#whom is doing the 'imagining' in this scene? both of them :)

[rcmclachlan]

what if i put my life in your hands? what if i took your life in mine?

[toomanywols]

WoLship Playlist: Oboro/L’yara 2/20

Talk - Hozier

“I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now, all the things I would do...”

[lgbtlunaverse]

I'm ruminating on this- And by ruminating I am of course referring to the process of regurgitating partially digested cud and rechewing it like a cow- and I just wanna say that I still stand by this but also that it is extremely significant that meng yao's two most important relationships are with the guy obsessed with justice and ridding the world of evil and the sect leader of the clan specfically known for its extremely rigid rule and punishment system.

I'm chewing on this and my thoughts aren't fully formulated yet but i have been having Thinking about and jgy and his definitions of harm and his moral framework and generally he seems to very much come down on the side of consequentialism- what with him considering himself as having "murdered" qin su when her death was unambiguously a suicide. But she killed herself because of things he did, so even if he never wanted her to die or took actions toward that, he considers himself as having killed her.

And yet every single time he is confronted about his actions, he is incredibly quick to emphasize that he had no choice, he didn't really want to, there was just no other way out. It's a complete 180 from the motive not mattering at all to it mattering a LOT.

And that has led me to me believe that when he's talking about his lack of choices he's- the uncharitable might call it lying for sympathy, but that's not it, jin guangyao does sincerely believe he had no other choice (except, as nmj so nicely put it, sacrificing himself) but he's also not defending himself with full sincerity. It's more that his motive doesn't really matter much to him as a matter of morality, but he knows it matters to other people. He is not genuinely defending himself and arguing he doesn't deserve blame, he is arguing he shouldn't be punished. There seems to be a very strict barrier in his mind between accountability in the moral sense (what does he hold blame for) and in accountability in the practical sense (What punishment should he get.)

Which makes perfect sense for a guy who is well aware that the justice system will never actually be just for him. That any punishment levied toards him within the legal and politcal system he lives in will primarily be because of who he is and who his mother was and not because of what he actually did. Yes he thinks what he did was wrong yes he thinks that is morally repugnant no he shouldn't get punished for it.

And well. I don't agree that people should just get away with mass murder because the judicial system sucks but... is he wrong? I mean, what did him in at the end? Payment for his actual crimes? No. It was a lie that was believed just because he was the one being accused.

[lostbo0]

Meant to be Yours…

Summary:

In attempts to catch a crazed stalker intent on having you all to himself, the team sends you and Spencer into the field posing as a loving couple in hopes to draw out the unsub, and perhaps residual feelings as well…

Warnings:

Drinking, canon-typical violence, some minor cursing

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: Minor angst with happy ending

~~~

“This unsub presents with OCD-like tendencies; when things don’t align with his idea of how they should be, he feels an overwhelming need to fix it.”

“And as we’ve seen…” Morgan paused to survey the room, “will even resort to violent means to do so.” You fiddled with your fingernail polish in the conference room as the rest of the team ran-down the details of the case, each clack of the clock sending your imagination further spiraling.

“This unsub has taken a particular interest in (y/n) and Spencer’s…” Rossi glanced at you both, eyes darting between you and Spencer in the mere split second that he stalled, “perceived relationship.”

“Previous letters that he has sent to the BAU state that it is ‘unnatural’ and ‘wrongs must be righted’”. You shifted in your seat, hoping that the movement didn’t reflect concern on your end. You didn’t want to send the impression that you could ever be flustered by such a social degenerate with nothing better to do than stalk and nefariously matchmake strangers in the name of order. You didn’t want anyone to know that you were even slightly nervous. But of course you were nervous. There were death threats on your door, a faulty pipe bomb in your bathtub, notes to the BAU that begged the question what psycho was so concerned about your relationship status as he would go so far as to murder other men as a way to relieve the hatred he felt for Spencer Reid supposedly “taking his place”? You had no other choice but to be nervous.

“Additionally.” JJ began, “ Our unsub has found particular interest in (y/n), whom he believes to be soulmates with and will go to extreme lengths to feel connected to.” She clicked at the remote, panning the screen through crime scene photos from earlier, men killed and dumped out in the open, supposedly so you could find them. You shuddered and turned from the images and Spencer took the time to ghost his fingertips over your knuckles, a gentle and common way he has learned to calm you down. You looked at him, yet filled with the impression of observers, you tore your gaze from his equally fixated eyes. Something about the moment felt so intimate, despite seeming so insignificant. He only touched your knuckles, rubbing his middle finger over your index joint, occasionally drifting down your tendon, yet it felt so exposing and wrong you had to pull your hand away. You shot him a quick smile, hoping to mend the disappointment.

"He has yet to appear in plain sight, however,” Morgan shifted his weight, “We are hoping that our plan will draw him out.” He turned his gaze to Hotch, as if to say ‘continue’.

“(y/n) will go out into the field accompanied by Reid.” Your heart leapt when he said it. “They will go to the club that our unsub has been said to frequent, disguised as a couple.” That really made your heart leap. It felt so silly, being more nervous about interacting with your best friend than going into the field with a crazy obsessed murderer, yet the words ‘Ried’ and ‘couple’ in the same sentence made you tense up quite a bit. “We are hoping that this will set him off just enough to make an appearance, giving us the chance to take him into custody.”

For the first time since you sat down at the table, you turned your body to look at Spencer. He was messing with his hands at the table, head down, fully engrossed in thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. You always did. You wondered if you made him feel the same way he made you feel, but you dispelled the thought as Hotch dismissed the team to began preparing for your sting operation.

~~~

The club was dark. You wondered how the unsub would even see you here, however, Rossi assured you that he would come and he would see you on a date with Spencer. Date. You sort of hoped it was real, and not a ploy to catch a killer, but you would take what you could get. You and Spencer were sat at the bar in the middle of the room, practically lit by a spotlight. It was almost too obvious. Spencer turned, knees hitting the counter due to his height.

“Are you nervous?” He internally cursed himself for the question. Of course you were nervous. A serial killer was after you. He just wanted to try and make you feel better in any way he could. You read his concern like a book.

“A little bit, I think so, I’ve never done this before.”

“Have a killer after you?”

“Be on a date.” The admission was slightly embarrassing, even in front of your best friend, but you were 22 and had never been on a date before. Maybe you should have been more adventurous in high school.

“Wait, how?!” Spencer raised his voice in genuine shock.

“What do you mean? No one wanted to date the weird kid in high school.”

“Yeah but, you’re so pretty!” He froze, praying you didn’t see the heat rise in his cheeks. You did.

“What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No its ok! It just caught me off guard that’s all.”

“Say it again,” A muffled voice came across your ear pieces, you picked out that it was Rossi’s. You completely forgot that you were being listened to.

“What?” Spencer quietly responded.

“We have eyes on our unsub. He’s looking at you. We need him to hear you guys, so turn it up a notch.” You looked up at each other simultaneously.

“Got it thank you Rossi.” You touched your ear piece, passing it off as pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I-I mean you are really pretty, I just,” Spencer took this time to take a big sip of his drink at the bar table. You did the same. “It kind of surprised me that’s all.” He swallowed hard and you put your hand to his forearm, exposed by his rolled up sleeves.

“It’s ok, I’m gonna make it easy for you, hm?” You lowered your voice and looked up at him giving him a slight nod. He nodded in response, happy for you to relieve the pressure from him. You proceeded to unbutton your top an extra button, fluffing up your hair as you shrunk the gap between you two.

“W-what are you doing.” He whispered, his voice turning up in the end.

“Making it easy for you!” You looked up at him, doe eyes peering through your lashes as you rubbed his arm, a habit you had adopted years before, yet it never felt so intimate until now. Spencer took the hint as well, smiling gingerly, ghosting a hand atop your exposed waist, almost as if he were afraid of breaking you. He had also done this many times before, however you both felt something not so platonic rising within you.

“I wasn’t lying, when I said you were pretty,” His large hand cupped your waist, fingertips innocently prodding at your waistband. Your hand snaked up to his bicep, feeling your heart rate rise in your pulse. “I meant it.”

“Spence, I-“

“I did!” His eyes widened, his tell that said ‘I mean it’. “I see you every day at work and I think that you’ve just come from some beautiful night out with some guy way cooler than me.” Spencer grabbed a piece of your hair between his free hand, observing it with his fingertips. Following his lead, you pushed a stray piece of hair away from his dark eyes, feeling his gaze deepen.

“I can promise you Doctor, no man has ever taken me out for a ‘beautiful night’”. You could swear you saw relief in his eyes.

“It’s so weird to me. Your soft hair, your contagious laugh, the way that you are so considerate, the way that I can’t take my eyes off of you,” He surveyed your face. “How could someone not see how beautiful you are?” It was your turn to go slack-jawed, unable to pull your eyes off of the words leaving his lips.

“Spence, I,” You pulled your hand to his cheek. “I think you’re pretty too.” This was quiet. The unsub couldn’t hear your voice this low. This was for only Spencer to hear. Quickly and almost against your judgement, your bodies pulled together. It was painfully and at the same time beautifully slow; A speed that said ‘I know what I’m doing and I know what I want’. Your lips barely brushed against each other. Your eyes closed and the world was dark yet suddenly so full of light. He didn’t want to break you, or taint the beautiful innocence he felt on your skin, he thought, you were too good for it. Yet his body pulled him closer into you, lips moving in untroubled unison, a way that spoke volumes in the silence between you. You grabbed his face and pulled him closer, shutting out the world, shutting out the unsub, shutting out the observant breathing in your earpiece. You felt years of unspoken feeling poured into you, as his language began to ignore your setting.

“(y/n), Reid, He’s left the club and he’s angry, you need to pursue him.” Hotch’s voice dug into your ear as you and Spencer ripped yourselves away from each other. A look of regret was exchanged before you quickly exited the club.

~~~

It was much darker outside and your eyes tried their hardest to adjust to the sudden change in light. The dry dirt beneath you was kicked up as you and Spencer ran towards the unsub’s vehicle you were briefed on hours before. You let Spencer advance to the car as you watched the woods that sat just beyond the headlights. A good place for an unsub to hide you thought. Just as Spencer turned to give you the all clear, a swift arm wrapped around your neck and cold metal pressed against your temple.

“Drop the gun!” The unsub yelled and it stung your ears as you flinched. “I said drop the gun!”

“Ok, ok, Im putting it down ok?” You fearfully dropped your gun to the ground, feeling the reality of the situation set it. He kicked the gun away, eyes now moving to a horrified Spencer, gun poised to shoot.

“Put the gun down.” Spencer’s voice dropped into a deep, demanding tone of a person you had never seen before.

“You took her from me!” The unsub’s spit flew as he choked out more and more accusations. “I saw your little show in the club there,” his voice tensed. “I don’t take kindly to people disrespecting me like that.” Spencer cocked his gun, zeroing in on the unsub, waiting for a clear shot.

“She isn’t yours.”

“Reid, (y/n), is everything alright?” Hotch’s concern soaked through your ear piece as the unsub’s grip on your neck tightened.

“She’s mine you bastard!” The unsub shouted his foul cry.

“No she isn’t.” Spencer snapped. “What is her favorite color?”

“I’m sorry?” The unsub was clearly not keen on playing Spencer’s game, and you were equally confused and terrified.

“It’s light purple. Not plum, not eggplant. Light purple. See, you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know her like you think you do.”

“I know where she lives you dumbass! I know all I need to know!”

“Please, any low level data miner can find someone’s address, but, you don’t know that she only wears her hair up when it’s over 75 degrees outside, and, every winter, she takes out a 5 year old pink sweater from grad school, because she doesn’t like to spend money on things she doesn’t really need.” You listened to Spencer draw out information you didn’t even recognize about yourself. “She also hates black coffee, hates Splenda even more, and wears socks without lines because they feel too weird.” The unsub’s grip loosened as you felt the gun on your temple falter.

“See, you think you know about (y/n), but the truth is, she will never love you, and the only rings you're going to see are the one’s around your wrist when they put you away.” The unsub paused and, in the split second that he faltered, Spencer snapped his gaze to your own, an unspoken nod, as you kicked the unsub’s shins as hard as you could, falling to the ground as the sound of a gun went off.

Your ears were ringing. You didn’t want to open your eyes or check your body for wounds. You wanted to wait as long as you could before seeing the difference between life and death dripping from your head, and yet, you were there. You were alive.

Spencer flung his gun to the ground throwing himself at your place on the dirt parking lot, trembling hands at your ears trying steady your shaky breath. You yelped as he touched you, pulling you into his arms rocking you back and forth as if to say ‘I’m sorry’, as if to say ‘I should have been more careful’, as if to say ‘I love you’.

“I’m here, It’s over now,” he whispered into your ear, grabbing your hands in his own. “Breathe, it’s ok, breathe,” You inhaled and exhaled on his cue as the team flooded in to handle the rest.

You didn’t know how long you sat there on the ground with Spencer. All you remembered were the soft kisses he planted on your tussled hair, and the warmth his body exuded in the cold autumn air. All he could say was ‘I’m sorry’, and all you could say was ‘Thank you’.

~~~

Spencer walked you back to the ambulance. They checked you out and, seeing no signs of injury, released you to go home. Spencer never left your side. You picked at your thumbs sticking out of the huge emergency blanket the medics gave you.

“I didn’t know you noticed all of that stuff,” You cracked out a quiet sputter of words from your swollen throat. “I barely ever did.”

“I guess it’s the profiler in me,” He stopped for a second. “Or maybe the fact that I just can’t take my eyes off of you.” He looked up at your red face. You could only laugh, a small, understanding breath that broke the tension between you. “I’m serious! It’s like, when you’re in the room I can’t focus, It’s like, like-“

“Like I can’t make myself act normal when you’re around,”

“Exactly,” You didn’t need words to speak what came next. A gentle hand on your cheek pressed icy fingertips into your jaw.

Spencer, you’re freezing! Come here,” You opened up your blanked, beckoning him to sit at your side. He rested his head on your shoulder, taking your hands in his own, slowly turning to place a gentle kiss on your temple. A warm, understanding kiss that said ‘I will never let a gun touch any part of you again, no one will hurt you’. You sat for a moment before Hotch took you away to take a statement. At this time, Rossi strode over to Spencer’s seat on the back of the ambulance.

“Good job out there.” He gave Spencer a knowing glance. “Keep protecting her Reid.” Spencer nodded eagerly.

“Of course sir.”

“Im serious. She was meant to be yours.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! It’s been a fat minute since I’ve posted any writing! I hope you enjoyed it, and if not… I don’t know, that’s just not my problem.

[very-straight-blog]

It really tires me how some fans try to make Aegon look like an asshole who doesn't give a shit about anything. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of his character as such. Of course he cares, that's literally the essence of his personality. He cares. He and Aemond both feel too much emotion, but if Aemond sublimates into self–improvement, trying to be strong, cold and detached, then Aegon is literally an open wound. I want to talk about this, also using Tom's interviews (yes, I think the actor's opinion is valid in this matter) and the few scenes that we have in the first season.

We know that Aegon didn't want the throne and wasn't ready to rule. The scene with Alicent, who explains to him the prospects for the future of their family, seems very traumatic to me. Imagine what it's like to know from your childhood that the lives of people close to you depend on you, on how strong you'll be. Such a burden can destroy anyone. You can't just ignore it.

Next, we're shown how Aegon drinks on Driftmark. And that's a pretty sad sight - several cups in a row, wincing, as if taking a medicine that will help him to feel better.

Actually, I like the theory that he gets drunk after Aemond says that Helaena is his future queen. Another reminder that he'll have to marry his own sister, for whom he has no feelings. And he drinks because he tries to numb his pain.

The same goes for his obviously unhealthy attitude towards sex - he uses it to numb his loneliness. I believe that Aegon literally didn't have the opportunity to feel what love is in any form. His father disliked him and showed it openly. His mother loved him, but she never knew how to express it the way he needed to. He was married to his sister (the tragedy for both of them) and it was a matter of duty, not feelings. At the time of the first season, Aegon is deeply unhappy and this is obvious. I have every reason to believe that his need for physical intimacy is based on the fact that this is the only form of love he can receive. Considering that Aegon is quite smart, I even think that he himself understands how ugly this form is, but there's nothing he can do. During the act, I guess in some unhealthy way it really saves him from loneliness, longing and the need to be loved, but in the end it makes him even more unhappy.

Then it's impossible not to remember the eighth episode and the famous:

It's still clear that family is important to him. Yes, he feels like a stranger among his relatives, but it hurts him just because he cares. He cries and says "it will never be enough for you or father" because he wants it to be enough. He still loves them and wants them to love him back.

"What Aegon wants more than anything is to be told by his dad ‘I have faith in your capabilities as a young man. I see you bringing prosperity to King’s Landing.’ But he hasn’t said any of those things. His dad has completely ignored him, in fact, throughout his entire youth." (с) Tom Glynn-Carney for Esquire

Next, we can move on to episode nine and the fact that Aegon ran away. I've seen a lot of opinions that this is an indicator of selfishness and like...what? He was scared. This follows from the script:

He was scared, he'd never leave his family, much less Sunfyre. It was a decision made in a panic when he realized that his father had died and the moment he had feared all his life had come - he needed to accept the crown to protect his family.

During the conversation in the carriage, we see that Aegon was really hurt that his father didn't love him:

He even said "because he didn't like me" when talking about his father's attitude towards him. He didn't use the word "love" because it was obvious to him that his father didn't love him. He used the word "like", unknowingly emphasizing that he couldn't count on even simple sympathy.

He's also well aware that Viserys could have named him the heir, but didn't do so simply because he didn't want to and because of this, he - the eldest son, feels unworthy of the throne, and also completely lost.

When Alicent tells him that Viserys wanted to make him the heir before his death, an emotional dam breaks inside him, it's literally written in the script:

And at this moment, looking at the dagger, he's not even listening to Alicent, he's completely in his thoughts - maybe, at least for a second, his father cared about him. And when he asks his mother if she loves him, we see how much he craves love, how broken he really is, how important his family is to him.

I know this post is insanely long and I haven't even analyzed the various microexpressions in Tom's acting, but I'm really tired of people wanting to make Aegon something pure evil.

"I also see Aegon as being incredibly complex. He's not an out-and-out psychopath. I see a multilayered character that just has endless potential of pits of vulnerability and empathy and things that we don't see. I think it's his vulnerability that breeds the darkness. It's the way he copes, it's his security, it's his safety blanket, it's an addictive coping mechanism for him to shut things out and to be cold." (с) Tom Glynn-Carney for Entertainment Weekly

[hamliet]

Love is Life, and Also Unpredictable

The Decameron is a brilliant, beautiful show that deserves way more praise than the lukewarm reviews. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love story so beautiful and characters who subverted expectations in the most satisfying ways.

Every time you think a character is an unforgivable lout, you'll be surprised at how human they'll be. The character you think is a buffoon and whom you wish would die because they're THAT level of annoying ends up making you bawl with their words a single episode later, and it still feels in character.

I dunno, the show has pretty mixed reviews, but if you like dark humor and a study on humanity, this show is for you. Also, if you like love stories of any sort, because this show contains several of the single most unique love stories I could have ever imagined. Yes, including queer and... ace love.

*yes i have read boccaccio's work on which it's based

Spiritual, Agape Love: Neifile and Panfilo

I genuinely think the sexless marriage and partnership of a gay man and a devout, neurotic straight woman is one of the most beautiful love stories I've seen in media, ever. They genuinely want each other to be happy, and they aren't content just being each other's "beard" or financial security. They want to know each other more. They want honesty. They want to be together and to have intimacy, just not romantic or sexual.

The scene where they reconcile in front of Ruggiero is stunningly wholesome and--dare I say it--pure.

The scene where Neifile falls in the well and waits for God to save her is clearly a riff on the classic parable of the guy who is drowning and turns down two boats and a helicopter rescue saying "no thanks, God will save me," only to die and get to heaven and cry, "God, why didn't you save me?" Then God replies, "you dumbass, I sent you two boats and a helicopter!"

Neifile is rescued because her husband Panfilo pays someone to rescue her and to tell her God sent a vision telling them where to find Neifile. When she finds out Panfilo orchestrated it, she's furious about him deceiving her. But the reality, we later realize, is that he didn't exactly. Neifile wanted proof God still cared about her. He sent her a husband who loved her so much he would do anything to save her.

Neifile's faith isn't perfectly written, but it's not mocked. In the end, Neifile and Panfilo live like Christ--which is to say, they save their friends even though they die. Neifile dies afraid, but life comes with no guarantees. It's unpredictable, just like love. And after her death, Panfilo seems to lose the will to live--but when he decides to sacrifice his life to die alongside Neifile, it's not so much out of a desire to die as it is out of a desire to have his friends survive. And it's not a coincidence that the foe they face off with is a self-proclaimed prophet who's really a cruel, hypocritical cult leader. Neifile's dead, plague-ridden body is more holy than the cult leader's sword.

Romantic/Eros Love: Misia and Filomena, Tindaro and Stratilia, (and everyone)

Everyone has romantic love and/or a sexual relationship in the story. Everyone has a "pairing," but it is seldom their most important bond.

Dioneo and Licisca

Filomena and Misia

Pampinea and Sirisco

Tindaro and Stratilia

Neifile and Panfilo/Ruggiero

Panfilo and Neifile/Andreoli

The two that are the most important here are Misia and Filomena, and Tindaro and Stratilia. Yet they are both quite unique portrayals as well, because while Misia and Filomena's love is requited, Tindaro's loev for Stratilia is completely unrequited. Yet, its power still shines through.

Tindaro's love for Stratilia is utterly unrequited and stays that way. However, his love for her is nonetheless real and he proves it over and over, and it isn't dependent on her returning it. His determination to love her, no matter what she does or doesn't give him, is honestly a beautiful exploration of unrequited love. Usually in fiction unrequited love is either someone wasting their time or a tragedy.

Rarely does unrequited love have power to redeem and save, but here it does. It motivates Tindaro to change himself for the better and to become the best version of himself, and it saves Stratilia's life and the life of her son.

Yet, the story avoids any kind of iffy subtext about sex corrupting love. Misia and Filomena get a happily ever after (the only pairing in the series that does), but Tindaro's love for Stratilia, which literally starts as hate sex and stays that way for her, redeems Tindaro. So the show avoids saying that sex is all that love is, and avoids the implication that sex ruins love as well.

Familial Love: Licisca and Filomena, Stratilia and Jacopo

The series addresses sibling love in a variety of ways. Filomena and Licisca are clearly sisters long before we get the official reveal that Licisca is actually Filomena's half-sister in blood. And even when we see them fighting and pushing each other off a bridge (literally), they love each other. They can't bear to see each other die, even as they peck at each other and insult each other constantly.

Filomena: Licisca, you saved me again! Licisca: Yeah, you dumb bitch. Love's got long claws.

Truly, a sister exchange right there.

What gets in the way of their familial relationship is class. The series juxtaposes class issues against familial ones quite a bit. Leonardo, for example, we never meet, but the way he treats Stratilia and Jacopo (his son) is pretty terrible.

And yet, Jacopo has a good life. Stratilia loves him, even though he is the reason she can never leave the villa, marry, or have any sort of life of her own. She knows Leonardo never plans to have Jacopo as an heir or treat him as a son in any way, but she loves him and sticks around for him, and doesn't resent him for it. And he in turn adores his mother and wants to protect her. Love is a burden, as Panfilo says directly, but so is life. Love anchors.

What gets in the way of love for this mother and son, temporarily, is again class. Not for herself, but for her son, Stratilia eventually decides to take the villa since Leonardo is dead and Jacopo is the rightful heir. But clinging to class and material possessions in this series never ends well.

When Stratilia realizes her desire to seize the villa in the name of justice for her son will likely get them all killed, she cries and blames herself for their coming deaths.

As Tindaro says:

Stratilia: I failed my son Tindaro: No. You have given him everything. And love most of all. He is blessed. You understand that Jacopo? You are blessed.

In other words, love doesn't have to be perfect. It can involve major screwups and pain, but that doesn't mean the life they had or the love was any less powerful.

Also of note: the whole reason the peasants turn to mercenaries and cults is because the rich lock themselves away from the poor, when in reality they are all humans. You can't counter acts of God (or, y'know, rats) but where humans do have power, in all the terrible hands life slaps them with, is the ability to love each other and help each other. While this sounds cheesy, the juxtaposition of this idea with a black comedy plague setting actually makes it shine.

The Loveless: Pampinea

At the start of the story, there are two buffoons: Tindaro and Pampinea.

Tindaro is misogynistic and pathetic, and Pampinea is equally insufferable but more sympathetic because her insufferable tendencies are clearly driven by her status as an unmarried woman in a patriarchal, misogynistic society.

Yet Pampinea has all of these kinds of love, and can't accept any of them. Sirisco loves her and thinks she is beautiful. She not only pushes him away, but is cruel in doing so. She has the respect of Neifile and Licisca. She has unrequited loyalty and love from Misia, and uses it to manipulate Misia into killing Ruggiero for her (and the irony is that Misia, who is traumatized from killing Ruggiero, then kills Pampinea).

Pampinea is a well-written villain, imo. You love to hate her, but you also see her humanity. The way she treats Misia, though, is increasingly horrifying, and their relationship foils Tindaro and Dioneo's, Filomena and Licisca's, and Leonardo's and Stratilia's/Sirisco's.

In fact, Filomena even directly acknowledges that she's no better than Pampinea for how she's treated Licisca. Tindaro doesn't get the chance to have that realization about Dioneo while Dioneo is alive, but he does give him a decent burial when he definitely didn't have to. And, there's an aspect of tragedy there too--Dioneo did care about Tindaro, but Tindaro's inability to show any kind of care for Dioneo while he lived means that he doesn't realize that Dioneo did in fact find love in the end, though he acknowledges that this was what Dioneo did primarily want in life.

In contrast, Pampinea has chance after chance after chance to choose differently, to choose a single bond, and she doesn't. She also recognizes that her servant wants love more than anything, just like Tindaro and Dioneo, but instead of using that to honor them, she uses it to degrade and manipulate Misia.

Bad Victims and Toxic Love: Misia and Pampinea

Misia is a bad victim. It takes forever for her to realize she's being abused and even longer to accept it. She does in fact murder someone for her mistress, and she keeps going back to Pampinea even when it means essentially betraying Filomena, whom she romantically loves. When she asks for help, she pushes the people she's asked away.

Eventually, the only way she sees to free herself is to kill Pampinea, because love for Pampinea is a way to cage someone rather than a way to set them free. Pampinea's already introduced the idea of killing for love, so it's not really a surprise when this comes back to bite Pampinea and she is killed.

Yet the story doesn't demonize Misia for this. It shows how damn difficult it is to free oneself from an abuser, and how genuine the love for an abuser can be. In fact, the victim can often not even realize they're being abused and taken advantage of.

Furthermore, Misia's abuse doesn't make her a better person. Most people tend to assume that victims cry and wait for rescue, but that's not realistic. Victims lash out and can sometimes have a massive cognitive dissonance, as demonstrated in the show when Misia begs Sirisco for help and then blames him for Ruggiero's death when he calls her out on Pampinea's abuse of her.

Even Misia killing Pampinea isn't portrayed as a moral positive. It's tragic, but it also doesn't have to destroy Misia's future. Filomena loves her and forgives her, and that love can tether Misia to life despite her having two murders under her belt.

Sirisco also goes down a bad path, similar to Misia. He brings misery and problems to the villa in his outage over Pampinea's treatment of him. Yet he does repent after he sees that his actions have directly led to the deaths of the peasants who treat him well, and he survives.

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

part 2 here!

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[vidavalor]

Perfectly Safe

Ok, I might have read one too many 'Aziraphale doesn't love Crowley because he wants him to be an angel'-type posts and I'm at risk of grinding my teeth into oblivion over here. This is short defense of why Aziraphale is tempted by the idea of being able to offer Crowley a way out of Hell and how that makes him pretty lovely, actually, and not villainous in any way.

In honor of @badaziraphaletakes, who is doing The Lord's Work out here. Lemme know how I did when you have a chance. 😇

Aziraphale being tempted by "The Metatron's" offer is not about him needing Crowley to be an angel. It's about the hell that Crowley has been living being tied to Hell for the last six thousand plus years.

Aziraphale does not need Crowley to become an angel again to love him. He already loves him. He does not think that Crowley is "lesser" because he's a demon. That's lunacy. Aziraphale is furious with God, whom he thinks made a mistake in casting Crowley to Hell because Crowley is lovely and Aziraphale thinks nothing less. Aziraphale loves Crowley so much that he actually just willingly accepted a scheme he didn't really 100% believe was true just because even if there was a .02% chance that it was real, he had to take it.

Aziraphale is tempted... quite. literally. tempted... into accepting an offer that includes the power to restore Crowley's angelic status because he believes that Crowley becoming an angel again is the only way that Crowley would ever be safe from Satan and Aziraphale will do anything to keep him safe.

Anything.

That angel will give up their life together on Earth. He will give up his own freedom and his own happiness and, largely, he and Crowley's ability to have a functioning relationship, to do the worst job imaginable for all of eternity if doing that job means that it gives him the power to protect Crowley in the one way for which he has always been powerless.

What do you think it's done to Aziraphale for it to have always been dangerous for them to be together all this time? Not just in the sense that they can't get caught or they could be killed but in the sense that because they can't get caught or they could be killed, they can't just live together easily and that actually would only partially solve the problem? Every time Crowley goes out the door, neither of them know what horrors await him on the outside.

Every. Single. Time. For thousands of years...

Aziraphale has always done everything he could to protect Crowley, as best as he could in whatever time they were in. He built the bookshop for Crowley. Yes, he wanted a place of his own and he came up with the bookshop embassy to con Heaven into letting him have material objects and a house but it was always really for both of them. It was to give Crowley a place to which he could escape from Hell. It was so that there was one place where demons and Satan couldn't find him because, out there in the world? Even in the places where Crowley was living? Crowley has never been safe from them.

One of the first scenes of Crowley in the series is him being attacked by Satan--while driving his car, a symbol of autonomy and control over himself-- while he was supposed to be having dinner with Aziraphale. This is basically the intro summary of their relationship that we are given at the start of the story and that carries through the rest of it in different scenes. If you were Aziraphale by 2.06 and thousand years deep into this hell you and Crowley had been living together, wouldn't you sign on the dotted line for even the slimmest-as-all-fuck, hope-and-a-prayer chance that you might be able to get the kind of power that could stop the love of your life from potentially being stalked, tormented, threatened or attacked any time he wasn't near you?

Imagine being head-over-heels in love with a person who is your best friend and your lover and your partner in life and he's safe with you, of course, but you can't be together all of the time because being together at all is risky and could kill you if you get caught but when he's not with you? He could be being raped on the side of the road by the literal fucking Devil because that's actually canonically happened before. What do you think it did to Aziraphale to feel like he was powerless to protect the person he loves for so long?

In Aziraphale's mind, he's been able to do little more than watch as Crowley suffered with no way to stop it.

Until the offer from "The Metatron":

Then, along comes a situation that seems way too good to be true-- and is. That it is, though, doesn't matter to Aziraphale much at this point. It's not remotely ideal and it's not on their terms but it's something... it's more than Aziraphale felt he had to offer Crowley before he was given it.

Aziraphale does not want power for power's sake; he doesn't want to run Heaven. He rejected that when it was all that was offered.

What tempted him was the power to protect Crowley.

It doesn't matter how unlikely it is that this is a genuine offer-- and Aziraphale does have doubts that it is genuine. This is the only offer that Aziraphale cannot refuse. He will never reject the possibility of freeing his partner from literal Hell because it would be freeing him from the mental, physical and emotional hell he's been going through for thousands of years.

That is how much Aziraphale loves Crowley.

How does Aziraphale fall? Well, Mr. Fell really actually fell long ago because he fell in love. He falls to Hell, though, when he cannot resist the temptation to take for himself the kind of power that he thinks would protect Crowley. He's tempted by the very devil that has been torturing them both and, worse, he knows he probably was, but it's still an offer he cannot ever refuse.

Aziraphale doesn't want Crowley to become an angel again because he can't love him if he's a demon; he wants Crowley to be an angel again because then he'd be safe from Satan. Then, he'd have a chance to heal more and be free. It's Aziraphale's unconditional love for Crowley that leads him to fall.

I think Aziraphale feels like he has nothing to offer Crowley if he can't protect him more than he already does. He has a lot of pain, anger and shame over a situation that isn't really within his control and that he'd kill to fix. No amount of Crowley's reassurance over the years has been able to fundamentally change how Aziraphale feels about this because both of them already do everything in their power to manage the situation as best as they can and, throughout all of this time, there has not ever been any way to fundamentally change it.

Don't think this angel hasn't thought long and hard about how he wants to marry that demon but he's not sure how he'd ever stand there and take a vow because, in his mind, a failure to protect him would be to break that vow. He doesn't actually think he's a good enough partner to Crowley as it is, let alone the husband to him he'd love to be. (Crowley very much begs to differ on that.)

That angel who gives his flaming sword and his money and time and his love to any being that needs what he can give them? The one that took Gabriel in and comforted Muriel and saved Job and Sitis' kids and gave Elspeth and Maggie a way out of despair?

That same angel has spent millennia unable to save his beloved partner from the worst horrors imaginable and that's how The Devil got this kind, pure-of-heart person-- the anger, shame, frustration and pain over thousands of years of telling himself that he's not good in general and he's definitely not good enough for Crowley.

Go right ahead and make him the bad guy if you want but know that his own negative thoughts about himself will out do yours any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

[frankingsteinery]

victor is one of the most psychotic characters i have ever read in literature and it all feels both surprisingly accurate and relatable given the time period; i have been meaning to make a proper analysis on victor's psychotic symptoms for awhile now, but have, ironically, been delayed due to my own psychotic symptoms, so here's more of an informal list--

i'll be breaking down victor's: 1. negative symptoms (loss of functioning)

2. positive symptoms (hallucinations)

3. disorganized thinking and speech/behavior

victor's psychotic symptoms, as well as his initial psychotic break during the creation of the OG creature, are brought upon by the stressors of creating the creature(s), both before, during and after the creation process. the first of these symptoms were negative symptoms.

negative symptoms of psychosis are a loss (thus--"negative") or reduction of normal functioning, and can include restricted emotional expression, lack of speech or monotone speech, difficulty thinking, reduced motivation and/or desire to initiate activities, reduced socialization and social withdrawal, and an inability or decreased ability to experience pleasure. they most commonly occur in the prodromal (initial) phase before the acute phase (characterized by hallucinations, delusions, and confused thinking) and in the recovery phase, which is true of victor's case.

andehonia (lack of pleasure):

"...but I did not watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation... But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety... I became nervous to a most painful degree" (paranoia, too) -- Vol I, Chapter III

"It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature" -- Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses, that alarmed and grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

asociality (social withdrawal) & alogia (impoverished speech):

"And the same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them..." Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"Study had before secluded me from the intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial..." -- Vol I, Chapter V (1818)

"This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only consolation—deep, dark, death-like solitude." -- Vol II, Chapter I (1818)

additionally, and in general, victor becomes incapable of initiating activities (avolition) while being cared for by henry at ingolstadt.

victor hallucinates several times throughout the novel. these hallucinations are almost exclusively visual, and primarily of the creature:

“'Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “he can tell.—Oh, save me! save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled furiously, and fell down in a fit." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"I saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbs nearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them; sometimes it was the watery clouded eyes of the monster, as I first saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt..." -- Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

"All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life. Can you wonder, that sometimes a kind of insanity possessed me, or that I saw continually about me a multitude of filthy animals inflicting on me incessant torture, that often extorted screams and bitter groans?" -- Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

"Sometimes I entreated my attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was tormented; and, at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

beyond that, victor's positive symptoms also include delusions of guilt, grandeur and persecution. however, this is complex enough that it warrants its own separate post. for another time... (edit: find it here)

victor also experiences disorganized behavior, behaviors that are inconsistent, contradictory, or don't fit the situation; for victor, the most obvious of which is catatonia, a symptom of psychosis characterized by abnormal movements, behaviors, and withdrawal. he demonstrates both akinetic (staying still, appearing unresponsive, staring blankly, lack of speech) and excited/hyperkinetic (moving in a pointless/repetitive way, appearing agitated or delirious, pacing, etc) catatonia.

"Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room, and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep...I took refuge in the court-yard belonging to the house which I inhabited; where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"...my spirits became unequal; I grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold." -- Vol II, Chapter II (1818) 

"Then the appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins." -- Chapter 21 (1831)

he also displays inappropriate/unusual reactions, another example of disorganized behavior:

"I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud... my loud, unrestrained, heartless laughter, frightened and astonished [Clerval]" -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

victor shows disorganized speech through his "ravings" several times and there's quite a few examples of this but i can't be bothered to pull more quotes. here's just one:

"A fever succeeded this. I lay for two months on the point of death: my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

as a side-note, in the 1800s, the term "fever" was used loosely in comparison to its modern definition, and the health of the mind and body was often viewed as interconnected--thus victor's "fevers" after periods of high stress that triggered psychosis—while being nursed back to health by henry, during his time in prison, etc.—could easily be viewed as mental illness rather than an actual physical sickness, or some combination thereof.

lastly, victor experiences disorganized thinking, which includes racing thoughts, flight of ideas, confusion, trouble keeping track of thoughts, difficulty concentrating, time processing disturbances, etc.

in general, victor experiences dream-like perceptions that leads to difficulty being present, concentrating, and processing reality, what he himself refers to as “strange thoughts” (Vol II, Chapter IX, 1818). for example:

“All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life.” – Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

additionally, victor is known to lose time and “awaken to understanding” weeks or months later several times:

“What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me…by degrees I gained a clear conception of my miseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they had called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.” – Vol II, Chapter VI (1818)

“But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking from a dream, in a prison…It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had forgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me.” — Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

“I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits.” — Vol I, Chapter III

he also demonstrates flight of ideas, a thought disorder that involves rapid shifting of thoughts that are expressed in language. people with flight of ideas may speak quickly and jump between ideas that are not connected in a way that is difficult to follow, illogical, or nonsensical. this occurs just before alphonse visits him in prison:

“I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my misery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for me to comply with his hellish desires… “Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God’s sake, do not let him enter!’” — Vol III, Chapter IV

to which mr. kirwin “regards [victor] with a troubled countenance” in response.

aaand that's a wrap.

there's no real point to all this i just wanted to outline most of his symptoms so i could have it all in one place. i'll probably expand on this sometime with more actual thoughts and ideas of substance as well as building on the implications of a reading of frankenstein where victor experiences psychosis (and how actually acknowledging victor's mental illness forces a much more sympathetic interpretation of victor... which is why people tend to talk around it). do with this what you will!

[todorokis-girl]

Honestly, I didn't even think about that - Kuroo Tetsuro x f!reader

Summary: Kuroo decides to confess to his best friend's sister after years of keeping his emotions in.

masterlist

It was a typical Friday evening, and Kenma was in the middle of one of his popular live streams. His fans were used to the casual, laid-back atmosphere of his streams, where he played games, chatted about his day, and occasionally had his friends drop by.

Tonight, Kuroo was lounging on the couch behind Kenma, casually watching him play the latest game. Y/N, Kenma's sister, was there too, sitting next to Kuroo, quietly playing her own game on her Switch. The three of them often spent time together like this, comfortable in each other's company. Y/N had always been close with her brother and his friends, particularly Kuroo, with whom she had shared many late-night talks and heartfelt moments over the years.

To be honest, they were closer than close, they spent a lot of time together; often after work, both her and Kuroo would come over to hang out with Kenma during his streams.

As Kenma's stream went on, the chat buzzed with excitement, fans commenting on the game and sharing their usual banter. Suddenly, Kuroo's voice broke through the ambient sounds of the game and Kenma's occasional commentary.

"Hey, Kenma, pause the game for a second," Kuroo said, his tone unusually serious.

Kenma glanced back, slightly puzzled but complied, pausing the game and turning to face Kuroo. The chat quickly picked up on the change in mood, filling with question marks and curious comments.

Kuroo stood up, moving to stand in front of Y/N. She looked up from her game, confusion flickering in her eyes. Without warning, Kuroo bent down and pressed his lips to hers in a quick, yet tender kiss. The room seemed to freeze in that moment, the only sound being the rapid typing from the stream chat as viewers reacted in shock and excitement.

When Kuroo pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, but his eyes were filled with determination. "I've had a crush on you since high school," he confessed, his voice steady. "I can't keep running and hiding anymore. I needed to hear you reject me so I could finally move on."

Y/N was stunned, her eyes wide with surprise. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself at a loss for words. The chat exploded with messages, fans going wild over the unexpected confession.

Kuroo continued, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Every time I saw you, it got harder to pretend I didn't feel anything. I thought if I could just hear you say you didn't feel the same, I could get over it. But… I can't keep it inside anymore."

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the computer and the distant noise of the stream. Slowly, a gentle smile spread across Y/N's face. "Kuroo… I've always had a crush on you too," she admitted, her voice soft but clear. "I just thought you saw me as a sister."

Kuroo's eyes widened, a mixture of relief and joy washing over his features. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

She nodded, her smile growing. "Yeah, I do. I just never imagined you'd feel the same way."

Kenma, who had been silently watching the scene unfold, finally spoke up, his voice breaking the spell of the moment. "You know you're both still on stream, right?"

Kuroo and Y/N turned to look at him, their faces turning a deeper shade of red as they realized the entire confession had been broadcast live. The chat was going wild, viewers reacting to the unexpected romance with a flurry of emojis and excited messages.

Kuroo let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I guess there's no hiding it now," he said, glancing back at Y/N. "But… I'm glad. I'm really glad."

Y/N laughed too, reaching out to take Kuroo's hand. "Me too," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Kenma sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "I guess my stream just got a lot more interesting," he muttered, unpausing the game. "But seriously, you two… maybe save the dramatic confessions for off-camera next time."

Kuroo chuckled, turning back to Kenma. "Sorry about that, Kenma. But I think we both needed this."

Kenma nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Honestly, I'm just relieved I don't have to keep your secret anymore. It was getting exhausting."

Kuroo and Y/N exchanged surprised glances before turning back to Kenma. "Wait, you knew?" Kuroo asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

Kenma smirked, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Of course I knew. You both did tell me separately, did you?"

Y/N blinked, processing the revelation. "And you didn't say anything? At least hint at it? I've been sulking over this for years" she asked, her voice a mix of incredulity and curiosity.

Kenma shrugged. "It wasn't my place to say anything. I figured you'd both figure it out eventually."

"Be ready for this to be all over the internet"

Kuroo and Y/N both just smiled at each other, their hands still clasped together. As Kenma returned to his game, the atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with a new sense of warmth and possibility. The stream chat continued to buzz with excitement, fans eagerly discussing the unexpected turn of events.

And as the night went on, Kuroo and Y/N sat close together, their hearts lighter and their futures a little brighter, no longer burdened by unspoken feelings and hidden desires.

[mezmer]

The straight woman is unsatisfied with straight studio porn. She wants to get off to something in which the actors actually emote and show passion beyond canned moans from the women and, at best, vacant grunts from the men. She turns to gay porn. She knows it's not "for her," but neither was the straight porn, and at least the actors look like they're enjoying themselves. And for a short while she is satiated by Sean Cody et al, but she runs into the same problems she had to begin with. She was not looking at sex but a simulacrum of sex, trapped in Plato's cave. Unsatisfied, she turned to vintage gay porn, harkening to a time when most gay bars still had darkrooms and reliably smelled of piss and Amyl Nitrite. Here was the real thing, in all its animalistic passion. But she still couldn't immerse herself in the fantasy. She wanted the media to engage with her own imagination and meet her half-way, rather than having it spoonfed to her onscreen. She turned to yaoi, with its elongated figures reminiscent of mannerist portraiture, then bara, including hardcore BDSM scenes. But the tactile sensations depicted in the pages didn't do justice to their real life counterparts. She turned deeper into her own imagination, this time reading erotica. No, not the poolside paperbacks sold at Barnes and Noble. The good shit. Why then, was she still not satisfied? She dug deeper, searching for the true meaning of eroticism. She studied the psychoanalysis of Freud, the cultural criticism of Susan Sontag, the feminist poetry of Audre Lorde. She took vacation time and flew to Europe, starting at the caves of Lascaux to explore the human urge to create, then traversed the Camino de Santiago on foot, along the way meeting a 56 year old carpenter from Burgos named Andrés, with whom she had an explosive affair. They both knew it couldn't last, which made them cherish each other's touch all the more. Upon flying home, she gave up. If her search for true eroticism never bore fruit this whole time, why would it now? It would take years before she stumbled upon the answer by pure happenstance: Progressive metal

[strwbrry-lmnade]

𝔹𝔸ℕ𝔾

⤷ Osamu Dazai x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➤ genre § angst ✎ word count § 4.9k ⊱ warnings § mentions of gunshot, description of injuries, failed suicide attempt, hospital scene, mentions of death, rejection

The sound echoed in the room, unbelievable.

You fearlessly stood your ground in front of the gun, although you were shocked the bullet hit you. The shooter himself stood speechless, watching the smoke exit his abnormal gun in front of you, you weren't even the target at all. You jumped just in time, between when the guy pulled the trigger and right before the bullet hit his original target, whom was the surprised guy behind you.

Dazai Osamu, a name so dear to you. He knows exactly how to get right under your skin sometimes, and other times he knows just the ticks to start out a riot of butterflies in your stomach and make your heart flutter. After all, you couldn't forget the first time you met him.

You were standing on the edge of a building, in a sad thunderstorm. Your tears blended perfectly with the raindrops hitting your face, as the drops streamed down your cheeks and dripped over your chin. Soft hiccups and sobs exited your freezing form, as you watched the busy streets below your toe whilst holding on to the metallic rail behind your waist. Your shoulders shuddered from the cold, as you whined sadly like a puppy. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't.

"Oh my!"

You heard a deep voice from behind that made you gasp, you wanted to turn around but your foot slipped. And so did your fingers from around the rail, letting you fall.

"I gotcha!"

You felt a strong hand wrap around your gentle wrist, as the person pulled you upwards. He sat you on the rail, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you further from the edge to safety.

"There, you're ok."

He said with a smile, letting go of your body and pulling his arms back shoving his hands into his pockets. You looked up to see his dark chocolate brown hair, with a pair of hazelnut brown eyes. He had a calm smile, as he had to look down at you, due to your smaller figure.

"Why'd you do that? I was going to jump either way." You murmured.

Crossing your arms and turning your head away. Only now did the silence alarm you that it stopped raining.

"I thought if we're both here for the same purpose, why not do it together? As a double suicide!" He said, joining you to look out at the buildings and the sea behind them.

"Why do you wanna die?" You looked up at him.

"Let's turn that question around, shall we? Is there really any worth to this thing we call living?" He smiled, looking down at the people who started closing their umbrellas one by one.

"There's a lot, more than you can imagine." You said, and he went silent.

"I lost mine." You murmured, with a last tear slipping down your cheek, but he heard it and stayed silent.

"Then why are you here if you think so?" He asked.

"Guess it was just a mindless moment of sadness. I'm afraid to keep going on my own." You looked down and crossed your arms.

"How about this... I'll be by your side until you find another reason to live for. And you have to prove to me, there is a reason for living." He smiled at you, stretching his hand out for you to shake.

"Deal?"

You blinked twice by the stranger's words, and shook his hand after a moment. With a bit of convincing you two left the building, and went on a walk. You learned that his name was Dazai, and he learned your name. Then you two didn't talk about each other, and none of you asked, until he stopped by a café.

"Let's get a drink, shall we?" Dazai said, making you stop and look at him for a moment.

"I insist." He smiled, opening the door and gesturing you to go inside first.

You nodded and walked in, sitting down at a random table and he sat in front of you. You didn't feel like eating, so you ended up ordering two drinks. He ordered a glass of champagne, which came within 5 minutes, but he waited for your drink to arrive, which was hot cocoa in a white mug. You grabbed it with both hands, feeling it's warmth as you stayed silent whilst starring at the liquid and the steam exiting it.

"For... " Dazai stared at his glass while thinking as he spun it around gently.

"A reason out there... that's for us to live." He held his glass up, with a smile at you.

You blinked twice, and held your mug up, slowly clicking it against his own glass.

That was your first encounter, you still had a trauma aftermath from the incident, but slowly and bit by bit you regained your cheerful personality. And a day after another, you began catching feelings for Dazai. You met regularly on the weekends, and he always took you out for candy. Just like the promise he made, he was always there for you. You learned from one of his friends, that came to pick him up once when you two were out, that Dazai was a suicidal airhead. However, he didn't try to kill himself once after he met you.

One day, you finally decided to let him know that you want to be closer to him more than just a friend.

It was a sunset, where half of the sun was hidden by the sea beside. You were wearing your favorite outfit, while he had his usual, with his coat over his shoulders without his arms being inside the sleeves. You two stood in front of each other when you asked him to meet up, and he asked what is it that you need.

"I... l-like you!" You finally stuttered it out.

A roar of wind came from behind you, and over his face as if adding an atmosphere to his shocked expression. He blinked twice averting his gaze then looked back at you.

"I like you too. We're friends, aren't we?" He rubbed his nape, almost hoping you didn't mean anything else.

"N-no... Dazai, I... I like like you. I wanna be more to you than just a friend. I- I love you." You looked at the ground, with your ever reddening face.

Dazai still had his eyes averted, he couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not in this conversation. You meant a lot to him, the day you didn't text him because you were sick and you were asleep the whole day. He came banging on your door for his life because he didn't see your smile that day. But he just couldn't bring himself to admit the fact he loved you. He thinks he only just likes your company because you're his best friend, and nothing more, but he still doubted himself sometimes. He'd wish you were his, and ask himself a lot what are you to him after all.

After a moment, he brought his hand down, shoving it in the pocket of his pants, then shook his head. He thinks you're probably just as confused as him, he's your best friend, and you probably just care about him so much you think you love him.

"I don't like you that much." He frowned at the ground, shocked at his own choice of words. Although he was wondering at the back of his head, do I?

His heart ached at how rude he said that, and his breath invisibly hitched when he looked at your shocked and hurt expression.

"I'm here to take care of you, remember? Until you find your reason to live. Till then, it's better to just stay friends." He averted his gaze again.

You stood in silence. You didn't cry, or say anything, and neither did he speak again. After a moment he walked towards you, and patted your head before passing you by.

"After that, it's better to go our own separate ways." He said, removing his hand and walking away, not calling after you and you didn't follow him.

You turned around, and watched him leave as a little tear streamed down your face but you wiped it instantly.

But I found my reason to live.

After that, things were cold for a week, mainly because you were hurt at his words, and you took time to heal up. Figuring out that there's nothing you can do, he has no feelings towards you, so beat it. Being his best friend is better than a stranger, right? Avoiding him and mourning won't fix anything. So you called him, after the so many missed calls you had from him. You apologized that you didn't pick up, and told him that you didn't want your feelings to break your friendship with him. He was more than happy to hear that, and as time passed by you went back to your happy-go-lucky aura, and the awkwardness was erased from between you two.

Which brings us now... you had to protect your reason to live, and he, who couldn't process that he did care about you that much, watched his life crumble behind him as you took the bullet. It was a frozen moment, where he just processed your position, and only the sound of your high pitched yelp snapped him back to reality.

"Ack!" You gasped, letting the blood gush out of your mouth.

The bullet hit right under your left chest area, however, the gun was unusual and so was the bullet, it was wider than any normal gun bullet, and it almost made an explosion in your internals where it hit. Blood also gushed out of your injury as the momentum of the bullet pushed you back, but Dazai caught your body before you hit the ground.

Dazai was speechless, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to chase away the life out of the guy's eyes, as Dazai watched you ache on his lap. But he wanted to be by your side, and take care of you, in case these really are your dying breathes.

"Stay still, I got it!" Atsushi came running after the guy as he sprinted away, and another person was heard to be calling the ambulance outside the room.

Dazai watched them leave, then he found himself strangely holding you close to him while starring at you.

"Y-you... what the hell would you do that for?!" He slightly shook you, pressing his hand against your injury to stop the blood from flowing out.

"A-aah..." You starred at his bloody hand, over your own bloody hands in fear as tears streamed down your face. Simply because of the pain, but you had no regrets.

"That's not what I need right now." You whined and turned your head away from him, referring to his yelling.

"Look at me!" Dazai said, not any less freaking out, as he pushed your head back in his direction.

"Y-you... you shouldn't go, we had a- we had a deal! Remember?!" He grabbed your shoulder tightly holding on to you, almost as if by doing so, everything will just rewind and you two won't even be here.

You let out a weak chuckle as you brought your hand all covered in blood up to his face, he didn't flinch and just looked at you. You caressed his cheek with your fingers, as they quivered to stay still against his skin, so he grabbed your hand lacing his fingers with yours, finally understanding it all.

"You really are a dork." You smiled at him, the smile he always waited at night, so impatient to see the next day, making him feel like he'll never see it again.

"Don't you see?" You huddled up to his chest, still holding his hand, as your eyes started to close.

"You were my reason to live." You winced, looking at him through half closed eyes, your smile never leaving your lips.

"I'm not scared, ok? And I have no regrets." You whispered to him, as he slowly rocked you on his lap.

Holding your head to his chest, never letting go off your hand. Soon enough, a tear by tear started going down his own face. He didn't make a sound, as he stared at you in shock and fear. You didn't break eye contact with him, and kept on your smile. Although your body grew tired, and more tired with every second.

"D-don't close your eyes... please." He whispered, his lips quivering as he stroked your cheek.

Never in his life has he ever felt so desperate.

"I'm... not sad, so please. Don't be." You smiled, your eyes now closed as you leaned on his palm.

And with that, you blacked out.

Dazai shook you gently urging you to wake you up, without being annoying, but to no vail. Emergency came rushing into the room, stripping your unconscious form away from his grip. He held onto your arm but a nurse guy held him back, to which Dazai wanted to punch him off but he didn't.

"Sir, you need to calm down!"

"I have a heart beat! It's fading."

Dazai's eyes widened just at the thought that this is it, ending his struggle against the nurse, but he got up once he was let go.

He ran after you, as you were taken to the ambulance car. He sat by your side before they closed the door, and held your hand the whole ride, hoping you'd open your eyes again. Luckily, the ride wasn't that long so you were quickly placed on to a hospital bed and pushed into the building, with nurses coming rushing to your side one by one. Dazai followed you all the way inside, until a nurse stopped him before they took you away behind a door. Dazai pushed her off, leading to more nurses and maybe even a few random passerbys to stop him.

"Just- take care of her!"

The only thing that made him stop and go silent, was right before the door closed. He saw you, giving him a thumb up with a half awake smile. You knew it was going to be ok, so maybe just maybe it will. After all, he can do nothing but just hope.

Evening sheltered over the city like a blanket, and stars appeared in the sky by turns as the dark side of the moon stood in the middle of the sky. Dazai stayed in the hospital, he lost count of the amount of hours he's been sitting here for. He never moved or changed his position, sitting down with his elbow leaning on his lap and his fingers laced together. He received a few calls, and missed most of them, until he saw Atsushi's title on the phone, of course he answered, waiting to hear whoever shot you is captured.

"Yes?" He murmured calmly, but it was obvious that deep down he was losing himself, piece by piece.

"Good." He bit his thumb, thoughtful.

"They're still not letting me see her yet." He ran his hand over his face.

"I'm not hungry." He said, almost angry.

"Yeah, ok. Bye." He hung up, without waiting for the other line to bid farewell.

He exhaled and leaned back, letting his head rest on the wall as he stretched his legs in front of him. He started thinking about the last words he heard from you.

You were my reason to live.

Again, he leaned forward letting his head rest in his hands.

"But are you sure?" He whispered to himself, although he was subconsciously asking you.

He opened his phone and starred at some pictures and videos he took with and of you. Then he remembered the time when you confessed your love for him, as he drowned his face once again in his palms.

I don't like you that much. That's what he told you even though he wondered, do I?

He groaned, almost pulling at his hair.

"Of course you do! You idiot! How have you missed it?!" He yelled practically to no one, growling silently to himself and shaking his head.

"Of course I do, I don't like you. I love you." He rubbed his temples with a hand, as he took in deep breaths.

"And... now... I'll never be able to let you know." He murmured to himself, then sighed, leaning back again.

He kept remembering many moments he had with you, many thoughts he had of you, and many reactions he had for you. How did he never notice? He missed something that was right under his nose, truly an idiot.

One time, two months after you confessed, and everything cooled down, you two were sitting in a café, laughing about something that was very dumb, random, and makes less sense than hot ice. He excused himself for a phone call, and when he came back after five minutes, he found you giggling with another guy. He enjoyed the fact you were more guarded and formal, with the guy than you were with Dazai, whilst you were laughing with Dazai more than you were laughing with the guy. But again, the guy is sitting in Dazai's place like it's his own, what the hell? After processing the situation, and walking up to you. He stood behind you, resting his elbows on your shoulders and leaning on your head as he laced his fingers together in front of your neck.

"Who's this?" He asked.

Your face took a deep shade of red, as you starred at your food.

"D-Dazai, meet Hiroshimi." You gestured to the black head with the blue orbs in front of you.

"Pleasure to meet you, com'on we have to leave." Dazai said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out the café.

"Wait what? Dazai-" You said, as he pulled you off.

The waitress, who was already all too familiar with Dazai's in and out feelings for you, collected your own stuff with a plan to have you pay later as she didn't stop you, but as a matter of fact, wished you good luck.

"Dazai!"

Dazai was almost growling to himself, with so many thoughts, like how could he leave you? How could the guy come and sit with you? How could you accept it? Almost as if his property has been trespassed.

"Dazai!"

You called again, still simply following him without resisting, but he still didn't answer.

The angrier he got, the tighter his fingers on your wrists got. Almost as if the further you walk away from what happened, and the tighter he holds your hand, his anger will just vanish.

"Dazai, you're hurting me!"

Only then did he snap, when you winced and held his wrist to yank it away. He stopped in his tracks and after a silent moment of realization, he let go.

You looked at him with a confused frown, as you rubbed your wrist, and he watched you rub away his fingerprints from on your skin.

"What the hell was that back there? What is wrong with you?" You snapped at him, in anger and confusion.

His eyes widened in pure shock, as he got lost trying to reason what he did.

"What is wrong with me?!" He pointed at himself.

"What's wrong wrong with you?? Since when do you randomly sit with strangers?!" He snapped back.

"Dazai, that was an old friend! He was sitting with me, and even if he wasn't. Even if I didn't know him, why would you do that?!" You gestured to the café.

"You can't just... sit and laugh with random guys!" He shook his head at the ground, then looked at you.

"What the hell is up with that?! It's not your choice to make! And I'm not that type of girl either!"

Am I jealous? He wondered, as he stayed silent. It's true you're not that type of girl, but why is it that it pains him to just remember the image of you laughing with that friend. No, I just don't want her to get hurt.

"I just- don't want you to get hurt." He sighed, reasoning himself although he was still uncomfortable with the fact that this was not the all true answer.

It took you a moment to respond, because it purely didn't make any sense. There was a moment you thought and wished Dazai was jealous, but you immediately wiped it out to not get your hopes too high up.

You finally said with a sigh.

"Well thank you very much, but I can take care of myself."

Silence fell between you two, there was so much Dazai wanted to tell you but even he didn't have it cleared out, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Samu, you really shouldn't have done that." You gave another sigh, using the nickname you have for him to ease the tension.

"I'm going back." You stepped away from him, as you crossed your arms and walked back to the café.

He reached out for you, but he stopped his hand as he watched you leave. He sighed and shoved his hand back into his pocket, walking in the opposite direction.

As he remembered that, it almost felt like you walked away on him that day just because he walked away on your confession and that if he didn't, you wouldn't have walked away either, but in both times, he was the one who let you go.

"If only..." He whispered to himself as he stared at the ground.

"(Y/N) (L/N)'s guardian?"

He heard someone say, and snapped when he saw the white coat.

"How is she?" He shot up, eager but still containing himself.

"We were able to stabilize her condition to a level, however we should stay guarded." The doctor said calmly.

"She's fine, we just don't know if she'll wake up or not. Our only fear is how easy it is to have her slip away." The doctor explained, when Dazai raised an eyebrow.

"How long will it take for her to wake up at most?" Dazai asked.

"We're giving her a week and up, due to the drug we had to give her, and the already tired state she arrived in. We should start to worry within half a month or so." The doctor explained as he looked at the notebook he had in hand.

"Can I see her?" Dazai asked calmly.

"I won't recommend it but go ahead." The doctor said, not expecting Dazai to listen to him anyway.

With that Dazai rushed into your room, and the doctor walked away.

He looked at your calm peaceful form breathing on the hospital bed, your breath appearing and fading on the plastic oxygen mask as your chest got up and down. The only sound in the room was the repeated beep of the heart monitor, along with his own breathing. He observed for a moment, before making another rush to your side, grabbing your hand with both his hands gently and bringing it to his face.

"Damn it, I'm so sorry." He almost teared up as he kissed your hand.

He felt your hand barely tighten one of your fingers on his hand, but he was convinced it's just a flinch, or an illusion.

"I promise I'll make things right if you wake up. I'll wait" He whispered, mostly to himself.

And so the wait began. A full 24 hours passed by, and another day, soon enough the week was over.

Nurses repeatedly asked him to leave but he glared them off, and they couldn't use force in a patient's room. His friends and colleagues visited regularly, to check on him. Atsushi even bought him food and some coffee once.

"I got you some bento, and coffee."

He awkwardly walked in and placed the things next to Dazai, who didn't respond and just kept his head down.

"She'll wake up, make sure you're in a good health to welcome her."

He patted Dazai's hair then left, not waiting for a response, since he got used to it, but he was slightly glad to see the old bento box he bought two days ago half empty.

"Don't make her blame herself that you did this to yourself, this is no one's fault. This was going to happen either way."

And with that he closed the door behind him. Dazai blinked twice at his words then looked at you.

"Maybe if I just- let you go. This wouldn't have happened." Dazai whispered to himself, placing his palm on his face.

His thoughts rewinded to when you met Hiroshimi. Maybe if he just walked away, you would've been attached to Hiroshimi more than Dazai, and wouldn't be here. The image of you with him pained Dazai, but you in a hospital bed pained him more.

He thought it would be best and less painful if you two stay away from each other, if being separate was your destiny then it's best to stay unattached. However here you are, unattached and it still hurts like hell.

The silence was broke by your humming as your breath hitched. It immediately snapped Dazai back to reality, to see your frowning face and narrowed eyebrows. You repeatedly tilted your head softly, slowly and weakly as your hands tightened on the covers. Dazai got up to stand by your side, he gave the sped up heart monitor a glance before grabbing your hand.

"Shhhh, you're ok." He held your hand and laced his fingers with yours, placing his other hand on your head to stroke your hair.

Your hums turned into low groans, as you let your head tilt in his direction.

"Saa.mu.." You whispered tiredly, struggling to open your eyes or say the words.

"Hey." He kissed your hand while stroking your bangs repeatedly.

"Hi." Your voice was much weaker and drier, as you struggled to even smile.

"How are you feeling?" He smiled.

"I feel shot, man." You whispered with a tired smirk, blinking slowly.

He barely chuckled and shook his head, barely biting his lip to hold back a tear but he failed and it slipped down his cheek.

"God damnit..." He hovered over you, picking your head up and your torso into an embrace.

He had an arm wrapped around you on your back, while he picked your head up to hug you properly without having you give any effort to hoist yourself up.

It took you a moment to realize this, but you eventually wrapped your heavy arms around him, you laid them on his back to be more accurate, but you still returned the embrace as you leaned on his shoulder.

"Don't do this to me ever again." He whispered.

"I mean... if you're gonna hug me like this, I can take a bullet-" You said, but he cut you off.

"I'll hug you all you want!" He pulled back to look at you, making you blush.

"Just- don't- please..." He murmured, lowering his head to press his forehead against yours as he stroked your cheeks, some tears streaming down his cheek.

"Osamu?" You whispered, cupping his face to dry his tears using your thumbs.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)... I'm so sorry. I thought that it would be easier and less painful for the both of us if I just stay away. I wanted you to be happy, and I was scared." He whispered, as he looked at you again.

"I never thought I cared this much, and I never thought it would hurt this much." He stroked your cheek with a hand and stroked your hair with the other.

"If it's gonna hurt either way, then it's better to be with you. I'm sorry I never realized it earlier, but I love you. I really do. I always have, and I'm sorry I never told you before, but I'm telling you now." He said.

"I love you to the point I want to spend my life, and after life with you. There is a reason for living, and my reason is you. I love you to the point you make me happy I never got a chance to kill myself." He murmured, and that line pissed you off, but this is Dazai, for the love of god, how else will he express his love?

It was silent for a moment, with your cheeks on a shade of red and the heart monitor was sped up more than normal.

"I... love you too, Osamu. I always did, and still will." You smiled softly.

His lips barely curved into a smile as he grabbed your head and slowly planted his lips on yours. You once again laid your arms on his back and neck, letting him hold you as you kissed back.

Meanwhile outside the room, Atsushi was pointing a gun to the doctor, as a sweat drop streamed down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I can't let you go in right now." He said.

The doctor starred at the boy, covering his face with the notepad, as the boy turned to his friend.

"Did he make a move yet?" He asked.

"Wait.... oh my god, oh my god, they're kissing!!" The friend cheered in a whisper as he was peeking through the ajar curtains of the room's window.

"Yes!" Atsushi said.

"I fucking hate my job." The doctor murmured as he walked away.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ✧˖° ₊˚⊹ ᰔ༉‧₊˚.

[francis-writes]

could you write something about Feyd and Rabban competing for reader's affection?

It's a dream scenario... at least until you actually partake in it. None of Harkonnen brothers is willing to give up and they both are able to almost everything to gain advantage.

(By the way, in this scenario they both fell for you, but it would be possible that one seduces you just to piss off the other; it would be more likely that Feyd tries to win over Rabban's crush just to assert his dominance. Or perhaps Rabban tries to take Feyd's partner to get a revenge for Arrakis and also to at least this time not be the second, worse brother)

They are both rather straightforward but still their methods are a bit different.

Feyd would be more subtle and strategic. He would observe and listen to you to find out what you like and to know more about you. All these informations help him to give you things you may like or to randomly mention some facts you told him to prove that he cares. He doesn't hide his intention to seduce you but he's more subtle in his approach. He tries to use his charm and sweet words to convince you to him. He also invites you to watch his fights because he also wants to impress you with his fighting skill (and he would be happy if you enjoyed the murder as much as him). Feyd is likely to send servants to observe you and tell him what you're doing, whom you're meeting and what you're talking about (as i said, he has yandere tendencies). If there's a need, he will try to manipulate you into a relationship.

Not saying that Feyd's methods are much better but Rabban is more honest. Or simply not concerned with subtlety nor formalities. He tries to impress you by showing his strength and bragging about his power. He spoils you with gifts, not necessarily connected with your interests, he rather chooses things representing luxury and wealth he can give you. He may get a bit touchy - nothing too far but Rabban often puts his hand around your waist or on your thigh or he randomly lifts you up to show his strength (i am sorry, me and my friends sometimes lift each other for fun but now i imagined that considering size difference with Rabban it may look like that scene from lion king and it's too funny. I may draw it one day). He also wants to suggest that he can make you happy but uhhh idk if talking about his previous romances (with all intimate details) is a good way to do it.

Their rivalry goes on behind your back as well and it's even more ruthless. They threaten each other both with violence and blackmailing, there's also perhaps a few physical fights.

At one hand, they both often make sure that you aren't alone with the other. At the other hand, you can't spend time with them both at once because of the tension. They try to stay calm and make good impression but sooner or later (usually sooner) there starts a little squabble. They start mentioning each other failures or embarassing memories. After some time Rabban can't control himself and starts yelling, meanwhile Feyd-Rautha looks coldly at him as if he barely holded himself back from murdering Glossu.

By the way, of course Baron would quickly notice this competition but he wouldn’t interfere as long as the situation isn't out of control and as long as brothers' fight for your feelings doesn't disrupts his plans. Moreover, he may even use this occasion to turn them against each other even more and manipulate, perhaps promising help in winning your affection.

No matter which one you choose, the other one is P I S S E D. Probably they won't try again after you rejected them and hurt their pride (unless...?). Rabban will just be bitter and angry seeing you with his brother, he may start avoiding you or lash out when you meet. Feyd-Rautha on the other hand will just claim that you have bad taste and it's your loss, but he still becomes cold and distant. He may plot a way to take a revenge on you.

Also, you can't choose both. Both are pretty possesive and wouldn't share you, especially with each other. And if you don't want any of them? You are fucked. They reconcile temporarily just to get a revenge on you for rejecting them.

[thr0wnawayy]

Dissecting the Jaku General Hospital Disaster and MHA's failures with complexity

Ahhh, The Jaku Hospital Raid. The point where MHA's story went from it's ever increasing decline to throwing itself right off a cliff.

(boooring)

I think most can agree this event was a travesty writing/plot wise, but how about all of those in regards to MHA's setting. Well that's what I'd like to discuss.

Point 1: A Goal Without a Plan is a Dream

The plan summed up is "fuck around and find out".

The heroes came in to uncharted enemy territory relying soley on brute force, broke a bunch of equipment that did God knows what (for all they knew, it could have been lethal*).

Then they proceed to shoot themselves in the foot by getting too cocky, despite knowing that Shigaraki was undergoing some sort of procedure. X-less shoots a machine that for all he knew could have been a bomb or generator. Why?, because he had a "bad feeling".

* I'm talking potential toxic fumes, gas leaks, accidental combustion, etc

Now let's focus on the evacuation effort...

Oh.

Oh FUCK!

That's it!?. A couple hundred dozen heroes and a select handful of first and third year's.

One of whom, mind you, is strictly combat oriented by the (extremely niche) capabilities of his quirk. What can Bakugo actually do here?, in the worst case scenario (being Shigaraki's awakening) he's limited to one arm and two legs (maybe his mouth?). That will further drag him down due to his quirk relying on both hands to be viable.

And we see this!

Moving along.

Another thing they didn't count on was outside help. The moment Gigantomechia arrives, it throws another curve ball. With the only reason for their survival being Dues-Ex-Machina Best "Dirty laundry" Jeanist.

They failed in the end anyways because a large portion of the LOV+ the MLA escaped.

Point 2: Organisms Used for Nefarious Means

I will keep this section brief

Nomu are in my opinion one of the biggest wastes of potential MHA produced. Going from being unnatural goliaths capable of striking dread into the hearts of even the long standing No1 Hero, to being undead cannonfodder that heroes can beat up so the audience doesn't question their ethics or (lack of) morality.

It is a sheer miracle that the Nomu didn't leave the heroes worse for wear. This is again more due to Hori relying too heavily on "convince" and not enough on in-world solutions, but I digress.

The Nomu should have been the biggest threat and again, the heroes failed to account for this. They had no way of knowing, sure.

But they should have accounted this early on. What about the civilians, evacuating them isn't enough as seen in Hosu. I mean they were walking into a lab and they had dealt with Nomu facilties before (Kamino)

Were there inpatients during the raid? and if so were they evacuated or did the Heroes say "fuck it." Given what eas allowed at Central Hospital I wouldn't put it past them.

Point 3: A civilians point of view.

I want you to imagine for a moment: You're a civilian and your whole life, you've been told how wonderful heroes are and how they'll always be there, after all they're heroes.

Sure, they may dictate what quirks are "in" and maaaybe they have a tad to much influence over your average person but they're licensed and your not.

Why question it?

Then one day everyone and everything you've known is just blown away. Heroes barge into your house and begin scrambling to get you and your family out of your house before something happens, they dont tell you what.

It is a sloppy and hurried effort, your life's belongings tucked into a small carryon if you're lucky and some plastic bags if you're not. They tell you it's probably only temporary and you'll be back to normal shortly.

Then the nearby Hospital blows up. You and your family can only watch as heroes flee from the scene, some rising into the sky, others sprinting like hell. You barely make it out alive yourselves.

Within minutes everything is gone and it's not until the fightings iver that you hear it. You hear people (you think it's your neighbors) pleading in pain underneath the rubble, a little girl can be heard sobbing somewhere in the torn landscape.

Everything's been torn upside down.

And the heroes, the poeple you've depended on your whole life...

They quit. They say they need to find another line of work.

Is that what you are to them!?. Just another line of work, a number on a tally!?.

Worse still. The NUMBER ONE HERO has just been exposed by his presumed to be dead son for being a child beating, wife trafficking, eugenist with an implication that some, if not all of his children were made against the mother's will.

The current Number 2 murdered a man for the "greater good" (what even is "good" anymore).

The people who were supposed to protect you are quitting in droves, leaving vast portions of city to fall to villains and are refusing to take any responsibility for their negligence and poor planning that made an already bad situation worse.

Oh, also the single most dangerous villain in history has broken out of Tartarus and multiple prisons have been destroyed leading to further destruction.

This is then followed by a "blackout" period. Heroes give zero insight into what they're doing or what their plan is. Mutant discrimination is running wild, support gear is flooding the streets and any protests are being silenced.

So I'll ask you again, how do you react?.

Point 4: Hubris

Over all the entire operation was a complete and utter failure. I see alot of people giving the civilians flack for their strong reactions, but honestly I can't blame 'em.

The issue is Hori paints the narrative to minimize the damage towards the heroes. (For example he characterizes one of Enji's critics as a snobby shut-in surrounded by trash bags). We only ever see the worst aspects of the civilians because Hori has consistently failed to delve into anything beyond surface level emotion/themes.

Eri is a good example, she should be a very different character. She should be allowed to show her trauma and all the "ugly" emotions and baggage that come with that, we as the audience should see the lasting impact being killed repeatedly has had on her.

For example, Eri should be very adverse to touch. A problem that started with her father and was worsened by Kai.

She should be expressing her trauma through play (think reenacting her "surgeries" on dolls)

She should be distrustful and even cold (especially after Mirio abadoned her).

Her inability to smile might stem from a lack of viewing her self as equal to others, viewing herself as more of an object than human being.

But do we ever see this. No.

Because Hori doesn't let us. He simply as a writer, cannot appropriately handle or even seem to grasp complexity and every part of the story suffers because of it.

With the civilians it's no different and as a result Hori whether intentionally or not, twists the narrative to make them seem unreasonable.

This doesn't help when from what we've seen a shocking amount of MHA's main cast are drenched in hypocrisy. The only experiences we've had with the civilian population is through Shigaraki's backstory (bad) Toga's parents (very bad).

It's just not a good look.

Conclusion:

Over-all, the Raid and by extention the war was a mess in every aspect and I personally think the story would have been better off doing something else.

The time wasted here could have gone to any number of things (how about fleshing out the non existant world building) but I honestly believe that it would have been subpar regardless, it's all to apparent Hori had no idea where he wanted the story to go. That can be seen as far back as everything post MVA.

Just, what a mess.

[cambion-companion]

Teaching the Devil how to fuck

We all know Haarlep says Raphael is a terrible lover blah blah, and I certainly believe Raphael to be a very selfish lover. It's also hard for me to imagine he's taken someone other than Haarlep to his bed in a very long time. Scheming and planning ya know, it's time consuming lol And how would he be in bed with someone who isn't an Incubus, with whom he doesn't feel double the pleasure? Well, that's why I am writing this.

Raphael x Altheara (my female Aasimar OC) because I wanted to write wings and needed a warm-up

"Raphael, do you ever stop talking?" Altheara brushed her long golden hair, the entire time she'd been listening to Raphael wax poetic about his latest contract with the whole city council.

She turned on her vanity stool, tossing her sheet of hair over her shoulder and mirroring Raphael's terse expression back at him. "Have you any idea just how little I wish to hear about your newest soul conquest?"

Raphael raised an arch brow and his lips turned down in a sneer. "Were I a less magnanimous being..." He gestured with his hands, describing the scene. "...I would pluck your feathers and leave you skinned upon a rack for your continual impudence."

Altheara rose to her full height, still head and shoulders shorter than Raphael's devil form. She approached him in measured steps, her eyes glinting like topaz in the firelight. "You're more full of bluster than an autumn evening." She flexed her feathered wings and tilted her head up at his glowering face. "You need me."

"Ah, pet." Raphael's voice had taken on a gravelly edge. He took Altheara's chin between finger and thumb, stroking her cheek gently. "You are wearing out your welcome."

"Yet you are here, in my chambers, lingering long after my 'use' to you has expired." Altheara's amber eyes flicked between his. "Why?"

Raphael pulled in his chin, once again momentarily bemused by her directness. "Perhaps I want to see just how far I can make an angel fall."

During their long and tenuous partnership, Altheara had felt the tension between them building like water behind a dam. It was finally about to burst.

The fabric of her deep blue dress rustled as she moved, her wings urged on her movement with one sweeping motion. She pressed herself against the heat of the cambion, his hands cradling her hips as she kissed that ruby mouth of his. At last, silencing him.

Raphael met her embrace with surprise, then curiosity, which melted into fascination. He tugged her closer, his fingers exploring how her soft flesh felt under his probing touch, the silk of her dress slipping like water under his hands.

Altheara guided him non-gently to her bed where he sat, a brow raised as he looked amused and intrigued up at her.

"You are aware," Raphael mused, his hands resting either side of where he sat as she moved to straddle him. "That I have an incubus at my beck and call?"

Altheara ignored him, she began pulling at the heavy metal of his skull-adorned belt. "This is utterly hideous, by the way."

"That whatever pleasure you offer dulls in comparison to what they can give me."

Altheara glared at him, her teeth clenched, her brass wings folding slightly as an innate sign of her sudden doubt. "Yet here you remain, quite the willing companion."

"I admit my curiosity, yes." Raphael indulged the Aasimar, his infernal eyes glimmering from within. "I've made no secret that I find you a most alluring creature."

Altheara leaned into him again and kissed at his neck and throat, her hands sliding up under his shirt to caress his sides. "Then stop being an ass."

"So spoke the 'aasimar'." Raphael groaned quietly as Altheara bit the skin of his shoulder in response, then he chuckled, still not touching her in return. "Shall I set the mood, my dear?"

He clicked his fingers and Altheara breathed in sharply, pulling her head back as both she and Raphael magically lost all of their clothing.

Her eyebrows raise and she fought to not grimace. "Raphael...that does quite the opposite to 'setting the mood'."

A slight frown tainted Raphael's confident smirk. "Not the response I was seeking, angel."

"Put my clothes back on, devil." Altheara spoke firmly, her hands moving to cup his face and smooth down to his shoulders. "It seems I am to educate you on how passion is played out."

Raphael was loathe to obey orders from anyone, especially a celestial entity. However, he found himself intrigued what she wished to have happen.

He magicked their clothing back onto their bodies and Altheara smiled. "Good. Thank you."

Altheara took her time. She slowly undressed Raphael, her lips following where her hands went, never touching but close enough for him to feel her warm breath on his skin.

She pressed her weight against the cambion's towering form, her mouth almost touching his heated chest, teasing, until with a low grumble he pressed forward against her in return. She smiled as she began pleasuring him, allowing him some control yet also taking an equal amount for herself.

Reticence turned into heated exchanges, hands ran over flushed skin and Raphael at last carefully pulled Altheara's dress over her head and tossed it blithely to the floor.

His hands explored her, and she gasped as he groped her chest roughly, grabbing his wrists with a furrowed brow. "Gentler." She showed him and after a moment he took over, squeezing and pinching.

Raphael reclined onto his back, pressing into the bed as he gripped her thighs possessively. "Show me more of what you can give."

"I'd think a devil would have better grasp on the concept of give and take." Altheara sighed through her pleasure, her wings spreading behind her for balance as she began moving more earnestly. "This is an exchange, Raphael."

The reply was torn from his lips as she sunk upon him, connecting their bodies with her own gasps of both pain and bliss.

She leaned over him until their mouths met in yet another fierce kiss. Raphael ran his hands up her back and into her downy feathers, his sharp nails digging into them. Altheara tensed and broke their kiss to look into Raphael's lidded eyes. "We have a contract."

"I will not harm you." Raphael's touch was sharp but didn't pierce her skin. "So eager, but still a flighty little thing."

"Move with me." Altheara pressed her hands to his chest, then his sides, gripping him tight as her wings flapped gently, her body shuddering as Raphael began to move his hips as well.

"So demanding." Raphael groaned again, his pleasure building slower than her own. "It's a wonder I tolerate you."

"You want me." Altheara's breath caught in her throat.

Raphael gripped the arc of her wings, his torso flexing as he curled up into her. "Yes."

The little death that followed led to many others. Many more nights of exploration exchanges of intimacy. Like twin fire suns orbiting each other, Raphael and Altheara could not pull away from each other. And for the first time in centuries, Raphael found himself willing to learn.

[meanbossart]

Alright, I am like 90% sure there is ONE line in A Novel Experience touching on Gale GTFOing rapidly, so I don't think there are answers in there for me. So I come to you and ask-WTF went on between Gale and Drow???

Alright, so

There are two versions to what happened to Gale in my first campaign (the OG DU drow campaign that this whole universe is based around), lets begin with the technical version. As I've only somewhat recently come to understand, my Gale was bugged. I had 1 interaction early in the game that slightly veered into romance which didn't go anywhere, and first chance I had I clarified that I was not interested in him that way (the whole reason why It happened in the first place was because i misunderstood his dialogue). Despite this, and despite me turning him down in every romantic interaction following, I kept getting them and my interactions with him were as if we were romantically involved. I even got one exchange (the one about muscles glistening and cheeks flushed) twice, and rejected him both times.

So, later in the game once DU drow and Astarion sucessfully 5d chess-ed their way into falling In love, I was surprised to still be informed i had to "break things off" with Gale if I wanted to get with him. Which I did. And he gave me a whole spiel about it.

Now it's crucial you understand this was early in the game's release, I went into it completely blind and I had never played a game like Baldur's Gate before, so I was not familiar with the mechanics at all, which... Kind of led me to believe Gale was just like that normally.

From that point on I was highly amused, but for roleplaying purposes I decided my drow would have been highly annoyed and a little creeped out. And so I proceeded to be extremely rude to the guy at every chance I got. This eventually resulted In him pursuing the crown of Karsus despite me (rudely) telling him that was a very dumb idea.

The second version of what happened, as I already touched on above a little bit, Is the Narrative one. As I mentioned I had no clue what was and wasn't supposed to happen, so I just... Went along with it within the role-play.

So our beloved DU drow gets worms. He goes on a grand adventure with this weird possy of people to find a cure. When the tiefling party comes everybody except Astarion wants to get into his pants (because I left him on the beach for like a week and then proceeded to be The Rudest to him, sorry babe, I didn't see your pale ass and the asshole dialogue options were Really funny).

Someone else who Didn't seem to wanna fuck him was the wizard. He said he just wanted to show him a magic trick and he (and, I'll admit, me) really thought that was just that. The scene unfolds, Gale tries to teach DU Drow to cast a spell but his 9 intelligence says No. The unsolicited date ends abruptly because Gale is upset that a champion fighter without a single cantrip makes for a shitty wizard. DU Drow thinks thats the end of that - It's Not.

Then what proceeds to happen is a long, annoying, somewhat unsettling dynamic where Gale continually tries to pursue him throughout the game, coming to the point where the guy I'm Actually interested in thinks we are together - and when DU drow tells him verbatim that he had no idea they were even a thing in Gale's mind, he has to hear him whine about it. Add to that the fact that all Gale talks about is his ex-girlfriend, DU drow is (kind of justifiably) led to believe he must be a Profound weirdo to whom he cannot ever say even a Neutral word to again lest he becomes any more infatuated with him - 0r whatever the hell is going on.

Whether it be DU drow's own inflated ego or the actual truth, when Gale begins to pursue the crown he also assumes he's just doing it to spite him - so he isn't the kindest to him about that either.

And within this narrative that I concocted around a simple bug that didn't let me end a romance, I cannot imagine Anyone getting on particularly well with Gale within my main party. Drow thinks he's madly in love with him, Shadowheart is probably a little confused but she trusts DU Drow's word on the matter more than the Wizard's, Astarion thinks... What Astarion thinks.

So, no, they didn't part on the best of terms.

Before anyone gets mad, I assure you - I've completed the game again since then, I realize this is Not the intended Gale experience. He's a hysterical and deeply interesting character and only Slightly clingy and weird.

But, you gotta admit, this is way funnier.