#where like. you always have Victims and Perpetrators

[fierceawakening]

Yes! That’s… less of a clear answer than I feel comfortable with to join a movement or admire its leaders, but it’s something.

I always get the sense in conversations like this that people are much more comfortable than I am just being like “who cares about the edge cases?”

I care about them, both because I’ve *been* the victim of things committed by people too deep in their mental illness for anyone who tried to convince them to stop, and because if we truly believe everyone is a person (which I see as a key tenet of leftist values and part of why I choose them over right wing values in the first place) then we believe some things are too cruel even for people who do horrific things.

So I don’t see it as an issue we can avoid.

Also like I’ve mentioned I work at a homeless shelter. The reason a lot of academically inclined leftists can talk about crime like it’s rare is because they don’t spend time in environments where people who’ve committed crimes are common. I don’t think they’re wrong that most people are basically good, but I think they can be naive about what it takes to convince someone crimes are not a great idea. If someone has a patten of criming, it’s because that’s what they believe works for them. Getting them to stop is about changing their outlook and habits, which is far from impossible but a lot slower and more bumpy than many people who never did much criming want to think.

Also I think a lot of people really don’t have an accurate picture in their heads of serious mental illness. I think very often people have an idea that even very acutely ill people are fairly rational, and you can usually help them deal with their anxiety, give them meds, whatever, and they improve a lot. Again, I don’t think this is fundamentally incorrect; disease isn’t destiny. But having interacted with a lot of people whose illness is particularly intractable, I think that people often have… the same kind of image in their mind, where they don’t really understand how incremental incremental can be.

There are many people, including one client I’m very morose about, who improve a little when treated well, but a little isn’t enough. My moroseness? That client has been banned for fighting, unless she appeals the decision and wins. I don’t *like* the thought that she’s going to lose her place here and that’s likely to only make things worse… but I don’t have the fundamental confidence to say that kicking people out for violence is too cruel, we can make sure it’s fine. Making sure it’s fine is very clearly above my pay grade, and while there are people with more experience and better degrees than me I don’t have the impression they’re less confused.

All of which says to me that deciding we’re ready to stop imprisoning people who do bad things is at the very least premature (and to their credit a lot of abolitionists do agree that prisons will be phased out over time.) I think it’s unrealistic not just in a way that paints a rosy picture of humanity (as a whole? My picture of humanity is also fairly rosy!) but also in a way that fundamentally ill prepares us to really help perpetrators in ways that matter.

[skay-ali]

The lonely lady

new fandom

The sun was shining, illuminating the dark streets, although they were very busy, there was a tense air in all the people, there was nothing but gray colors devoid of life, frowning or tired faces.

You would miss this small city full of aristocrats and commoners or normal people who always made you smile with their mundane, moderately fierce lives.

What you wouldn't miss is all the trouble about crimes at the hands of aristocrats, dealing with the helplessness of not being able to do anything about how innocent people suffered at the hands of monsters, only crying over the miserable end they had and enduring living without discomfort with the perpetrators. . of stories abominable actions.

You would finally be free from your entire evil family, you wouldn't miss them, they never showed an iota of compassion when you came to the family, you were just a stain on their lineage, that's why they could barely sell you to a nobleman.

But they were foolish, by compromising just to fill their pockets and have more power, they opened their doors to ferocious wolves, who meticulously planned their fall for all the evils they caused for generations.

You were never treated as their equal, you were just another maid, it didn't bother you even though they were cruel, the tasks they made you do were the typical ones you did in your old life, it was like a respite from all the work you were forced to do. to survive in a modern, capitalist world.

In addition, you had good friendships, you were able to gossip with the maids, drink with the gardeners and coachmen, play like a little girl with the children of the employees of the family home.

Your family in this new world would soon see its end, this was the night, the night where you would no longer see the need to stay in a house pretending to be an exemplary young lady and the fiancée of one of the most coveted men in the world. the ladies for their beauty and high status, afraid that your family will punish you for running away and ruining their business.

But above all you would no longer live with the fear of seeing your end at the hands of your fiancé and his family, the vigilantes of this story who wanted to clean up the world, you were not ready for such a thing, you were just an extra you told yourself and as a good extra You would disappear without a trace.

The United States seemed like a good option, going to the future land of dreams, where many people in the future could improve their lives.

Just don't look back, don't remember the affection you have for those characters with whom you lived for a few months, they were only pretending to achieve their goals, you repeated yourself endlessly... but you... you didn't, you actually got attached to them, they helped you overcome the emotional attachment you had with your former friends, the servants of the big dark house in which you were raised.

But now you were free although your heart hurt a lot, because you loved those people, you even allowed yourself to love, the one you never imagined, because you always had reason as your guide, it didn't end well, that person never saw you in such a way.

Even if you tried, you were in his eyes the evil that he sought to eradicate.

Not even his radiant fake smile could lie to you, you saw it many times captured in ink, in his story, that radiant smile he gave to his victims.

It was sad how such a vigilante would end up, not being able to witness the wonderful paradise he created.

Oh if only you had known, your escape would only cause problems later on, those people you didn't expect anything from would surprise you.

“Where is the lady?”

“excuse me who?”

“Miss ___, your fiancée” the maid became impatient, something that did not go unnoticed by those present.

“Excuse me but what do you need from her?” asked one of the brothers, disconcerted by the interest of the servant they had helped, in the noble woman who lived in their winery.

“She must know…” the young woman said calmly.

“she is finally free… she will no longer suffer for that family”

It was a bucket of cold water, although the entire group was very insightful, they never noticed such a thing, it must have been a very well-kept secret on your part.

They knew they had to talk to you after the maid's big confession.

They just didn't expect you to have left.

It is hopeful to see how in the darkness a being emerges capable of bringing light to this place again, it takes being truly brave and determined to try to cleanse the world of corrupt nobles.

But there is something that bothers me, perhaps this new great hero will be corrupted, or will he think that now he is the evil that must be eliminated.

I think that after his great deeds, the hero should live his happily ever after, even if it is a childish thought, doesn't he deserve to be happy after having sacrificed himself?

After all this, the obsessive characters are unleashed....

[aeide-thea]

[witcherposting ahead—nb that this is all totally lighthearted and it's fine if you feel differently!]

anyway what i'd started to say before tumblr ate my post was that like. disclaimer that my approach to netflix witcher canon is that i fully reserve the right to cherrypick, because some of the changes they made were good but others were character assassination, and that obviously i get that if one isn't cherrypicking one does have to actually Grapple With Certain Things 🏔

but like. that said—the more 'Geralt Must Grovel for Weeks and Probably Scourge Himself, Look at What He Did to Poor Sad-Eyed Woobie Jaskier' fics i read the more i'm fucking grateful for the tiny handful where jaskier's just been like, yeah, i never bought that bullshit tbh, he was lashing out and he owes me an apology for sure but a single angry outburst does not in fact scupper an extremely well-established relationship of literally twenty years' standing in one fell swoop???

like i just. idk. imagine remembering that jaskier's a cheery irrepressible little shit and not actually as crushably low on self-esteem as all of us are. of course that would probably require *netflix* to have remembered that, so, you know, no actual shade to anyone who's been projecting that onto him! but just like. idk. they're obviously not siblings but they honestly do have that vibe in certain ways and it's just like. did you never say something overdramatic and shitty in the heat of a fight with yr sibling growing up and then after taking a bit of a breather just like. make a rueful face and apologize for yr respective roles in winding each other up and move tf on, without having, like, a whole extended OTT reparations process where you tell them repeatedly how perfect and sinless they are and how you know you're a miserable worm who doesn't remotely deserve their sunshiny presence in your life but would be so grateful if they could, possibly, somehow, see their way to forgiving you despite yr essential unworthiness—

[zahri-melitor]

Anyway thinking again about how I wrote Tim saying that it feels like "I'm easy to overlook" and how the thing about Tim is that basically none of the worst things that have happened to him in his life are because of him, or centred on him, he just suffered as a result of events where the perpetrators never really thought about him at all.

Because one of the side effects of being the Team Up Robin is that for so many things Tim was not the primary victim, but because he's there and he cares about so many people, he suffers as well, and he loses people and he is rarely allowed to centre himself in that loss. And when he does, the fandom often pushes back that 'it's not about you'.

The only loss he's seriously ever been allowed to hold onto as his own is Jack's death (and maybe Kon's), and I think that is partly because the fandom generally would like to not make sustained eye contact with the rest of Identity Crisis, despite how much story it drives for DC comics for the following few years.

Even to Mr Oz removing Tim from Gotham in Tynion's run, it's all explained as not being about Tim, it's because Tim's presence makes things work and that's a problem to Mr Oz's plans.

This is a character who looked at an unbearable hole in Bruce's life and found a way to grow to help fill that hole by taking on the role of Robin, and even as he was trying to step into shoes he thought would always be too large for him he was dealing with the fact his mother died because someone was trying to conceal major corporate theft and learning to deal with that loss himself.

Tim loses himself on occasion in terms of having been there and helped and someone else's pain being considered the more major factor, to the point he gets accused of inserting himself into the situation.

Like why is he easy to overlook? Because things don't happen to cause him pain deliberately, because his problems are often happening in the middle of bigger troubles elsewhere, because what Tim specifically brings is, so much, about his networking power and the way he makes systems function, which is underappreciated and often not recognised until it fails.

[afurtivecake]

Ok let's talk about this line (because I'm slightly obsessed with the complexities of Kevin, Riko, and the portrayal of trauma and abuse in AFTG).

"...precarious line between beloved brother and punching bag."

A thing AFTG does well is the way it consistently presents abusive relationships as relationships. Sometimes in media, an abusive relationship is seen as a situation where one party is the controlling abuser and one is the fearful victim. Sometimes a victim feels that last straw break, becomes disillusioned and leaves for good. It leaves the audience with a morally righteous sense of, "GOOD. GOOD FOR THEM. They deserve so much better." And it's so tempting to see the situation as something black and white. That's the narrative Neil and Andrew see in Kevin's situation. They think he's too scared of Riko even though Riko can't do anything to him anymore, that he should have considered all emotional and material ties to Riko severed the moment Riko broke his hand. In a way, they're absolutely right.

But it's not that simple. Kevin tells them it's not that simple. Jean knows from experience it's not that simple. Kevin and Riko weren't just two sides of a violent situation, perpetrator and victim. They had a real, substantive relationship as brothers and allies. Whatever toxic and twisted form it took, it was still built upon all the same things as a normal relationship: shared history, shared goal, shared emotions, an understanding of each other, and some form of mutual give and take.

Perhaps you can walk away easily from someone whom you've never had a relationship with, who has done nothing but hurt you, like Neil and his father or Jean and Grayson. But it's harder when the abuse comes from someone you've formed a relationship with.

Jean can't stop missing Riko, Zane, and the Ravens even though he hates them and can't be more relieved to be free of them. Neil has meltdowns when he's reminded of his mother (who was still abusive despite how much she loved him and how she tried to protect him with her life) even though he's also glad to be free of her so that he can finally live his life.

"It didn't matter how much Riko hurt him; they'd spent too many years completely wrapped up in each other"

Good people can do bad things and bad people can do good things. That's what makes it so hard to get out of abuse situations sometimes. You can be forever altered by the trauma they caused you but it doesn't erase the memory of the good moments that meant something to both of you and probably will still always mean something to you.

And ok, perhaps Riko had never been actually good to Kevin. But if you've spent your entire life where "manageable" is as good as it gets, guess what, "manageable" is your definition of "good". Good or not, Riko and Kevin still grew up together, trained together, travelled together, won together. They made each other better at the one thing their lives revolved around. They shared in each others' secrets. They were praised together when they won and shared each other's pain when they failed at something. Besides exy, each other was all they had. And none of that stops being true even when Riko beats the shit out of Kevin or punishes him for stepping out of line or even when he breaks his hand.

[laceylavender]

Gale and Katniss are proof that you can grow up in the same circumstances and still learn to see the world in a different way.

Growing up in famine, abuse, violence, poverty and under control of a corrupt government gave them similar circumstances to grow up in: being the oldest sibling, their fathers dying in the mine, becoming the providers of the house at an early age, losing almost everything to said government. While Katniss developed a sense of empathy for everyone affected by this government (whether they were more privileged than her, or not), Gale developed a sense of hatred and thirst for vengeance because the people that weren’t his people had privileges that no one should have, while his family and his friends were being starved, or killed.

That’s why from an early age (pre-teen to full blown teenage years) he had always been thinking with the mindset of a hunter, only he wasn’t only hunting in the forest for prey and food, he was hunting in the real world and he was hunting his enemies, perpetrators and by-standers who did nothing to stop them, they all fit in the same category for him: the enemy. He grew up thinking of ways in which he could kill them if he could, that’s why earlier in the books he tells Katniss he would kill the Capitol citizens if he could, they were nothing to him.

When Gale sees the Capitol bomb and fire his district and kill his people, then gets evacuated to district 13 and has the opportunity to do something, to be of value and design strategies that can help kill said enemy, he does it. No second thought.

The thing is, both Katniss and Gale were right in certain aspects, especially in those they couldn’t agree on, and for me is easy to see from the perspective of both.

In war it should be common rule to offer the possibility of surrender first, but when your enemy doesn’t surrender and you see your own army lose more and more members, you attack - most of the time these are “last resort” attacks that end in lots of human life lost, but when you still give them a last chance to surrender like they did with the train in 2, it still shows a little glimpse of hope and empathy, that not everything has to be lost to war, and this is the part Gale didn’t understand, because if he paid too much thought to it, the lines would get blurred in his head, it was easier to see in black and white.

Personally, I’m in a grey zone when it comes to both of their thinking, and that’s why as a world with increasing and escalating issues we’ve created mechanisms like humanitarian law, war law, international human rights, etc, etc, we need to draw the lines, this is the playbook Katniss was referring to. What’s too much in war? A bullet to the head? Burying people in a mountain just for the sake of killing them? Where’s the line? Hijacking and manipulating people, stripping them of their consciousness and identity? Sending children into an arena to murder each other? Human trafficking? Sex trafficking? You see where I’m going? This is not about Gale, it’s about war.

Look at history, look around you. What do you see? What do you make of it? And please, use critical thinking. Is it acceptable to kill group B if they’ve killed people from group A? Do people from group B deserve a second chance, although their victims didn’t? Your opinion and reasoning depends a lot on the morals you have, and your own experience with war and abuse, which, if you’ve been lucky enough not to have a first hand experience with it, you should also take it into consideration before saying something. Just think, consider, see beyond yourself, see from different points of you, keep the definition of good and evil close to your hand and take note where they start to get blurry. What do you see?

[idyllic-affections]

bravery and its unique manifestations.

summary. huohuo's baby sibling has always been bolder than her.

trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. huohuo & younger sibling!foxian!reader, mr. tail & reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

author's thoughts. mr tail is so dad coded

huohuo tries her very best to be brave for her baby sibling, [name].

they admire her so very and deeply and earnestly—this, she knows for certain. it would be impossible for her not to know. with the way their eyes grow wide with awe and the way they bounce on their heels, excitedly telling her all about how they want to be just like her when they get older (even though huohuo is barely any older than her baby sibling, and she's unsure if her little heart would be able to handle them being a spiritfarer too…), the way they brag to everyone they meet about how their big sister is just the coolest foxian on the luofu… she would have to be completely and entirely oblivious to not take notice, and even then, she's certain that mr. tail would scoff and point it out to her with a remark about how airheaded she must have been to not realize.

huohuo knows. they admire her more than anyone else on the luofu.

so, she does her best to be brave. [name] thinks she's the most awesome person in the universe! if she didn't at least try to live up to their interpretation of her, then what kind of a big sister would she be..? truly, she does not wish to disappoint them. she would never get over it, never forgive herself, if she did.

she does her best to strengthen her resolve—horror movies at the latest hours of the night, taking on more responsibilities as a spiritfarer, and even going as far as to ask mr. tail to somehow scare her a bit. she just wants to be brave. if not for herself, if not for xueyi and hanya, if not for anyone else in the entire universe, then for her sibling.

even after all of that, though, some fears are not so easily tackled. aeons, she can't help but go stuttery and quiet when someone berates her.

her little sibling has always been bolder than her. they've always been able to stand up for themselves, always been able to keep their chin up, always been able to persevere… they are, in an ironic way, everything she wishes she could be, everything she hopes that she will be one day. just as they wish to be like her, so too does she wish to be like them.

given their sparky attitude, it's no surprise that when they overhear someone berating their big sister, they zip over at the speed of light… or possibly even faster with how they're almost tripping grown adults due to hardly watching where they're going.

mr. tail has already taken to yelling at the one who so boldly dared to talk down to huohuo—that is something only he can do, how dare some random resident think that they also have that right—by the time [name] has gotten to huohuo's side. she tries her best to quickly dry her tears for them. despite her face not being completely dry, [name] doesn't even seem to notice, for immediatly after reaching her side and letting mr. tail finish, they yell:

"yeah! what mr. tail said!" they shout, little foot stomping onto the ground as they cross their arms. their attempt at a scowl really just looks like a pout. simply put, they are not intimidating in the slightest ('cute' might be a better word to describe the little fuming foxian), but the choice of words that follow are certainly silencing: "shut up! who do you think you are to talk to big sister like that?! don't ever say those idiotic things again, you got it?! she's a judge! who the hell are you to talk to her that way?!"

it's quiet for a moment.

then, the perpetrator-turned-victim queitly, awkardly shuffles away. mr. tail chuckles—it could be argued that the sound is fond in its nature, but he would never admit that to anyone. "you tell 'em, pup—"

their chest puffs out proudly.

"—but next time, do it without sayin' hell again, got that?"

they pout. "fine…"

please consider reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment, it helps me out quite a lot!

[lovelyjuju]

𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 - 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐢

werewolf!taki x fem!reader

genre: supernatural au, love at first sight (for taki), strangers to ??, some fluff & some angst

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, contains vampires, switches between reader's pov and taki's pov sometimes

word count: 5.1k

a/n: this is very inspired by &team's webtoon, because this was the easiest way for me to write it. i've never written "supernatural" before and i think it really shows, i honestly don't like how this turned out lol

this was requested here, tysm for your request, anon! <3

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

the cool night wind was blowing against your cheeks, causing you to shiver slightly, as you pushed your hands even further inside the pockets of your coat. your steps felt heavier than usual, given the small layer of snow that covered the forest ground.

you mentally cursed your brother for refusing to leave from that goddamned party, making a fuss over it that ended in you leaving on your own before the two of you made fools of yourselves in front of the other people. your own hometown wasn't far, but there were only two ways to reach it: the barely lit highway, where walking would equal signing a death contract, or through the forest that seperated the two towns.

you weren't scared in particular, knowing the paths like the back of your hand from the countless of hours you'd spent in the woods during your childhood, playing catch or hide and seek with your brother, or climbing the trees to heights that would have sent your parents into a coma if they'd known. yet, despite the familiarity of your surroundings and the full moon that illuminated them more than any other night would have, there was just something about wandering alone through a forest at night that felt unsettling.

but you'd be home soon, only a few more steps until–

you stopped, squinting your eyes slightly, not quite sure where the dark spots in front of your feet were coming from. your gaze scanned the ground until it fell on a trace of more marks. you took out your phone and opened the flashlight, only able to catch a glimpse of their deep red colour before the light died down again.

your phone running out of battery seemed like a smaller problem, compared to the realization that hit you when your mind started racing until it had made sense of the red stains. they were drops. blood.

you tried to keep your breath steady, although your heart doubled its pace, at least. it was no secret that wolves roamed the forest, and from what you'd heard all your life, they were ruthless creatures – always poised to strike, always ready to take down their prey. but what if, this time, their victim hadn’t been an animal but a person? what if someone was lying just a few feet away, possibly still breathing, possibly in need?

you shouldn’t. not when you were alone. not when you had no way to call for help, too far from either town divided by the forest for potential cries to reach anyone. but against your better judgement, you followed the trail of blood, holding your breath and tightening your grip around your dead phone.

the further you walked, the bigger the stains became. your eyes were fixated on the floor, eagerly following the path, until a faint sound yanked your head up. it had sounded almost like... a whimper? your feet picked up the pace, almost running, hearing the same sound becoming clearer, closer, until you finally found the source of it.

your eyes widened again, an uncomfortable shiver running down your spine. you felt your stomach sink, and your insides felt like they'd turned upside down.

this couldn't be possible. you could have almost sworn your mind had played a trick on you – that there was no way that a wolf was not the perpetrator, but the victim of an attack – had it not been for another whimper that came from the wounded animal in front of you.

it sounded almost desperate, like a futile cry for help, and for some reason, it tugged at your heart. you hadn't grown up to feel sympathy for wolves, but you weren't heartless either. yet, you hesitated. your parents had warned you time and again about wolves.

almost out of reflex, you took a step back, flinching at the sound of wood cracking underneath your boot. fuck. you held your breath as the animal in front of you lifted its head just slightly, turned it in your direction, and looked you right in the eye. another cold shiver ran down your spine and you stood rooted in place although all your instincts told you to run away. you'd never be able to outrun a wolf, but you had a chance with a wounded one, no?

you mentally prepared yourself for the worst, yet, you didn't move. had you not been shaken with fear, it might have been almost comical how paradoxically beatiful the wolf's amber eyes looked under the moonlight. they were anything but threatening; instead, they held a sense of vulnerability, despair – and something else you couldn’t quite identify. fear, maybe.

without another thought, you took a few steps toward the animal. at first, it seemed to try to get up and move away, but it was too weak to manage. standing directly in front of it, you could finally see the source of the blood: a large wound on its side, still bleeding slightly.

after a brief hesitation, you slipped off your scarf and pressed it against the wound, gently at first, then with more pressure. you knew it was irrational, dangerous – maybe even downright stupid. but something about the creature before you broke your heart, and you realized you had no other way to help. running back to either town wasn’t an option; just picturing the townspeople’s faces if you asked them to help a wounded wolf was enough to tell you it was useless.

taki's pov: the sound of wood cracking caused taki to open his eyes. had he already found him? or had nicholas and euijoo heard his pathetic attempts to call for them? no – the strong scent of his blood would give him away before any howls would even leave his throat. when he caught sight of you, the moonlight illuminating your soft features beatifully, reflecting almost magically in your slightly widened eyes, the entire world seemed to shift. in an instant, his breath caught, his heart quickened, and a warmth spread through him despite the icy cold of the blood-stained snow underneath him. it felt like destiny had taken his hand, leading him to a place he'd always been meant to find. of course, he thought. the moon was full tonight. taki should have felt terrified. he knew the perception humans had on wolves. giri had always taught him to be careful – to stay away. he'd expected you to run away, not to approach him. certainly not to help him. he had tried to run away, but his body didn't allow him to even stand up yet. he knew he'd heal soon, but the cut was still too deep. when he looked at you, he saw the fear. you were scared, yet you took off your scarf, even with almost no hesitation at all. your hands were shaking despite the warm coat you were wearing, as you softly pressed the scarf to his wound. he hated that his mere existence scared you, but could he blame you? you'd probably grown up around here – that was the only explanation as to why you were here at this hour, alone, on top of that. growing up in the towns around the forest meant growing up to fear, to hate, wolves. he felt the tremble in your hands ease as he stayed still. he even stopped calling for the others, willing to do anything not to scare you more. but the silence only lasted for what felt like the blink of an eye. he sensed the smell even before the soft rustling of the nearby bushes made you flinch. he had come back – probably to finish what he'd started.

the rustling of the bushes drew your attention away from the wounded animal. a chill prickled down your spine as you remembered – something had caused that deep cut in the first place. and if that something could injure a creature this powerful, what might it do to a human?

you scanned your surroundings. at first, you thought his pack might have found him, but the shadow that the moonlight casted over the snow looked suspiciously human.

the shadow shifted until the man stepped into view. the animal beside you stirred, rising quickly despite its bleeding wound. you couldn’t quite read its expression, but the abrupt movement held a hint of alarm – as if the man himself were responsible for the injury. but that couldn't be. no human could inflict such a deep wound with bare hands, and he carried no visible weapon.

or had you missed something?

your gaze scanned over him once more, and in an instant, your blood ran cold.

a trickle of red dripped from the corner of his mouth, sliding down his chin.

it felt as though the air had been knocked from your lungs as you watched him lick his lips. a sharp fang glinted back at you.

what in the world?

you froze, caught between shock and disbelief. vampires? you had never believed in neither them, nor the tails that had been passed down through generations in your town. this had to be a dream.

there was no time to decide whether to stay shielded behind the wolf, who had somehow pushed itself in front of you, almost protectively – or to bolt.

the man took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight with an unsettling intensity. the wolf beside you let out a low growl, a sound that seemed torn between fear and defiance. you could almost feel its tension, muscles coiled and ready, yet it stayed rooted to your side as though bound to protect you, even in its weakened state.

you stood there, frozen, your mind reeling with shock and fear, but you knew the wolf wouldn't be able to fight alone. and for some reason, you refused to run off while you still could.

you didn't know what to do, just that you had to do something. your mind was racing, yet there was no time to think.

with a snarl, the wolf lunged at the vampire, managing to swipe its claws across the man's cheek. he hissed, stumbling back, crimson trickling from the fresh gash. in that split second, you seized the chance, grabbing hold of the animal's fur and half-dragging, half-guiding it backward.

the cave, you thought. it had taken you almost a year of playing hide and seek with your brother to find it, but from then on, you'd always hidden there and he'd never found you. you knew how to find it by heart.

“this way,” you whispered, although you knew the animal wouldn't understand you. you broke into a mixture of stumbling, running, and darting through the underbrush. every few steps, the wolf glanced back, teeth bared, ready to fend off your pursuer, but each time you pulled it along, urging to keep moving.

“just a bit further, ” you murmured, more to yourself than to the wolf. its breathing was labored, but it pressed on, muscles taut as it maneuvered alongside you. behind, the vampire’s movements grew louder, branches snapping and snow crunching underfoot.

you finally reach the spot, the small entrance partially hidden by bare trees. you pushed the animal forward, urging it through the entrance before ducking in after, crouching low and pulling a few branches over the entrance as quietly as you could manage.

you sat there in silence, the only sounds your ragged breathing. you could feel the animal trembling against your own shaking body, its breaths shallow and quick. without thinking, you reached out, gently placing a hand on its side and feeling the damp warmth of its blood through its fur.

your scarf must have fallen off somewhere and you were just praying it didn't give away your location anyhow. with that thought, the reality of your escape hit you like a wave – you had only barely gotten away.

a few deep breaths later, exhaustion began to settle in. you fought to stay awake, determined not to give in – you couldn’t afford to fall asleep out here in the woods during winter, not with a wolf at your side and a creature, once only a tale, lurking somewhere nearby.

but as the cold seeped beneath your coat, despite the cave offering shelter from the stronger winds outside, your eyes fluttered shut repeatedly, until exhaustion finally took over and sleep gently pulled you in.

a faint howl stirred you from sleep. you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away the haze, and pulled your legs closer to your chest, trying to warm your body that felt frozen to the core.

flashbacks from the night before crashed over you as another howl rang out – closer and louder than the first. this time, it came from right beside you, where the wolf you’d fled with only hours ago lay in the same spot. its wound had dried, looking far less severe than before.

another distant howl called out, answered quickly by the one next to you. they were calling each other. you needed to leave. this wolf had been too weak to attack, but who knew what a whole pack might do?

just as you began to move, the branches you’d used to cover the entrance shifted, and three other wolves stepped into view – each larger than the one beside you.

fuck.

the closer they came, the more you tried to edge away, but they halted when they reached the injured one, nudging it to its feet. with a last, lingering glance in your direction, the four of them turned and disappeared, leaving you alone, trembling – not only from the cold but from the shock and confusion of everything that had happened in the past hours.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

even days later, you could still not comprehend any of that night's happenings. you were dying to talk to someone, but who would believe you? you’d run off with a wolf who’d saved you from a vampire? it sounded like the textbook definition of insanity.

realizing you’d have to handle this on your own, you decided the best course was to forget about it entirely. so, you turned to the one distraction sure to keep your mind off things – working extra hours at your barista job, which you hated enough to guarantee you’d be thinking about anything other than that bizarre encounter.

you had lost count of how many times you'd greeted the familiar customers with a kind "the usual?" or how many times you'd engaged in the same small-talk, when customers finally stopped coming in for a while. you quickly left your spot behind the counter to tidy and wipe the tables, when the ring on top of the door signaled another customer.

"i'll be there in a second," you said without looking up from the table you were just cleaning. you quickly rushed back to the counter, placed the cups you had collected to the side and looked up with the usual, practiced smile.

"hi, sorry, i'm–" you stopped, eyeing the four unfamiliar guys in front of you for a second, before snapping back to reality, "i'm all yours now."

you took their orders, doing your best to cover up your earlier slip. it wasn’t common for out-of-towners to show up here, and you’d never seen any of these guys around before.

your breath caught when you looked at the last one. his amber eyes seemed so familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you’d seen them. you furrowed your brows, mind racing until it landed on the pair of eyes that had met yours in the forest just days ago. you quickly shook your head, willing away the memory of the wolf. you could’ve sworn their eyes had the exact same spark, but the ones in front of you clearly belonged to a human.

yet, you couldn't tear your eyes away from his. you didn't know how much time had passed when the gentle clearing of his throat snapped you out of your thoughts.

"i– sorry, what was that?" you awkwardly asked for his order again, gesturing them to wait at a nearby table until their drinks were ready.

as they left the counter, you exhaled sharply, forcing yourself not to glance back at the four of them. you really needed to forget this whole thing before your mind started playing even more tricks on you.

yet, you couldn't help but glance at the amber-eyed boy while you prepared their drinks – and each time you turned to look at him, you found his eyes already on you before he quickly looked the other way.

you placed their mugs on the tray once they were ready and took a deep breath before heading to their table. you didn’t even know why your hands were shaking just a little, but you cursed yourself for struggling to balance the tray – even after all the time you’d spent working here.

taki's pov: when you reached their table and set their drinks down, taki really tried to not look at you another time, but he just couldn't help it. your eyes caught his yet another time and, god, it was so hard to look away. time seemed to slow down, the world around him seemed to come to a halt – until he felt euijoo's foot gently kicking against his knee, causing him to flinch and tear his eyes away from yours.

he forced himself to keep his eyes on his mug when you walked away after almost whispering a silent 'enjoy'.

when you were out of earshot, euijoo shot taki a stern look. "stop being weird, taki. i know she’s the–"

"not now, euijoo," giri interrupted, his tone sharp and leaving no room for argument. he glanced around to make sure no one had overheard even a fragment of their conversation.

the table fell silent except for the soft clinking of mugs being lifted and set down, and taki kept his eyes fixed on the tabletop. he knew he couldn’t take any risks, especially after you’d looked at him like you almost recognized him – but there was no real way you’d understand.

once they left the café, following giri through the forest to a quiet hill they always went to when they needed to talk in peace, taki felt three pairs of eyes on him. just as he was about to speak, giri cut him off. "you can’t go back there, taki, do you understand?"

when taki stayed silent, eyes on the ground, nicholas spoke up.

"look, i know she helped you and all, but it’s too risky – for us and for her. you’ll forget about it, and she will too, eventually."

taki bit his lip, knowing nicholas was wrong but unwilling to argue.

"he won’t forget," giri corrected. euijoo and nicholas shot him puzzled looks. "it was a full moon when they met," he added.

he didn’t need to explain for them to understand, didn’t need to say the words we fall in love with the first person we see on a full moon night, bound to love them for the rest of our lives.

giri turned to taki again, his voice hardening. "can i trust you that you won’t go back? you won’t search for her, and you won’t forget what’s at stake if you do." giri's eyes narrowed, a rare flicker of fear surfacing. "if you care for her, you’ll stay away – for her sake as much as ours."

taki gulped down the lump that had formed in his throat at giri's words, but he nodded his head, unable to protest.

yet despite everything, taki found himself drawn back to the café. no amount of warnings from giri or silent judgment from nicholas could seem to break the pull he felt. it had only been days since he’d seen you in the forest, days that felt like eternities. each time he left the woods, he told himself it would be the last. yet he would find himself standing outside, hesitant and hopeful.

it became a habit. once, twice, then almost daily, he’d come to the café, knowing he risked too much and cared too little. at first, he stood in distance, waiting to catch just a glimpse of you when you closed the store at night. then, he found excuses to be away during the day, finally working up the courage to not just watch from afar. he tried to be discreet, ordering something small and sipping slowly to avoid suspicion, but it quickly became clear that something about his presence unsettled you too. still, he couldn’t resist.

your face would light up each time you caught him glancing your way, and his cautious heart felt its walls crumble each time you smiled. each day, he grew a little bolder, staying a little longer, exchanging a few more words, as if to anchor himself to the warmth of your world.

"back again?" you asked one day, your eyes warm but playful as you set down a cup of tea.

taki managed a half-smile, shrugging in what he hoped was a casual manner. "guess the coffee's better here than anywhere else," he joked.

"or maybe you just like the company," you teased, daring him with a soft smile. your eyes sparkled with something curious, something that made his heart race, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“maybe,” he said, meeting your gaze head-on for once, feeling his pulse quicken at the sight of your grin.

soon, your moments grew longer, richer, and neither of you made any real effort to hide how much you enjoyed each other’s company. you’d sit across from him on your breaks, filling the quiet with stories about your hometown and the strange little quirks of the café. he found himself smiling more, laughing at your jokes, losing track of time as you two talked about everything and nothing at all.

"it’s strange," you admitted one day, swirling your coffee and glancing at him over the rim of your cup. "it feels like i’ve known you forever.”

taki felt his heart skip, and he glanced down at his own mug, gripping it tightly. "i know what you mean," he murmured, unable to look at you without risking giving away everything he felt.

he felt like he was walking on thin ice, balancing between the safety of his world and the irresistible warmth of yours. the weight of giri’s warning hung heavy on his shoulders, yet the longer he spent with you, the more he felt pulled towards you.

as the days passed, you found yourself looking forward to taki’s visits more than you cared to admit. something about him – his quietness, the mystery in his eyes, the way he seemed a little more at ease with each visit – felt like an invitation you couldn’t resist accepting.

you'd steal glances at him whenever you thought he wasn’t looking, catching the subtle softness in his expression as he watched you move around the café. the comfort in his gaze had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, as if his whole world condensed in the moments you shared over coffee and quiet conversation.

sometimes, you’d find yourself sharing things you'd never shared with anyone else – except for what had happened that one night, but that had by now moved to the back of your mind. taki listened as if each word you spoke were precious, his eyes brightening when you laughed, his face softening when you spoke of something that saddened you. he gave you the gift of being truly seen, of feeling understood in a way that felt as natural as breathing.

but soon, something else crept in – a feeling you couldn’t quite name. at first, it was subtle, barely more than an odd sense of being watched whenever you’d lock up the café at night or turn a corner in town. you’d catch a glimpse of a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye, only to turn and find nothing. your stomach would twist, a chill prickling your skin, but you’d shrug it off as your nerves.

then, one night as you closed up, you caught sight of a figure across the street, half-hidden in the shadows. they seemed to be watching, their stillness almost unnatural. your heart thundered in your chest, your instincts screaming to turn away, but your feet stayed rooted to the spot, your gaze locked onto the figure’s unmoving form. you waited, holding your breath, until the streetlight flickered and the figure vanished into the darkness.

the next day, you finally shared your unease with taki, hoping he might reassure you. but instead, a shadow crossed his face, his jaw tightening as he listened. he said little, just that he’d “keep an eye out,” though you noticed the tension that now lingered in his shoulders, the way his gaze darted over his shoulder whenever he left.

it didn’t take long for you to put the pieces together – the unease you felt, the strangers who seemed to lurk in the periphery of your vision, and taki’s quiet, watchful presence. you didn’t know what he was hiding, but you sensed the fear he tried to conceal, the way his gaze softened with regret whenever he looked at you.

"let me walk you home," he offered the next night after you closed the café. normally, you would have declined, but you had to admit there was a certain comfort in not being alone.

as soon as you stepped outside, that familiar unease crept in, your fingers trembling slightly as you locked the door and slipped the keys into your bag.

taki's hand, slightly larger than yours, reached over, giving yours a gentle squeeze – a wordless reassurance – before letting go.

a cold breeze cut through you, and you instinctively turned toward taki, who had gone still, his jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

before you could speak, your breath caught as you noticed the familiar, imposing silhouette just a few feet away.

taki didn’t need to look back to know. the scent alone was enough. he turned, stepping protectively in front of you, his entire posture tense.

your knees wobbled as the figure approached, his movements eerily swift. then you saw them – red eyes. fangs. you felt like you’d been flung back in time, to that night in the woods, the wolf between you and the vampire.

"taki," you whispered, unsure of what to say. but taki didn’t break his gaze from the figure in front of him.

"close your eyes," he commanded, his voice strained, urgent. he glanced back at you for a split second, his amber eyes meeting yours. "trust me. just…close your eyes for a moment," he urged, trying to sound calm despite the tension.

you hesitated, but complied, closing your eyes. when you heard a sharp howl echo through the night, you opened them – and found taki gone.

it felt like a sick twist of fate, like déjà vu, as the same wolf from the woods now stood before you. the realization hit you with full force when it turned and you saw those same amber eyes that had just met yours moments before.

could it be that…

you didn’t have time to finish the thought, when three more wolves burst from the shadows. you were sure you recognized these wolves from that other night in the woods. your mind started racing. if there was a chance that the wolf in front of you was really taki, then... these three would be the guys you'd first seen him at the café with?

your heart raced as you watched them work together, swift and lethal. flashes of fur, the gleam of teeth, and the muted growls filled the air as they closed in, forcing the vampire back until it disappeared into the shadows.

you stood there, frozen, heart pounding, trying to process what you had just seen. your gaze dropped to the ground, unfocused, as your mind raced to piece everything together.

you flinched when you felt a sudden, yet soft touch on your arm.

you hadn’t even noticed that that the wolves were gone. that taki stood close beside you again, a few scratches across his face. you looked up, your breath catching as your eyes met his – those same amber eyes you’d seen so many times before, only now, there was no doubt.

you could only stare at him, your mind reeling. you remembered that night in the snow, the warmth of his eyes when he’d looked at you. you'd had no idea, but somehow, part of you had always known.

"i’m the one you saved, y/n," he said softly, as if to reassure your thoughts. his voice was warm, familiar.

you searched his gaze. “you’re...a werewolf? so they really do exist,” you managed, still trying to wrap your head around it all. there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, but then his expression grew serious.

“giri said it’d be best if i kept my distance. safer for you,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “but i couldn’t...stay away.” he paused, his gaze dropping. “i’m so sorry i got you involved in all of this." his voice trailed off towards the end.

for a moment, you just looked at him, letting his words sink in. his gaze was steady, though there was a flicker of vulnerability there that made your chest ache.

“taki,” you said softly, stepping closer. “i’m glad you didn’t stay away.” he looked up at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face. “i mean it. i love spending time with you, i told you things i've never told anyone else, i feel safe when i’m with you. even after – especially after tonight.”

a gentle smile softened his expression, the tension leaving his shoulders. “then i promise,” he murmured, his voice warm, “i’ll always protect you.”

you felt a warmth bloom in your chest, a feeling of quiet assurance that you hadn’t realized you’d been looking for. you nodded, smiling back at him.

the night air felt a little warmer with him beside you, and as he reached for your hand, you let him take it, feeling the comforting weight of his touch.

“come on,” he said, his voice lighter now. “let me walk you home for real now.”

© lovelyjuju (2024)

see my other works here | join my taglist here

ღ taglist: @chiiyuuvv @tako-takiiii @lakoya

[ardentpoop]

If it's okay to ask: what are your thoughts on meg and sexual assault? I really dislike the way a lot of people on here talk about it (and meg, especially meg 2.0, in general) so I wanted to hear your view on it if you'd like to share!

not totally sure if you mean you’re bothered by how people discuss meg as a perpetrator or meg as a victim, because one could easily argue both. there are obvious allusions to rape re: meg possessing sam’s body in BUABS (just as every possession arc incorporates allusions to rape - most notably sam’s as he is at the heart of the majority of these arcs and also because well. The Roles.) and there are also of course the scenes where meg gets grabby with both sam and dean as a show of force.

I’m gonna assume however that you’re referring to people speaking about meg 2.0 in a demeaning manner and not recognizing the excessive misogynistic violence she is subjected to as a character, because come on. I know what this fandom is like. the two key episodes that come to mind for me are “caged heat” and “goodbye stranger.” gonna share some dialogue excerpts to get my point across, but you could even just count how many times dean refers to meg as a “bitch” in caged heat because it is frankly impressive that the writers (this one was tag-teamed by a duo and neither of them are familiar names) were so committed to it in just the one episode.

[caged heat]

notes on the above excerpts:

as with all demons who inhabit female vessels meg’s sexuality is a main ingredient of her characterization as a villain. she speaks overwhelmingly in slimy innuendo and flirtatious-quips-as-insults, she forcefully kisses and touches sam and dean without their consent, she is frequently referred to as a “whore” accordingly. it’s worth noting however that although in this episode meg weaponizes her sexuality (as expected for every character like her) against samndean while she supposedly has them tied up at her mercy, it is soon revealed that meg cannot actually harm samndean and is on the run from crowley - the brothers have the upper hand and her threats are ultimately empty. meg’s power is taken from her at the very start of this episode.

compare meg being tortured by crowley’s henchman to crowley being tortured by meg moments later within the same episode. she is naked and strapped down, she is being assaulted with a knife. the dialogue smacks you over the head with implied rape, as if the scene wasn’t brutal enough on its own. what does crowley get in return from meg, when he greets her as “whore” immediately after this assault scene? he gets to writhe around a bit on the floor, fully-clothed of course. “the best torturers never get their hands dirty,” huh? convenient!

on top of all this we for some reason also needed cas testing out his Porn Tricks on meg - which, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always kind of had a weird soft spot for megstiel (gay edit), but you have to admit that the timing and the context rankles. recurring Woman Character who doesn’t serve as a love interest or sexual interest for one of the boys is very hard to come by around here.

[goodbye stranger]

robbie thompson committed many sins with this (tbfh) godawful episode but what I want to point out here specifically is the continuation of meg being victimized by crowley. with bonus treat of sam being spoken to in the same sexually demeaning manner, as I suppose is only fair and right when both meg and sam were given the “wait outside while the men take care of business, frail maiden” treatment because thompson could not resist an opportunity to serve up dstiel bait that interfered with the structure and logic of the episode as well as with dean’s (and meg’s!) characterization.

TL;DR yeah uh the fans never talk about any of this because they’re too high on dstiel fumes to critique anything about the writing if they’re getting their tasty tasty little flavorless morsels from the like 3 guys on the writing team who were willing to feed them.

sorry for being mean but not really bc you guys are so annoying and dense about the already horrifically mistreated female characters on this show. wish I knew specifically what types of meg takes you don’t like anon so I could confirm whether they’re the ones that are a product of people despising female characters who “get in the way.”

[ryuseiired]

on mahiru's relationship

I wanted to write something up really quickly as to my opinions on Mahiru's relationship and what the dynamic there was like. I've seen a lot of people identify her behavior as "toxic", and some people even state that the relationship must have been toxic on both sides (often leaning heavily on the cake in I Love You as a metaphor), but I don't often see this stuff dived into deeper than either identifying Mahiru's bad behaviors or just saying they're both "toxic" without really talking about... why. Or what that means. Or how her boyfriend is toxic. I don't even really like the word toxic in this case because I feel like it's just being used without really delving into why or how in any real way, it's net zero information other than telling us it's bad. I want to step aside from the perpetrator-victim dynamic that MILGRAM puts things in the framework of. My key thesis is this: Their relationship is hurting them both in different ways. Both of their desires/needs are incompatible and going unmet. Neither of them are bad or wrong for wanting what they want, although Mahiru does display several behaviors that, while understandable, are ultimately harmful and unhealthy.

Let's look at the cake metaphor again. I see a lot of people say that the cake represents toxicity/bad behavior/unhealthiness in the relationship and that it's clearly both-sided because they're feeding it to each other. I don't... think this is a wrong interpretation, per se, but I think it misses an aspect that's kind of key to me?

In my opinion, the cake also majorly represents attention/love. Notice how the pieces Mahiru's boyfriend is feeding her are smaller than what she's feeding him?

When Mahiru is being fed the cake we never see it portrayed as anything but cake. She looks happy. She thrives off this attention. When her boyfriend is being fed the (larger piece of) cake... he sees it as a dead rat. We only see the rat transition when it's Mahiru feeding the cake, because he's the only one who is being smothered by the love/affection. She feeds her boyfriend more cake because that's what she thinks will make him happy- because love and attention are the things that make her happy. Because that's what she wants him to do. To put it another way: she's smothering him while he's not giving her enough.

Mahiru is clingy and overly-involved, this is no secret. She needs attention, thrives off it, and struggles with being alone or denied it. She wants to commit to each other and be married quickly after entering a relationship and believes the ultimate form of love is always being together.

I don't think she's getting what she wants from her boyfriend. Part of what I believe is going on here is that Mahiru convinces herself she's happy/convinces herself that she should be self-sacrificing for the relationship, then builds up resentment and gets upset when what she expects in return is still unmet, doing things like the scene in TIHTBILWY when she calls him in the middle of the night or even the subtler implications such as when, in the text from the MV, she mentions she "practically begged him" to come along to see a movie with her. This is where I think the fights she mentions come from, although she was "happy to get hurt." She pretends to be OK with how things are, but she doesn't really want to be and it spills out and she ends up being overly demanding. Mahiru wants more from him, and he can't give it to her.

Not to say Mahiru's high standards are easy to meet by any means, or that they're completely realistic- she clearly has a very idealized idea of how love and relationships should be- but if what you want/need out of a relationship isn't being met, I feel like it's not entirely the wrong response to be upset about that, you know? She clearly feels hurt by not receiving the same amount of love and attention she's putting in, though it's downplayed in both MVs either to idealize the relationship or to focus on her guilt. Where Mahiru's problem behavior comes in, in my opinion, isn't so much this desire for more attention from her partner, it's that she's then ignoring his equally valid needs in favor of her own.

From what we see of Mahiru's flaws, which are clearly causing conflict and upsetting him, if I had to guess as to his behavior I'd assume he's probably the type of person who needs more space in a relationship which he evidently isn't getting. Mahiru's enthusiasm and passion for him that he once loved becomes overbearing and cuts into his ability to spend some much-needed time alone, he tries to pull away further to assert himself, Mahiru tries even harder to pull him closer because she wants him closer and makes it worse... until it ends up all going irreversibly wrong.

I think part of Mahiru's character is built on contradictory traits that are both true at the same time. She's very selfless and believes in sacrificing and doing things for her partner, having a tendency to copy other people and do what she thinks she should be doing (note the text in TIHTBILWY where she mentions impulsively buying the same bread as him or saying her hobby is running, even though these things aren't true to herself, or interrogation answer where she says she'd try smoking if her partner did). She wants to fulfil the service-oriented role of being a traditional wife and even mentions having trained for it. She offers immediately for Es to come to her for advice in the first voice drama, and selflessly states she doesn't resent either their or Kotoko's judgement in the second voice drama.

And yet she ignores their discomfort with the topic of romance in the same conversation where she offers herself as a support to them, continuing to poke and prod about how surely they'll like someone someday. She disregards her boyfriend's feelings when they contradict with her own. She puts her own self-interests above others' discomfort. She's just as selfish as she is selfless.

But I don't think Mahiru meant to hurt anyone, nor do I think she fully comprehended the severity of her behaviors in her relationship at first. Do I think she understands now? Do I think she feels bad about it? Partially, but I also understand where people are coming from when they assume she doesn't at all, even though I disagree with that assessment of things. Part of this issue is that it seems to me that Mahiru (at least in some instances) thinks of her problem behaviors which hurt her boyfriend and loving someone/being in a relationship at all as inseparable and the same thing.

Mahiru as portrayed in the I Love You MV feels bad about hurting her boyfriend. She acknowledges she's hurt him and that she was doing it wrong in the lyrics of the MV. She states in her voice dramas that she never wanted to kill or hurt anyone. The imagery even shows her being the one at fault for his death in the opening scene.

But this is where the contradictions come back in. At the same time, she struggles with believing she's done something wrong because the idea of finding love is her life's purpose. Her reason for living. She says she doesn't think she's done anything wrong in the voice drama, but I don't think that's fully true, given the lyrics above as well as the imagery throughout I Love You- she literally portrays herself holding his noose, that's not the sort of imagery something canonically stated to be taken from the prisoners' minds would conjure up if there wasn't any guilt or feeling of responsibility for his death there.

One way to resolve this is the idea that Mahiru just says she believes she's done nothing wrong because she wants to believe it. Because she doesn't know how to love the right way without falling into her problem behaviors, and she feels she can't live without love. Because she knows she's done something wrong, and that she smothered and hurt him, but she doesn't know what else love is and she desperately wants to love and be loved.

This got long and I don't really have a good conclusion to it, I just wanted to talk a bit about my interpretation. Obviously nobody has to see this the way I do and you're welcome to disagree, I just thought it'd be worth writing something up about my perception of her relationship and how I think she feels about her actions.

Thank you if you've read this far!

[bougiebutchbitch]

NGL I do find it funny that the side of the fandom yelling “if you’re uncomfortable with the way Con showed up to a livestream with his whole bulge on prominent display you’re homophobic” is the same side of the fandom that was harboring multiple sexual predators lol throwback to the Canyon Kink Camp!! Anyway shoutout to the canyon for knowing how to be normal about people’s boundaries <3

I notice you sending this message to multiple people. On anon. Smells like teen cowardice.

So, first off -

You are lying through your teeth.

Victims of two sexual predators came forwards... and those sexual predators were immediately thrown out of the canyon. They were blocked/black-listed everywhere and deactivated! Explain to me how that is 'harbouring'?

Some weirdo also started harassing the victims because they were a friend of the perpetrators. They were...... also....... mass blocked and lost all their popularity, as far as I'm aware (I don't actually know that person, and am not on Twitter, etc.)???

Sexual predators will show up literally anywhere in society - including in your precious fandom spaces. Pretending that your half of the fandom is 'pure' and 'perfect' is, in fact, far more dangerous than acknowledging that there were predators, and dealing with them.

Especially when the antis were the ones crowing that people like me, who are abuse and rape survivors IRL, had 'no idea what abuse/rape looks like', and still are making claims like that in the tags - as well as sending asks accusing us of lying about our trauma.

All because we like a fictional character who you hate.

As for Con showing up in his underwear...

Literally nothing was showing.

You saw the SHAPE of a bulge. It was no more revealing than Tom Hiddleston's Loki outfit, and there have been uncensored gifs of that flying around willy-nilly (pun intended) for years without anyone being Shocked and Disgusted about it.

If you're not bothered by men being in underwear when you go to the beach and see guys rocking a budgie smuggler, but you're throwing a massive stink about a queer man being in his underwear on a ticketed show that was always marked as Explicit, and using it as an excuse to call him a sexual predator, I honestly don't know what to say to you.

Boundaries are real and important.

But if you went to an explicit stream and saw something mildly suggestive there, and proceed to accuse a queer man of being a sexual predator... You are the problem.

And yes, you are a homophobe.

Even if you are queer yourself, you are contributing to the dangerous rising current of accusing queer people of being 'degenerate' and 'perverse' for merely existing, because - oh, think of the children.

And that's without mentioning that Con is a vocal supporter of trans kids in the UK. We all know how queer people who dare to support trans people are unjustly painted as predators. It's happening on Tumblr, with the mass reporting and banning of trans men and women for 'inappropriate content' that is no more explicit than what cishet people have on their blogs. It's happening all over the world.

Hell, all profits from Con's livestream went to Mermaids (UK charity for trans folx) and true colours united (homeless lgbt youth charity).

Take a good long look at your argument. Take a good long look at the current political climate for queer people. Ask yourself who your insistence that Con is sexually inappropriate for... wearing underwear, is really helping.

If you feel this unsafe around even the vaguest suggestion of genitalia, the onus is on you to avoid any streams where you might encounter it. You're no different than people who read Explicit-marked work on AO3 and leave hatemail for the authors because you encountered smut.

[s0xmsstuff]

You can't see it, and I constantly wonder why.

{reader} x y!Wally Darling

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, mentions of harassment, bad outlook on love, Threats of isolation, mental torture, gn! {Reader}

– English is not my first language! If you see grammar problems I will happily accept a correction.

You can't see it, right? You cannot see how this heart hidden in the skin of my chest begs for your attention, for your love, for all of you.

I don't understand why, why can't you hear the beating of my poor heart? Why do you deny what is already written? Why don't you accept it?

It would be better that you accept that you are mine, it would be better that you accept to stay with me, it would be better if you were obedient, {reader}.

It would be better for you.

Because the only thing you gain by resisting is a great hole of despair and horror, where both the victim and the perpetrator are yourself.

You just have to agree, my dear. Just accept your fate, accept that we are made for each other.

Just imagine it; Mr and Mrs/Mr/Mx. Darling

You only complicate things with your negativity, with your unnecessary resistance. None of it will stop our love, my dear. Nothing and no one will.

I am always watching you, from up close of course, I have always been a witness to how your eyes carefully observe the shape of the trees. I have witnessed how the skin of your beautiful fingers plays with the fabric of your clothes, and I have witnessed everything.

Why do you run away? Why are you crying? Why do you beg for mercy? Why you do not trust me? Why don't you look back at me?

I, your future husband, promise with my very existence that I will protect you as the knight protects his queen. I will love you as the sun has loved the moon since its creation. And I'll show you that I love you, just like I do.

I have always wanted to feel more than what I have been forbidden to feel. And after so much wishing, praying and asking... You appeared.

You appeared in the neighborhood with your big and beautiful smile, greeting everyone equally, that day I saw you through the window and I said to myself... ”Someone new, new feelings."

And it was true, you made me feel lighter, you made me feel so shocked, everything you did or said was right in my eyes. I didn't care if what you said wasn't relatively accurate, but for me it was.

You were smarter than Frank

Kinder than Eddie .

Funnier than Julie

More interesting than Barnaby

More passionate than Sally

More attentive than Poppy

More agile than Howdy

I even dare to say that you became more incredible and special than Home. That was almost alien to me, I didn't know why I felt that way. But I didn't dislike it, in fact I liked it.

I like the way this feels, it's like being alive again.

But you refused to accept it, you wanted to live too. I don't get it, you and I could live

together.

So I had to do whatever it took to keep you from leaving my side, it was hard at first I didn't like the idea of ​​hurting you. You are special to me, you know that right? But a few sacrifices are necessary to achieve peace, right?

So I locked you in Home, with me. Together

N/Y; This is my first time writing for this character, and I like the obsessive wolf dynamic. Probably something nicer will go up, but that will be decided in another future.

– s0x

[polarisbibliotheque]

Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don’t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

*

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

*

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

*

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil’s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

*

*

*

*

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

[transandrobroism]

What are your thoughts on women choosing bears over men

i think that's where you end up when you view men as inherently dangerous just by virtue of being men.

and i do get why people pick the bear and defend picking the bear - it's Schrodinger's rapist and stranger danger PSAs and all the statistics about violence against women etc. i understand where that fear comes from. but a lot of it stems from radfem rhetoric that has wormed its way into mainstream feminist discussions and produced this take that men are The Problem - not because of learned behaviours, not because of the patriarchy, but just because of something inherent to men and masculinity that means men are always a danger.

so whilst i'm sympathetic to the fears that lead to women going "i'll take my chances with the bear!" i do think it's worth reflecting on why exactly so many people would rather meet an apex predator than a fellow human being who happens to be of the Wrong Gender. the scenario doesn't specify that the man in the woods is doing anything threatening: he's not wearing a MAGA hat or blasting Andrew Tate podcasts on his bluetooth speaker or leering at every woman who walks past on the hiking trail. he's just some guy in the woods minding his own business. is it easier to imagine a sympathetic wild animal than a sympathetic man? why?

and the thing is, i'm old enough to remember a time when the feminist actions du jour were things like slut walk and 'take back the night' because the whole point was women shouldn't have to be scared. that women deserve to walk around in public and feel safe. somehow we've gone backwards on that to where women living in abject terror of 50% of their fellow humans is defended as the "feminist position" and going "that seems kinda bonkers actually maybe that should not in fact be how women experience the world" is anti-feminist. how did we get here. what went wrong.

the fear of men and choosing the bear are usually justified by talking about statistics on male violence against women. these statistics point to very real problems, but the talk of stranger danger and choosing the bear elides the fact that. statistically. you are more likely to be harmed by a man you know than by a stranger. over 85% of sexual assault victims knew their attacker beforehand (see this NIJ report and this BBC article). or see the UN Women report on global violence against women: "While 55 per cent of all female homicides are committed by intimate partners or other family members, only 12 per cent of all male homicides are perpetrated in the private sphere." Or this report from the BJS in America: "76% of female murders and 56% of male murders were perpetrated by someone known to the victim". The same report also states that 21% of male homicide victims were murdered by strangers, compared to 12% of female victims.

based on actual statistics on violence rates, men are more justified in fearing strangers than women are. but the "stranger danger" myth persists, and it feeds into the radfem narrative that yes, men are an existential threat and inherently violent just for existing, and yes you should be terrified of every strange man you see on the street. it's worth asking: who benefits from this? who benefits from women being scared of strangers all the time? given the high rates of domestic violence and other violence directed at women by men they know, family members, partners or ex-partners, fathers, brothers... who is benefitting from a population of women terrified to walk into the woods alone?

the most dangerous man in the woods is the one you brought with you.

[gallierhouse]

There’s this point that IWTV keeps circling around about how the gradation of victimhood and responsibility doesn’t do any good for anyone. Like, it doesn’t matter how much of a “perfect” victim you were, the result is still the same. Lestat taken from his home in the middle of the night by a stranger, Louis nodding his head at Lestat in the church; the result is still the same. They both got turned, they both got hurt, they both got abused. I’m not equating Magnus’ actions with Lestat’s, but even though Louis willingly enters into a relationship with Lestat, it still ended in abuse. (Note: the circumstances of their turnings are very different. I’m not equating them.) The result of both is assault (see: the parallel between Lestat’s turning and Claudia being assaulted by Bruce) and abuse. It doesn’t really matter if you “asked for it” or if you were kidnapped and dragged away, the bullshit moralizing and assignment of blame and responsibility doesn’t matter, because in the end it still happened. It’s not what the victim did or didn’t do. On some level we see Louis blame himself for what happened with Lestat (and what continues to happen with Armand). Maybe if I was a better husband, maybe if I was more attentive, maybe if I was kinder, maybe if I loved him better. Something like that. Conversely, we have the examples of Lestat and Armand. I’m guessing that they almost resent their “perfect” victimhood (kidnapped by strangers and dragged into the bushes, the way rape and sexual assault is said to happen, when it’s really mostly perpetrated by people close to the victim). Because what did being a perfect victim ever do for them? It didn’t change anything. It didn’t undo anything. It didn’t make it better. In some ways, it makes it worse, because they can’t even blame themselves. People often cope with trauma by assigning themselves more agency than they really had in an attempt to regain control (Louis is doing this in real time with the interview, editorializing, always editorializing, always protecting his abusers, even now) but that’s not even an option for Lestat and Armand. There’s no imaginary option where anything they could’ve done could have circumvented what happened. I do think they resent it on some level. Nothing to blame, nothing to hold onto. I’m not attempting to rank the severity of their trauma. This isn’t the trauma Olympics; there’s no comparison. There’s just a consistent idea in IWTV that the circumstances of victimhood don’t really matter and that there really shouldn’t be victim blaming because it doesn’t matter. The bad things still happened. Nothing will change that. There’s only one person who could’ve prevented it, and it wasn’t the victim, it was the perpetrator.

I’m not entirely satisfied with the way this is phrased, so please read and interpret this charitably. I do think it’s a really good approach to depicting victimhood that deconstructs a lot of unfair, cruel narratives about it, so it’s worth noting, even if I can’t explain it perfectly.

[transfaguette]

I ask this in good faith, but how is it that so many transmascs hate the idea of (trans inclusive) radical feminism so much? All I know it does is liberate everyone from the evils caused by cis men and the patriarchy.

Well first I would say this isn't an opinion unique to transmascs, but thats the circle I orbit so I understand where that perception comes from.

The problem is that you really can't excise the problematic elements of TERFism simply by removing the overtly transphobic parts.

Radical feminism, both trans exclusive and "inclusive" hinge on the idea of Men (sometimes cis, sometimes not) are perpetrators and Women (and sometimes, vaguely, some* non-women)are victims. Putting aside the individual capability to cause harm which is easy enough to debunk, even on a societal level this is not telling the whole story. The Patriarchy is a system of societal control and allotment of power, and it aims to control everyone, men included. Most men, all but the most powerful in society, which is capitalist, christian cishetero white men, have the patriarchy weaponized against them!

"Cis men" as a class, as individuals, don't cause evil. They are just human beings. Human beings with equal capability to love and nurture and fight for what is right. Which is the other problem with radfeminism, is that it seeks to strip away this humanity from the people around you, and isolate you. and like...what is a cis man, anyway? Like I know the answer seems obvious, but at what point does "cis man" end and "nonbinary person" or "trans person" begin? What elements of cis-manhood cause evil? Where does that "evil" go when someone transitions or no longer identifies as a cis man?

This is, I think, the fundamental problem of "trans inclusive" radical feminism. In continuing to divide the world into Evil Men and Good Women, you STILL impose a system of gender essentialism in a way that does not coalesce with the ideas of queer liberation. A nonbinary person can be a cis man one day, come out as nonbinary and change nothing else about their life from that point. What then? Are they no longer evil? Were they ever evil? How do you even being to decide that without just using the same trans exclusive rhetoric you're supposedly fixing, anyway? And I'm not even getting into the impact this has on trans men, because we are put in this position of being a marginalized gender and victims of misogyny but also placed in this position of privilege due to being men that is not accurate to reality. And sure, maybe you can remedy that by always specifying cis men, but many TIRFs don't see that as a flaw of the ideology, anyway. They Do think trans men are gender traitors and Do think we inherit some sort of evil power the moment we become men.

And there is much, much more to be said on the topic of radical feminism and its pitfalls. These are just the broad points. The dehumanization of Cis Men as a class is not simpatico with queer liberation and it just never will be. It is a good question worth asking, because it can seem good on the surface unless you know what to look for.