-fabric headband. A matching golden jewel glittered at the crown of the wrap.

“Jessica,” Peter greeted her with a warm gaze. 

She glanced over to the Rand party with a withering look, rolling her eyes. “Boys never know when to give it a rest, huh?”

Peter softly smiled, nodding in reply. “No rest for the wicked,” he replied. “Let’s get this done, yeah?”

Continue to Part 12

[back to masterlist]

a/n Part 11 and 12 were originally one section, so think of this as 11.A.

If you want to be tagged, please reblog so I can add you to the list. And thank you for all of your comments, replies, asks, and feedback, to me and to other fanfic writers. Your support keeps fanfic alive.

[lorhaghanima]

Dark Angel Tv Series would've been INSANELY popular nowadays.

We have Max, main protagonist, latina young woman with superpowers, who also has grey-ish morality since her main goal is to survive (not to save anyone). We have Logan, our male protagonist, who is a disabled independent journalist, trying to tell the truth in a corrupted city. Secondary characters are amazing too, including sarcastic with a heart of gold lesbian best friend of Max, rastafarian urban philosopher who are both black.

We have our setting - cyberpunk-ish, post-apocalyptic-ish USA, and our main action is actually in Seattle (also not typical).

We have our main theme which is just an allegory to all types of discrimination. Slow-burn romance with angst/comfort stuff. And even though battle scenes are mostly ridiculous, dialogue are often quite simple, and representation of lgbtq+ community, feminism and other things isn't perfect, the show is still incredibly fun to watch. It feelsfeels comforting, easy-going and kind, even though it has dark topics.

[teeth-cable]

You know if Vivziepop wanted Helluva to transition from comedy to drama there was an easy ways to do its without jumping the shark.

The imps are hired killers payed by sinners who have done terrible shit.

Don't expect me to believe I.M.P. hasn't killed innocent people because you really think that awful people only have grudges against awful people.

Like Murder Family would be a great set up for this eventually coming up because Moxxie can't justify killing innocent people. Like all the clients have been evil so he can sleep at night but if there's a target who has done nothing wrong is Moxxie gonna be able to cross that line? Like this is prime conflict potential within I.M.P.

Maybe as the series progresses the main I.M.P. plot the imps get hired to kill for pettier and more petty shit. Hell have Stolas send them on missions like it was set up in the pilot if you want to justify him being here more and not take a left turn in the plot. Maybe have characters comment on how ridiculous the reason for revenge is.

Then imagine one day if the client is an abuser who was killed by their victim in self defense. As the episode goes on we see hints and clues to what went down. Maybe Moxxie and Loona (if she is there) start putting the pieces together. While Blitzo who doesn't give a shit about the target ignores them or doesn't notice. Millie has a healthier life overall so she might interpret the target and client doing typical stuff she sees in Wrath or both evil.

Then when Moxxie or Loona finds the target and learns the truth... There's a few ways for it to play out.

1. The target is let go

2. They hesitate and either Millie or Blitzo take the target out.

Either way it devolves into an argument about morality and i don't expect Moxxie or Loona to fully reveal backstories especially since Millie doesn't know what went down in Moxxie's life but i would think they would hint at it. Maybe Loona could elude to it:

"Blitzo, do you remember when you took me in. The shithole I grew up in! Did you think for a moment I was never hurt? You want to do the dirty work of someone like those assholes?"

Moxxie would probably just stare at Millie intensely.

Like showing a conflict of morals is such a good way to develop your characters and see what lines they will or won't cross and the characters are literally assassins yet that only comes up once and meant nothing because Martha is evil.

If the characters are morally grey, deep and complex like Vivziepop claims yet she does nothing to have the characters morals challenged. Like Moxxie having issues was portrayed as him being in the wrong and a joke. The closest we get to that genuine conflict is Harvest Moon festival where you legitimately can't tell if Blitzo is tempted to let Stolas die and join Striker. Like Striker has legitimate decent points to bring up that are hard to argue against. We know Blitzo isn't a person who believes murder is wrong so that concept wouldn't be the source of conflict. The source is even though he does dislike Stolas at the point and wants to be unshackled and free is he willing to let him live despite that?

We also see that Striker's words did have an impact on Blitzo despite the choice to go against him being made. That's good shit. Like does this mean Blitzo could've easily chosen to let Stolas die then?

Like that's a very complex bucket of worms to address but alas Striker's character seems like it is going to slowly degrade as the show goes on just to dump that bucket of worms in the ocean because if Striker is going to be retconned as a selfish bigot that ruins the moral ambiguity of this scene. Like you can have evil characters tempt characters in media, common trope and all. But usually the audience knows they are evil or its a plot twist. Usually with known evil characters its temptation mainly when you know the protagonist is going to stay on the side of good. However if the audience knows but the protagonist doesn't/plot twist that nobody knows its usually manipulation because if the protagonist chooses their morals then that's gonna out the villain as one.

Morally grey antagonists like Striker are usually 50/50 in what choice the character chooses because grey villains always have somewhat of a point that makes them gray after all. Now im not invalidating manipulation as a valid tactic in storytelling by villains, if its written well it can show power not by might but with words and add a pinch of tragedy or saying morally grey ones cant manipulate but Im just using broad strokes to paint how if Striker gets retconned it takes away from Blitzos decision. It makes it less of a hard choice if Striker is just going to be made into what Vivziepop is intending based off twitter likes.

Like the framing ruins Blitzo being morally grey if Striker is a generic asshole. Instead Blitzo will fall into more of an almost manipulated hero. Which makes him more innocent in the matter.

Then we have Millie. Lets be honest Millie has two traits which is cheerful/sweet and good at killing and everything plot relevant to her is tied to Moxxie.

Like she killed people in her neighborhood. Like Millie legitimately wants to kill people and is disappointed when she's not allowed to.

Like if she's so nonchalant with murder why not have that be tested then? Like what's her line she wont cross in killing or how does her being a serial killer with no remorse who takes pleasure in it effect her life.

Like Millie unlike the rest of the cast has a decent life

Like if she's ignorant to peoples issues because of her blessed life like a lot of people are when they don't research other peoples experiences (this is proven by the amitheasshole subreddit) co-opt that into her murder sprees. Like would Millie not care if the target was an orphan? Would Millie kill a child? If so how does her lack of morals effect her relationships with others or viewpoint of the world.

Like we know from the Alastor comic despite him being a mass murderer he doesn't kill the weak and will go out of his way to protect them, that's moral grayness.

Like the only moral grayness with Millie is her being a killer but... Everyone in Helluva is... Shes not unique in that regard and is often praised for her bloodlust.

But her being so wrathful makes me question why Moxxie even married her because their morals are clearly different. Like Moxxie was traumatized by his time in the mafia and killed a man at like 5 and immediately learned his father killed his mother in the same way. Why would Moxxie want to fuck someone who realistically if Helluva took place irl would trigger him.

Honestly I question why Moxxie is in I.M.P. but that's a different discussion.

Millie and Moxxie having different morals could work if you address it because rn its a huge ass elephant. Like im supposed to buy that these two are a couple who are madly in love and have no issues at all when one of them was traumatized by murder and the other doesn't care to turn the ocean red???

Like if Millie had other traits or we knew her killing morals then I could buy them actually marrying the other.

Just the lack of morals ambiguity is fucking nuts in a show about assassins.

Out of all the rewrites I have read for Helluva Boss, this one is my favorite so far. The main series drama being the moral ambiguity of assassinates makes so much sense. Not only does it relate to the premise of a work class comedy that Viv advertised but also there is a lot more you can work with for drama.

I alway had a few problems with Stotliz becoming the main drama of the show. First, as the series continued it became more about Stotliz and less about the imps and their job, the very thing Viv promised and advertised the show will be. Second Blitzo and Stolas are only affected by their relationship. Moxxie and Millie aren't affected and Octavia and Stella just get repeated plot lines. Nothing new happens and it's strange because Stolas has so much power in Hell that when he screws up, it should have big consequences. There should be new arcs about Octavia being resentful towards Stolas instead of only running away and forgiving him, Stella using her status and power to smear Stolas's reputation, and the M&M should actually be worried about Stotliz because their jobs are made possible by the relationship so if Blitzo and Stolas have a falling out and they can't use the grimore anymore, they will be out of a job. Relating to this, how come the stress of the relationship and breakup hasn't change Blitzo? He has trauma and PTSD towards relationships because all of his pervious ones failed terribly. When he broke up with Stolas, shouldn't he have become more distance towards imps because he got hurt again and doesn't want to risk the same fate with the only friends he has left? Maybe he becomes more creepy and invasive about the M&M because he's so desperately want to feel intimacy and wants to know what they're doing right and what he's doing wrong, there needs to be some kind of change in his character and relationships to show how the breakup impacted him. Third, Stolas is just a pointless character to have in the main cast. He doesn't relate to the majority of the IMP crew, his arc about being a gay man stuck in an abusive relationship doesn't relate to the show being a work place comedy about assassins, and his only plot importance is giving the imps the Grimore. Stolas could have just been a side character who has three minutes of screentime in every Ep to establish his relationship with Blitzo and his purpose or just be a guy we only know though Blitzo's dialogue, there is no reason for him to have such a big role in the context of Helluva Boss being a show about imps assassinations. Maybe Stotliz could be a running side-plot throughout the show and it comes full-circle when Stolas orders the IMPs to kill Stella but there is no reason for Stotliz to become the main focus on the show especially when it doesn't related imps or assassination.

This rewrite explores the idea of morals and ethics better and fleshes out and fits the characters' theme better. Moxxie is a great example of this, he doesn't want to kill innocent people and so far all the people he has kill, he assumes were or learned are assholes but what will he do when he realize he was send to kill a harmless person? I'm curious how this new conflict will affect Loona because most of the time she never goes on missions to assassinate and she pretends to not care about other people. Also how will this contradict her relationship with Blitzo? Will Blitzo still kill the person despite Loona saying how wrong it is, he doesn't want to hurt her but at the same time, it's their job to kill people and he just doesn't care about the person they kill. After he kills the person, how will Loona react? Same thing with M&M, maybe Moxxie married Millie because he thought she was a sweet girl with a brute side but he realizes from their job that Millie is a bloodlust person who loves killing and doesn't care about the ethics and morals. This causes a strife in their relationship just like with Blitzo and Loona and now it becomes a "Us vs Them" situation where Moxxie and Loona become closer and trying to convince them to only kill terrible people but Blitzo and Mille doesn't care but they're not being mean because they're assholes but because in Hell it's difficult for imps to be respected and if killing both terrible and innocent people can give the imps and their job respect then they will continued to kill. Honestly this drama just works better because now everyone in the main cast is affected and we get to learn about their relationships and how people's backstories affect their world views.

[helluvabossrewrite45]

Always sunny anon replying: funny you mentioned Bojack being I believe Viv has said in the past on her twitter that she wants HB to be the next BH yet seems to not understand what makes a show like Bojack work to begin with. (I'll admit I haven't watched Bojack Horseman yet. I've been sleeping on it way to long tbh).

Yeah absolutely. Viv doesnt seem to get that bojack worked in not only in its ability to make people like bojack while not excusing his actions, but also how its structured as 'comedy turned drama'.

(major spoilers for bojack horseman btw, you can just skip to the end/the last paragraph of this post)

Now in bojack's first season, it was a comedy pretty early and stayed that way till later down the season and it continued to grow naturally to a drama (though the comedy is still there of course). Helluva boss though, seems to be all over the place as just after episode 1, episode 2 takes a more serious/dramatic approach when the show is meant to appear at first to be a dark humoured comedy, along with most of the season not even sticking to its original premise, instead focusing more of set ups and stolitz drama that both didnt go much of anywhere (striker might be an exception though i feel like the end with him could be another set up). What wouldve worked is that episode 1 - 4 is entirely on the original premise for helluva boss and the rest would be more serious (with strikers introduction, the agents and stolitz drama) with season 2 continuing the more serious approach. Hell, if their gonna include stolas family drama, why not portray it as comedy at first, then use it later on to portray it more seriously. Like in season 1 of bojack where he and sarah lynn slept with each other, its being treated as comedic. But when he revealed that he slept with her in the interview, its being treated completely seriously and use it to highlight bojacks problem from him with young women and his issues with accountability, episode 2 could portray the cheating as comedic (with stella throwing objects while rambling while stolas dodges them like a dodgeball game with octavia initially being presented as the typical 'lonely stuck in the mud teenager' but we still get hints of her being more than that later down the episode) and while it ends on them leaving the festival in an awkward comedic way, that would used in seeing stars where octavia vents about her family drama, including on how neglectful stolas has become as a father from the festival incident. Im kinda surprised viv didnt consider to use it because it would be a perfect tool for helluva boss to use.

Another reason why bojack worked compared to helluva boss is its characters. While bojack was written well, the rest of the characters (especially women) shine through and we get to see more of who they are overtime. We dont really get much on that with helluva (especially the women), sure we get their backstories though we dont really have much depth if that make sense. Like when we compare todd to moxxie, todd's deal is that he's extremely helpful and he actually have stuff going on for him, its only bojack thats holding him back so when he finally distance himself from bojack, not only is it consistent but its also not repetitive, instead we get to know more about todd, seeing his relationships, discovering his asexuality etc...hell, he even has his own episode where he learn to make time for himself too instead of always helping out everyone. Moxxie has an arc of overcoming his weakness but the thing is, it repeats the same arc that it can get tiring to watch. What would work for him is that he slowly develops him overcoming his weakness instead of it just being repeated (like maybe further snapping at blitzo or confess that he considers quitting) Its a real shame too because him being close to morally good than morally grey or bad (which i predict thats what most of hells beings would be) opens a gate to a lot of possibilities for him as a character like why he took the job, how he met his wife, how he views the world around him etc...but they clearly didnt know what to do with him especially when season 1 wasnt even properly planned (as viv literally admits this on twitter too) so its why he as a character feels stagnant. But a bigger comparison however, has to be the women in the shows. People tend to praise the show for how it writes its women characters, often from diane and princess caroline. They're shown to be as messy and complex as men like bojack in the show though other women characters had their time to shine like hollyhock, kelley, gina, penny, bojack's mother etc...Its clear that bojack writes both men and women well in the show. Helluva boss on the other hand, is quite unbalanced in its writing for men and women. Specifically with the men having more variety and generall knowledge about them than the women. Like millie and loona, despite being major characters, have very little depth especially with millie who wouldnt even be a character if we remove her from moxxie. And even with the other women characters, they dont have much depth either (or at last we dont get to see that depth often like with verosika), they all in some way are in the roles for men characters (octavia and loona being there to establish the good in stolas and blitzo or stella and verosika being there to establish to either be the villain or to show a part of the man's past) Its very clear that viv favours men characters than women as alastor and angel dust having more going on than charlie, the main character herself. I mean, both shows are technically character driven and to be character driven, your gonna have to make sure your characters can equally shine on their own instead of one having more depth than the other.

To put it shortly, i dont think viv really gets why bojack was successful to audiences to begin with and in turn, failed to achieve that success with it being how she structures her show for the 'comedy turned drama' style being all over the place when bojacks was of natural progress and her imbalanced/poorly planned writing of men and women characters where it wasn't an issue in BoJack

[fantomette22]

(For Bloodborne)

10, 16, and 18?? 💀

I answered 10 here ! As for the rest it is quite long so putting it under there. Hope you ready 😅

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Hm... wait I need to remember all the things I don't appreciate... and try not to make ennemies 😓 (it's really not my goal it's just personal preference mostly. Seriously depending how things are explained and presented there's lot a thing I can actually enjoy! While I would dislike when it's just throw and spam without context.)

Hm well you know as for characterisations when it's reduced to like 2 traits or extreme good / extreme bad it's hm... yeah. I mean I know I ain't a good exemple but I barely share dark headcanons 😓 but they do exist hehe.

Of course absolutely don't mind and love silly shenanigans (when you're hanging with your friends and having fun it's not always very serious) and also more dark and matures ideas. When people share it doesn't mean it's all they think to the characters! Gotta take the all picture!

But it does bother me when people believe in almost caricatural interprets like it's canon and talk down on others with different views. Somehow like they are the worst thing...like wtf.

Also well typical extreme talk about Gehrman, Maria and mostly Laurence I suppose (maybe a bit Lulu aka the holy blade but it bother me a bit less because people are generally not spamming to or being annoying as much as the others. Oh Micolash too). When people reduced them to just 2 things or an extreme. I feel it really doesn't fit with the infos within the game. I'm not a fan at all. They are all morally grey and humans. They are not clearly all black or all white. they are morally gray, they are humans!

In more details now. Well for Gehrman you know my stance already. Clearly yeah he had some issues in his life and did bad things but clearly I don't think he was a misogynistic asshole and all the stuff. Like it just don't make sense to me. I don't even wanna vent about it today XD

As for Maria well. Look I don't have a problem with the headcanon of her being a butch lesbian. I mean it's even one of my AU actually. (to put it really really simply. Bc I like having several interprets disconnect to each other in their own settings). It can be very interesting in an overall big story I think. The problem I have is when it's apparently her only unique traits and if you think or headcanon otherwise for any reasons you are apparently the worst shit to exist and getting block. Being labelled as sexist, homophobic etc. Well idk but that kind of reaction kinda tell me who the real -phobic one is 😕 really that is sad like wow who hurt you people?! to have this much anger to people just trying to have fun. Thankfully it's clearly just a minority of people who are agressive like this. And I hope they will grow, gain maturity and realise there's really no need to be that mean about such a thing. But it's been a while saw smt like this so I prefer to put this behind me there's hope.

As for Laurence I'm not really a fan of him being the ultimate bitch devil (or angel but nobody has that take almost. That would be a change. the tragic vicar who only had good intention but accidentally fucked up and try his best until the end😔 I mean I don't agree with that either but that's a change). I mean by this, that I think he did both. Good and bad things. That he had honorable intentions at first but overcome by a bit of ego and pride he fucked up really bad. And then realised his mistake but it was too late to correct it... his theme inspire great strength but who end in tragedy and pity. So overall tragic these too. Him being depicted as just a smug unlikable bitch is something I have a hard time with. I mean yes I like to imagine him being a smug bitch too at times for sure! it's fun but not like all the time and making it his entire personality. If that make sense. I don't see how he could be an important religious figure, doctor and having so much support by just being a manipulative ass all the time. Especially if he start from ground 0.

And hm... i have nothing again it and people so that we're clear but hm EXCEPT in certains very specific context* I am not personally a fan of Laurence being drawn with horns on his head. It just isn't my cup of tea. I'm not sure to understand what's the interest don't make sense to have Laurence looking normally human + just horns but it's just me.

*EXCEPT WHEN : symbolism and symbolic art (no prob I like those actually. Horns + when he's burning in human form for exemple onlooking like religious symbolism) ; "decoration" like lil detached horns, like you would put flowers or sparkles or little emoji next to a portrait of a characters ; before he transformed but with other signs of beasthood (actually him human with horns can be nice but I prefer when it's like mini horns not full cleric beast ones + idk a giant arm with claws and fur growing, eyes looking weird, teeth growing, his hair being longer and messy etc).

Now last I will stop after...

I think a whole fic or interprets on a really dark and realistic Bloodborne universe like our world can be super interesting! But I don't enjoy when people seem to think Bloodborne is 100% our 19th century with just a couple of eldritch things in it? Ok it's closer to us compared to medieval fantasy like DS or elden ring. But I feel it's fantasy too. if we had a map I won't be surprise if that's not Europe or a map that existed in real life. Lot of things don't fit to be actual victorian era. It's just inspire by it : invention and technology aren't on the same lvl. Either they are missing important inventions or are too advanced. (Molotovs appeared during spain war and were named like this during WWII) people don't seem to have 10 children working in factories or mines as well. Women are doctors, academic, hunters etc No steam machine or electric bulb but who knows. I could make an entire things... Looking at all the real life inspirations for the game is great! Create a very realistic story is very cool! But I would personally be more on the side that's it's more of a victorian fantasy. Like Sekiro can't be in our world or how Dark souls is a medieval fantasy as well and isn't medieval age accurate.

Oh boi i forgot about victorian london. Jokes are fine but bloodborne is more inspired on Prague and eastern europe i feel. You and Katy developed it more anyway

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

Ok I don't know how to answer this so have a list (of ideas in my head I need to share /write one day lmao) :

Maria backstory (no seriously I want stories on her childhood, her family, what happened, how she felt toward them. Conflicted? Good terms but separate ways? Actually work for them for a while? Disowned? I wanna know! If she's actually close to Annalise ? More important in royal family that we know? Or really a random noble related to them?) Is her pyromancer real?! why she dislike blood blades?

How she got her Rakuyo

How she met Gehrman? her training? WHAT HAPPEN I NEED TO KNOW uxkcblkDOLFMBOEAMl: (sorry XD) work for Laurence & co too

Important lore Charcacters backstory before this whole mess (Laurence, Gehrman, Ludwig, Willem etc yeah basically everyone lol I won't do the entire list XD but how did they meet each other what bound them what happen.)

Stories how the healing church + blood transfusion actually came to be?

Byrgenwerth era (yeah sorry I love it XD)

So yeah overall timeline before the hunter arrive (help)

Cainhurst, Annalise, vilebloods, potential KING of Cainhurst

So yeah Logarius too

Loran, Isz and pthumerians lore??

Dores and Gatekeeper my beloved

Caryll (yeah just Caryll)

Izzy and bestial hunters. How the bestial rune was forbidden, why Laurence had it etc

Ok is everyone except 5 persons gonna ignore the fact freaking Gehrman can make more than just weapons?! well wood stuff are oblivious but how did bro can make such refined clothes hello?!?!

Religion practise how it works in Yharnam, how citizens and clerics actually practise it.

What's their history, their legend, how the geopolitic within the country is and others XD (it's more a critic about the game in itself than fandom really) In truth I'm a bit sad we know lot of countries and regions within Dark Souls but almost none with Bloodborne! Like many people are from foreign countries and we have 0 names compared to the dozens in DS. we just have like vaguely Yamamura asiatic country, Eileen's one, Valtr's city, Loran and Isz. As for Gascoigne Gilbert Brador and all the others we don't know anything. In Dark Souls we have names and we know where people came from : Catarina, Astora, Forossa, Mirrah, Carim, Vinheim, Lordran etc)

Event being seen by random citizens or young characters growing up could be interesting!

I mean many characters again

I might stop here or it will never be over sorry... I'm not even sure it's really slept one but I wish we have more. There's just so many possibilities and things that can be created!

[elisedonut]

I'm fond of Percy but he hasn't drawn me in like some other Weasleys-- what are some top adjectives that you would use to describe him? What's your draw to him as a character? So nice to meet you!! 💖

Hello!! Nice to meet you!❤❤

now word of warning i'm not really that great at character like meta and stuff so my first thought was legit just

uhhh he babie????

but seriously obviously there are the typical ones that most people think about like intelligent and bossy so lets not talk about those some big ones i associate with him and find very interesting about him are like

Mother-hen, Perfectionist child turned Anxiety ridden adult, Eldest daughter syndrome personified, Slut, Autistic-coded, attention whore, Drama queen, Morally grey

Here's also a post that I heavily agree with that explains some of his characteristics way better then I ever could

as for me being drawn to him that's difficult to answer I got attached to him from reading Draco/George fics which lead to Draco/Percy fics because Draco would keep like mentioning that out of all the other siblings he got along best with Percy to my ADHD brain like flipping a switch and saying that I love him and hyperfixating on him and trying to read every Percy centric fic I could find and now I'm here over a year later

I do find him very relatable and quite adorable and find the way the narrative and parts of the fandom treat him terrible but like a tangible thing to point at and be like

that

that's why i love him is a bit more difficult

but ill try

He's smart,

He's bossy,

He has anxiety,

He loves his family,

He has a complicated relationship with said family,

He tries to take care of the people he cares about,

He needs his mom and dad to really see him and not just what he can do for them or his accomplishments even if he doesn't realize it

He would have sex with all the quidditch captains of his 7th year if given the opportunity,

He was sending his girlfriend love letters all summer

He cares about rules and structure but would break them in a heartbeat if he found it necessary

He's lonely

He was a good Prefect/Headboy with what he was given to work with

He's constantly trying his best but with the world normally throwing that in his face

He had a crush on his boss,

He's so used to his family not respecting him that he typically brushes it off

He needs therapy

He ran a whole department practically by himself

He survived being in the ministry when it was swarming with death eaters and wasn't murdered

He had to watch as his last three school years descended into more and more chaos and still was expected to respect and listen to the man in charge

He passed 12 newts

He liked divination

His old pet rat that he found turned out to be a person and we don't even know if he was ever told

so um

in conclusion uhh he my babie??