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#i should not be scared to write a story about morally questionable characters finding humanity

zephrunsimperium · 10 months

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is Knowing Me, Knowing You a romantic billford story? what kind of story is it, actually? it looks interesting but I’m afraid to read any type of billford in fear of it being… not the best. what do you think of the ship, actually, since you’re such a fidduathor fan? also, does it end okay, even when incomplete? I have a lot of questions about the fic tbh. too scared to read it tho lol

Whooooo boy do I have a lot to say about this... I highly encourage everyone to read this entire post.

So, my thoughts on BillFord are extremely complicated. I am, first and foremost, a FiddAuthor shipper. That is the ship I consider canon and I even headcanon Bill to be aroace and actively encourage Ford and Fidds to get together because Ford needs to get over stupid societal homophobia plus it's fun to wear down the human's moral compass about hitting on a married man.

BillFord is a FASCINATING concept and it's not hard to see why the ship is as popular as it is despite the (well-deserved) stigma; a lot of things between them that can be read as fuel to the shipping fire. (ie the hair ruffles, the nose flick, the nicknames, the gold statue, the piano serenade, Ford being attracted to the strange, Bill offering to make Ford "one of us," even the possibly kinky undertones of glowy blue chains and bodily possession)

But the problem is that the ship can get very nasty very fast. Make no mistake, what Bill does to Ford is abuse. He is manipulative and violent and cruel. "Mystery bruises?" Literally torturing Ford on screen? Driving a wedge between Ford and his support system to the point that he has extreme trouble trusting people? Preying upon Ford's insecurities about being a freak? That is horrifying stuff, in particular because of how clear the parallels are to real world abuse.

With that in mind, let me talk about KMKY. I loved this fic to pieces. It’s written and organized incredibly well with a good mix of humor, sentiment, tragedy, and villainy without ever feeling off-balance tonally. The best thing about this fic, however, is the mature and nuanced themes about abuse: how hard it is to still love your abuser even when you start realizing that they're as bad as they are, accepting that you're a victim and have no reason to apologize, how an abuser's own trauma isn't an excuse for their actions. I really appreciate that the author has sympathy for Bill while still clearly acknowledging that "hey, what Bill did to Ford was abuse and Ford doesn't have to forgive him, much less take him back." A lesser writer would force Bill and Ford together, but that's not what happens because it's not what should happen.

So, for anyone who is interested in reading it... The gist of it is that instead of inviting Fiddleford to work on the portal, Ford makes a body for Bill to assist in person. The first 33 chapters develop their relationship (ft. Fiddleford being confused and stressed) and then Ford finds out Bill has been lying and eventually goes through the portal. It is very much a romance but the writing is so good that there are times when it's genuinely heartbreaking that the two of them won't work out.

I would definitely say that Bill is the main character (even though Ford has a significant amount of viewpoint time and he's the one you're supposed to root for) because he's the one who changes throughout the story. It's not a positive change, but it is an extremely compelling character arc. The characterization of Bill in this fic is particularly cool to me because he’s definitely a complete person, but he’s very clearly inhuman.

A little preview/incentive to read it: all of Bill’s underlings have individual personalities, Jheselbraum is a super important character and her characterization is... really cool (that's not a good description, but I was in love with it), the worldbuilding of all the places Ford visits in the multiverse was really cool and fun, there are great OCs like Wendy's mom, this mob boss guy that is a delight to hate, and a sarcastic kick-ass alien lady, Bill's backstory is really impactful, Pyronica is a bad bitch, Bill and Ford fight zombies while We Go Together from Grease plays in the background, there are cool themes about enjoying the mundane things in life and how society treats the Strange, and well-written humor that had me laughing out loud constantly. For as long as it is, all of it was extremely memorable and hardly any of it felt like filler. (I will warn you if you choose to read it, there is some serious steam.)

As for the ending... I totally understand why the author stopped writing it. They were trying to make it canon-compliant, but by the time it caught up to the show it was very clear that adhering to the canon material was holding them back. They did their best, but I could tell they weren't enjoying writing it and if you're not enjoying your art, then I don't think it's worth doing.

Wow that was a long post. Thanks so much for the ask, Anon! I hope this was a satisfying response!

#billford #fic rec #gravity falls #bill cipher #stanford pines #shipping #ask #gravity falls meta #long post #knowing me knowing you

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lunaekalenda · 3 years

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heyy congrats on 500! 👄💰🥲 or 💖 (i can’t choose but maybe a mix of both?) with eren plz:)

obv! thank you so much for participating and i hope you like it! <3

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enemies to lovers + mafia au + romantic tragicomedia feat. Eren Jaeger

introduced original characters, mentions of blood.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Eren Jaeger. The actual and young head of the Jaeger family. He wasn’t an easy prey, his family was one of the most important ones in this city. He moves a huge amount of money every day, heir of all the things his parents made on the past.

Unlucky him they have hired you.

You’re the secret weapon of the Müller family. The child they trained since little to seduce and play with other’s minds to know all of them. You only need to get closer to him and discover all the Jaeger secrets. With which families are they allied. How many money do they count. How many of them are now.

If they hired an Ackerman to kill the clan that contracted you.

The Ackermans are also a really well known clan, famous for being silent and skilled assassins. Specially two of them. Levi Ackerman. The man who built again the reputation of his family. Mikasa Ackerman. The girl who protects Eren Jaeger, because the Ackerman clan knows how many benefits they can get just from protecting the young man. Your instructions are easy, but you know the plan isn’t it. Entering the Jaeger mansion is really complicated: there are guards everywhere. Eren rarely goes out of the mansion, so it’s almost impossible to make it like a casual encounter, the typical encounter between two people that ends with a coffee. You have to enter like every single soul that had meet Eren before: trough money, contracts and secrets. It’s the only way to treat directly with him. Negotiations. Dirty treats.

"I have information about the Müllers."

That false information is the key to your reunion with Eren. You're dressed for the occasion, really well-dressed. The man in front of you talks to a brown-haired girl, and she leaves, going to tell the info to a person who you suppose it's Eren. He listens the orders once she comes back and you look around, analyzing. There are big paintings on the walls, most of them from really famous painters. The corridor you're waiting in is decorated with huge glass lamps that make all the little cristal drops shine in all directions. You don't know who those two are. The tallest one, who has an undercut, nods to the other.

"You can pass." he says. "But he will make you a control. Please, take out your jacket and all the things we can easily found and claim as suspicious, such as..."

"I know, I know. Knifes, guns or another harmful things. I’m empty.” You put your bag in the tallest’s hands. He revises it while the other touches your body superficially, trying to find any hint of a weapon. The little stylet you have on your boot its cold against your leg, and it could hurt you with any abrupt movement. The boy with the bag gives it back to you. The other releases you arms.

“Take the stairs and wait on the corridor of the second plant. Someone will call you to talk with him.” You nod quietly and make your way to the stairs. Quickly, a blonde boy appears, opening the door from Eren’s office.

“Come in. Boss waits for you.”

You enter before the blonde man, who closes the door fast, almost getting your leg with it. The movement made the stylet cut a little wound on your leg. You walk cautiously, trying not to get the stylet too close to your skin. The fact that you’re wearing the stylet without case is simple: Is a punishment. You had orders to kill someone on your last mission and doubted, so now they want the stylet to cut you, trying to make you regret the failed assassination. But you’ve learned, and you have strict orders to kill Eren Jaeger if he knows too much. The light of the room surprises you, the curtains moving quietly because of the wind that enters from the open window behind the desk, where a tall figure is sitting.

Even when you’ve seen Eren Jaeger before, on pictures the Müllers shown you, you never thought he’ll be so imposing. His dark hair is tied on a messy bun on the back part of his head, and he’s wearing a white shirt he has unbuttoned until the middle. His green eyes look tired, a little shadow under them. He takes his gaze far from the documents and tilts his head a little to thank the blonde boy, that does the same and disappears. He invites you to sit, moving his eyes from your body to the chair in front of him. You sit, your bag on your knees. Eren seems young, maybe he’s on his early twenties. His sharp jaw tenses when he sees you eyes looking the documents with curiosity. You got to read the title of some of them: they are hiring contracts with Ackermans and some transactions about enterprises being bought by the Jaegers.

During your training, they taught you how to read upside down, really fast. That’s because once you arrive on someone’s office to get info, the papers will be facing them. A normal person would take their time to read, making obvious they’re trying to get something. You can read them fast.

“If you’re here to try to get some information.” His voice sounds bored, maybe too tired, as if he doesn’t enjoy the fact that his family is one of the most important ones. Maybe he doesn’t like this? “You’re going to go back with empty hands”

It’s not time to feel compassion. You’re hired. You have a work.

“I’m here to give information to you, not to steal it from you.” You talk. You know how to modulate your voice, try to make him think you’re nervous for being there, as if you fear for your life just for opening your mouth. Eren raises an eyebrow, as if he was inviting you to talk. “The Müllers.” Now, it’s time to make a credible story to make Eren feel curiosity. To make him want to know more. He’ll protect anything that would help him to destroy the Müllers, so he’ll probably protect you once he believes you can get information for him. You can make him hire you. Eren leans back on his chair.

“I’m listening.”

“They lost their protection. A bad made pact or something like that.” you don’t want to be really specific, that would just uncover your lie. “The clan that worked for them left because of a better work offer.” This wasn’t a lie after all. The Müller did lost their protection, but they quickly found another one, keeping that pact in secret for everyone. Eren looks to his fingers on the table, his head resting on his free hand. He nods quietly.

“You know this pacts from inside, don’t you?” his question, made with the same deep and tired voice, caught you by surprise. He sighs. “You entered and looked directly to my desk. This could be an unfortunate coincidence, you entered and felt curiosity about the papers, that’s just an human feeling. A normal person that enters my office looks down at the papers and then leaves them be, they’re upside down for them. You read them, quite fast i could say.” He takes the papers. “How many of them were you able to read?” You stay silent. He smirks. “Also, isn’t your leg hurt?” he asks. It’s impossible he knows you’re carrying a weapon with you. “I saw you had trouble landing that foot correctly when you walked in.”

“Just a bad landing,” You answer. He nods, slowly. He knows something.

“How much do you gain with this mission?” he asks. His green tired eyes are looking directly to you.

“Wh-what mission?” you ask, trying to act innocent. A sarcastic laugh leaves his lips.

“Stop fucking acting.” he takes out some papers. “Y/N, do you recognize this paper?” he gives it to you.

“My contract?” You think for yourself. There it is: your name, surname, a photo, quantity you gain with this and your signature.

“I should say, if this is permitted, that you’re much prettier now that in that pic.” He says, calmly. His smirk hasn’t disappeared. “I’ll give you a counteroffer.” He says. “I’m tired of playing hide and seek with all those bastards.” He knows too much. He discovered your plans.

You’re fast when you take the stylet out of your boot, your blood dripping from the file, getting up and leaning on the table to stab him. You’re fast moving it to his neck, but he’s faster. His hand gets your wrist, stronger than you think, making you unable to move it, and he takes the stylet out of your immobilized hand. He looks at it, with your wrist caged on his hand. You can’t sit, he’s pulling you to stay in that position - legs half flexed, the elbow against the table, his green eyes really close to yours.- It’s uncomfortable.

“You took a risk, didn’t you, hm?” he asks. His voice is now lower. He stopped your stab. The price you pay for a bad executed assassination is death.

They are going to kill you.

If Eren doesn’t kill you first. Tears start to run from your eyes. You don’t wanna cry, and less in front of him, but the thought of the consequences once you get home again scare you so much. Eren hisses.

“The cute assassin is crying?” he jokes, his free hand getting some tears from your face. He doesn’t let your wrist. “I’ve heard the Müller are a really moral-questionable family, aren’t they?” he says. He knows about the consequences. “Once more, I have a counteroffer for you.” he leaves your wrist. You sit again, the skin where he grabbed you starting to change from red to a painful purple. He looks at it. “Sorry, used too much strength.” He takes out an empty contract formulary.

You try to calm yourself. Should you accept it? The betray is also punished with death. They’ll kill you in any way. The green-eyed boy in front of you is your only way to scape.

“Only if you protect me from them.” Eren smirks.

“Granted.”

He doesn’t want to know the Müller secrets, he doesn’t have interest in that. His older brother, Zeke Jaeger, was the one that searched problems. Eren just wants to stay quiet and make easy money without getting his hands covered with blood. He doesn’t want to get in trouble with other families. He doesn’t want to kill, he’s tired of that. He sits and starts to make your contract. You look how his hands write fast your information.

“Why?” you ask. All the shock of the previous events didn’t let you think straight. He raises an eyebrow.

“Why what? Speak properly, hm?”

“Why aren’t you going to kill me? I tried to kill you. That’s how this works. One life for another.” Eren keeps writing, unbothered.

“That’s how it works in Müller’s rules.” he says. “I don’t like that dynamics. Send someone to kill another one.” he answers simply. You look at him. He isn’t a bad person. He isn’t the man everybody talked about. That’s a fake Eren, made by rumors. The boy in front of you is just someone making business. Maybe not in the cleanest way, but at least he doesn’t kill. “I don’t like to kill. And less if the other person is just following orders, scared about the consequences.” He looks at you. It seems you started to calm down.

“How are you going to cover me?”

“Faking your death. You know I don’t like to go out of the mansion, I saw you walking around it from the window this last days.” You are really surprised. He’s smart, so smart. “I need someone to help with my investments. You don’t need to go out of the mansion.”

He was strangely calm to be negotiating with the enemy.

“I could take out another knife and kill you, you know?” you say. He smiles.

“If you announced it, then you’re not going to do it.” He keeps writing. You nod quietly. “I need you to sign here.” He offers you the fountain pen. You could harm him with that. Your hand takes the pen in stabbing position. He sees you from the corner of the eye.

“I wouldn’t do that.” he says, calmly. “Remember that is your life the one risking, not mine.” He’s right. You sigh and sign the contract. Eren smiles.

“You should read the contract before signing.” he says, his voice being like a joke melody.

“Whatever you’ve put there is better than the punishment of the Müller.” you say, throwing the pen back to him. He catches it easily.

“Fine, then. You won’t get a single coin in the first year working here.” He says. Wait, was that in the contract? “You tried to kill me. I’m kind, but not that much.”

“But-” He gets up and walks towards you. His green eyes are now close to yours, his breath almost mixing with yours. He smells good.

“But?” he asks. One of his strands of hair move with him, touching your face quietly. He’s really attractive, and so near...

“How am I supposed to eat?” Eren thinks.

“There are a hundred ways to gain extra pays, you know? Helping on the kitchen, reading my letters or preparing my baths.” he says. “Maybe I could be extra kind and let you have a bath with me.” You can hear the joke in his voice.

“I would politely decline it.” You say. He smiles.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll end enjoying it.”

“They never taught you to not empathize with the enemy?”

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Casually, it seems like you didn’t learn it either.

“Eren.” you call him quietly. You’ve been here for months now, almost eight. In that time, Eren avoided three different trials of murder from you and you got slightly punished for two of them. You ended accepting your fate and helping him, learning that he can be a soft and warm-hearted boy once he stops acting as a mature mafia head. This world isn’t for him.

“What?” he says, a little laugh following his words. He didn’t knew what to make with you, a problematic captive enemy that attempted to murder him multiple times. And your angelical aspect and sweet voice confused him. He ended understanding you, understanding the pain and the fear you feel since little, since the Müller bought you and obligated to train as a spy. He listened to your story and you listened to his, how everyone wanted him to became a good leader, one that wouldn’t doubt to kill for his own benefice. That made you understand each other, fall in love with the most human part of the other one.

“Move.” you try to push him a little, but he offers resistance. He tangles one leg around yours. Your head is resting on his pillow. How did you went from wanting to pierce his heart with a stylet to wanting to treasure it? His arm tangles on your waist and pulls you closer.

“No.” he answers. You laugh and let you head meet his neck curve. You sigh. “You know? A lot of people want me dead.”

“So I did.” you laugh, and he does too.

“So you did.” he says. You remain silent. “At least say sorry, y/n”

“Sorry for trying to kill you, Eren.” you say. He lets out a little laugh.

“That was the fakest sorry i’ve heard in years.” you hit his shoulder softly before pulling the blanket higher on your body, covering you two. “What would you do if they kill me?”

“I couldn’t kill you, so no one is going to do it.” You say. He caresses your hair.

“They could. And I don’t want you to be here. They could kill you as well.” His voice shows concern. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Some months ago...” you start, but he interrupts you.

“Some months ago we were just two persons with different ideologies.” he says. You sigh.

“I don’t care. I will stay here even if they point you with three guns and two knifes. I’ll be here with you, I’ll stay here by your side in any way.”

“Y/N”... he says.

“If they kill you, they’ll kill a part of me.”

#cookiefics 'movie event!#aot x reader #aot fluff #aot fic #aot fanfiction #aot scenario #snk x reader #snk headcanons #snk fluff #snk fic #snk mafia #eren x reader #eren jaeger #snk eren #eren aot #eren jeager x reader #eren

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Ultimatum”

Welcome back, everyone! We had an unexpected break last week due to the horror going on in Texas. I'm glad we did. Not because of any salty "RWBY is bad right now yay free Saturday" feelings, but because keeping to a schedule for a fictional webseries should never take precedence over peoples' safety. I can't believe I need to type that sentence out, but it's true! Over the last seven days I've seen fans who are not merely disappointed by the mini hiatus (understandable) but outright hostile towards the crew because they... were ensuring everyone survived during an unprecedented emergency? Yeah. Given the highly critical nature of these recaps — including today's! — I want to be clear that my thoughts towards Rooster Teeth's creative choices are distinct from any thoughts about the crew itself, including the most basic forms of compassion like, “I sure hope everyone is okay over there.” In an age where it has become horrifically common to harass creators and even send them death threats over stories, it has likewise become necessary to remind people: Don't do that shit. Never do that shit. If I can teach anyone anything at all, let it be that!

Anyway, dark fandom reminders out of the way, let's dive straight into our delayed episode. It was certainly a doozy. Titled "Ultimatum," we open on a trigger warning for flashing lights. Good on Rooster Teeth for including that, though I do wonder if creators shouldn't be including time stamps as well? Or perhaps a note that you can find those time stamps in the credits, avoiding any (minor) spoilers for everyone else? I'm not photosensitive myself, so I certainly don't mean to speak for that group, but my first thought was, "So how would I watch this episode if I was? Hand on the pause button, hoping I stop fast enough as soon as the lights start?" Hard to do given the surprise nature of the scene. Really, my answer would be, "Wait for the fandom to post warnings of their own, likely including where it happens so I know when to skip" which is perhaps an indication that this information that should be included from the get-go.

But I am glad the warning exists, regardless. The episode itself begins with a shot of Ironwood looking down at the kingdom. He's used his windows as a vantage point since Volume 7, so that's nothing new, but something about this particular shot reminded me of Ozpin, looking down from his tower. I'm sure the response from many would be simply, "Ah yes, the two power hungry dictators watching over their victims," but I think there's a much more nuanced reading here about leaders being expected to fix the literally unfixable and what that responsibility does to an individual. Of course, it's a nuance that is absolutely obliterated by the episode’s end, but the implication existed for a hot second!

Two other soldiers are in the room with Ironwood, reporting that Cinder has helped Watts escape. They try to soften this with news that they still have Jacques in custody, but receive only a, "I don't give a damn about Jacques Schnee." Which, fair. He's pretty useless at this point. It's when Ironwood learns that both Qrow and Robin escaped too that he really gets mad, something his subordinates have been expecting given their scared expressions.

Now, I'm treading lightly here because I realize how this is going to sound given the end of our episode, but I still want to note that outside of that ending... this is a weird take? Just hear me out. Since Volume 7 the show has worked very hard to make Ironwood seem scary and unstable — bad setup for what we end with today — but the problem is that none of it works in context and it certainly doesn't work when compared to other characters' actions. They are literally in the midst of an unwinnable battle and thousands of his people are dying. If the audience wants a human being — who also just lost a limb and was betrayed by half his allies — o remain perfectly poised and polite during that, sorry, but that's not how human beings work. But even beyond this, what’s the message here? Ironwood raises his voice, so does Yang. Ironwood hits his desk, Qrow hits a child. If we're going to examine how Ironwood handles his stress and anger, he often handles it better than many of our heroes. Namely, by continually taking that anger out on inanimate objects. I kept waiting for him to attack his subordinates or attack Winter this episode, especially given where we end up, but it never came. Ironwood always has enough control to break the desk or punch the wall, not the person in front of him. Which, of course, would not be a good thing in the real world. I want to be clear given these sensitive subjects that if someone is breaking things in your presence that's a major problem to address. But this isn't the real world. This is a fantasy world in the middle of a war, populated by other characters who express their anger by punching people, slamming them into walls, or screaming at them until they run away. The story wants us to fear Ironwood long before he makes his objectively horrific choices and it tries to achieve that by showing us characters who are clearly terrified in his presence, by giving us a string of broken objects in his wake. But those details don't land well when we compare them to other instances of stress. In the same volume I have watched Ironwood take a deep breath to calm himself down when things have gone horribly wrong. I've also watched Weiss start a conversation by threatening her defenseless brother. So again, what’s the message here? It can’t be that acting violently towards someone = villainous behavior because, as established since Volume 6, that’s common for the heroes. Why are these subordinates terrified about Ironwood slamming his fist on a table, but Whitley has no problem hugging the woman who threatened him? Obviously there is a HUGE difference between our main group and Ironwood when it comes to other actions (cough-bomb threats-cough), but these day-to-day moments don't match up. The show wants to use violence as a way for us to easily identify the Bad Guy while ignoring all the times when our heroes do the same thing.

All of which isn't meant to be a defense of Ironwood. As we'll see in a bit, there is no defense for what he's done. Rather, it's a way of acknowledging just how badly he's been written. Why does a man who consistently reins in his anger and takes it out on objects suddenly shoot a councilman for literally no reason? Why does a man defined by wanting to save as many people as he can suddenly threaten to bomb his city? Ironwood's characterization is all over the place, in the sense that they keep writing him as the morally gray, sometimes harsh, but ultimately compassionate man he started out as... up until they need a villain. Salem isn't here yet, so Ironwood can shoot Oscar. Salem isn't attacking yet, so Ironwood can shoot the councilman. Salem is currently reforming, so Ironwood can threaten YJR and Mantle. He's the B-plot villain whenever Salem is out of commission, which is a problem for both their characterizations. This filler doesn't make sense for Ironwood and it severely undermines the threat of Salem. You finally introduce the Magical Big Bad and our heroes are facing more of a threat from a guy with a broken army and three loyal allies left? Hmmm.

The tl;dr is that Ironwood's arc is a disaster and, frankly, it's gotten old reading simplified takes of, "It's just a realistic look at what white U.S. men will do in power sweetie :) " RWBY does not have the context capable of conveying that sort of critical take because our world is not besieged by literal monsters and an immortal witch, to say nothing of how real life good guys do not get deus ex machina canes that fix the problem instantaneously. Ironwood is not an example of anti-U.S. imperialism, he's an example of writers who don't know how to write.

Anyway, I'm getting severely off topic. Obviously Ironwood is a major part of this episode, but the problems demonstrated here are two years in the making. This is the culmination of things I've been discussing for months across hundreds of posts... so I should probably stop trying to summarize it all in a few paragraphs lol. Perhaps when RWBY is over — or Ironwood has died — I'll do a single meta on his character, try to pull everything into one, unified argument.

For now though, we have an episode to analyze.

While Ironwood is receiving this news we get flashbacks to Qrow and Robyn. Qrow attacks a soldier in his bird form, which is hilarious. Someone GIF that please. It does raise some interesting questions about this magic though: does Qrow retain his aura and strength in this form (something I thought given his choice to transform during the explosion), or was that soldier just so shocked at being attacked by a crow that he went down easy? We'll never know, because that would require establishing concrete rules for this world. The point is Qrow is going feral in his freedom, throwing punches left and right — did he kill that guard? — while Robyn watches it all from under a rock. They're apparently still somewhere in the facility since all the exits are guarded, but that's not the good thing Ironwood seems to think it is. After all, Qrow is out to murder him. He wants to be there.

We all see where this is going, right? The show is going to ignore Qrow's crazy belief that Ironwood got Clover killed in favor of a "Qrow saved Mantle by murdering Ironwood"/“Qrow got revenge for Mantle by murdering Ironwood” ending. Who cares why Qrow wanted to kill him in the first place now that Ironwood has his finger on the trigger? If RWBY is good at anything, it's writing moments that encourage you to ignore everything that came before it. We'll be seeing more of that in just a bit.

"Damn it!" Ironwood yells, because the show is leaning into its cursing. He orders that the subordinates not return until "you have Qrow Branwen in custody." Here we have another great example of the show conflating what the audience knows with what other characters know. See, we know Qrow has a vendetta against Ironwood. We know their relationship is the important one to the story and that Robyn is incidental. Ironwood doesn't know that. There's no reason for him, as a character, to specify that they only bring Qrow back, but it makes sense for the audience who has the whole, thematic picture. Our understanding of the situation is influencing Ironwood's dialogue, which is... not great.

This entire scene we've had creepy music to hammer home just how evil Ironwood is. Except, as said, he takes a breath to calm down and the music fades. Instead of flying into a rage, hurting someone, or doing anything the music suggests he might, Ironwood calmly calls in for an update — which is when the explosion hits.

It's MASSIVE, seeming to originate from a lightning strike, which is weird, since it's coming from inside the whale, but whatever. The animation is very dramatic and pretty, as we've come to expect of RWBY, but the actual plot is lackluster at best. It's funny though because I thought for a hot second, when Winter and the Ace Ops were caught in the blast, that RWBY had actually done something exciting. I mean, holy shit! There are the deaths we expect from a battle like this. My god, what is everyone going to do when they realize that Oscar's needless attack took out five characters, including Weiss' sister —

No wait, never mind. They're fine.

Let's talk about that "needless" descriptor for a moment though. Do you all remember, two weeks ago, when I went, "Hey, why isn't anyone telling Oscar that that Ace Ops are approaching with a bomb? They're on a time limit! If someone would just mention that Very Important Information then Oscar wouldn't keep standing around to fight Salem." See, at the time I was frustrated because of how the plot was needlessly allowing Oscar to put himself in danger (especially when the whole point of this mission was to rescue him). Now, I'm frustrated because that same plot needlessly wasted the most powerful weapon the group had. There was no reason for Oscar to use literal lifetimes worth of stored energy when the heroes already had a bomb to do the same job! What was the point of that? I guess he took out the other grimm too, but without the whale that still would have been a challenge with a finite end, one Ironwood's army and the remaining huntsmen should have been able to handle. It doesn't feel justified to have Oscar use a weapon kept on the bench for lifetimes when there was another option literally minutes away.

There's so much wrong with this I need another list. So:

Ozpin's cane supposedly stores kinetic energy, which may contradict what we've seen from it before. Regardless, we’ve never heard about this. The all powerful weapon comes out of nowhere

It also begs the question of why Ozpin wouldn't use that power at Beacon and why he wouldn't insist that they try to get their cane back while captured. You had an out this whole time! But we’re going to ignore that because Oscar is a little hesitant?

Which makes YJR's presence even more useless than it originally was, which was already pretty useless. Oscar essentially rescued himself

This kinetic energy miraculously doesn't hurt any people or buildings, just grimm

So what is the point of Silver Eyes? That's been their MO since they were first introduced. Sure, Silver Eyes can be used far more often than Ozpin's cane, but it still feels like a let down to learn that the Big Secret behind this weapon is... the exact same thing Ruby has been doing for years

Like Ruby, Oscar likewise didn't need any practice or training. He just set off this massive attack perfectly and without issue

We have now eliminated the biggest threat to the cast instantaneously — the whale and the other grimm — with no effort from the rest of the heroes. Like the Hound, the stakes are obliterated with no satisfying work on the part of our protagonists

Instead, as said, the actual plan already in place never happened. The bomb just... goes back. Kind of like how Cinder attacked and then just went back to Salem. Penny woke up and then just got knocked out again. We continue to go in circles

This is because no one took two seconds to tell Oscar, "There's a bomb on the way"

Because this threat is gone the show needs a new one, hence Ironwood randomly threatening Mantle with said bomb

The one way we might have justified Oscar blowing up the whale instead of Winter is if he did it to save Hazel, but Hazel is implied to be dead

Maybe he's alive, but if he's not that happened off screen and we're not sure how. It couldn't have been because of the blast itself — everyone else is fine — so what, Salem somehow killed him before she was blasted to bits? While he was holding her?

And there's no body?

Salem was torn apart multiple times during that fight and reformed instantaneously, yet now, conveniently, she's taking her time

None of the characters mention the issues above. None of them admit that there was no reason for Oscar to waste LIFETIMES worth of power when they already had a solution in the works. Fantastic

I need to take a moment to acknowledge that so far this recap feels... bad. Disjointed. Bit all over the place. Which makes a certain amount of sense because that's where my thoughts are at. There's so much going on in this episode — so much wrong with it — that I don't know how to boil it all down into a few, neat claims. This episode is a mess! We're barely a few minutes in and the combined issues of Ironwood's characterization and Oscar's choice have left me reeling. So if you're still reading this, bless your patience, I think we'll both need it for the rest of this journey.

Let's snag a neater plot-point to discuss. Amidst all the chaos Neo literally skips away with the Lamp, clearly thrilled at how her own life is going. Later in the episode she'll text Cinder with the obvious: Salem is going to be pretty pissed when she realizes this is gone. “If you want her name you know what you owe me."

So wait... what is Neo leveraging here? Is she agreeing to give the Lamp back so Cinder doesn't get in trouble with Salem? Give Salem the password she's been looking for? Or give Cinder the password to use the Lamp for herself? What would Cinder even want the Lamp for when she's after the Maiden powers? I'm confused about what Cinder is being blackmailed with. Regardless, she needs the lamp for something and presumably what she "owes" Neo is Ruby. We get a cut to her just to hammer that home.

(Side note: both pictures of Neo are hilarious.)

Before that though, back at the whale, everyone is taking stock of the situation when Marrow cries, "Hey, they were still in there!" I feel like this is another scene meant to make him look like the one good guy in the group — he cares about YJOR while the others can’t be bothered — but as always, that reading doesn't fit well with the situation as a whole. The others have barely had time to realize they're alive. I don't think it's a moral failing that they didn't instinctually worry about four betrayers, one of whom attacked them, while they're still checking that they have all their limbs intact. Besides, why does Marrow assume they're dead? The Ace Ops were caught in the blast as well, yet miraculously came out unharmed. They clearly didn't set their own bomb off, so it's logical to assume that YJOR did something themselves. It feels weird to have a "Marrow mourns them and Winter is the only other character who cares" moment when everyone is recovering from bomb shock and no one even knows if the others are dead. But, of course, the show is out to portray only two of these characters as good people, so ignore the logic and run with the emotion of the scene.

All of which is bolstered by Elm pulling away when Vine puts a hand on her shoulder. Why is she acting cold towards him now? Because they're not friends, remember?

While we get more ridiculous relationship dynamics, Ironwood calls in and congratulates them on the bomb working, but tells them to get back because they have another problem in the works. That would be Qrow and Robyn. Winter decides to tell him about the bomb in person.

We cut to Watts and Cinder watching the remnants of the blast from a rooftop. Cinder has tried calling, but no one answered. Unsurprising, given that Salem doesn't have any other allies left. Cinder says that the plan hasn't changed, she's still going to take the Winter Maiden's power for herself, and Watts can help her by bringing Penny here. He explains that he doesn't have full control over her. Rather, he implemented a virus that is setting her on a single path: open the vault, then self-destruct. Cinder, as one might expect, is furious.

She snags Watts by her grimm arm and threatens to toss him over the side of the building. Thus begins the best part of the episode, hands down. Despite the danger he's in, Watts throws common sense out the window in favor of dragging Cinder in the most satisfying manner possible.

“You think you’re entitled to everything just because you suffered, but suffering isn’t enough. You can’t just be strong, you have to be smart. You can’t just be deserving, you have to be worthy! But all you have ever been is a bloody migraine!”

It's true! You know what else is true? This speech could apply to our heroes as well. Accusations of entitlement and reminders to be smart as opposed to just strong hit hard, considering those are the same flaws our protagonists are struggling with. The difference is that Cinder, miraculously, listens, pulling Watts back to safety and going to cry by herself. That moment is simultaneously more growth than Ruby has gotten and more sympathy than Ironwood has gotten. The woman who murdered Pyrrha is treated more kindly by the narrative than one of our initial heroes and our very first villain has taken more time to reconsider her choices than our title character. You know a show is falling apart when excellent choices are applied to the worst possible character.

So Cinder is crying while Watts looks guilty and we cut back to YJOR's group post-blast. Yang is finally able to answer a call from Blake who is obviously overjoyed to see her. Weiss gives them directions to the mansion and they ask what in the world they'll do with Emerald, currently on her knees, mourning Hazel.

Thus begins the third most frustrating part of this episode. See, on the way back the group continues the conversation about what to do with Emerald, with Yang and Jaune distrusting her vs. Ren and Oscar encouraging cooperation. I can't believe I'm saying this after's Ren's speech and Oscar's entire existence... but I'm team Jaune and Yang here. Look, what Oscar and Ren say — the literal words coming out of their mouth — is nonsense. Ren goes, “We can’t let all of our actions stem from fear," as if Yang and Jaune are being ridiculous for mistrusting Emerald, one of the established villains, after years worth of harm from her. It’s weird that Yang points to her arm as something Emerald is responsible for, rather than being framed or the deaths at Beacon, but the general sentiment of, “She’s done horrible things!” is true. Ren’s perspective is the same simplification that was applied to Ironwood last volume, wherein everyone acted as if he was crazy for fearing an attack on his kingdom... post an attack on another kingdom and pre an attack on his kingdom. Putting generic lines in Ren's mouth about not being afraid makes him sound willfully ignorant, as if choosing to believe that someone is good will magically make them so, to say nothing of thinking it will erase all the harm they've already done.

Oscar at least acknowledges the difficulty here, but then follows this up with, “You don’t have to forgive her… just give her a second chance."

Oscar, honey, that amounts to the same thing in this situation. Allowing Emerald a second chance means working with her, which means trust, which means emotionally reaching a point where these characters can put aside the harm she's done them in an effort to give her that chance in the first place. This actually ties into a post I saw last night, one I've come across before, that claims redemption arcs don't require any suffering on the part of the person who has done wrong. I agree in theory, that prolonged suffering doesn't help anyone, but the problem is that people tend to conflate suffering with consequences and someone who has done this level of harm should face consequences for their actions. The problem with redemption arcs is not that the bad people suffer too much — emotionally and physically beating on them as a form of revenge — but that the people they've harmed are put into situations like this one. If Yang and Jaune let Emerald go like she suggests, they are agreeing that she doesn't have to face any consequences for the damage she's done (which, keep in mind, involves multiple deaths, not including all the lost lives here in Atlas). If they agree to give her a second chance, they are forced to jump straight to some level of forgiveness. We might claim they don't have to forgive Emerald to work with her, but from a practical perspective how are they meant to function, especially during a warzone? Anything she provides them with — information, watching their back in a fight, undertaking missions, etc. — requires trusting her enough to allow those things to happen: working with that info, letting her protect them, allowing her that responsibility. It's all about trust, trust she has yet to earn. In order for a redemption arc to be successful, the power has to be in the hands of the victims. They need to be able to see some justice for what was done to them, be offered some proof that the person in question has truly changed, and have the ability to walk away if they decide no, I don't forgive you, glad to hear you've improved, but please stay out of my life. Jaune and Yang have none of that. There are currently no systems in place for Emerald to face consequences for her choices, she has offered them no proof of her remorse or true motivations, and the other half of the group is pressuring them to give her that second chance without closure or reassurance. None of that makes for a good redemption arc and reducing that to, "So you want to see poor Emerald suffer, huh?" ignores the suffering she has already caused. The group are her victims and they are under no obligation to give her a second chance, particularly under these circumstances, which makes the story's choice to have Ren and Oscar act like Yang and Jaune are being stubborn or inconsiderate a problem. The conversation boils down to, "Give the woman you know to be a liar, manipulator, murder accomplice, and servant of our enemy a second chance based entirely on unfounded faith. If you don't you're letting yourself be ruled by fear."

RWBY's touchy-feely themes really don't sit well within its realistic, morally gray premise. We cannot continually have these characters go through hell one moment and then have others accuse them of being paranoid the next. The fact that all of this is wrapped up in the group trusting Robyn, Emerald, and Hazel over their established allies remains beyond frustrating.

Because yeah, you know how Oscar finishes his speech? “I’ve already gotten a lot of help today from someone I don’t exactly trust right now." Meaning Ozpin.

The story is trying to compare Emerald and Hazel to Ozpin.

"Oh hey, I kept a secret from you after lifetimes of watching that secret lead to betrayal and death. I keep apologizing for my mistakes while ignoring that I had no reason to trust a bunch of kids with such world-shattering information and also that you tore it from me in the most traumatic way possible."

"Oh hey, I willingly joined our world's version of the devil and helped her destroy your school, leading to numerous deaths including your friend and headmaster. It was his death that put Oscar in this position in the first place! I then continued to attack your group, leading to another near death of a friend, and a kidnapping, and the destruction of Amity, until I became scared enough to make a run for it."

Which one of these characters is granted an instant second chance? You'll never guess who!

And I do think the word "instant" is important here because just like Jaune and Yang have the right to have distance and justice from Emerald, they had that right with Ozpin too. The difference is they got it. They had the power in the situation, as evidenced by their use of the Lamp and physically attacking him. Ozpin heard what they needed from him — leave us alone — and did that without complaint. They were given months to come to terms with the secrets he kept. They were offered apologies and acts of service to demonstrate intent: saving them in the airship and continually saving Oscar. I don't believe Ozpin ever needed a redemption arc, but even if we think he did, he had it. After three volumes of material Oscar's perspective is still "I don't exactly trust [him] right now" but Hazel and Emerald have earned at least the same amount of trust in a matter of hours? They're really having my boy look at the guy who has tried desperately to do right by him despite unimaginable circumstances, and the guy who tortured him to get information for Salem, and went, "That first guy. He's the one we need to watch out for."

To make things even worse, Oscar tells the others that Ozpin took on all the torture so he wouldn't have to. So he did that and they still don't trust him? If you had told me back in Volume 6 that two years later the group would still be hostile towards Ozpin, while simultaneously urging one another to trust Emerald, I would have said you were lying. RWBY has its problems, but it's not that bad. Yet here we are. I suppose the one silver lining here is that Ren smiles when he realizes Ozpin is back? So at least one of them isn't prepared to draw their weapon at the mere mention of his name.

Both these moments raise more questions though. How in the world did Ozpin take on that torture when we clearly saw Oscar getting pummeled for a good portion of the kidnapping? Is that a weird merge thing the story hasn't bothered to explain? I wouldn't be surprised, considering Oscar said last episode he didn't want to use magic because it hastened the merge, he uses the biggest explosion of magic we've ever seen, and nothing has changed. Ozpin is still in the back of his head, thanking him for the tinniest shreds of decency they get. Ren, meanwhile, seems to be back to mindreading. How in the world does he know that Ozpin is back? I assume it has something to do with his semblance, but we don't know what. They could have shown us Oscar from Ren's perspective, perhaps with two distinct emotions swilling around to imply that he sees two different people now, not a useless shot of Emerald with purple flower petals, whatever purple means.

Oh, but no, we shouldn't have gotten either of these scenes. Remember that Ren's aura broke a very, very short time ago? Is it back already? Can he use this part of his semblance without it? Considering it was near impossible to see Ironwood's aura breaking in the Watts fight and we were then mistakenly told he used his semblance in the office, I'm going to go with, "The writers forgot."

Oscar explains that the cane had "lifetime after lifetime" of power in it and though there's still some left, "we have to be careful with how we use the rest." He says that Ozpin trusted his judgement and of course he did! Ozpin also didn’t know that there was a bomb on the way. Yet funnily enough, no one else mentions that, whoops, your choice made in ignorance was a waste and that's due entirely to us prioritizing hugs over basic mission information.

Also, all these explanations take place in front of Emerald. Half the group doesn't trust her, but they'll freely discuss their powers and limitations here. Remember how the group once wanted to talk about magical relics in front of the old lady they'd just met? Yeah, they've learned nothing.

Combine all this insanity with the fact that Ozpin's magic saved the day before Ironwood's bomb could do the same... while Ruby sat in a mansion drinking tea. Who's our hero again?

So things are a hot mess, to put it lightly. Their conversation finally ends when they hear voices and round the corner to find all the Atlas citizens huddled in the subway. For once the show actually writes them in a sympathetic manner, emphasizing how terrified and helpless they are. This image doesn't lead the group to any revelations though, certainly not anything that would tie back to Ren's earlier speech in the snow. No, once again the justified criticisms here are ignored as we hear that “However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you, [Emerald.]” That's it then. Discussion over. We knew as soon as it started that blindly trusting her was being presented as the "right" thing to do and now here we are, deciding that conclusively, despite Jaune and Yang's complaints. By the time the group reaches the mansion, Oscar is defending Emerald from Ruby. We're supposed to just accept that she's a part of the group now, only minimal pushback allowed.

Before that though we return to Ironwood getting news that their bomb never went off. He briefly wonders who else could have done that, but puts the currently unanswerable question aside for what he does know. They still have the bomb and it could be "useful." See, this moment — like shooting Oscar and the councilman — is when Ironwood just randomly goes off the deep end. One minute he's talking about what they've lost and cradling his new arm,

the next he's saying that he should have tortured Qrow to get Penny to obey him! Which doesn't even make sense since I'm pretty sure Penny hasn't ever spoken to Qrow. She wouldn't want anyone to suffer, true, but it's not like Ironwood had a close friend like Ruby to use as leverage. Qrow is just Some Guy to her. Regardless, he thinks Yang, Jaune, and Ren are decent replacements, despite Penny also having no relationships with them. This is what happens when your characters only start breaking up their teams eight years into the story, the response to Ironwood wanting to torture Ren to hurt Penny is, “Does Penny know Ren exists?” But, you know, torture is torture, right? Maybe. Probably not. I mean, if they're going to turn Ironwood into a cartoon villain, they could at least keep him smart.

Because all of this is just the height of stupidity. Ironwood wants to torture people Penny barely knows to make her listen (so just grab some civilians? It would do the same job...). Ironwood wants to shoot down empty ships, even though no one, including us, knows where in the world those ships would have gone. Ironwood wants to destroy an entire city to try and save another city. He wants to use a bomb meant for a comparatively small whale and acts like that alone will take out the majority of a kingdom. None of it makes sense! And I know the easy comeback for that is, "Well yeah, Ironwood is crazy and evil" but he's not. I mean he is. Threatening torture and bombings is obviously evil, but he's never been insane, or stupid. As said before, his arc (or lack thereof) is an absolute disaster. The fandom assumes so many things about Ironwood given the opportunity — the whale is a suicide mission. He expects the Ace Ops to die on his order — and the writing hints at so many things that never happen — he's going to hurt his subordinates, attack Winter for disobeying him — and every time what we actually get is a far more compassionate, level-headed character... until he randomly does a 180 and goes, "Let's murder a whole city now!" I never wanted Ironwood to be the bad guy, but they could have at least given me a persuasive decent into this level of horror.

So... yeah. Ironwood has got to die by the end of the volume, yeah? Between Ruby warning the whole world about him and him going into full villain mode, there's no coming back from this.

Neo sends her text to Cinder and the group makes it back to the mansion. Remember Yang's criticisms of Ruby's leadership? The ones she conveniently forgot about when Ren started to agree with her? Yeah, those are entirely gone as the sisters hug it out and, presumably, forgive one another for... daring to admit that things are bad? Look, I'm not going to deny that Ironwood's scene with Winter was creepy as fuck,

but I'm not of the opinion that the heroes are any better when it comes to the theme of obedience. They've attacked one another, screamed at one another, and any dissent from Ruby's leadership results in the questioner being left behind in the snow. We'll accept you again when you fall back in line. I used to adore the relationships in this show, but watching them now is just discomforting. The show might be 100% more obvious with Ironwood, using creepy music, a smile, and that hand on Winter's shoulder, but the concept of, "Sorry I dared to question you before! We won't ever do it again :)" isn't healthy either. The fact that the show keeps erasing theses problems with hugs — Weiss hugs Whitley now, Yang hugs Ruby, someone will probably hug Emerald soon — doesn't make the circumstances any less uncomfortable.

None of this even gets into the Blake and Yang hug. First of all, why is Blake acting like they had a fight and Yang might not want to see her? She's hiding inside rather than rushing to greet them, ears down in a devastated expression until Yang touches her. Combine this with Yang's "Do you think she's mad at me?" and it feels like the writers cut a fight in the final script and then didn't bother to remove the fallout from that. Seriously, where did any of this come from? You can't just have characters act like they've been fighting when they haven’t.

Also, can't forget this.

At this point there's nothing more I can say in regards to RWBY's almost-queer baiting. Is touching foreheads more intimate than the hugs Yang gave the others? Absolutely. Is that an appropriate stand-in for overt representation? Absolutely not. This would have been a perfect time for them to kiss. Take out Blake's nonsensical fear and replace it with them both reuniting after their first separation since Volume 5, working under the knowledge that either one could have been killed, finally admitting their feelings. Hell, they don't actually have to kiss. Not all girlfriends are interested in kissing! But they could use the terminology that makes things unequivocally canon. Another forehead touch when we got that in Volume 6? It's not enough, especially not when our straight couples have all been allowed their rep.

Ren at least wants to know where Nora is. He's presumably told what happened off screen as Oscar tells Ruby that Emerald is their friend now.

Then an emergency call from May interrupts the reunion and the group learns that Ironwood is bombing the Schnee ships. “Those ships… they were going to save people” Weiss whispers. How? Tell me how they were going to save anyone. Where were you going to take these people where they would be safer than where they are now? RWBY continually asserts things without explaining them, meaning there is precisely zero emotional weight here. Again, Ironwood is far past the point of defense, but I'd be a whole lot more critical of this particular action if I had a better sense of why it's bad. He appears to be endangering the people given May's shout to run — falling debris? — but the further implication is that Ironwood has doomed the people of Mantle by denying them these ships. It's that part that makes no sense based on what we've been told.

Which finally comes to the ultimatum of our episode title: Penny opens the vault, or Ironwood bombs Mantle. Great! So glad this plan is wicked smart and works well for his characterization. It's definitely not a nonsensical, unfounded, overblown change that feels like it belongs in a child's cartoon, complete with dramatic spotlight. Nope. Excellent writing choices all around.

Our final line of the episode is, “I hope you live up to the title I gave you," referring to Penny's job as the Protector of Mantle, and you know what? That line could have been very cool if it was delivered by an Ironwood with a persuasive fall and a halfway decent plan in place. I love that we've twisted the concept of a protector and turned the title into a horrifying, rather than honorable responsibility... I just hate everything surrounding those details.

So, usual RWBY fare.

(At least we get to see that Nora is awake!)

Will things get better over the next four episodes? I doubt it. We're still expecting the rest of the Ace Ops + Winter to ditch Ironwood, someone getting the vault open, the fall of Atlas, now the potential destruction of Mantle, and none of that includes Salem who should reform at any moment. Frankly, I'm not looking forward to any of it. The final leg of a season should make its audience excited to see how everything turns out, not dreading it. I've heard from multiple people that this is the volume that finally got them to drop the show and honestly? I'm not surprised.

As a final (happier?) note: we've finally got a bingo! I completely forgot our board last time, which was a terrible oversight, but we can update it now.

Our army of grimm can't kill anyone now that it got KOed by Oscar (that is the third one hit defeat of a major enemy we've seen this volume. Yes, I'm including the Hound considering it was obviously on its last legs after Ruby's eyes.)

I'm likewise including "Ozpin apologizes for everything including his existence" because he's done nothing but apologize since he came back. The emotion is there even if the literal words are not. Oscar reminded everyone of how untrustworthy he is, but kept the group from jumping them again. And Ozpin thanked him for it.

Neo didn't literally backstab Cinder (shame), but the Relic still counts.

So a triple bingo! Is that how bingo works? Idk, I've never played. I feel like I should have thought up some sort of humorous prize, but sadly I've got nothing. If you think of anything, let me know lol

That’s all then, folks. Until next week! 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby ultimatum #rwby recaps #mymetas

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yesvaldemarharder · 4 years

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Yandere Arcana

Ayo so um.. with 723 followers I really be expecting people for more input on things I should write (requests, ideas, convos, etc) but um.. I guess not? Lol. Anyway since I’m basically writing for like a couple people (people who actually respond to my work cause I like that. If you just like and reblog that’s fine but I still like hearing what people have to say about my work. If your shy don’t be.. I literally don’t judge..) I’ll go ahead and write scenarios for Yandere Arcana. If y’all want more of this just tell me. I was almost tempted to do nsfw lol!

I wanna say that I haven’t played the game enough to finish anyone’s route and while I want to, ya girl broke so picking choices is something I have to wait a while for as well. (The cost on those coins and I can’t even get a Valdemar route??? What type of shit-)

If any of the characters seem ooc I apologize I just really wanted to write this so um.. yeah.

I guess I’ll take the time to part a warning right here: If you don’t like yanderes or anything of the sort I suggest you don’t read this! I would do the ‘below the cut’ thing but I’m all honestly I don’t know how to.. so here ya go!

You have been warned!

Asra

Asra is a tricky yandere. He knows you well enough to get into your head.

He may take times to keep a distance from you but whenever he messages you or comes back he always makes sure to show you so much affection just so you hopefully don’t question anything.

He’ll act like something to you matters to him, and usually they do matter but if you’re talking about a love interest or something he’ll act supportive but will really be a bit annoyed on the inside.

Depending on your love interest he may get upset or simply will smile and try to ‘help you get them’. Don’t let it be Lucio or Julian.. he’ll be furious.

If he acts like he’s happy to help and your LI disappears then he probably did or didn’t send them somewhere where neither of you two can meet again. Like a portal to a dark cold place or something.

He’s like a snake.. or even a fox. He’s the magician for a reason.

Nadia

Nadia probably won’t even hide how much of a yandere she is.. okay maybe just a little.

She’s the countess, what does she need to hide? She’s also meant to be with you and you’re supposed to love her no matter what. Nadia seems to be a bit of an oblivious yandere. Not aware that what she does for you is rather scary at times.

She showers you in gifts. Some of the cutest clothes just to basically play dress up with you like your some little doll. She doesn’t like it when you turn down a gift and while there’s a couple times she’ll get frustrated in the end she’ll send the gift to you late at night with a sweet not hoping you take it.

While she usually ask for your input against other’s, when it comes to someone who isn’t much use to the palace or her especially sniffing up on you she’ll usually deal with them.. whether banishing them and having them get hunted down throughout the forest like some sort of game.

She can be ruthless, and when she’s really in a bad mood it’s hard for her to listen to anyone. Don’t beg for her not to kill off someone because she most likely will act you didn’t say anything, kiss your forehead, and will proceed with the execution.

Also gets really touchy with you when her sisters are around..

Portia

Portia is usually a very carefree chick but while she can be easygoing she can be rather on guard about you.

It’s not often with you, because she doesn’t want you to know the bad things she’d do for you, but every once in a while she’ll ‘joke’ about killing for you. She’s caring and always makes sure you’re safe so you don’t question it until she actually does it when you have a suspicion that she did it..

Will cry and manipulate you into believing she’s innocent because seeing fear on your face towards her makes her scared. She was just doing what was ‘right’, of course her terminology of right is different from yours tho.. that’s why she lies about not doing it.

You’ll trust her and while you’re still a bit nervous she’ll work on that making sure to check up on you often. Once she gains your trusts back again she grows to be a lot more sneaky.

Rat poison is probably what slipped into the man’s tea after her kept messing with you but who knows?

Julian

Julian can be much like his sister but instead of growing emotional to defend himself he grows serious. It’s so different from his usually jokingly self and reminds you of the red plague times so you can’t help but apologize for accusing him.

He may not have killed Lucio but he’s definitely took a couple people out for you. Most unintentionally but still did it anyway. That guy couldn’t swim and Julian simply didn’t hear him crying for help.. it’s okay though cause you did say he had a weird vibe about him anyway, obviously Julian agreed.

He can be clingy, needy, and touchy. If you don’t know about the yandere in him you love it and you loving it just manages to feed it more. If you do know about it and you’re scared he uses his touches to try and calm you down. To have you let your guard down.

He’ll use his self hate against you for many different reasons now. While he does hate himself he found that you usually encourage him or try to make him feel better after he talks about himself too much. He’ll use it on you to stop you from running away from him because your morals are far better than his at this point and he knows you’ll stay to try and help him.

When you find out that he’s been killing people you’re terrified and even though you know you should runaway and leave.. you also can’t help but want to help him.

What if he’s actually innocent like he was with Lucio? (Definitely not.) What if the depression got so bad and he couldn’t help himself? He needed help and only you could help him.

He’ll chuckle sometimes at how cute and silly you are. With how he is he knows you won’t be going anywhere and he’s perfectly fine with that because had you did think of running away he’d just chase you down and use he’s depression against you to make you feel bad for leaving and to bring you back to him.

Lucio

The coliseum was made for a reason... Lucio likes a good fight and anyone touching you, speaking with you, or even looking at you can make him want to have one.

If it isn’t a physical fight it’s a fight with words (which he isn’t that good at but his smugness makes it pay off)

He’s a hopeless romantic type of yandere and unlike his wife he actually doesn’t recognize or acknowledge the bad sides of himself. He either doesn’t to face them or actually thinks cutting that servants throat for huffing in your presence was justified.

You honestly can’t tell but hey, you’re scared. He’s a Count though... THE Count.. if he’s your yandere it’s going to be hard to get away from him without getting hunted down. He’ll make sure to keep an eye on you. (much like Nadia)

He’ll lock down the whole palace if it means keeping you in place. If you do manage to escape he’ll be highly impressed honestly before he’s goes hunting you down. When he finds you he’ll make sure the palace is locked down a lot tighter then it has been before.

Muriel

He definitely starts out as a silent stalker type. Muriel isn’t really attracted to anyone before you and even though he is interested in you he makes you come to him.

I believe he’s actually one of the nicer yanderes but he does have his moments of being possessive.

He doesn’t want to hurt anyone unless it’s absolutely needed.. wouldn’t want to kill anyone for something silly.. of course not.

Ok! I’m at the courtiers! Now these ones might be sadder because I have a lot of headcanons for them. Mainly the horsemen and I do believe Valerius doesn’t have much story on him either so yeah.

Volta

Volta’s an absolute sweetheart. Tis is all.

Nah I’m fucking with y’all, it’s a yandere post.. anyway while Volta is a sweetheart she can’t help but be a bit possessive over you. Unlike the other courtiers her emotions come out a lot more and with her past she never thought she find someone like you.

Now that she has though it’s hard to separate the two of you..

She clings to you, cry for you when you’re gone for too long, feeds you if she’s really into you..

People don’t really see her as a threat and that’s only until she threatens to eat them.. when she gets like that people make sure to leave you be because the really aren’t sure if Volta will actually do it but with that bright playful but warning look in her eyes they don’t want to put it past her.

Vlastomil

Vlastomil kinda has that same oblivious energy in him as Lucio or Nadia however it may seem like he doesn’t know what he’s doing is wrong but he really does.

He’s a demon, he knows how to play with humans but the thing is what he does is just him trying to understand himself better. Before you he only cared about his worm and now you were here.

He pretty much treats you like he treats Wriggler.. you’re very dear to him and let anything happen to you he’ll make sure everyone around knows how he feels. Whether it’s crying, shouting or simply anxiously looking for you.

He fears with other humans you’ll either get taken from him or get hurt but them and neither one of those are things he’s ok with obviously.

He’s a tricky demon, he may trick you into believing his morals verses your own.

“I love you dear! That’s why he has to go.. you don’t want him to hurt you yes?” He’ll manage to make you believe that everything he does is for you. If you have any sort of trauma he might even use that against you so be extra careful.

Valerius

I can see Valerius being much like Muriel but worse. He likes to stalk and watch you from afar until he can figure what’s the best route to take and going about getting to you.

He’s almost relieved you come to him first. The relationship is rather.. bumpy. At times he’ll be grumpy for no reason and sometimes you can get tired of that but anytime you threaten to leave him he gets you into bed a second faster and distracts you.

I can see him either being a good or bad yandere.. there’s no in between. Either he knows exactly how to keep you to himself or he struggles doing so which only frustrates you. You can say he takes some of that frustration out on you but he tries not to because the last thing he needs in to tell Lucio you ran off and have a bunch of guards chase you down.

Oh that’s right, Lucio helps him when it comes to reeling you in and keeping you their. It’s scary but how are yo to go against the Count and his Consul?

Valerius might say some really cruel things to you to make you stay. He doesn’t want to even think about you leaving him. The second he saw you was the same second he fell for you. He might question his own emotions a lot but after a while of simply stalking or having other people stalk you and report back to him, he can tell it is you that he wants.

Vulgora

Vulgora is one of the bad ones you can get. Their aggressiveness and bluntness can be scary so when you need to escape them not many will be willing to help you. Many might even be on their side out of fear of what the war demon can do.

I feel like Vulgora is one of these two yandere types if not both.

Either the type that uses anger as a way to express themselves even if they don’t want to. Like, they care very deeply about you but they are one of the courtiers who don’t understand these emotions.. it frustrates them to not understand and it makes them angry. They try not to take that anger out on you and usually ends it with taking the life of a mortal.. or a couple considering one isn’t enough.

The other type is the yandere who can’t hold their temper and simply wants you because they can have you. It’s a possessive thing.. no one can have you but them.

They won’t hesitate in killing for you and if you ask or grow scared they would try to say they didn’t do it. They’ll be honest. What are you going to do about it.. fight them? Leave them? Oh darling they believe you’re too smart to do something stupid like either one of those..

They’ll leave their mark on you, usually biting because even if there’s very few beings with teeth like theirs in the palace everyone know the deep marks belong to someone dangerous and usually people put a distance with you.

People might be scared of you for simply being trapped and stuck with them. Poor thing..

Valdemar

Go ahead and just pass away sis, we ain’t making it away from this one..

In all honesty Valdemar might be the worse yandere out of this group. Vulgora following after as well as Lucio, Vlastomil, and maybe Julian..

Now it’s either they don’t care about your feelings at all and well make sure you know it or they care far too much to let you out of their sight. Valdemar might be persistent to test on you and might do it even if you don’t want to but also they might grow worried about your safety if they do do it.

You’re like their precious little specimen and no matter what you do they are always watching. You can’t even escape them after death because they are death. There’s simply no escape.

It’s been centuries since they’ve felt as strongly for someone as they did you and that person didn’t make it to where they are now.. they refuse to let that happen again..

If you try to run from them they’ll have beings chase you, they’ll make you run for your life and when you come crying for help they’ll cackle in your face. They want you to know you can’t live without them and once that’s drilled into your head they’ll never allow you to ever get away.

#arcana game #the arcane game #count lucio #the arcana asra #julian devorak #the arcana game portia #nadia satrivana #the arcana muriel #quaestor valdemar #pontifex vulgora #procurator volta #praetor vlastomil #consul valerius #yandere #yandere arcana #x reader

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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An Issue Worth Discussing: Porn Popularity in The Owl House fandom (Yup, we’re going there)

Salutations, random people on the internet who probably won't read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons. And today...I'm gonna get a little angry. You see, every now and again, I check the kudos page of The Owl House fanfics on AO3. When doing so, I can't help but notice that the twenty-seventh most kudo’d story in this fandom belongs to a story called In the Span of a Week. And do not read it because it is just Beta Lumity porn with a plot written by some sick freak who thinks doing that s**t is ok. Yet, currently, it is sitting at a total of one thousand five hundred and fifty-one kudos. Meaning that In a Span of a Week is better than stories like 12 ways to say I love you, I Only Want To Be With You, and Brave in Bronze. Fanfics that are charming, well written, and fit well with the tone of The Owl House. All of that doesn't mean squat, as they are currently doing worse than porn...I should not have to explain why that's an issue. And yet, I have to. So SHUT UP and STRAP IN as I explain why someone writing a story about characters who are minors in canon having sex with each other is not ok.

First, let's discuss why something like porn is so popular in the first place. That answer is easy: Humans, who are not asexual, are horny as all forms of hell. Some of us can get our act together better than others, but most of us still find ourselves reaching down to our undercarriages more time than what's probably necessary. Especially when you're a teenager, a point of time when your horniness levels just skyrocket into you consistently thinking about sex. Again, unless you're asexual. Now, I have no statistical way to prove this, but I'm willing to bet that a good chunk of the people in the fandom is teenagers, and that is why a story like In the Span of a Week is doing so well. It’s because these horny little monsters wanted to get their rocks off and then move on to the wholesome stuff to calm themselves. If that was purely the case, that would be perfectly fine and healthy...but what about the readers, who are probably adults. Well, if that's the case, this becomes less fine and more disturbing. Look back at the number of kudos that In the Span of a Week receives. It's halfway to two thousand, and I highly doubt that all of them are teenagers. It's especially nauseating considering that the story focuses on characters who are canonically minors.

Now I know what you might be thinking: "Schmuck, you handsome Homosapien, In the Span of a Week focuses on the beta versions of Luz and Amity. Not the final ones." And you would be right to bring up that defense, if not for the fact that AO3 has yet to make a relationship tag to differentiate the beta designs from the final ones. Meaning that anybody, more specifically a new person in the fandom, can stumble upon the story thinking it's about the Luz and Amity we know and love. Even if the person is well aware of the beta designs and all the interpretations the fandom makes up, a person can still walk into a story, not thinking it'd be about the Betas. I can confirm this as I got a comment from my fanfic called It All Started with a Jacket, where a person clearly didn't understand that it was about Beta Lumity. Besides, while we associate these two (Or four, I guess) as different characters, they are still the same, but we as a fanbase just use the Betas as an excuse to write stories featuring violence, drugs, and sex. Especially since Dana Terrace confirms that the beta version was going to be more PG-13.

"Exactly! The Betas were meant for older audiences. So what's the big deal?" The big deal is explained through two reasons: Reason #1, nothing rated PG-13 has ever had explicit descriptions of sex. Sex can be implied but never shown. Reason #2, because AO3 recognizes everything that is The Owl House related as part of the same thing, any and every story about the Betas is always going to be under The Owl House page. Meaning that the original intended audience will read Beta stories that weren't written for them. I'm, of course, talking about the kids.

"But the story is rated E for Explicit! Kids are smart enough to filter that s**t out." You're right. Kids are smarter than we give them credit for. They understand themes and elements going beyond their age limit and comprehend that something is wrong in the world...but they're idiots when figuring out how things function. You have to physically teach kids how to do something, or else they will be lost and scared as they figure things out by themselves. Especially when it comes to something like filtering out explicit stories from the rest!

"But AO3 has a countermeasure that warns kids that a fanfic has adult content." Sure, but you are aware of the fundamental flaw in the countermeasure, right? Such as the fact that the only thing stopping a kid from continuing to read is by clicking on a button that says proceed...which should not be that easy. There should be a function that prevents readers from reading an explicit story other than pressing a button. A person should have to sign in and confirm their age, much like YouTube does with its age-restricted content. And I know people have issues with that function, but trust me, it's for the best if a kid doesn't see something they shouldn't.

"But the freedom of speech entails--" FREEDOM OF SPEECH IS A BULLS**T EXCUSE, AND YOU KNOW IT! Case in point, when people say s**t like "Kill all the Jews," "Build a wall!" or "Dab at the haters," you're probably inclined to tell them to shut the f**k up. That's because even though they have a right to speak, what they're saying is still wrong on every point of logic and morality. I don't care if a person has a right to write porn based on a children's show. They still shouldn't have acted on that right in the first place.

Besides, there is one last, damning piece of evidence that disproves any bit of argument that you can muster. The person who wrote In the Span of a Week made a story based on a kids' show. Why? Why not a series aimed at teens and adults? Why did it have to be a children's show specifically? And the very fact that there is no right answer to that question that doesn't peg you as a sick freak who just wanted to make kids bang proves that there is no reason why In the Span of a Week had to be based on The Owl House. I don't give a s**t if it was a gift to some other sick freak. The writer could have easily said no and wrote something else for some other show.

Instead, this person decided to write a story about minors (doesn’t matter if they were aged up) that kids can have access to. And reaps all the benefits of this action as it one of the most popular stories in the fandom.

And I shouldn't have had to explain why that's an issue.

(And if I see one mother f**ker saying it's a jealousy thing...there's nothing that I can do them physically as that's impossible at the moment. But I can delete their comment!)

(...)

(That should show them.)

#the owl house #lumity #beta lumity #an issue worth discussing

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waywardrose · 4 years

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On Babbushka

There is a group of well-known writers in the fandom who have been discouraged and put down by one of their own, Zannah - @babbushka. It happens behind the scenes in DMs. It happens in posts and tags.

In DMs, she has started conversations with seemingly innocent questions. When she doesn't receive the response she was aiming for, she diverts the conversation to criticizing and humiliating the person. She has attacked writers for tagging—or not tagging—a post in a way she deems appropriate. She has gotten into arguments over how characters were portrayed and then tried to claim victimization when the other person wouldn't knuckle under.

She will appeal to her following to attack any fan or creator who has an opinion that differs from her own. She will encourage friends to send rude anons. Those same friends will also DM the target with rude remarks.

Several creators have stopped writing altogether because of their interactions with her.

We are tired of being discouraged. We are tired of being talked down to. We are tired of being bullied. Enough is enough. Under the cut we share our stories, let the chips fall where they may. It's up to you, the reader, to decide whether to support her.

We can only warn up-and-coming writers, artists, fans, and supporters of her behavior.

Hope - @callmehopeless

The Australian bushfires of the 2019-2020 season were nightmarish—for those living through it and those witnessing. As the season went on, cries for help increased. Joaquin Phoenix used the time during his Best-Actor acceptance speech at the Golden Globes to call for unity, action, and accountability. Regardless of what we may think of him, it was a thoughtful speech.

Hope, who is an Australian, found Mr. Phoenix's message encouraging and reblogged a gifset of his speech.

That morning, Zannah made a post about Mr. Phoenix's shady past and his association with a known sexual predator. The main reason wasn't because his speech was inappropriate or not timely, but because she didn't think he should be the one to get the attention over other actors who had spoken of the bushfires during the Golden Globes.

While Hope confessed she was scared of the bushfires, scared for her loved ones, Zannah was more concerned with purity. To Zannah it was about the face of the message, not the message itself. It didn't matter that Mr. Phoenix was amplifying support for Australia, what did matter was that he had done bad things.

It was virtue signaling on Zannah's part.

Still, this remains a complicated argument. Can a person who has done bad things actually have something positive to add to a cause? Should we listen to a problematic person if they share an insight? Does it reflect poorly on us to agree with their isolated statement? Will we be canceled, too? What about the bigger picture?

In this case, the bigger picture was hundreds of homes were destroyed in the bushfires and families were displaced. People died, thousands of animals died. And it was because of climate change. Mr. Phoenix called for his rich peers to examine their respective lifestyles and to give back.

Yes, Mr. Phoenix has done bad things. Yes, he has associated with people who have done bad things. His words resonated with people on Tumblr, and they reblogged part of his speech. He said something that gave Hope hope.

Hope was asked by a third party how they could help. She came back with a resource guide for those who wanted to send aid to Australians.

When it became obvious Zannah wouldn't silence Hope, Zannah decided to sub-post about the interaction. There, she accused Hope of being a rape apologist for reblogging a gifset and finding a little comfort in it. Zannah placed her ego before someone who was facing a very real danger.

Side-eying an actor is one thing, shaming a person you know for finding solace during a scary time is another. Hope isn't responsible for which voice got picked up. The only "colors" being shown here are Zannah's. She put her own concerns about being perceived as morally pure above actually supporting a friend.

I'll keep this brief - I knew Zannah for many years. And on one of the lowest weeks of my life, when my suburb was burning down and I feared for my family: she convinced me I was a rape apologist for sharing Joaquin Phoenix's speech asking for action on bushfires. In all my life, I never felt more alone. To add insult to injury, she then posted memes mocking me - something that has stuck with me to this day.

I've had dear friends quit the fandom because of her kinkshaming. I've had people I love message me distraught over what she's said.

Enough is enough.

— @callmehopeless

Rose - @the-wayward-rose

This PM exchange started after I tagged my reblog of Zannah's fic Feast (Cameron Bistle x Reader) with cw: white reader. I had been on her taglist, and I wanted to show support because I liked the fic overall. For context, the reason for my tag is because of this sentence:

"But then you're blushing so pretty and squeezing his hand affectionately and reaching for the handle to the passenger side of his car, and then you're laughing when he swats your hand away to open it for you, and then you're beckoning him down as if to ask a question – only to place a chaste kiss to his lips instead."

This is from Cameron's point of view.

She asked the reason for the tag, and I explained it was because of the use of "blush" to describe Reader's appearance.

She misunderstood my premise. I did not mean only white people blush.

According to Merriam-Webster, blush means "a reddening of the face especially from shame, modesty, or confusion" or "a red or rosy tint."

It is an autonomic response, though. It happens in all humans for body cooling and nonverbal communication. The main problem with using it universally is that melanin obscures the appearance of said autonomic response.

Here's an example of three runners:

The two pale women, left and center, are pink in the face. They are blushing. The woman of color on the right is likely blushing, too. However, the melanin in her skin obscures the blood in her cheeks. She is not pink.

That's the pitfall of the word "blush." The observer can't always see it. We know what it feels like. We all do it. The face and/or neck gets hot. The use of "blush" is shorthand in narrative, and I understand that. Nevertheless, when writing to cater to a reader-insert audience of unknown heritage, writers need to consider describing with universal terms.

Again, she misunderstood my premise. I clarified by asking how Cameron sees the Reader blush under an abundance of melanin:

She sidestepped the physiological explanation to go straight for justification. She tried to legitimize "blush" as "perhaps [this]" or "perhaps [that]" when I stated earlier that blush by definition is pink or is to redden. That's the logic. A noncommittal, covering-all-the-bases, complicated defense diluted the conversation.

With her earlier "I have friends of color, hence I can't be exclusionary" statement, I wasn't sure she would get my point. I take full responsibility for not explaining, too. I should've asked for some time to gather my thoughts, but I didn't. Truthfully, I was unprepared, because I didn't think my insignificant tag would be an issue.

Also, I was confused why she was trying to police my blog.

Her replies came rapidly—before I could mention my confusion—and felt aggressive in the moment. Maybe that wasn't her intention, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

That doesn't take away from the fact that words have meaning. It's why we use specific words. It's not understood in the narrative that her use of "blush" could mean a bunch of things. If I had known, I wouldn't have tagged as I did. How is a reader of color supposed to know that? How does Cameron see Reader's blush if she has darker skin?

As writers, we don't know who is reading. Someone could be very pale or very dark. A person with medium-toned skin can turn a shade of pink or red. A person with darker-toned skin will not. We can't assume all readers are medium to pale. We need to develop better writing skills. We have to include everyone.

Readers of color > White-writer feelings

When I stood my ground, she doubled down, stating I made no sense in my tagging and that I lacked the ability to learn from her. She then diverted the argument, attacking a ficlet I wrote a few days beforehand—which had nothing to do with this argument. The Christian imagery in that ficlet was upsetting to her and "in such poor taste" because she headcanons Flip Zimmerman (BlacKkKlansman) is 100% culturally and ethnically Jewish.

Flip stated in the movie:

"I'm Jewish, but I wasn't raised to be. It wasn't part of my life. I never thought much about being Jewish. Nobody around me was Jewish. I wasn't going to a bunch of Bar Mitzvahs. I didn't have a Bar Mitzvah. I was just another white kid. And now I'm in some basement denying it out loud[...] I never thought much about it. Now I'm thinking about it all the time. About rituals and heritage. Is that passing? Well then, I have been passing."

By his own admission, Flip is ethnically Jewish, but not culturally. These are two separate things, and that should be recognized. While Judaism is ethnically and culturally entwined in ways that other religions are not, one does not equate the other. You can be one and not the other.

At the time, I didn't want her to sic her 3000+ followers on me. I wasn't going to argue further. I asked myself if the ficlet was important and worth anon-hate and realized, no, it wasn't. It was a throw-away.

And since I'm not culturally Jewish, maybe I had misstepped. And since Zannah is both culturally and ethnically Jewish, I asked for her guidance.

She flatly refused my request. I don't know how I was supposed to learn from her if she wouldn't teach me.

It sounded as if she wanted me to delete the whole fic. Like none of it was worth saving because it hadn't been Zannah-approved. I had gone against her headcanon, and the fic was too offensive to fix.

The last sentence was supposed to cover her back from criticism, and it placed all the responsibility on me. Obviously, she was above such petty concerns as someone else's blog or writing. Never mind that she had just attempted to get me to change my tagging system and rewrite my ficlet. On my blog.

Later, I figured out she was only criticizing and not offering a constructive critique. Her argument was not in good faith. It was retaliation for not giving her the obedience she thought she was owed.

This is the passage that offended her:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Like it’s confession—though he’s never been much of a church-going man. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears the sin proudly."

This is what I edited it to:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears your marks proudly."

Yeah, I'm not pleased with the revised passage. It's lost its teeth, but I keep it.

The anonymous message(s) she mentioned weren't very anonymous, either. Unfortunately, I've since deleted the two messages. I had apologized to Anon for disappointing them. I said that if the fic was too much, they should unfollow and block me. I meant that in a self-care way. At the same time, I did not—and do not—owe anyone discourse. I don't have to explain my art when it doesn't hurt anyone. And no one was hurt by some purportedly misplaced religious imagery.

I have been silent about this since late January/early February. I was embarrassed. I had been bullied into changing my blog and my fic by someone who proclaims to never do anything of the sort. I had been a fool. Since this conversation with her, I have been blocked/blacklisted by third-parties, most likely at her behest, when none of this exchange had been necessary.

Kassanovella - @kylorengarbagedump

Zannah's followers have asked her about Kassanovella’s Fix Your Attitude. For context, it's currently one of the most kudo-ed fics for Kylo Ren x Reader on AO3. It had a bit of a renaissance earlier in 2020 because a TikToker wrote a song for it.

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to read a fic. If the subject matter doesn't work for a reader, they don't have to partake. Easy as that. So, these tags aren't a problem.

However, it led to this...

She lashed out, calling Kassanovella's fic a joke. A joke.

She implied her fics should be as popular as Kassanovella's because she works really hard on them. She admitted she's tied to the metrics. She implied she wouldn't be writing fic if not for the external validation.

Here's the thing about fanfic: readers like what they like. They don't care about a writer's effort. They only know what works for them. They comment and give kudos, reblog and like what they connect with. That is not under the writer's control. All a writer can do is try their best and concentrate on what they're passionate about.

To bash another writer's fic because it's popular is disrespectful. This whole bitter rant drips of entitlement and is an affront to Kassanovella.

Some time later, an incident happened in a chatroom during a streaming event for veterans by Arts In the Armed Forces (Adam Driver's organization). At least one fan brought up Fix Your Attitude while waiting for Mr. Driver to make an appearance. They were also disrespectful towards the other presenters by demanding to see Mr. Driver. It caused a big stink within the fandom, and Zannah had some choice words.

While mentioning the fic during the livestream was inappropriate, it was also inappropriate to throw all fans of the fic under the bus as she did in her tag. Sweeping generalizations and incriminations of a subset of fans certainly reads as if she resents those fans for a perceived slight.

Next, Zannah made an earlier disparaging comment about Kassanovella's fic, Little Bird. Unfortunately, that comment is lost. However, the messages supporting the comment remain. (For context, Little Bird is a Kylo Ren x Reader The Handmaid's Tale AU. It has been well received in the fandom, earning thousands of kudos on AO3.)

What an author wants to write about and sexualize is their business. Fantasizing about being dominated by Kylo Ren isn't cringe. It's a sexual fantasy. Some sexual fantasies can be disturbing to those who do not share the same kink.

Sexual fantasies are like ice cream. There's a reason why there are different flavors.

Also, "I will never ever be a person that tells an author what to do or not do" is an absolute lie. As evident in this post, Zannah most definitely tells authors what to do or not do.

Again, she bashes Kassanovella, claiming her writing isn't good. Her motivation for bashing Kassanovella can only be speculation. With Zannah's previously stated opinion of Fix Your Attitude, though, it indicates a certain level of negative emotions.

Anonymous

An anonymous person came forward with a case of Zannah policing their blog. Anon has a sideblog for their personal AU with Flip Zimmerman. They reblog gifsets and post headcanons. They were an enthusiastic fan of Zannah's and reblogged a few of the gifset she made. Anon tagged their reactions, and Zannah blocked them for it.

Anon went to Zannah and asked why they were blocked, because all they wanted to do was have fun and support fellow Flip lovers.

Anon was under the impression that because they were shipping themselves, and not Zannah, with Flip, she blocked them. Their personal AU doesn't align with Zannah's headcanon that she alone is married to this character and has his children.

While Zannah's reply may sound innocent, and perhaps it is, it also speaks to someone who has set herself up as the owner of Flip Zimmerman. (Wait until Spike Lee or the real Ron Stallworth hears about that...) It appears that if a fan does not comply with the Zannah-approved headcanon, where only she is married to Flip, that fan shall be blocked. If a fan uses tags on their blog that she does not approve of, that fan will be blocked.

Zannah's policing is disturbing. Going into a blog to look for something as a reason to block is disturbing. Any fan is allowed to use any tag on their blog how they wish. If the OP has said their post can be reblogged, how a reblogger tags is beyond the OP's control. To punish that reblogger for not behaving in a way she finds acceptable is uncalled for and unjust.

Anonymous

Backstory: Zannah does not view Ben Solo's arc in the Star Wars sequel trilogy as acceptable canon. However, she does view the story she created for Flip Zimmerman in BlacKkKlansman as completely canon.

This is not the first time she has been asked to clarify her position. Nor is it the first time she has avoided giving an on-topic response. A question asked in good faith should be responded to in kind.

If a creator doesn't want to address the issue, they can state that they don't. Deflecting from the question only muddies the waters. Fans feel dismissed. The creator feels hounded, and comes across as irritated and unapproachable. No one has a positive fandom experience.

There is nothing wrong with having a headcanon. What is wrong is Zannah mandating her headcanon for Flip on the whole fandom. As evident in this post, if a fan does not comply with her headcanon, they will be summarily blocked.

Also, there is nothing wrong with rejecting canon. Writers of transformative works have always done this. The problem is shaming fans who have accepted canon while not offering justification for that shaming. A creator saying they "can't help them" is the creator washing their hands of responsibility from articulating their thoughts when they themselves began criticizing the canon in the first place.

Again, this is a bad-faith argument. Creators can't ask for discussion and attention and then get mad when their viewpoints are challenged. Just because a discussion isn't going a creator's way doesn't mean it's an attack, either. It means people want clarification, and if one criticizes, they should be able to back up their criticisms.

While sharing our stories has been freeing, it's not our aim as fellow fans to cancel Zannah. We would hope she would take the opportunity to reflect on the damage she has done to the fandom. We hope we all can move forward with a more approachable and supportive scene.

No one person speaks for our fandom. The actions of one fan do not represent the entire fandom. Whether creator or consumer, you are welcome here.

[posted July 25, 2020]

#babbushka #reader insert #flip zimmerman x reader #kylo ren x reader

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catherdrashepard · 3 years

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Red Rising/Persona

I’m a huge fan of the Persona series and pretty much anything Atlus has done. I am ALSO a huge fan of Red Rising (blame that on @hyena-frog) So, the natural conclusion is that I should determine which Persona the main RR POV characters would have. As well as a couple extras. Pictures will be included with credit to the artist when applicable. Please let me know if I forget to credit someone. (https://megamitensei.fandom.com/wiki/List_of_Persona_5_Royal_Personas) Here is the website I’m using. Spoilers for the first three books and probably a little of Iron Gold. Also a spoiler for the Faith Confidante in Persona 5: Royal. Avoid the Lysander paragraph if you want none of that. Disclaimer: I have not finished Dark Age yet so some of my thoughts might be lacking complete information.

Darrow: The main characters of the Persona series always start with a Persona from the Fool arcana. It doesn’t necessarily stay that way depending on the players personal preference. That being said, Darrow does fit the Fool arcana very well. It’s considered to be the beginning arcana or one without a number. It represents innocence, divine inspiration, madness, freedom, spontaneity, inexperience, chaos and creativity. These traits I think describe Darrow pretty accurately, especially in the first two books. Considering the story revolves around his journey, it makes sense to label him as a character of beginnings. Persona-wise, I think the one that fits Red Rising and Golden Son Darrow would be Satanael. This Persona is basically the equivalent to Lucifer, the angel who led a rebellion against God. But also that isn’t all that Darrow is. I also think the Death arcana is fitting for him, from Morning Star and beyond. Death is an arcana roughly in the middle of the tarot deck and it’s one that represents metamorphosis and change. Literal interpretation aside, Darrow experiences a change in himself after his capture at the end of Golden Son and his rescue in Morning Star. Not to mention, his entire purpose for becoming a Gold in the first place was to provoke a change in the current system of government. For his Death Persona, I would give him Thanatos. Because he’s my favourite, but also he’s considered the harbinger of death. Perfect for the Reaper. I don’t think Darrow completely loses Satanael in favour of Thanatos; I could definitely see him using both depending on the circumstance.

Virginia/Mustang: By Persona standards, because Mustang is Darrow’s main love interest, she would be the Lovers arcana. However, and this was incredibly difficult because she could really fit more acana, I think she could be both the Judgement and the Empress arcana. The Judgement arcana, I feel, fits her Sovereign persona (ha). It’s associated with a deep understanding of life, a balance of light and darkness, and characters who are well-aware, and intelligent. Not that this doesn’t fit her in her private life as well, but it seems more prevalent in her dealings as the Sovereign. The second arcana is the Empress. This one is more associated with mothers and women of authority. As we saw in the first trilogy, she went to great lengths to protect her family, i.e., working for Octavia, being with Cassius, the whole incident in Lykos. Choosing her Persona is tricky, mostly because Personas can shift arcana depending which game they are pulled from. I think the one to go with is Astarte. This is more of a feeling rather than definitive “proof”. She is identified as the goddess of war, hunting, love, sex, horses and possibly the morning star; her symbols are thought to be the lion, panther, and an eight pointed star. This is also the ultimate Persona of Haru in Persona 5, who awakens her initial Persona in defiance of her father and his corruption, which also feels apt. That being said, Astarte is from the Empress arcana and I could not find a Judgement arcana Persona that I felt fit her well enough.

Credit for the picture of Astarte to: Machia McMadlass on Amino

Sevro: Sevro was very easy to choose a Persona for. One in particular stood out to me. I think Sevro could fit both the Fool arcana and the Devil arcana. I think the aspects of the Fool that Sevro embodies are the madness, freedom, spontaneity, and creativity. The Devil arcana represents the urge to do selfish, impulsive, violent things. However, it also can represent a healthy bond and commitment. Sevro is a wild card from the beginning, killing Priam in the first book being a prime example. Both he and Darrow were very unexpected successes in the Institute. This is something that also describes the protagonists in the Persona games as well. They all just kind of show up out of nowhere and completely shift the paradigm, especially in Personas 3&5. As for the Devil arcana, Sevro reminds me of the Devil confidante in Persona 5. Their goals are not the same, but both characters are very focused on what they want and make every effort to push through despite any obstacles in the way. As for the Persona, the one I chose was sort of picked for superficial reasons; Bugbear. Its name comes from the Celtic word bugs which means evil spirit or goblin. It’s also considered to be something of a boogeyman, a creature that lurked in the woods to scare children. Also, it’s essentially a stuffed bear filled with skulls, which seems to fit Sevro’s weird tastes.

Victra: With Victra, one arcana stuck out in my mind immediately, the Chariot. This arcana represents victory, conquest, self-assertion, self-confidence, control, war, and command. When first introduced to Victra, she does seem very sure of herself and what she wants. She strikes me as a shoot first and ask questions later type, which is something she has in common with the video game characters who share this arcana. Like Sevro, she could also fit the Devil arcana, especially during certain events in Dark Age that she pursues very single-mindedly. Although, I would say Victra is more Devil leaning than Sevro. As for the Persona, I think Pazuzu would fit her style pretty well. What really struck me as fitting Victra was the description of Pazuzu as an evil spirit that drives away other evil spirits, and protects humans from plagues and misfortunes. Also, despite trying to stick with the arcana placements of Persona 5 Royal, I think it’s worth noting that Pazuzu was summoned by a character in Devil Survivor who seeks revenge for death of a loved one.

Cassius: While perusing the arcana descriptions, the one for the Lovers immediately reminded me of Cassius. The Lovers is usually reserved for the “canon” love interest in the games, barring player preferences. However, Dassius jokes aside, what really made me think Cassius is that this arcana symbolises two paths a life could lead to and, standing at a crossroad and needing to make a decision. I think this describes Cassius’ personal journey throughout the books to a T, especially in the climax of Morning Star where he makes the decision to join Darrow in taking out Aja and Octavia. The other arcana that Cassius would be is the Star. This arcana is said to represent hope, self-confidence, faith, altruism, luck, generosity, peace and joy. I feel like self-confidence, faith, and altruism fit pre-end of Morning Star Cassius very well. He was considered the pinnacle of Golds and I think, at least until he learned what was actually going on, that’s all he wanted to be. The game characters with this arcana are teachers or mentors to the protagonist. Characters that are very good at what they do and offer some form of training. A sort of outlier to this is Teddie, from Persona 4. While he does have more experience than the main character dealing with the enemy (both Cassius and Teddie are part of the group the protagonist fights against), Teddie doesn’t take a combative role until later in the game. This is only possible because Rise, who replaces him as support, makes him question his identity or the “real” him. This is very similar to what happens to Cassius in the first three books. Darrow becomes what Cassius thought himself to be and it causes Cassius to question who he really is. Although, unlike Teddie, I think Cassius chose to heavily lean into being the perfect Gold specimen until the end of Morning Star, where he makes a choice to be the “real” Cassius. As for the Persona, I could easily see him with Sraosha, who represents the highest virtue of humanity, obedience to and submission to Divine Law. I think his motivations for using this Persona would change, however. I imagine at first, he would use it to keep the Society functioning how it always does. But, after Morning Star, I bet it would shift to be more about protecting his own ideals and the submission aspect would relate to Cassius’ personal morals and sense of justice.

Lysander: I really wanted to avoid using the arcana that are not present in a standard deck, and added for a specific game. However, one of the arcana that stood out to me for Lysander is the Faith arcana. This arcana symbolises, in the positive, belief in others and in oneself. Negatively, it represents blind faith misplaced in something that does not deserve trust. From what I understand of Lysander’s story, his personal journey seems to mirror that of the game character who shares his arcana. It is revealed later that she is a fake, and her memories were overwritten by another character. I have not finished Dark Age as of writing this but, I am under the strong impression that Lysander has been brainwashed and that some of his memories have been replaced or erased entirely. And while he does have some misgivings about the Society, I believe he is blind to how fucked up it really is. But it also holds potential for Lysander to overcome this indoctrination. I had a bit of trouble with what the second arcana would be but, I think the Moon fits Lysander pretty well. You could say he’s a….Moonie. But in all seriousness, the description that struck me as Lysander-esque was "They often tend to have trouble accepting themselves for who they are and, because of that fear, try to correspond to an ideal person. And like the arcana, there is a hidden depth as to why they act in their behaviours." Lysander was definitely sheltered and isolated, by both Octavia and Cassius (he tried his best). And perhaps by Atalantia to some degree. He is a fed a narrative and doesn’t really get a chance to analyse his own perceptions and why they may be incorrect. The characters of the Moon arcana in the game often struggle internally with themselves which, to be honest, is a trait most of the POV characters have. But what I think Lysander lacks in that case, is self-awareness. As for the Persona, I ended up going with Cendrillon. This Persona is based on Cinderella, which is a little different from some of the other ones. As much as I like to make fun of Lysander for his poor choices, it’s hard not to see him as a victim. I don’t necessarily think he’s a hero or that he’s entitled to the kind of happy ending Cinderella gets. However, I do feel that, like the fairy tale princess, some of his circumstances were as a result of situations that were out of his control. Also, a line really stuck with me from the initial awakening for the Persona that really made me think Lysander; “Well, if those really are the shoes you've chosen... Then we'll dance to the end.”

Ephraim: Ephraim suffers a lot throughout the books, and I feel like that reflects heavily on what arcana he is. I think the first one that fits him well is the Tower arcana, which is associated with a fall from grace. His story reminds me a lot of the Tower social link character in Persona 3. Both Ephraim and the game character lose their family and turn to substance abuse to numb the pain. People of the Tower arcana seems to suffer a lot of internal pain which they fail to cope with healthily and thus turn to less savoury means until and outside force steps in to help steer them in a better direction. The other arcana I believe fits him well is the Hanged Man. What makes me think Ehpraim is that the appearance of the Hanged Man can be seen as advice to take the time to reflect over one's upcoming actions, which is something I think he needs to learn how to do. They can also be self-sacrificial and are often notable for being stuck between two different stages of life. Also, much like the Tower arcana characters, their journey seems to revolve around some kind of loss that they are failing to cope with. As for the Persona….this was a bit tricky. I have a few I like but one comes with a bit reluctance because of how it plays into the plot of Persona 4 and how it would reflect on Ephraim’s character. But, my gut is telling me that Magatsu-Izanagi is the way to go. What is making me think of Ephraim when I see it is the symbolism behind this Persona. It represents emptiness, impulsiveness, poor judgement, obsession and frivolity. There are also some similarities between Ephraim and the character who wields this Persona in Persona 4. They both exhibit little tact and seem to be playing some sort of game with the other characters. However, Adachi (Persona 4 character) seems to do this because he’s a psychopath whereas I think Ephraim is this way as a terrible coping mechanism. In Persona 4, the arcana where this Persona fits in is meant to be the reversed Fool. And while I’m trying to stick with the Persona 5 Royal placements (which for Magatsu-Izanagi is the Tower arcana), I think the implication here is that Ephraim has a lot of potential to be something so great if he can just reverse the path he is going down.

Lyria: I love Lyria. I think she’s a wonderful and interesting character. I love that she highlights the ramifications of undoing a toxic form of government. She gets so much development that it was easy to see what arcana she fit into. The first one I thought of was the Hermit. It represents wisdom, introspection, solitude, retreat and philosophical searches. In the beginning, she has very strong opinions about Darrow and the rest of the Rising. Which is entirely understandable considering her entire way of life was stripped from her without a way to cope with the changes. But, unlike Lysander, she’s willing to re-examine herself and her perceptions as she is presented with new information. She also tends to try and keep under the radar if she can, which is another trait of the Hermit. What’s interesting to me is that other characters of the Hermit arcana are victims of circumstances out of their control, but they see their own victimization as a result of a flaw in their character. The other arcana is very tricky for me, as there are parts of Lyria’s character that I don’t know yet. After much discussion and deliberation with my resident expert, the second arcana for Lyria is the Priestess. This arcana is a symbol of hidden knowledge or other untapped power, wisdom, female mystery and patience. The characters of this arcana also take more time to open up to the protagonist than others. Which also fits Lyria as she needed time and introspection to really understand Darrow and Mustang. As for the Persona, I’m actually going to cheat a little with my choice. I try to keep the arcana placements from Persona 5 Royal but for Lyria, I’m choosing Hariti whose arcana is Priestess in Persona 4 and Persona Q. Hariti is a protector of children and childbirth after going through a significant change in perspective which, from what I understand and have been told, is also something that Lyria does.

#persona #red rising #my thoughts

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cometcalloway · 3 years

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MUN AND MUSE QUESTIONS

List 5 of your muse’s favourite sensations.

A ‘sleeping in on a snow day’ level of comfort and safety

Winning

Acceptance, forgiveness, companionship

Magic healing

Novelty

Do they have any pet peeves?

Sparrow used to do occasional scribe work. I think if he was working on this one particular page & the parchment kept coming undone and trying to curl up no matter how many times he fixed it, that would destroy him psychologically a little. I feel like small annoyances can build into big things pretty quickly sometimes, with Sparrow, especially if he feels trapped in some way and doesn’t have the option to just remove himself from the situation & do something else.

Rook is like. Rather than being someone with a critical streak, it’s more that he’s a critic who has the occasional streak of another thing. He’s intentional enough to usually avoid believing his critical thoughts as fact in an automatic and unquestioning way, but his internal monologue definitely gives him a lot of information about things that ‘should’ be done better or differently. He’s the most harsh with himself, of course.

Their comfort read? (could be a book, magazine, comics, etc)

From an answer to an earlier meme:

Sparrow projects onto female characters in the absence of nonbinary characters that fit his vibe more exactly. Books and stories grab his attention when a female mc is powerful, wants things, and is maybe a little bit feral, even if she hides it well. She doesn’t have have noble morals, and she doesn’t have to win; there are tragedies he wouldn’t enjoy, but tragedies he very much would. He’s drawn by dark & intense themes bc like, he’s working through some things.

Rook likes history and nonfiction. He doesn’t like to introspect and thinks less naturally in terms of ‘like/want’ & more naturally in terms of function; nonfiction has a very clear and straightforward function. You read the book, you get the information. He would be in an uncomfortable position if he read a fiction book and felt moved by the story in a way that conflicted anything in his carefully constructed sense of identity (and he is not sentimental). He isn’t scared of fiction, but eh. There’s nothing in there he wants to get badly enough that it’s worth the mess.

If the book they are reading turns out to be shit, do they push through just for the sake of finishing it, or do they move on and find something else?

It depends on the book, and it depends on what in particular turned out to be shit. If something about the book is dramatically insulting to something Sparrow really cares about, he’s more likely to drop it than keep reading, either to try and enjoy it anyway or to hate read. If the book just isn’t that interesting or just isn’t that well written, he might keep reading just so he has closure on the investment he put into it. He likes to read, so he’s more likely to keep reading if he doesn’t have a lot of options. I feel like Rook might be the opposite? If a book he’s reading turns insulting he might just be like “hmm, we disagree (fortunately I am very large & near invincible)” and keep reading. If the book isn’t interesting, he isn’t sentimental enough to want to ‘pay the cost’ of learning what happens. Now I’m imagining a situation where Rook puts down a boring book & Sparrow picks it up bc they share a headspace & the book caught his interest just enough for him to want to know what happens (and then one day Rook gets sick of this shit & picks up the book & flips to the end & reads the ending).

Their comfort tv show / film

I think L.ilo & S.titch could be a comfort film for a verse where Sparrow is living in a modern setting. Stitch has to figure out how to be a person after being created to be a tool. As the entire galaxy goes nuts over Stitch’s prescribed identity as a purpose, and as all of the humans are quick to put new unflattering labels on Stitch, L.ilo is the one who gives Stitch permission to start to figure himself out. It’s like, the kind of story Sparrow needs to hear. Plus the painting backgrounds would remind Sparrow of home.

Rook wouldn’t consider something a comfort movie, but there are a lot of M.arvel movies he would like. Lot of stories about superheroes trying to figure out what it means to do the right thing in a complicated situation, and the tone is light enough for it to be a reassuring experience to watch the movie overall.

A song that is currently stuck in their head? (or multiple)

Mmmaybe C.ardigan by T.aylor S.wift. It’s not a song I associate with Sparrow because it’s about him in some way, but it is a song that he would probably decide that he likes, in the way people can like things without the thing being like, one of their theme songs.

The next three questions are for you. do you have anything special in common with your character.

All of my characters have deep things in common with me. Sparrow is deeply sensitive, spiritual, and has a strong personal commitment to not abusing power over other people. Rook is really critical, but he’s also committed to things he cares about. He gets nearly paralyzed sometimes by trying to figure out what he actually wants or what is actually good after considering everything he’s ‘supposed’ to want and how hard it would be to go against the ‘supposed to.’ Sparrow is more of a ‘looking forward’ kind of character, for what could be possible, Rook is a more ‘looking back’ kind of character, at the practical side of things and the messy reality and the question of how to make honorable choices in a reality like that. They’re both really important to me!

What brings you the most joy about writing this character, right now?

Writing L.othric and now Sparrow has been my invitation to myself to tolerate less of the intolerable. Sparrow isn’t an exact image of a person I literally want to be, but he has qualities that I write about bc I want to develop them better for myself through getting to know him. Right now in particular, I’m still carrying bittersweet joy about being able to breathe life into OCs after writing D.ark S.ouls characters for so long. Sometimes when I look through the rp tags I see rpers with H.arry P.otter muses who say they’re ‘anti jkr’, and I wish it was that easy for me to signal that I’m going to engage with a story I still feel things about, but I do not want to approach it as an enthusiastic fan. Ultimately, the OC route is just more valuable because I can own everything I come up with, so it’s a change for the better all things considered. But I wish that it wasn’t so normal for a story to be like, ‘the final boss is a disabled person who was bratty for not wanting to be abused, so hunt him for sport or whatever’ & then a fandom springs around that like ‘this is content! playful irreverence!’ to the point where talking about things more deeply feels like intruding.

Who would win in a fight, you or them?

Oh, them, definitely, Rook and Sparrow would win individually or working together.

Any advice from your muse?

I think he’d say that he’s a made up person, you’re a real person. If he seems powerful because he can do magic and he’s stubborn and makes these daring changes to his life, it’s nothing compared to the power that a real breathing person has. You can do more than him by picking up a leaf off the ground. I think he’d say that maybe it’s easy for people to forget that sometimes, when it comes to any fictional character who’s aspirational in some way.

Tagged by: @batteredoptimist (thanks!)

Tagging: @stxrmchild @chilledtouch @cloudpools @destruqtivist @pleasemymel0dy @worthless-weight-in-gold ! and YOU

#long post #Ashes of Omelas | Characterization

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iceshard1011 · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton Characters: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Additional Tags: Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Non-Human Humanoid Society, (said society is The Worst), Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Mild Language, Discrimination, Flirting, Polyamory, Asexual Character, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Picnics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Play Fighting, Fallen Angels, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Teasing, Blood and Injury, Violence, Grief/Mourning, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Aftermath of Violence, Kissing, Threats of Violence, Deceit | Janus Sanders Needs a Hug, mentions of (heavily) implied transphobia, extra warnings in the end notes, please read them if you're uncertain or uncomfortable, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst Summary:

“You are a demon,” he realised.

Patton tilted his head, and it reminded Virgil of a wild animal.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and you are an angel without a halo, in a world looking to destroy your wings.”

19k fic below the cut, too :)

please mind the trigger warnins in the tags here on tumblr, and in the end note on ao3.

note: the italics don’t carry through copy and paste, so if i have missed some on this tumblr post i apologise. in that regard, the story may be more accurate on ao3.

Janus and Virgil had been fighting.

Unfortunately, these current days, this was not an uncommon occurrence. It was not a physical battle, as that was forbidden within the city, and most other parts of the Angelic Kingdom, but any angel in the general radius of the pairs’ shouting matches knew to subtly evacuate as quickly and quietly as they could. Neither brother was pleasant to be around when agitated, and it seemed recently that they only frustrated each other.

After all, no other angel was going to pick a fight with the lead Angel of Diligence.

Remus yawned, leaning back to admire the drawing he had completed. He almost wished he could add some details, like a ruffle to the wings of the angel, or a scar or two along their skin. The sketch for the to-be mural just seemed so… bland. (At least he did not have to write, like Virgil did. The kid had a real knack for story-telling, but some of the things he was required to write for the ‘good of the reputation of the Angelic Kingdom’ was so boring and so much wasted potential that Remus had considered using the scrolls as snacks, if angels ate snacks — which they did not.)

He supposed that was what he signed up for, when becoming an artist. No single hair out of place. No negative interpretations. No misrepresentation of the angels in any way.

It was not too much of a loss. Nobody knew about his secret stash of personal sketches, decidedly not positive interpretations, in his room.

Remus, an Angel of Liberality, was one of the very few individuals who had the… Remus would think balls, Remus would say ‘bravery’ to be around Janus and Virgil during one of their fights.

Not much scared him. (Anymore, at least. He had faced the worst of his nightmares and come out simply fine. Not that he would voluntarily tell anyone this, though.)

Even when the walls shuddered with Janus’ bellow of, “ENOUGH!”

Remus strained his ears but did not hear Virgil reply. He put his scroll and quill down and ventured into the common area. Both Janus and Virgil’s faces were flushed red, their shoulders heaving.

After a moment, Janus visibly composed himself. He set his shoulders and folded his hands behind his back. He lifted his chin and did not meet Virgil’s eyes when he said, “You are dismissed.”

“Dismissed?” seethed Virgil. “This is my home—”

“It is ours, if not mine,” spat Janus, and Virgil recoiled, not looking any less angry. “You will not disrespect me.”

Virgil opened his mouth.

“I am older than you,” said Janus, because angels did not growl, even though Remus was quite sure that was almost a snarl. “You will follow my orders. You may leave.”

Virgil stared at him, his fingers twitching. Remus wondered if he was itching for a scroll. That usually happened to him when he wanted to sketch something down. Then he whirled around, his face twisted hatefully. He froze when he spotted Remus in the hallway, watching with rapt interest, but then squeezed passed him to the open archway of the house and shot into the sunlight.

Remus looked over at Janus. “What was that?”

Janus looked exhausted as he rubbed his eyes. “A mild disagreement about robes.”

Remus tilted his head. “These?” he asked, lifting a handful of the white robe he was wearing. Janus sighed.

“Yes.”

Remus waited for him to elaborate, but he did not. Remus shrugged. “They are a little gaudy.” Janus shot him a warning glare, but Remus was not fazed. He never was. “He will come around. He always does.”

“I do not know,” Janus said softly, because angels did not mutter. He sat at the table and heaved a quiet breath, leaning against the back of the chair, because angels did not slouch, even if they were emotionally drained. “It seems we will fight about anything, these days.”

Remus shrugged again. He did that a lot. He did not have an answer for the Angel of Diligence, so he moved to sit across from him. He did not know how to help; dinner was not for a few hours yet, and angels did not eat out of time.

“Sorry, Remus,” Janus said quietly, which was surprising, because angels did not apologise unless it was only very extremely necessary. Janus’ eyes were far away. “I doubt either of us mean to make you upset.”

“I am not upset,” Remus said, because angels did not lie. “I find it funny how you forget that the entire city can probably hear your little spats.” Janus did not even send a disapproving look in his direction, though Remus did not use the most... approximate angelic language. “You brought me in here. The least I can do is tolerate your dynamic.”

“This is not our dynamic,” Janus disagreed. “At least... it should not be our dynamic.”

Remus thought about that. “I am not the cause of your fighting, am I?”

“Certainly not,” Janus said vehemently. “Virgil is... tolerant of you, but not fond. He is not, however, jealous, nor unhappy with your presence.”

“Then why are you fighting so much?” Remus asked. He was aware his questions could start to become exhausting, but Janus did not seem to be getting tired of him.

“I do not know,” said Janus, and his voice was... strangely unstable. Like the verbal version of a wooden board wobbling. “I do not know, Remus.”

The two sat like that until it became time for dinner to be made, faces neutral and eyes blank.

Angels did not cry, no matter how much they might want to.

Virgil was not returning to the house.

He did not care what Janus thought, or what Janus wanted, or whatever the hell the Ancient Laws instructed angels to do. He was fairly sure angels were not supposed to yell, and yet his throat was strangely raw.

Angels also were not supposed to curse, but Virgil had already decided: fuck his brother, and those pretentious assholes who wanted to keep him stuck to a strict, pointless schedule for the rest of his life.

Virgil could not care less about speeches and presentation and perfection — he was not perfect. No one up there was, and the sooner they realised that the sooner he would find it in himself to return and maybe apologise.

But in the meantime, he was not going to sit around and be scolded for wearing ‘the wrong kind’ of clothes around his own house.

Maybe he was not supposed to be an angel. Maybe somehow, somewhere, the universe had fucked up and given him feathers and a bracelet instead of a tail and a pair of horns.

Branches whipped at his face, and he stumbled. He had gotten to the In Between faster than he thought he would. Maybe he had been flying faster than he realised.

He looked around at the strange, warped world, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Nothing lived here. Nothing could live here. A long time ago, the angels had chosen what gorgeous, superior beings they wanted to gift access into their kingdom, and the demons had been left with all the other unwanted creatures. The world In Between the two kingdoms was desolate, and empty, and still just as dangerous as a demonic fire ring with prancing hyenas.

Because any being, holy or not, sentient or not, spending too much time between worlds, without the source of either kingdoms’ power, would waste away until they were nothing but the still air.

Virgil wondered if that was what he wanted. If he wanted to cease to exist. If the kingdom was better off without him. It certainly did not seem like he was making much of a difference.

He did not growl, because angels did not growl (but was he even an angel anymore—?), but he made some sort of noise as he ripped his halo from its position as a bracelet on his wrist.

It dissolved when he threw it to the ground, but he did not feel any different. He wondered if he was supposed to, or if he really was as defective as he thought he was, no matter what Janus had ever tried to argue otherwise.

He sunk to the ground and found that he did not actually care if he was snuffed from existence.

“Oh, goodness!”

Virgil’s eyes snapped open.

“What in Lucifer’s name are you doing here—?”

Something touched his shoulder, and Virgil’s veins were shot through with panic.

Virgil reared back, shooting to his feet, and flaring his wings.

“No, no, hey, I’m sorry!” the voice yelped, and from where he was struggling to stay aloft in the air, Virgil stared at the speaker. They were small, at least smaller than Virgil, and he was considered short by angel standards. They held themselves oddly, like they were ready to bolt at any second, despite looking very intrigued with Virgil. Their sandy hair was either so curly that it covered the sides of their head completely, or they had no ears, which was too odd of an option, really. At least, it would have been if... Their... well, their legs were normal enough, apart from the strange elongation of their foot, and the fact that they had no toes, and only the hoof of a deer, or maybe pig.

“Calm down, kiddo,” they were saying, holding their petite hands up. “Just breathe. I’m sorry for startling you.”

Virgil scowled but dropped to the ground, finding it too hard to remain suspended in air. He eyed the newcomer dubiously.

“My name’s Patton,” they said, and Virgil felt his lip curling into what would have been a grimace — if angels grimaced, which they did not.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

The stranger looked surprised. “I just saw you curled on the ground. I was worried.”

Virgil stared at him, bewildered. Patton, it seemed, was undeterred, and smiled brightly.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Virgil.” The correct answer was, I am Virgil, as angels were instructed to respond, but... Virgil was not feeling like much of an angel at this moment.

Patton practically swooned. “That’s such a nice name!”

Virgil stared at him, baffled. What sort of answer was that? He did not have a nice name. He just had... a name. Like everyone else. It was neither nice nor not nice. Some names held more power than others, but his name was bland. Bland and boring and useless.

“You are very weird,” he decided.

Patton thought about that. “Um... Thanks!”

Virgil was getting more and more confused. “That was not a compliment.”

Patton frowned, and for a moment he almost thought that Patton may have been a big brother, because it was almost identical to the little pinch that Janus got between his eyebrows. “Virgil, buddy, that’s rude.”

It was then that Virgil noticed that the lack of normal looking ears was because of the pair of pale, flopping ears on either side of Patton’s head through his curls, and Virgil blanched.

“You are a demon,” he realised.

Patton tilted his head, and it reminded Virgil of a wild animal.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and you are an angel without a halo, in a world looking to destroy your wings.”

For a moment, Virgil was confused, but then he glanced back and saw a handful of white feathers fluttering to the ground. The In Between was taking its toll on him faster than he thought it would.

He shuddered, and more feathers floated down.

“Come with me,” Patton said, and Virgil’s head snapped around to glare at him. The demon smiled carefully. “It’s alright. My home isn’t far, it’s on the edges of the kingdom. You’ll be safe there.”

“I am an angel,” Virgil pointed out. He shifted uncomfortably. “I do not belong with demons.”

“What are your other options?” Patton asked. If Janus had said it, it would have been rhetorical; sarcastic, scathing. A tactic to make Virgil consider how stupid he was being. When Patton spoke, it sounded like a real question, like he genuinely wanted to know what else Virgil could do.

Virgil looked away and did not answer.

“Come with me,” Patton said again, beseechingly. “I promise, it’ll be alright.”

Virgil’s gaze darted around the landscape, then down to his shedded feathers. “Very well,” he muttered, because he did not feel like following angelic rules.

Patton beamed, turning. “Great! Follow me.”

Virgil followed him through the strange rock and twisting not-quite trees. The uneven ground bit at Virgil’s bare feet, who was used to gentle, cloudy floors. The world around them got darker, but Virgil was not sure how. It all became muddled, cloudy, but more like a night thunderstorm than tufts on a sunshine-lit day.

When Virgil squinted, he realised it was because the grey sky had morphed into a cloudy night sky. The underside of the clouds had a red hue, like reflecting a sunset, but Virgil could not see the light of a sun anywhere. There was a strange haze around the area, like the smoke of a fire. It was nothing blinding, but enough that Virgil had to squint to see anything in the far distance. Craggy mountain tops lunged for the dark, velvet sky, not anything more than dark silhouettes in the gloom. The ground was littered with natural rubbish, in the sense that it was far more cluttered than the In Between, where while the ground may have been uneven, it had no loose materials adding to its character. And of course, the Angelic Kingdom never had anything out of place on its perfect pathways. This place looked like it was constantly ravaged with tremors.

Virgil wanted to ask where they were, but he had a feeling that he already knew.

He followed Patton over the strewn ground, picking his way over the loose rocks and barbed shrubbery. There was a dark river cutting through the ground along the path they were walking, but Virgil did not want to look too closely. He could not tell if it was water or not, and whatever it was, was certainly not holy.

After too-long of Virgil trying desperately not to trip, a house of sorts cut through the odorless smog.

It looked ordinary, the closer they got. If Virgil was going to go for brutal honesty, he would call it closer to a hut than a house. Maybe a mound of somewhat sturdy dried mud and twigs pressed up against the base of a cliff. Or maybe those walls were just incredibly old, dirty bricks. He could not tell.

He wrinkled his nose. Was he going to be expected to say here?

An image flashed through his mind, of a haughty group of pompous angels frowning down at him from their palace in the white clouds, and Virgil decided he was happy with anything this strange little demon was going to offer.

“Is... this your home?” he asked, as politely as he could.

“It is!” Patton said.

Virgil looked between the demon and his home. “It is... nice.”

He obviously didn’t sound as convinced as he wanted to because Patton giggled, and said, “What? Did you think we all lived in gory, dark caves and castles?”

Virgil’s cheeks heated against his will. “I did not exactly... learn much about you.”

Patton’s gaze softened with sympathy. “Well,” he said, moved up to the blocked off entrance of the house in that odd, animalistic gait of his, “let’s try and change that, shall we?”

He opened the wall of the house and darted in. Virgil followed, having to duck slightly in the entranceway.

“I’m home!” Patton called out. Virgil looked around. It was... extremely cluttered, in the house. There was a hollow shelf, holding scrolls, like it was a very, exceedingly small library. There was a table with a thick, open tome with unintelligible scribbles across it, a small black stick resting beside it on the wood. A fireplace was positioned off to the side, with gathered crockery, looking as if they were washed with black water. Virgil thought about the river outside and wondered if that was not far from the truth.

“You’ve returned earlier than usual,” a new voice said, and a demon with dark, sharp lines staining the corner of his eyes materialised from the side wall. Wait, no, he had just done the same thing that Patton had done to get in... What were those strange, moving wall-parts? (And was he wearing eyeliner? Or was that natural?)

“Is everything— Oh.” The demon’s dark, gorgeous eyes found Virgil, and the angel suddenly felt very scrutinised. “Patton, this is an angel.”

“This is Virgil,” Patton corrected, and Virgil felt something in his chest react. “And he’s going to be staying for a long as he would like.”

The other demon blinked, and Patton turned to Virgil. “Virgil, this is Logan.”

The demon dipped his dark head, and Virgil wondered if all demons had strange skin colours like Patton’s dusty brown and Logan’s dark navy.

“Welcome,” Logan said, albeit a little stiffly. “I would say that I hope your stay hospital, but I have reasons to believe that this place is already... less than stellar compared to what you are used to.”

What Virgil was used to? Virgil was used to being judged. He was used to being yelled at. He was used to always being in the wrong, to being scolded for not being presentable enough, for being stared at and murmured about when he was thought to be out of earshot. He was used to not belonging — and while he had never felt more out of place than in this wrecked land of fire and brimstone and dark atmosphere, these demons were looking at him expectantly, like they cared about his opinion, like they cared about what he was going to say next.

His lips hedged on the beginnings of a smile.

“It is appreciated,” Virgil told Logan, and the unfairly pretty demon looked like he was preening. Something shifted behind him, and with a jolt, Virgil realised with a start that the long tailfeathers of a peacock were protruding from beneath his clothes.

Patton giggled and thumped Virgil’s hip with his own. The angel stumbled, and looked at Patton, perplexed. Was that some sort of greeting, in demonic language?

Patton did not notice his confusion, though, and looked around the house. “Where’s Roman?”

Virgil swallowed. How many demons lived here?

“Last I saw him, he was upstairs,” Logan said, moving to the table to peer down at the open book. “He was taking a break from writing.”

“Oh.” Patton’s odd ears dropped sympathetically. “Poor kiddo. He works so hard.”

“I doubt that anyone in the city will be even remotely interested in this novel, either,” Logan muttered, sounding mutinous. “No one cares for a grounded demon’s talent.”

“Grounded demon?” Virgil asked before he could stop him. The other two looked over at him.

“That’s what we are,” Patton said. “I’m sure you’ve always thought of demons with whipped tails and big bat wings, huh?” Virgil nodded. “Not all demons are like that. You angels have categories, right?”

Virgil stared at him blankly.

“The Seven Deadly Sins, and the Seven Heavenly Virtues,” Logan elaborated. “Humility, pride. Kindness, envy.”

“Oh.” Virgil’s wings shuffled with his shrug. “Yes. We called them Traits.”

“Well, some demons, like ones of pride and anger, tend to be more high ranking. They live in the centre of the kingdom, where most of the rich demons reside. They... uh...”

“Have superiority complexes,” a third voice said, and Virgil whirled around to see a demon descending the stairs that he had not previously realised were there. Where were those stairs on the outside of the house? Where was the second floor?

The third demon blinked sleepily at Virgil before yawning. “You’re new,” he said mildly.

“I am visiting,” Virgil said. The demon bobbed his head.

“You’re cute. You can stay.” He brushed past Virgil and headed over to the fireplace.

“Roman,” Patton said in a scolding voice. “No hitting on the guest.”

Roman shook himself, his wild hair flinging in all directions. From a distance, Virgil peered curiously at the little horns poking up through his wavy locks. Did all demons have animalistic features?

“As long as the guest doesn’t ask for it,” Roman said without looking back.

“I would not want to find endearment with a demon,” Virgil snapped. Roman glanced over his shoulder, and Virgil realised that his pupils were horizontal. The demon smirked, and it could have been hot, if Virgil was not already deeply unimpressed by his behaviour.

“You’re talking to a Demon of Lust, darling,” he said. “You don’t know what you want.”

“Roman,” Patton said in a warning voice, and Roman sighed heavily. Virgil had not realised his eyes had been glowing red until they dimmed to normal.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbled, and the silk in his silky voice switched out for a grumble. “Food, anyone?”

“Oooh, I’m hungry,” Patton said, bounding over. Virgil felt utterly lost. He looked over to Logan for help.

“Patton is a Demon of Gluttony,” Logan explained quietly, which was not really what Virgil had been silently asking. They both watched Roman and Patton rummage around in the fireplace. Virgil wondered if it was the demonic equivalent to a kitchen. “He often can’t help when he feels hungry, which is one hundred percent of the time. Indulging him is the best course of action.”

Virgil nodded carefully, considering that. “How are you… categorised?”

Logan kept his eyes on his demon friends. “I’m a Demon of Pride.”

“Should you not then be in the heart of the kingdom?” Virgil asked.

“I was born without wings,” Logan said plainly. “It happens, in some family lines. Genetic mishaps, mutations, so on and so forth. I did my best to live up to the standards of being a Demon of Pride, but quickly found it illogical to attempt to be someone I physically could not be.”

Virgil ducked his head. “I know the feeling,” he did not actually say.

“I am an Angel of Patience,” he murmured softly instead. Logan looked over at him, and nodded, once.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” Logan said. Virgil shrugged. He did not know why he had. For all he knew, these demons were going to sacrifice him to their gods and eat his flesh and bone. Maybe Virgil was so apathetic at this point that he did not care what these demons wanted from him.

He pulled away from Logan’s side, looking around the room. His gaze landed on the desk and book. “You were saying that Roman... writes?”

“As a pastime,” said Logan. “His tales are slightly too romanticised, and gaudy, but I can appreciate the artistry to them. He... has yet to achieve the same praise from anyone outside of me and Patton, however.”

“May I ask...” Virgil trailed off, but Logan waited patiently. Virgil pointed at the long black stick. “What is that?”

“Charcoal,” Logan said. He crossed to Virgil and picked it up. He pushed it to the corner of the page, and it left a blackened, dusty spot behind. When Logan put it back down, his hands were tinted that same dark colour. “It’s what we write with. Do you not?”

“Quills,” Virgil answered faintly. “The end of cleaned feathers and pots of ink.”

“Ah.” Logan shook his head. “I can’t say that we are as... sophisticated.”

“You don’t have feathers to use as quills,” Virgil reasoned.

“Quite right.”

“Virgil!” Patton bounded over. “Do you eat?”

“Of course he eats,” Roman said, prowling over with him, licking his lips. For a moment, Virgil thought he was being suggestive again, but then he realised he was eating... some clump of fur and meat in his hands. Virgil looked away before he could be sick. “Angels are notorious for being fed purely on bullshit and assholiness.”

“Roman!” Patton snapped.

“Just as demons are grovelling, snarling creatures of grime and spit,” Virgil retorted, lifting his chin to frown down at Roman.

For a moment, the Demon of Lust looked mildly surprised, and maybe impressed. Then he frowned, looking confused. “For an Angel of Patience, you’re not the nicest individual I’ve ever come across.”

“Roman!” Patton chided again, but Virgil was already feeling the fight leaving him, making way for the resigned depression.

“Perhaps some of us just do not belong where Fate claims they do,” he muttered.

Roman perked up at that, looking excited. “Ooo, bad-mouthing Fate? That’ll get you somewhere where you don’t want to be.”

Patton planted himself between the two of them. “Roman, that’s enough.”

Roman grumbled but subsided obediently.

“How did you hear me?” Virgil asked, changing the topic. “About my Trait.”

“Heightened hearing,” Patton answered with a sunny smile that looked a bit too forced. “Goats and pigs have it. Peacocks, too.”

“Goats and pigs?” Virgil echoed.

“The animals representing lust and gluttony?” Roman said from where he was now sitting at the desk. “Do you not know anything about culture?”

“Not yours,” Virgil said, and he did not mean for it to be an insult.

“Well, anyway,” Patton not-so-subtly interjected, “I got you something to drink. I hope it’s okay.” He handed a mug that did not have a handle over to Virgil, who took it and sniffed the warm contents inside. It smelt like chocolate, with hazelnut, and maybe milk. But the mug itself was so dark. Virgil wondered if it had even been washed.

“What do you wash the bowls with?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Patton looked slightly confused as he answered slowly, “We wash them with water, kiddo.”

Virgil looked at the mug in his hands dubiously. “They are black.”

“Oh, that’s just made of obsidian,” Patton answered. Virgil had no idea what he was talking about.

“It’s a type of stone you can get from volcanoes,” Logan explained, like he was explaining the existence of demons and angels to a human.

Virgil whirled on him. “There’s volcanoes out here?” he demanded.

Roman tilted his head. “Did you not see the huge mountain right next to our home?”

“Your home is built on a volcano?” Virgil cried.

“Beside,” correct Logan, “not on.” (Virgil was not reassured.)

He looked between the three demons and took a sip of the drink. It was sweet, almost syrupy as it went down. He waited for the burning, or the pain. For his airways to close and his brain to shut down and the demons to laugh as his vision faded.

“Is it good?” Patton asked expectantly.

“I like it,” Virgil answered honestly. Patton smiled.

“You let me know if you want any refills,” he said. “Would you like to eat anything?”

Virgil glanced over at where Roman was licking the blood his snack had left on his fingers. He froze when he found Virgil’s gaze locked onto him, and almost apologetically, said, “We have more than raw possum, if you wanted.”

Virgil was not sure what his face was doing, but it got a smile from Patton before the gluttonous demon darted back to the fireplace.

“Don’t you think you could have eaten that with slightly less mess?” Logan asked Roman.

“Hey, a demon’s got to do what a demon’s got to do. I’m hungry; I eat.”

“Yes, but you’re not exactly setting a great first impression to our guest,” Logan said, as if Virgil was not standing right beside them.

“Oh.” Roman looked over at Virgil. “My apologies, Patient Angel.”

It sounded more like a mockery of a nickname, and Virgil wrinkled his nose, but he had something else on his mind.

“You all speak strange,” he said honestly.

Roman’s eyebrows arched. “We’re the ones who talk strangely?”

“Roman.” Logan frowned at him.

Virgil thought about how to word what he was thinking. “Angels do not… shorten words, like you all do.”

Logan and Roman stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“You guys don’t speak in apostrophes?” Roman asked.

Virgil frowned. “Apostrophes?”

“Lucifer’s pitchfork...” Roman muttered under his breath with a shake of his head.

Patton arrived back with them, pushing a slate of what looked maybe like cream or yogurt into Virgil’s hands. “It’s got blueberries in it,” he said, also handing him a small, bent spoon.

Virgil looked at the little tub, to Patton, and back. Cautiously, he ate a spoonful. It tasted just as good as the drink, and did not kill him. He nodded approvingly. Patton beamed, and moved to hand Logan a platter of an assortment of foods that Virgil could not identify. The Demon of Gluttony darted back to the fireplace and returned with a bowl of what looked like crushed dragon fruit and maybe dried bread, but truly, Virgil did not have much clue as to what the food really was. He was about to ask when Patton and Logan both promptly sat on the ground.

The angel paused, startled. He looked around for a chair, but besides the one Roman was sitting in (backwards, now, as to see the others) at the desk, there were not any chairs. Slowly, Virgil lowered himself to the ground with them. He slowly ate through the meal Patton had provided him.

“Do you not have a schedule of meals?” Virgil asked finally.

Patton tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Angels cannot eat outside of the times on their schedules,” Virgil explained, and Patton looked horrified.

“We have no such rules,” Logan said. “No one moderates what we eat.”

“Bleh.” Roman made a face. “Imagine eating at the same time as everyone else. Gross.”

“Yes, the whole demonic kingdom would be covered in bloodied fur and splattered organs,” Virgil agreed sagely, and Patton burst into giggles. Even Logan looked like he was hiding a smile. Roman fumed in his seat.

“You’ll regret that, angel,” he growled, crouching on the seat.

For a terrifying moment, the demon launched from the chair, and Virgil waited for his throat to be ripped out.

But then Patton collided with Roman and the two thumped heavily to the floor, growling and snarling.

Virgil shot to his feet with a yelp, spilling the cream from his bowl. “Patton!” he shrieked, waiting for hot blood to spray onto the floor and Roman to go for Logan next.

But Roman only twisted, rolling Patton onto his back, and pinning him to the ground with a triumphant but breathy, “Ha!”

“Oh, very good,” Patton said, sounding frustrated and proud at the same time. “I could never beat you, anyway.”

“You certainly can’t,” Roman agreed. “You’re only small, Pattycakes. And you never had littermates to practice on.”

“Fair enough.” Patton sighed defeatedly. “You can’t always fight fire with fire.”

“Right.” Roman tossed his head importantly, so he missed the sly smirk creeping onto Patton’s face moments before his arms shot up to dig his hands into Roman’s sides.

The lustful demon shrieked, twisting to roll off Patton, who pounced on his friend, tickling him into the ground.

Still screaming and laughing, Roman hooking his arms over Patton’s waisted and dragging him down to be flush against his own body, preventing him from having the height advantage. Virgil was wondering if this was a common occurrence when Logan stepped in.

“Alright, alright.” The prideful demon moved towards them, his meal carefully placed to the side. Virgil glanced guiltily down at his spilled snack with a twist in his stomach. “That’s enough. We—”

Roman and Patton both lunged for Logan at the same time, dragging him to the ground into their cuddle pile.

Virgil tilted his head, almost trying to study them.

“Are you siblings?” he asked abruptly, and attention turned to him. For a moment, he felt guilty for interrupting their moment and cutting off their laughter, but then Roman’s returned, tenfold, and Virgil was pretty sure the only reason the demon had not curled into a ball yet was because of Patton and Logan’s weights pinning him flat to the ground.

“He thinks we’re littermates!” the Demon of Lust howled, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. Patton giggled with him. Logan did not laugh, but he did smile. Virgil was feeling far too out of place.

“No, we are not related,” Logan said to Virgil.

Virgil thought about Patton putting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder the moment he met him, and bumping their hips, and his spat with Roman, and now looked to where Logan was trying to explain further but was being distracted by the other two, and how he looked pretty far from professional from where he was squeezed into the snuggle pile.

“But you are so... touchy.”

Finally, the laughter died down again.

“I think demons are just like that,” Patton said, then drooped. “But... yeah, even for demon standards, I’ve been told I’m a bit much.”

“Not for us,” Roman said fiercely.

“You also live together,” Virgil went on. “Yet you are not related?”

“Is that an angelic rule?” Patton asked. His voice was gentle. Virgil nodded.

“As far as I am concerned, it is very common here for demons to live in family groups, but it is not a rule.” Logan pulled himself from the demons, despite Roman’s unhappy scowl. “It is, however, quite uncommon to contact and reside with demons outside of one’s category. Our group is... a bit of an anomaly.”

“I don’t know what that means but I bet it’s something super!” Patton chirped. He wiggled off Roman, who was looking more and more put-off with his cuddle buddies leaving him. “So... you’ve never been hugged, Virgil? Or touched, or anything?”

“I mean... sometimes,” Virgil mumbled. “When it was... really important.”

“Hugs are really important!” Patton said. “Would you like one right now?”

Virgil shuffled. “No, thank you.” He looked forlornly down at where he tipped over his food and guilt curled around him again. “I ruined your floor.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Patton said, waving his hands like he was waving away the issue.

Roman looked between the two of them, inquisitive, then yawned. “I’m tired.”

“You had a nap,” Logan said.

“I want another one,” Roman snapped. “Anyone care to join me?”

Virgil blanched, but the others did not react badly.

“Not tonight, kiddo,” Patton said. “We need to get Virgil sorted for where he’s going to stay. Wouldn’t want him to feel left out, now, would we?”

Roman grumbled under his breath and shot Virgil a dirty look, as if it was all his fault (and maybe it was) before stalking up the stairs like a prowling cat more than a grumpy goat.

“If you’re not siblings, are you partners?” Virgil asked. Patton and Logan shared a glance.

“It’s complicated,” Patton said carefully. “For... different reasons.”

“For starters, Roman is asexual,” Logan said, and Patton yelped and slapped him across the side of the head. The prideful demon instantly realised his mistake and ducked his head.

Virgil stared at him, trying to pick that apart. “An asexual Demon of Lust?”

Patton’s expression turned into something slightly more guarded and careful and utterly alien on that friendly face.

“It’s not unheard of,” he said, like he had to defend Roman.

“It’s possibly partly the reason he doesn’t belong anywhere but on the outskirts of the kingdom,” Logan said, and Virgil wondered if he had any tact.

Patton hissed at Logan, and he ducked his head, effectively ridiculed.

“I’m sorry, Virge,” the gluttonous demon said. “It wasn’t our place to tell you.”

“Roman has always been open about this,” Logan pointed out, and Patton frowned at him.

“That’s not quite the point, sugar,” murmured Patton, and Virgil tried not to wrinkle his noise. ‘Sugar’?

“Is everything okay?” Logan asked, and Virgil realised he’d been staring at the ground.

He looked up. “Is... is that normal, here?”

“Is what normal, kiddo?” Patton tilted his head.

Virgil did not know how to explain his question.

“There was... an angel I knew,” he started, slowly. “And... they did not like it when angels called them... a girl.” Patton’s eyes flooded with understanding, though Virgil was not sure how because he had not yet finished the story. “But... being who you are is something gifted to angels by Fate. It is a crime to think about changing it, and for anyone to agree. For that reason, angels are not to have makeup, or jewellery, unless it is for something like a theatre performance. So... this angel wanting to be called... ‘they’... was... shamed, and ignored, and eventually they just ran away, and they— she— ugh.”

Virgil made a very unlike angel noise and buried his face in his hands. He did not know why he was saying this, why he was asking these questions. Perhaps he had nothing left to lose. Maye he was just too tired to care anymore. Regardless of the reason, he was exposing himself to these demons — his kind’s sworn enemy — and he could not find it in himself to feel scared.

“It is hard to wrap my head around. Does that— Am I bad?”

“No.”

Surprisingly, the fierce answer came from Logan. Virgil looked up. The Demon of Pride was frowning, a flame in his eyes, but Virgil instinctively knew he was not the one in trouble.

“It is not your fault for being ignorant in a kingdom of arrogance,” Logan said firmly. “You are trying. You’re not ignoring us, like those other angels. Nor did you ignore that angel, just now, like anyone else did. That’s commendable.”

Virgil shook his head in disagreement but did not verbally protest.

“Did you ever hear from that angel again?” Patton asked with round eyes.

“No. Everyone thinks they just wasted away in the In Between. Their sister didn’t even care. She boasted that she was glad they were gone. My... my brother...”

Truth be told, Janus had followed along with just about everything the other angels had said. He had nodded along to their angry rants, and scowled in disgust, and tutted disapprovingly, all at the right points.

But when Virgil had stopped and looked, really looked, he had seen the tightness in Janus’ jaw. The tortured look in the back of his eyes. The way he would walk away from the conversation with clenched fists and tense shoulders.

He had not agreed with what the kingdom had been saying, but he had not had the bravery to say otherwise. Virgil was not much better; he was just as much of a coward.

“Angels have always been... close minded.” Logan spoke carefully, like he was stepping on glass.

“Not all of them.” Patton said with a smile in Virgil's direction, and if he was not so emotionally drained, Virgil may have blushed. Logan hummed in agreement, and then disappeared upstairs.

Patton led Virgil upstairs to a room at the end of a hallway. It was scattered with mink blankets and camel skins. The bed was long and low to the ground. The only light source was the hazy light from outside, hovering into the room through a window to cast the room in a red glow. It was a strange bedroom, far more different than Virgil’s back in the Angelic Kingdom.

“Was this... a spare room?” Virgil asked.

“What? No, silly, it’s my room!” Patton said brightly. Virgil blanched.

“I’m— I’m not staying in your room,” he said.

“Of course you are!”

“No!” Virgil cried. “I could not do that! It’s your bed!”

“Oh, I’ll just sleep on the floor downstairs.”

“No!” Virgil cried again, feeling more and more distressed. Who did he think he was? Invading the demons’ home like this, eating their food, ruining their carpet? Stealing Patton’s bed?

“No, no, it’s okay,” Patton was saying, rubbing his hands up and down Virgil’s bare arms. His skin burned under the demon’s touch. “It’s alright, sweetheart, breathe.”

“I do not want to steal your bed,” Virgil said through weird pants that were ravaging his body. “I do not... I...”

“Alright, honey. Okay.” Patton’s breath warmed Virgil’s cheek, and Virgil wondered distantly if Patton was standing on the tips of his toes to reach him. “No bed-stealing here. Okay?” Virgil nodded. “Okay. Come on, then.” He started to pull Virgil towards the bed.

“Hey, hey, no,” Patton said when Virgil jerked away from him. “It’s okay. You’re not kicking me out.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Virgil offered. “I can leave—”

“No, no,” Patton insisted softly, crawling backwards into the bed, and gently pulling Virgil in with him. “Relax, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

“We—” Virgil swallowed. “We are sharing the bed?”

“I will not have a guest of mine sleep on the floor,” Patton said vehemently. Virgil tried to hide his smile. “And I don’t want to freak you out, so... this is a compromise?”

Virgil looked around the dim room, and then down at the demon, curled beside him, looking worried. He did not hide his smile that time.

“It is a good compromise,” he decided, and when Patton smiled that smile of his, Virgil found himself falling asleep easily.

Virgil awoke to the sounds of chatter and the smell of cooking meat.

He sat up, first confused at his unfamiliar surroundings, before remembering Janus, and the In Between, and Patton... And he was out of bed in quite a hurry.

He looked down at his wrinkled tunic. He thought about the near-rags the demons had worn yesterday, and how different their society was to angels, and wondered if they would care for his... unimpressive appearance.

He descended the stairs, found the three demons sprawled out around the floor, and decided they really would not.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, and Roman jumped three feet in the air. Virgil was seriously starting to doubt he was not a cat.

“Oh. You weren’t a fever dream,” he said blandly.

Logan sighed pointedly. Roman ducked his head but did not apologise.

“Good morning, Virgil,” Logan returned with a nod.

“‘Morning!” Patton chirped. “Here, we tried cooking some food for once. Um. I hope it’s okay.” He scampered over to pass him a plate of something that was almost burnt.

“Thank you,” Virgil said. He peered closely at it. “Angels do not have... whatever this is.” Roman gave an indignant squawk. “What is it?”

“Meat,” offered Patton.

“Food,” grumbled Roman.

“It is crocodile,” answered Logan.

Virgil almost dropped the plate. “What?”

Patton’s shoulders drooped. “It was the freshest meat we could get. Only a little bit! And we skinned it, don’t worry!”

Virgil wondered if he was turning green. “I-I do not think that I am very hungry.”

Patton’s face fell. “Oh.”

Something inside Virgil twisted at his crestfallen expression. “Uh—” he stuttered, which was odd because angels did not stutter. “Do you have cutlery?”

Patton instantly brightened and darted away to bring back a single fork. He moved around a lot, Virgil thought.

He held up the fork. “What... I...”

“You eat with it,” Patton said.

Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I am to pick up this entire slice with a fork and... what, eat it in one gulp?”

“Do it, coward,” egged Roman. Patton and Virgil whirled to glare at him, but as Patton opened his mouth to scowl him, Virgil took the challenge head on and shoved what he could of the meat into his mouth.

It was chewy, and embarrassingly too much, and Virgil made a mess, but he managed to chew and swallow the whole piece in one go, and the demons looked thoroughly impressed.

“I rescind my ‘coward’ comment,” Roman said faintly, and Virgil would have smiled triumphantly if he was not so busy trying desperately to wipe his mouth clean. Patton giggled, and a moment later he was in front of Virgil, wiping his lips with the end of his torn sleeve.

Virgil blinked down at those sparkling blue eyes, so bright compared to his dark skin. If all demons were this gorgeous (which Roman and Logan were not, but they were still close) Virgil figured he would struggle to stay here much longer.

He ducked away before anyone of them could see the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Well, that was disappointedly uneventful.” Roman stood up and stretched. “I’m going to head out for the day.”

“Whatever for?” Logan asked. “You were out all of yesterday.”

“Inspiration, Bird Brain!” Roman said brightly. “There’s bound to be inspiration somewhere out there, and I just have to find it!” He padded over to the blocked entrance way and promptly... unblocked it.

“May I ask something?” Virgil blurted, and the demons looked back at him, surprised.

Patton inclined his head. “Something on your mind, kiddo?”

Virgil moved from Patton’s side to Roman’s and stared at the strange entranceway. He pointed at it. “What... what is this?”

“A... door?” Patton asked slowly.

Virgil looked between the demons and the door. “Angels do not have doors.”

“Satan, are there anything that angels do have?” Roman muttered.

“A good sense of who is an unnecessary dick,” Virgil said imperiously. Roman gaped at him. Virgil was not sure if he was more offended or impressed.

“Why don’t we all go out for the day?” Patton suggested abruptly. “We can help Roman look for something to write about and have a picnic at the same time!”

“Demons have picnics?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sure it’s not nearly as appealing as your sunlit, wind-filled ventures,” Roman sniped with a vicious smile, “but I’m sure we can find some place that will be just as dazzling.” Virgil wrinkled his nose sceptically. Roman grinned merrily over his shoulder. “Come on, then!” He disappeared out the door.

Logan rolled his eyes. “He’s damn hopeless,” he muttered, moving after him regardless. “Are you two coming?”

Virgil followed the trio of ambling demons out into the wasted landscape of red rock and hazy smoke. He eyed the burned-up shrubbery and shallow craters dubiously. Did Roman really think he could find a place that could rival a picnic area like those they had in the Angelic Kingdom, with a gentle breeze and clear air and brilliant sun? Maybe the real reason he could not write something good enough for the city’s attention was that he was just delusional.

After almost tripping over multiple loose rocks, having his robes caught on several spiked, burnt shrubbery and having a particularly scary, too-close encounter with a suddenly bursting geyser, Virgil was ready to end the adventure and drag the demons back to the house — or at the very least, trudge back on his own.

It was entirely unfair that the demons seemed to move much easier than him.

Roman, at the front of the group, had a pounce in his step. He leapt over boulders with ease and almost pinged off the ground each time he moved. Logan stepped lightly, delicately, but still with so much more grace than Virgil could manage. Even Patton, who supposedly was a Demon of Gluttony, totted pleasantly along, having no trouble with the difficult terrain.

It was an obvious given, but Virgil was not built for this hellbent place.

“Ready, you angelic pain?” Roman called, bringing Virgil from his thoughts. He looked up to see that they were approaching a strange wall of thorned bushes. Virgil was not sure there were even any flowers or leaves on the branches. He scowled.

“Ready to walk back to the house accompanied with thorn-sized divots covering my body? It’s a hard pass from me.”

Roman threw his head back and laughed. Without another word, he reached forward and brushed a portion of the branches aside, the thorns scraping harmlessly against his rough, dark skin, and Logan ducked through the created entrance.

Patton wiggled with delight and bounded right after, but Virgil hesitated. He could not see what was beyond the thorn wall. He glanced between Roman and where the other two had disappeared.

The Demon of Lust only smiled toothily. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

Virgil scowled again and brushed passed him, carefully avoiding stray branches.

Now, Virgil grew up — literally — in the light. He was used to bright days and no cloud cover. Houses were always lit with sunlight and extra candles and orbs of brightness. Even nighttime had sparkled with stars and the overhead moon.

Fair to say, Virgil’s eyes were used to intense, beaming displays.

Virgil was not prepared for the blazing light that assaulted him the moment he crossed through the thorn bush wall.

He might have actually staggered (which angels were not supposed to do under any circumstance) because he felt far too unsteady on his feet until a warm hand pressed to his back. His hands had risen automatically to shield his face, and he squinted desperately to see through his fingers at the blinding light.

“Oh, bad luck!” Roman’s voice said, just behind him. “Don’t worry, it just pulses sometimes. The blindness will recede eventually.”

“Eventually?” Patton squawked, somewhere at Virgil’s side. Virgil could just about hear Roman rolling his eyes.

“Fine, fine! Here, keep your eyes closed.” A pair of warm fingers pushed down on Virgil’s eyelids, and he fought against the urge to pull away. The hands were gentle and careful, and it almost felt like they were rubbing the light from behind his eyes.

After a moment, Roman retracted his hands, and Virgil’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked, then blinked again, trying to find something to focus on.

Patton’s bright blue eyes and curious expression and careful smile, it seemed, were mighty fine things to look at.

“Are you okay?” the gluttonous demon asked.

“He’s fiiiiine,” groaned Roman. “Come on, come on! I want to show you around!”

Virgil shook his head to clear it, took a step back, and gaped at their surroundings.

There were in a crater, but one that must have been thousands of years old, because the ground was regrowing its strange plant life, with some new additions including startling coloured blooming flowers and huge leaves. There was no life within the crater, as much as Virgil could tell, but the plants themselves looked like they were sentient lifeforms, waving in a non-existent wind and snapping at air.

Above them, the cloudy haze had lifted, at least a small bit, to reveal an obsidian sky above, so much darker than Virgil was used to. There was no moon, and no visible stars.

In the centre of it all, most likely the thing that had caused the crater to begin with, was an enormous, glimmering rock.

Virgil felt, frankly, quite faint.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Roman boasted. “I tried jumping on it, but it was way bigger than I anticipated. And I did NOT fall on my ass, before any of you say anything, because you can’t prove it!” No one was paying attention to him, though.

“A dying star,” Logan breathed, somewhere off to Virgil’s side. Virgil turned on him, startled.

“What?” He glanced back at the glowing stone. “That doesn’t make any sense! It’s solid, it’s not gas — that’s not possible— and there’s no stars around here anyway! What— i-it’s glowing, it’s— what?”

Silence followed him, and he looked around at the others.

“That’s the nerdiest thing I’ve experienced since Logan,” Roman said, flabbergasted.

Virgil ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “It just... took me off-guard.”

Patton giggled. “It’s okay.” He touched Virgil’s arm, only lightly, so Virgil would later wonder why it felt as if little pricks of lightning were shooting through his nerves. “It was cute.”

“Oh my GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD,” Roman complained. “I’m going down to find a spot to sit before you guys make me sick.”

Before Virgil could pick that comment apart in his confusion, Logan said, “You knew this was here,” in an astounded voice.

Roman threw a grin over his shoulder. “Yep.”

Logan sighed, raising his eyes to the starless sky above. “Unbelievable.”

It was only after the four of them settled onto a smooth section of rock, away from any hungry-looking plants, that Virgil realised they had not grabbed any food for the ‘demon picnic’. He must have had a look that spoke his confusion as much, because Patton tilted his head in his direction.

“What’re you thinking about, kiddo?” he prompted.

“When... what do you do on picnics?” Virgil asked. “There’s no... wine, or cheese, or... anything.”

“I thought angels didn’t eat out of time,” Roman said, only a little snidely.

Virgil met his eyes with a challenge. “Angels have designated picnic schedules.”

Roman’s eyebrows rose. He rubbed his face. “When do they make these rules?” he muttered. “Before or during your stages as a minor?”

Virgil lifted his chin, ready to reply... but why was he defending that kingdom? What did he care what these demons, who demonstrated more care and welcome than an entire lifetime of being with the angels had provided?

He lost his assertive posture. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, some of the rules are pretty dumb.”

Roman laughed, but there was something, deep in his eyes, that looked pained, and forced. “They certainly are.” He stood. “Better go find something to eat. Any requests?”

Strange tradition aside, Virgil offered, “Not crocodile.” Roman laughed again, and this time Virgil’s lips twitched in amusement. The sound was contagious.

“Very well,” the Demon of Lust said. “I will endeavour to find the best but crocodile for our angelic guest.”

It was after he left back through the thorn barrier that Virgil said, “For a lustful demon, he is very... enthusiastic about things that don’t involve... romance.”

“He’s showing off,” Logan said.

“He’s always been like that,” said Patton at the same time. The two glanced at each other. “It’s a bit of both,” Patton continued after a moment. “He insists on doing the hard work, like fetching water and food and anything else hands-on for us. It’s sweet.”

Virgil frowned. “Why?”

Patton ducked his head.

“It could be to do with the derivative views of Demons of Lust,” Logan explained slowly. “They usually aren’t the most... proper of demons. They live in the heart of the city, but from their nature you can guess what majority of their occupations entail.” Virgil grimaced and Logan nodded empathetically. “Demons of Lust tend to be... uh.” He cleared his throat. “Good with their hands, and Roman intends to prove that he can be useful in other ways.”

Virgil gaze down at the smooth ground beneath his legs.

“He's been through a lot,” Patton said, his shoulders drooping. Virgil wanted to wipe that sad look off his face, but he did not even know what to say, let alone how to act.

Logan hummed in agreement. “Yes, especially—”

Patton’s head shot up to give him a dark look, and he promptly stopped talking. Virgil looked between the two of them. “What?”

“Nothing,” Logan said, too quickly. He eyed Patton uncertainly before lowering his gaze. “It’s... nothing.”

“I have food!” Roman’s voice sang, and a moment later he was bouncing back through the bush towards them, in that cheerful gait of his. He trotted over to dump the gathered food before them. A group of collected berries, some weird, thick leaf-things, and a carcass of a dead animal about the length of Virgil’s arm.

“Why didn’t you just bring food with you when we left the house?” Virgil’s wings fluttered as he picked up a dark berry and squinted at it.

“Food doesn’t keep. Well, meat doesn’t,” Roman said, and Virgil had a hard time listening to anything he said when he talked as if he knew how food in the Angelic Kingdom kept. “Got to eat while it’s fresh!”

Virgil politely declined the meat, and focused on the variety of berries, and a couple of the strange leaves. They were filled with a weird substance, almost tasting like mince of sorts, and if Virgil was not sure weirded out by them, he probably would have eaten far more.

As it was, he had never had much of a big appetite, and he sat back after only a few minutes of eating.

It gave him a chance to study the others while they were distracted. They ate like ravenous wolves, and Virgil was half glad he had finished, because he probably would have lost his appetite even quicker.

Patton ate like he had not been fed in years, and Virgil’s eye roamed over his lean figure and exposed ribs and wondered distantly if he was constantly starving. Roman ate with all the grace and poise that Virgil expected from a Demon of Lust, and that was the same amount as any other demon — that is to say, little to none at all. He had gone quarters with the other two with the meat, and was tearing into it, muck and blood splattering from his lips and staining his knuckles. Logan focused more on the neater foods, but even he managed to look like he was fighting the food more than eating it.

Needless to say, it was a strange, mildly frightening experience.

Once they were finished, though, and had wiped the evidence from their lips and hands, the trio were back to their normal, grinning states. Virgil wondered if all demons went feral over meals and would not have been surprised by a positive answer.

“You didn’t eat much,” Patton said, almost mournfully. Virgil shrugged, and gifted him a hint of a smile.

“I could not have let you guys go hungry,” he said with a glimpse of mirth in his eyes. Patton clearly saw it and beamed back. God, that was almost as blinding as the dying star. He glanced back at it. “How did you find this? What science could possibly be behind it? You will have to explain it to me.”

Roman fell onto his back. “Oh, great,” he bemoaned. “Now we’re going to have to listen to Tail Feathers preen and gush about the stupid science behind a fallen, dying star. What’s so interesting about the logic of it? It’s a giant jewel from the sky! Cool enough as it is.”

Patton lightly whacked his knee. “Hush. You like listening to him.”

So the pair of them — and Roman, though it was obvious he tuned in and out — listened as Logan talked about the Demonic Kingdom and it’s landscape and surrounding atmosphere, how it tied into the world and kingdoms around it, and why it was so special that a dying star landed there of all places.

Logan talked quite a bit, Virgil quickly found, as he was still babbling even as they began to leave the crater. Virgil was not getting bored of listening to him, however, and was not about to complain. Roman obviously did not have the same opinion.

“OKAY WE GET IT,” Roman hollered after Logan had gone off on a tangent about the nonexistence of a sun and moon in the Demonic Kingdom. Virgil was unable to smother a snort of amusement, and Logan shot him a sly smirk. Virgil hoped Logan had kept talking just to bother Roman. “YOU’RE SMART AND ALL OF YOUR SMART, SCIENTIFIC WORDS ARE GOING OVER OUR HEADS, LET’S TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE NOW.”

“Actually, ‘nerdjacking’ is neither a smart nor scientific word,” Logan correctly mildly. Roman stared uncomprehendingly at him. Logan’s lips twitched. “It’s made up.”

Roman shrieked furiously, and Virgil burst out laughing as he lunged for Logan and widely missed, causing him to tumble across the dusty ground.

“Wow, able to catch crocodiles but not peacocks?” Logan said, mock-curiously. “You have an interesting skill set, Roman.”

“YOU FIEND!” the lustful demon screeched, and the pair darted off in the direction of the house, leaving Virgil and Patton a giggling mess in their dust.

Well, Virgil was giggling, and at first, he thought Patton was too, until he realised the demon was staring at him with a blank expression and wide, round eyes. Laughter died on his lips. “Is everything okay? Did I do something?”

Then Patton’s face split with that incredible smile again, and his eyes may have honestly started watering.

“Your laugh is... is...”

“Oh.” Virgil ducked his head, feeling his face heat up. He smiled, a little. “Yeah. I... I haven’t laughed like that in... a long time.”

A pair of hands cupped his cheeks and brought his gaze to meet Patton’s. “I hope we can keep that,” he said, voice quiet and lips soft and do not think about it, Virgil, stay strong. “I really, really hope we can keep you laughing like that.”

“What?” Virgil straightened, becoming too tall for Patton to reach, and smirked. “Does it fuel your ever-constant hunger for angel blood?”

Patton giggled and shook his head. “No. It just... makes me happy.”

Something in Virgil’s heart shifted and oh, that was not fair.

“Should we try and catch up?” he said, nodding to where Logan and Roman had disappeared off to. “Just to make sure Logan hasn’t actually been eaten or something by Roman.”

Patton chuckled. “Or that Roman hasn’t broken anything with his misplaced attack attempts.”

In agreement, the pair walked hand-in-hand after the other two, and Virgil prayed Patton wouldn’t look up and see the blush on his face.

It must have been a week, or maybe two, when Virgil woke up and his daily routine was interrupted by a particularly disturbing new variable.

Virgil often slept in far longer than the demons. He had come to find that this was because demons slept twice, throughout night and day, preferring to have two long naps that broke up their day instead of sleeping all in one period. It was strange, but Virgil learned to adjust (especially after he realised that they had been neglecting their second nap during the first few days to accommodate for him.) He’d gotten used to their routine, like how Roman was the one who often got food but Patton was the one who dished it out, or how Logan often zoned out when he read, or Patton’s daily wandering walks out of the house, which Virgil had learnt was how he had been found by the demon in the first place.

So, Virgil often woke up from his shared bed with Patton alone, and could go about getting ready by himself. His robes now were dirtied and torn from the toll adventuring would take on his outfit. At first, he was concerned that they would see him as improper, and dirty, and hate him and order him to leave, but they had barely batted an eye. They didn’t care for his tattered clothes, and frankly if they didn’t, neither did he.

He could merely dress, splash his face with fresh, warm basin water, and would go downstairs. He could resort to combing his hands through with his fingers. The demons didn’t use hairbrushes. Virgil could get used to all of this.

Except as he moved his hands through his hair, he brushed against something — a pair of soft, fuzzy somethings that moved with his touch — and he shrieked.

Virgil staggered downstairs at the same time as the demons lunged up to him, worrying over him, demanding to know what happened, why he screamed.

Babbling uncontrollably, Virgil grabbed Logan’s wrists and shoved his hands in the direction of the weird new appendages growing from his head.

Logan’s fingers gently glossed over them, and he relaxed.

“Ah,” he said, as if everything made sense. “Don’t panic, Virgil. They are simply ears.”

“I have a pair of perfectly good ears on the sides of my head!” Virgil cried. “Why do I have these?” He yanked at the fuzzy ears and ignored the pain that shot up his skull. Patton yelped.

“No, no, don’t do that!” He darted forward to try and ease Virgil’s hands from his head. “Don’t pull on them, honey, it’ll just hurt.”

“Easy, city slicker.” Roman grinned. “That’s normal. See, check these out.” He bent his neck at an awkward angle to expose his goat horns, and Patton gently moved Virgil’s hands to feel them cautiously. “Everyone has animal traits.”

“Demons have animal traits,” Virgil corrected.

The three demons glanced at each other.

“Yes,” Logan responded slowly, “and so can Turned Angels.”

Virgil blanched. “W-what? Angels can... can turn into demons?”

Logan glanced at the other two, who weren’t giving him any help. He nodded almost uncertainly, like he didn’t want to say the wrong thing to set anyone off. “It’s... possible.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Virgil cried, and the three of them recoiled from him as he began to pace. His wings flared open and shut, agitated. “There’s no— that— Really?”

Roman, suddenly snappish, growled, “Are you going to take our word for it or are you just going to keep blabbering all day?” Virgil paused, and waited for Patton or Logan’s reprimand. It didn’t come.

He turned away, hugging himself.

“Oh, baby.” Patton’s soft voice and warm breath reached his arm as the demon wrapped his arms around his torso. “It’s scary, I know. If you returned to the Angelic Kingdom now, your demonic traits wouldn’t be permanent. You could go back and return to normal if you’d like.”

And somehow that was even more horrifying than the idea that he was turning into a demon.

Virgil suddenly realised how silent it was around him, like the others were too scared to even breathe in his presence.

“No.” He let out a long breath. “No, it’s okay. Well. It’s not okay, but it will be. I will be okay.” He turned in Patton’s arms and pulled the little demon to his chest. He looked over Patton’s head to Logan and Roman. “I’m sorry for scaring all of you.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Patton said. “You could never!”

Logan and Roman didn’t interject, but Logan inclined his head in mute acceptance and forgiveness. Roman didn’t meet anyone’s gazes.

“I’m going to look for inspiration,” he muttered finally, and pushed past Virgil and Patton to disappear out the door. Patton half reached for him, protests dying on his lips. He drooped, defeated, in Virgil’s grip.

“Sorry,” Virgil said again.

“It was not entirely your fault,” Logan assured him. “Roman...”

“He’s not sensitive,” Patton defended quickly.

“I wasn’t going to say he was,” Logan assured him. “It’s a bit of a sore topic for him.”

Virgil fidgeted with his hands. Patton stilled them when he clasped their fingers together. “I feel like there’s more to him than you guys are ever going to tell me.”

“He has a brother,” Logan said, and wasn’t that just a proving point to Virgil’s statement? “He doesn’t live with him because it is forbidden.”

“I thought demons could live with whoever they like,” Virgil said.

“Demons can,” Logan confirmed.

“Angels can’t,” Patton said softly.

When the reality of what he’d just been told, Virgil stumbled back. He sat on the ground, staring at the carpet. There was a dark stain there, made by a spilled tub of blueberry yogurt.

“He’s an angel,” he said faintly. The demons’ silence answered his unasked question. “He’s an angel.”

“He was,” Patton corrected, moving to sit before him. “He’s a demon now, kiddo.”

Virgil shook his head. “But— he was so confused! About angel rules, and me, a-and...”

“He left a long time ago,” Logan said. “Times change.”

Virgil rubbed his hands over his face, his mind racing. Lust, his mind said, quietening the other thoughts, and he looked up, realising he had said that aloud. “Chastity. He was an Angel of Chastity.”

“Indeed.” Logan dipped his head.

It explained a few things, at least. Roman’s mutinous comments about angels, his lack of sexual preference, why he liked exploring the demonic world.

“Why did he leave?” Virgil asked. “Was he sick of the pretentious rules, too? But... he had a brother. Why would he leave his brother?”

Patton and Logan exchanged looks.

“That’s not our place,” Patton said softly. “We’ve already been telling you far too much.”

“You know he wouldn’t mind.” Logan moved to massage his nimble fingers into Patton’s tense shoulders. Virgil felt a spike of jealousy curl in his gut. Why didn’t he think to do that for Patton?

“Should I go after him?”

“Why don’t we draw something?” Patton suggested, glancing up to Logan. “Roman got those new blank scrolls the other day.”

Logan smiled. “Good idea.” He moved the bookcase and brought back a thick, empty scroll that he laid out in the middle of their small circle. He set the charcoal pencil beside it.

“I’m not very good at drawing,” Virgil admitted quietly.

“That’s no issue.” Logan waved a hand, like he was physically dismissing the apology.

Patton smiled, and shuffled over to lean into Virgil’s side. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, and pressed a chaste kiss to Virgil’s cheekbone. “I’m not great at it either.”

Virgil’s mind was so busy malfunctioning that he completely missed the first half of the demons’ drawing game. When he eventually tuned back in, face still aflame and heart still thumping madly, he found that Patton and Logan were taking turns in drawing on the scroll’s canvas. So far, they had created a flat landscape with a single silhouette of a tree positioned on the side.

“Ready to play?” Patton asked with a sly look in his direction. If he had been in his right mind, Virgil would have cursed him. As it was, he could barely reply with a ‘thank you’ as Patton passed him the charcoal piece. He looked uncertainly down at the half-drawing and tried to think about anything but the way his cheek was still on fire. The charcoal rubbed against his pale skin.

Slowly he leaned forward, picked a spot where he wanted to draw, and carefully, he began to sketch.

It was sloppy, and too bulky, and not the right shape, but once Virgil pulled back from his attempt at a moon, both Patton and Logan seemed floored.

“That’s gorgeous, Virgil!” Patton said. Virgil shrugged.

“It’s...” He was aiming to say ‘nothing,’ but he found he couldn’t push down Patton’s praise as easily after that kiss. “Thanks.”

Patton grinned and leaned against him, resting his head on the edge of his shoulder. Virgil didn’t tense like he wanted to, but fire still ran up the skin where Patton touched him. He wondered if that was normal but didn’t want to interrupt Logan as he frowned and drew what looked like cloud cover over Virgil’s moon.

It was beginning to look like a beautiful landscape (with a far-off ocean, a setting sun blanketing the surrounding area in rimmed darkness, an overhead moon peeking through some clouds with its star brothers and sisters) when Roman arrived back.

“Got dinner,” he mumbled, and dropped a sack of grain, meat, and salt rocks next to the fireplace.

“Oh, thank—!”

Roman slammed the front door closed when he left again before Patton could finish.

For a moment, the three of them glanced between each other.

Then Virgil sighed quietly and stood. “I’m going to go talk to him.” Logan nodded, once, and Patton attempted to smile but Virgil could see the force behind it. He turned quickly so Patton wouldn’t have to keep up the act and moved to the door.

He knocked on it experimentally, but got no reply, so he opened it and slipped outside.

Roman was sitting to the side, leaning against the house. He didn’t look mad, or even sad. His eyes were worryingly blank.

“Sorry for snapping, earlier,” he said dully.

“It’s alright,” Virgil said, almost instantaneously. He sat down beside Roman, mirroring his position. “I... must have done something wrong, so—”

“No.” Virgil swallowed, glancing at the demon, who was slowly shaking his head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

The pair sat in silence. Roman still looked slightly dazed. Virgil fidgeted with his hands.

“So...” he said after a minute, “you have a brother?”

Immediately he wanted to screw his jaw closed, but Roman didn’t react badly.

“I do,” he simply confirmed. Virgil took it Roman also understood that he now knew his past of an ex-Angel of Chastity.

“Did you leave because... you weren’t happy with having a brother?” Virgil asked softly, that mystery still unsolved.

Roman shook his head. “I was fine with it.” He didn’t offer anything else. Virgil felt a little out of his depth, to be the one trying to keep conversation with the usually loud, energetic demon.

“Was your brother not happy with it?” he asked instead.

“He was also fine with having a brother,” Roman said, and Virgil was at a loss. Roman finally raised his head, but instead of looking at Virgil, stared off into the distance. His eyes were the same discoloured red as the bricks behind them, as opposed to the bright blood that had locked onto Virgil the first time he stepped into the house. “It was... the Ancient Angels who had issues.”

Virgil’s eyebrows twitched. “That’s odd,” he mused thoughtfully. Had he ever experienced something like that? Had he ever even heard of something like that? “You can’t help who you are related to.”

Roman’s voice was quiet when he responded, “That’s not entirely the point, Virge.”

Virgil’s shoulders drooped. He was still confused. “Oh.”

Roman looked over at him from the corner of his eye, and when Virgil glanced over at them, there were hints of mirth returning to his gaze, his lips curling the tiniest bit upwards.

“You know, if you’re going to be sticking around, I think I need to think of some new nicknames.”

Virgil scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What, names like Angel Ass and Featherbrain weren’t good enough for you?”

“To be fair, Featherbrain is Logan. He’s the peacock.”

“And what do you think I am?” Virgil challenged.

Roman shrugged. “Who knows? With these little suckers.” He reached up and tugged — gently — on Virgil’s ears, and he laughed and batted him away. “How does a hyena sound?”

“A hyena?” Virgil squawked.

“You laugh like one,” Roman said with a grin. “And you are quite greedy when it comes to Patton’s attention.”

“Hey!” Virgil shrieked. “No! I am not!”

Roman hooted with a laugh, scrambling away as Virgil lunged for him.

“Maybe you're a pig, like him!” he guffawed. “And you just need to wait it out until they grow more! It’s simply meant to be!”

“Shut up!” Virgil was laughing too hard to make an effective opponent, and Roman kept scampering out of the way of his grabs. It took a minute for Virgil to realise that Patton and Logan must have heard their ruckus and emerged from the house to watch the two of them scuffle.

Roman noticed them, lit up, and was bowled over when Virgil finally managed to catch him off-guard.

“Ha-ha!” He grinned down at Roman. “I win.” Roman pouted for a moment before smirking.

When his fingers tug into Virgil’s side, the angel merely raised an eyebrow. Roman’s face fell.

“Wait, what? Why aren’t you— That’s supposed to work!”

“I’m not ticklish,” Virgil announced with an air of victory. Roman groaned and squirmed indignantly.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and Virgil grinned toothily.

Roman startled, then, and peered closely at him. He reached up and his fingers just barely brushed against Virgil’s bottom lip. He jerked back, startled, and Roman, bashed, blushed.

“Sorry. Just, uh... pointy.”

Virgil frowned. “What?”

Roman pointed at his mouth, and Virgil ran his tongue over his teeth to find that, horrifyingly, there were indeed pointed.

“Everything okay?” Patton had moved up beside them, and Virgil shuffled off Roman. He swallowed.

“I really am turning into a demon, aren’t I?” he said quietly.

Patton’s eyes flooded with sympathy.

“You don’t have to,” Roman said, sitting up, before Patton could speak. “You could leave.” It wasn’t the same snappish tone he had used before fleeing the house. It wasn’t even remotely annoyed. Roman looked at him patiently. Empathetically. “It would fix everything. You wouldn't have to live like this.”

“Whatever you do,” Logan added, moving to Virgil’s other side to squeeze his arm, “we will help you.”

“Yes,” Patton agreed, though his voice was subdued and mournful. Virgil looked down at the small demon and his forlorn features. He glanced at the pain flickering in Roman’s eyes. He saw the tension coiling in Logan’s muscles.

He huffed and stood up. “I... have to think about it.”

“I’d love to tell you to take your time,” Logan said, rising with him. “But there’s an uncertainty around how much time you have before the power of the Demonic Kingdom take over your angelic senses.”

Virgil swallowed. “Can you give me an estimate?”

Logan glanced at Patton and Roman. “A day,” he choked out finally. Virgil’s heart dropped.

“Oh,” he said faintly.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, and his voice trembled. “Maybe if I could have found out sooner, I would have been able to tell or, or fix it, or—”

“Hey, Big Bird, calm down.” Roman stood to press against Logan’s side. “Breathe.”

“It’s okay, L.” Virgil gave him a small smile. Patton bustled up to hold his hand, and he squeezed reassuringly. “We’ll work it out.”

Logan sighed dejectedly but didn’t protest or argue any further.

“I wonder if I’ll still have my wings,” Virgil mused, but then caught himself with a brief glance in Roman’s direction and his very obvious bare back, void of wings despite being an ex-angel. “Oh— sorry.”

Roman blinked before laughing. “Oh, don’t be sorry!” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe you will! I didn’t lose my wings to demon transformation.”

Virgil caught himself. “You... didn’t?”

“No.” Roman went sombre. “When I ran, I was unlucky enough to be intercepted by a patrol.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck nonchalantly, but Virgil felt sick.

“They...?”

Roman nodded. “Made sure I couldn’t change my mind once I left.”

Virgil’s gut twisted and he looked away. “God, what’s wrong with my people?”

“They’re not your people,” Patton injected softly. His hands were warm against Virgil’s palm. “You’re not like them.”

“What good am I doing down here?” Virgil whispered. “Running away from my problems, thinking I’m the only one with issues?”

“You didn’t know what else to do,” Patton reasoned. “From what you’ve told us, you couldn’t have known there were others like you.” In the corner of his eye, Virgil watched Roman tilt his head inquisitively at that, but Patton elaborated, “Oppressed and outcasted by those stupid rules,” and the lustful demon seemingly lost interest. Virgil tried not to squint at him. Curious.

Virgil shook himself, and Patton dropped his arm. That was enough niceties. Virgil could get ill with all the affection.

He nodded to the house. “Well, we don’t want to let dinner go off.”

“A man after my own heart!” Roman sang, already jumping forward.

“Wait.” Logan’s voice was firm, but deadly still. The others paused too, glancing back at them. His gorgeous eyes were narrowed at the ground as he concentrated, troubled. He looked up at them and asked, “Does anybody else hear that?”

Both Roman and Patton immediately stiffened. Virgil opened his mouth to ask what they were talking about.

“Patton look out!” cried Roman, lunging from the shelter of the house doorway to collide with the other demon.

Then two angelic sentries landed and slit Logan’s throat.

Roman’s bellow may as well have made the ground shake. Virgil would have almost believed that he was a cat instead of a goat, but then the second angel grabbed him by his horns and shoved him face first into the ground and held him there.

Patton was crying, huddling backwards, and quivering against the ground. His eyes were as wide as dying stars, flickering between his family.

“LOGAN!” Roman roared against the dirt smudging against his beautiful face. He struggled against the angel but couldn’t budge. It didn’t look like Logan had heard him, anyway; his eyes — those striking, dark eyes — were already glassy. Blood the colour of amethysts was pooling around his head as it flooded from his neck. His stained lips might have been twitching, trying to move, but all that came from his mouth was a trickle of that violet blood.

Virgil’s head spun.

He should be doing something. He should be moving. He should be screaming or crying or defending his friends or something, but he was standing there uselessly, and Logan was dying— Logan was dead— Why? What did the angels want? They couldn’t be here for him. He was a nobody. He didn’t matter.

Don’t tell me they killed Logan for me. Please, please, don’t tell me this is my fault. Logan can’t be dead because of me.

A third angel landed, glorious wings extended to their full length, glittering golden eyes narrowed, smile sharp as he straightened and readjusted his spotless suit.

“Hello, Virgil,” said Janus. “I thought I had told you not to mess with demons.”

Virgil had to throw up. He was going to throw up.

He couldn’t speak. He wanted to say Janus’ name, to curse him, to demand he leave, to help Logan, anything…

He couldn’t speak.

Beneath the feet of the second demon, Roman was cursing up a storm, expletives spitting from his snarled lips as he— glare wasn’t even the right word — as he blazed at Janus. Virgil's brother ignored him in favour of approaching Virgil, who quailed back. Roman snarled viciously, struggling to stand, making the angelic guard buck, unbalanced.

Janus paused and sighed. He didn’t even look in over his shoulder, but it must have been enough incentive for the angel because they drove their sword through the Demon of Lust’s back.

Virgil’s breath rushed out of him. He heard Patton screaming.

The angel stepped aside, taking their sword with them.

Patton shot forward, and a cry tore itself from Virgil’s throat.

“Go away!” Patton wailed, stumbling to Roman’s side, and pushing his hands to where the blue blood was soaking through his back. “Get away, you horrible, horrible, winged monsters! Leave us alone!”

Roman groaned, and Patton’s voice broke and he stopped shouting. He started talking quietly to Roman, who responded dazedly, but Virgil couldn’t hear either of their voices, even as he stared at them from his frozen position.

“Virgil.” Janus sounded tired. He was standing in front of him. Virgil could see him in the corner of his eye. He kept his gaze focused on Patton and Roman. “Oh, dear, you are trembling.” A hand gripped his elbow. It was cool, and smooth, and his brother’s, and not a demon’s.

“Don’t touch me.” Virgil ripped from Janus, skittering back to stare furiously at Janus. “What are you doing here?”

Janus blinked, and Virgil wondered where the hell he got the audacity to look shocked.

“I am taking you back,” he said slowly, as if he were explaining angels and demons to a youngster. As if he were explaining why angels were good, and holy and perfect, and demons were feral, disgusting scum not worth wasting time on.

“You are not coming anywhere near me,” Virgil snarled. Janus looked at him like he’d grown a tail and started talking in tongues.

“I understand we have had our disagreements,” Janus said slowly, holding up his hands. Patton was bent down to Roman, now, pressing their foreheads together. “But that is no reason to pick a fight with demons to air your frustrations. They could have killed you.”

Virgil gaped at him. He glanced over at Logan’s corpse, and Roman’s blue-soaked body and the tears rolling down Patton’s cheeks.

“Pathetic creatures, really,” Janus mused sadly. “It is almost a shame that they had to die because of you.”

Virgil choked on his curse, unable to get anything past his clogged throat.

Janus sighed again. “Come, Virgil. We are going home. Now.”

He turned and flared his wings. After a moment, he glanced back and found that Virgil hadn’t moved an inch.

Virgil glowered dangerously at him. His voice was steel. “I am home.”

Janus started.

Patton lunged.

Virgil jolted, as shocked as Janus while Patton clawed and bit and scratched and growled and cried and whimpered and sobbed.

The world swam around Virgil when he looked over to find Roman’s eyes dull and colourless. They didn’t even reflect off the shimmering pool of cobalt surrounding him. Virgil distantly wondered if the lump in his throat was not anxiety or emotion, and just his heart, trying to push its way out of his body, knowing that would be far less of a painful fate than what was happening around him.

Janus hissed, twisting away from his attacker, but the little demon only launched a second time, fastening the bone of Janus’ wing in his jaw and crunching it between his teeth.

Janus’ shriek spurred the other two angels into motion, and they darted forward.

Virgil got there first.

He lashed with his wing, the sharp ends of his feathers striking through both eyes of the first angel. She reared back with a shriek, clawing at her own face. He ignored Janus’ stunned cry of “Virgil!” and threw himself at the second angel, bowling them over and crunching their leg beneath his weight. He blocked out the screams as he dug his fingers — and sharpened nails, when had they grown so long? — into their thigh, digging and clawing until white blood was gushing from the gaping wound.

Firm hands dug into his shoulders and tore him from the angels, whirling him around and throwing him into the side of the house.

“What are you doing?” Janus’ eyes were wild, his hair crazed. His suit was flecked with small spots of white blood. Yet his voice was terrifyingly quiet, barely disturbing the electrified air. Virgil bared his teeth, and Janus paled. “You...”

Patton tackled Janus again, but the angel was ready for him this time, and the little demon was thrown to the ground with a brutal thump. Janus turned on him, his fingers twitching, like he was planning on twisting Patton’s neck in his grip.

And Virgil wasn’t going to have that.

He snarled and met Janus with a fire in his eyes and blood on his hands.

Janus ate dust when he crashed to the ground, metres from where he had been standing.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM,” Virgil ordered, his voice unnaturally deepened with fury.

Janus flipped to his feet. “Virgil—”

Virgil bared his fangs. “No.”

Janus’ eyes narrowed. “You are being reckless and—”

“No.”

Janus sighed. “I do not want to fight you, Soft Wings.” His voice was soft, and for a minute it seemed like the ever-present-since-childhood nickname would break through to Virgil. He hesitated. He looked at his brother and thought about what he was planning to do.

And then he caught a side of the blue and purple blood, sinking into the ground.

Soft Wings.

Kiddo.

Patient Angel.

Honey. Sweetheart.

Coward. City slicker.

Kiddo.

Angel of Practice.

Kiddo, kiddo, kiddo.

“Don’t worry, boss.” The first angel’s voice cut through Virgil’s inner mantra. He looked over to see her stagger, hand still covering her face, her lip twisted hatefully. “While you take care of your wayward brother, we will deal with the final demon.”

Virgil erupted with anger.

Literally.

At first, Virgil didn’t know what was happening, or where the blinding light, bright enough to rival a dying star, was coming from.

Then he felt something tugging at his skull, and his teeth and nails groaning in protest, spiking pain itching up through his spine.

When the light died down, Virgil raised his head to glower at Janus with elongated pupils.

His brother was frozen in place, like all the breath had been squeezed from him. The other angel had been knocked onto her back, and now one of her wings was twisted at an awkward, unnatural angle.

“Virgil.” Janus held out his hands beseechingly. Virgil fought the instinct that told him to bite off his fingers one by one. “What can I do?”

“What, still want me around?” Virgil snarled around his new fangs. “Want a demon for a brother?”

“I want you,” Janus breathed. “How do I get you back?”

Virgil raised his chin, power thrumming through his still-present wings. His long tail lashed. “You can’t.”

He knew he shouldn’t have been hurt at the heartbroken expression that flickered across Janus’ face. He had chosen this when he had ignored Virgil, when he had ridiculed him, when he had arrived at his new home where he was safe and happy and protected and slain his friends in front of him.

Janus smiling proudly down at him. Janus straightening their halos before leaving the house, his smooth hands making sure his bracelet wasn’t crooked. Janus laughing as his young little brother tried to do the same for his anklet, and only fumbled with it until he tripped. Janus introducing him to an angel with bright green eyes and toothy grin, announcing that he was their new roommate. Janus gently explaining that Remus had no family anymore, and the Ancient Angels had allowed him to live with them. Janus nodding approvingly when Virgil offered his hand to Remus, out of politeness and not joy.

“But.” Virgil spoke before he realised he had. Janus looked up, and Virgil suddenly saw how ragged his brother was. His feathers were matted from the blood that Patton had spilled, but they had been ruffled before he had even landed. His eyes were haunted, and tired, shallow shadows hugging the bags of his cheeks. He was tired, and stressed, and now gutted.

“But,” he said again, his voice more level. “If you can prove that you can fix your mistakes — if you find angels that are being outcasted, help them, give them a home and a safe place and somewhere where they aren’t suffering purely from the rules of the Ancient Angels. If you fight for angels who can’t fight for themselves. If you fight against injustice. If you make sure angels like him never find the same fate...” He pointed to Roman’s limp body and tried not to burst into tears. “Then maybe then, and only then... will I consider forgiving you.”

Janus visibly swallowed. “And then—”

“And then,” snarled Virgil, and Janus fell silent, “you will see how merciful I’m feeling.”

Janus clasped his hands behind his back, and Virgil saw how badly he was shaking. “It would have been more effective if you didn’t speak in apostrophes,” he said in a weak voice.

With a roar, Virgil striked forward, dark claws slashing along Janus’ face.

His brother staggered back, but he didn’t look betrayed or hurt. It was almost pitiful, how he looked like he understood Virgil’s behaviour.

“If you leave now, maybe I’ll let your little soldiers live,” he hissed. The other two angels were quaking as they stared at him. Janus, keeping his gaze locked with Virgil, waved at them with one wing, and they scrambled into the air, beating their wings furiously.

Janus opened his mouth. Virgil stared him down and he slowly shut it again. He didn’t say anything, only dipped his head — in understanding? Acceptance? Fear? — and turned, following the soldiers in a much more graceful manner.

Virgil watched with sharp eyes until they disappeared through the oppressive cloud cover above.

“Virgil?” a painfully quiet voice whispered. Patton slipped his hands into Virgil’s, and he promptly broke down. “Virgil!” Patton, alarmed, followed him to the ground, wrapping a warm arm around his back.

“I’m sorry,” rasped Virgil, his voice fading to barely above a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry, Pat, I...” In the corner of his eye, he saw Logan’s vacant gaze and Roman’s blue blood, and he broke off with a shuddering sob, his shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry.”

He heard Patton audibly gulp and wondered if his senses had been heightened or Patton was just remarkably close.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, warm lips pressing to Virgil’s temple. “It’s not your fault, honey.” Virgil choked, turning to bury his face in Patton’s shoulder. “They’ll be okay.”

Virgil didn’t protest. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He wasn’t in the mood for empty reassurance, or blind faith or hopeless dreams or misguided illusions. He’d had enough of lies.

He didn’t voice any of this. All that came from him when he opened his mouth was more sobs.

Patton continued to rub his back and press warmly at his side and gently hush him, which was all ridiculous because Patton was the one who was supposed to be sobbing and ripping up the ground and yelling at the sky.

Virgil trembled in Patton’s arms as the demon — though they were both demons, now, weren’t they? — stood them up and guided him — not towards the house, but to Virgil’s horror, Logan’s cooling body.

“I need you to help me get him inside,” Patton said softly. “Can you carry him?”

Virgil stared down at the blurry image of his friend through his tears. God, those beautiful eyes were not supposed to be that lifeless.

“Yeah,” he croaked finally. “Yes.”

Patton nodded, and for a brief moment, pressed his head to Virgil’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Virgil,” he promised emptily before pulling away and creeping over to Roman’s body like he was a startled animal and not a dead demon bleeding the colour of the Angelic Kingdom sky.

Virgil, after steeling himself, sunk to his knees and worked his arms under Logan’s body. He tried not to think about the warmth seeping out of his skin, and the wetness of his blood, and the way his chest wasn’t moving and eyes weren’t sparkling and mouth wasn’t moving in some random ramble about some vague scientific fact.

He swallowed another sob and stood, lifting the other demon easily in his arms. He wondered if he had always been so strong. (He doubted it.)

Something lashed behind him, and when he glanced down, he saw the tail — his tail — whipping back and forth for balance.

With another swallow, Virgil ignored it and moved to the house. He prompted the door open with his hip and Patton bustled passed him, walking awkwardly with Roman’s weight. Virgil averted his eyes and stared at the ground as he followed Patton up the stairs.

“Logan’s room is that door further down, just next to Roman’s,” Patton said, his voice still low. Virgil glanced over at him helplessly. Patton looked like he didn’t have the energy to even fake a smile. “Just put him in bed, kiddo. I’ll come and help when I can.”

Virgil tried not to frown in confusion. He wasn’t one to question demonic rituals, or ceremonial acts of a culture different to the one he was used to.

My culture now too, I suppose, he thought glumly. He trudged into Logan’s bedroom and looked around. It was far barer than Patton’s, or maybe just neater. Interesting looking scrolls were stacked in a corner. A map of what was presumably the Demonic Kingdom was hanging on the wall.

Virgil moved to the simplistic-looking bed and gently lay the prideful demon on the sheets. He was glad they were black, and the blood that would stain them wouldn’t be very visible. He wondered if demons didn’t bury their dead, but he couldn’t remain on that train of thought for too long because the idea of keeping Logan and Roman’s still, blood-soaked bodies in the house, just rooms from where Virgil slept, made him feel very, very ill.

Shuddering, he turned from the room and crept out. He peered into Roman’s room, where Patton was laying a red blanket over the lustful demon’s body, talking softly to him. Virgil remained silent as Patton sniffed and sat on the bed, almost curling up next to the body.

When Patton looked up without looking surprised, Virgil realised with a jolt that he had sensitive hearing.

“Sorry,” he murmured. Patton finally smiled, then, but it was small and still seemed a little forced. “I just, uh...” He growled under his breath, annoyed at how clumped his throat felt. Patton’s expression went impossibly soft and he stood, moving over to wrap his arms around Virgil’s ribs.

“It’s okay to feel things, sweetie.”

“I should have done something,” Virgil cried. “Logan even heard them coming — you all did! I could have stopped all of this if I had just—”

“Just what, love?” Patton interjected. “Taken the hit for yourself? Tried to explain to a trio of furious angels why they shouldn’t attack a group of scary-looking demons?”

“You’re not scary.” Virgil’s voice hitched. “None of you are.”

Patton’s smile widened, only slightly. Virgil rested his chin on Patton’s hair. “I’m glad you think so.”

They stayed like that for a while, leaning against each other, Virgil trying to calm himself and Patton trying to keep them both grounded.

“Well, I suppose we should get things ready,” Patton said finally, pulling away. “Once we’ve fetched some water, could you go and look over Logan? I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Virgil stared down at him, all bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks and clogged nose and throat.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, exhausted. “Patton, they’re—”

“Oh!” Patton cried, hands flying to his mouth, and Virgil sighed, waiting for the demon to delve further into his denial. “Virge, I— I’m so sorry!”

Virgil frowned.

“We’re demons,” Patton said, as is that explained every question in the universe. “We can’t die.”

Virgil suppressed a groan. “Patton—”

Patton waved his hands, shaking his head furiously. “No, no! Really! We regenerate, it just takes longer depending on the injuries.”

Virgil blinked, then blinked again.

“Logan and Roman will be fine, really! Their bodies just need time to heal themselves!”

Virgil’s breath vanished from his lungs.

“It’s okay, Virge,” said Patton. “They really will be alright.”

Sudden heat flooded back into Virgil’s eyes. “Oh,” he said in a small voice, then again, breathlessly, “Oh.”

Patton smiled, laughing quietly. “It’s okay, Virge,” he said again. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or explained it, I just forgot that there’s some not-very-common knowledge between our kingdoms and I—”

“But— but you were so upset!” Virgil gripped the sides of his head. “You went ballistic!”

Patton winced, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you try watching your family die in front of you and see if you act so chivalrous.”

Virgil let out a final, whooshing breath and fell forward, pulling Patton and crushing him to his chest.

“God fucking damnit, Pat,” he said with a wet laugh, then quietened, pulling back to stare at Patton in the eyes. “This is the truth, right? You’re not in denial or going delusional from grief?”

“No,” Patton promised. “I’m telling you the truth.”

Virgil nodded several times, processing the information. “Okay.” He narrowed his eyes. “What do we need to do?”

Over the course of the next day and night, Virgil wiped the blood from Logan’s skin, finding it already knitting itself back together as time went on. He wrapped bandages around Logan’s neck (and then was able to remove them not a few hours later, the blood having stopped flowing) and washed the bed sheets until the water no longer ran purple.

Patton did the same, although multiple times Virgil caught him having another breakdown while he tried to help Roman. Virgil (privately, of course) cursed Fate for making him fall for such an emotional demon. On several of these occasions Virgil’s mind started to race, telling him that something had gone wrong, or Patton had broken from his illusion of a happy ending, or Roman’s wound had been too great for his body to recover from.

But then Patton would smile and reassure him that it just got a bit much sometimes, and Virgil would sigh, return his smile, and send him downstairs to take a break while he took over.

Most of the night was filled with this sleepless routine.

At one point, they managed to catch some quiet time together in Patton’s (their, Patton would correct him) bed.

Patton reached up to run careful fingers through Virgil’s hair and finger at his new ears, giggling when they flicked under his touch. Virgil allowed him to run his new tail through his hands, too, watching with amusement as the gluttonous demon beamed at this new development.

“A tiger,” he whispered, and Virgil’s eyebrows arched.

“What?”

“You’re a tiger,” Patton repeated, looking up. “Your eyes— your reaction when it all happened... and of course! The opposite of patience: you’re a Demon of Wrath.”

Virgil fumbled, a little, at this revelation.

“I don’t feel angry,” he mumbled. Patton smiled.

“Does Roman always seem to feel lustful, to you?”

“He did try and hit on me the first few minutes I walked through the door,” Virgil pointed out. Patton rolled his eyes with a laugh.

“That’s just Roman,” he said. “But it’s because you’re not a pureblood. You are a formed demon, not a birthed one. There’s nothing wrong with that. In our house, at least,” he added with a sly wink.

Virgil flushed. He blew a raspberry at Patton, who giggled and wiggled up to cuddle him.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said quietly. “A very pretty tiger.”

“I think sleep deprivation is getting to you,” said Virgil gently, guiding Patton’s head down to rest on his collarbone. “Try and get some rest. I’ll look after the menaces.”

“Alright, kitto,” Patton murmured sleepily and closed his eyes. Virgil didn’t have the heart to wake him up to demand what sort of pun that was.

That next morning, Virgil walked into Logan’s room to find the Demon of Pride trying to stand from his bed.

“Hey!” he barked, darting forward to grab Logan’s shoulders and shove him back onto the bed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Logan had the audacity to give him an incredulous look. “Standing up?”

“After taking that sort of damage, fat chance,” Virgil snarled at him. “Lie back down.”

Logan blinked, then squinted. Virgil paused, feeling vulnerable under the scrutiny.

Though, then he suddenly realised his tail was flicking with anticipation and his ears had folded backwards in confusion, and he realised.

“I’m uh... I suppose I ran out of time,” he said, only a little sheepishly. “I’m a demon, now.”

“I can see that,” Logan said mildly, but Virgil could tell he was pleased. “I can’t exactly stay in bed all day, Virgil. Can you help me up?”

Virgil scowled down at him. “Do you promise to take everything slow and easy for the day?”

Logan sighed. “If that’s what it takes.”

Virgil thought for a minute, but seemingly satisfied, Vigil gripped his (now warm again) hand and helped him stand. To Logan’s complete credit, he barely even swayed. Still, Virgil couldn’t force himself to relax. He kept his grip firm but gentle on Logan’s arm and circled him. Logan stood still, looking mildly amused, and let Virgil finish his examination.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Virgil asked, leaning forward to squint at Logan’s face, thoroughly inspecting his smooth throat and bright eyes.

So when their lips knocked together, at first Virgil assumed it had been his fault, but then Logan’s expression morphed from dazed to horrified, and he took a step back.

“Apologies,” he said quickly. “I— that’s—”

Virgil didn’t know what his face was doing until his cheeks started to ache, and he realised he was smiling so wide his dimples were probably on full display (ugh).

He reached forward, sharp fingers lightly trailing the edges of Logan’s lips, which had previously just been pressed into a thin line.

“Feeling okay?” Virgil asked. Logan visibly swallowed, then nodded. Virgil pulled his hand back and Logan adjusted his shirt primly.

“Quite.”

Virgil grinned, and the tip of his tail twitched happily.

“Again, Virgil, my apologies, I—”

“Hey,” Virgil, fixing him with a patient look. “Do I look mad?”

“But— you and Patton—”

“Eh.” Virgil shrugged. “You’re all pretty likeable, for demons.” He shared a grin with Logan, who finally relaxed.

They both heard the thumping on carpet and the excited babbling long before Roman careened into Logan’s open doorway and stared, gaping, at Virgil.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, and Virgil was almost confused before Patton came up behind Roman. “Oh my god, you really weren’t kidding.”

“I told you I wasn’t!” Patton laughed.

“Unholy SHIT,” Roman cried. He shot forward and circled Virgil, who glared at him challengingly and dared him to say something. He paused in front of Virgil and bit his lip, looking abashed. “Can... Can I...?” He gestured to the top of Virgil’s head.

Virgil relaxed and ducked his head compliantly. Roman attentively brushed over his ears.

“How does it feel?” Logan asked curiously. Roman pulled back and Virgil straightened. “Being a demon?”

“Yeah,” scoffed Roman, not unkindly, “you’re not the superior being anymore. How does it feel to be longer above us? I have to know, it’s for science.”

Logan shot him a bemused look. “How on earth does that have anything remotely to do with—”

“SILENCE, GUINEA-FOUL,” Roman interrupted. “Let the Siberian Forest Cat talk.”

Patton frowned disapprovingly. “Ro—”

He was cut off by a chortling snort, and with a surprise, they turned to see Virgil covered his face with his hands, laughing into his palms.

“S-sorry,” he gasped out, waving his hand, and shaking his head. After a moment he composed himself and smiled down at Roman. “That was terrible.”

It seemed it was a day of unusual behaviour: Roman didn’t act offended at this. He only grinned brightly.

Then his face dropped into a scowl and he crossed his arms.

“God, that’s so unfair,” he muttered. “You got to be a tiger. I’m just a goat.”

Virgil tilted his head, thinking about his previously private conversation with Logan. A smirk creeping along his face, Virgil decided: fuck it.

He leaned down and planted his lips firmly on Roman’s.

“I don’t know,” he said as he pulled back, grinning smugly at Roman’s stupefied face. “I think they’re pretty great.”

Roman’s breath shuddered as he inhaled. His smile was a little star-struck when he said, “R-right.”

Patton giggled and looped his elbows through both Roman and Virgil’s arms.

“I have to admit I am curious as well,” Logan said slowly, and Virgil wondered if they just weren’t going to talk about any of… ‘it’. “About your certainty of your decision — staying here, beneath the rest of your people?”

“They’re not my people,” Virgil said, and it sounded familiar to something he’d already heard. He shook his head. “They’re not even my family.” Patton looked horrified at this, but Virgil grinned and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him into a side hug. “You guys are.”

Patton and Logan smiled. Roman made a face. “That was cheesier than Patton’s puns.”

“Or sappier than your nicknames,” Logan countered, and Virgil sighed. Sentimental moment over, he supposed, as Roman bleated in outrage.

“Hey!”

Six months later

Virgil, realistically, wanted to ask for a single day of normality.

A relaxed day, maybe an uneventful one. Maybe where he could take a nap without the anxiety of the house falling to pieces without him around to keep the order. (Honestly, how had these morons survived this long without him?) A day of bliss.

Not one where Roman wanted to try cooking for a change and forgot about it, causing the fireplace to explode and almost burn down the house, or where Patton tried to cheer Logan up after his feathers were burnt from Roman’s food mishap with an endless stream of puns and bad dad jokes that made even Virgil groan.

So of course, it was on this particular disastrous day that Fate decided to mess with Virgil personally some more.

He was reading over Roman’s most recent work, having successfully achieved attention from some in-city demons after some of Virgil’s tweaks to his work. (When Roman had found that the potential publishers had disregarded their groundedness because of how much the work had improved, he had hugged Virgil so hard he was fairly sure at least two ribs had popped out of place.) The story wasn’t bad; Roman was obviously trying some new avenues, now that he was more confident that demons would consider looking at what he made.

He was just circling a word and suggesting a better alternative when he heard it: the flapping, signifying approaching wings, too large to be an animal, yet not big enough to warrant panic. Although, the fluttering around the edges of the sound, indicating wings made of feathers made a small pit of anxiety grow in Virgil’s gut.

The others heard it too, but Virgil was already standing and making for the door before they could say anything. Patton tried to call for him to stop, but he exploded out of the house just as Janus landed.

He looked as formidably professional as ever, not a strand of hair out of place, his wings perfectly folded at his back. Face an expressionless mask. Eyes carefully blank and unreadable.

The only thing different this time around, was the gashed scars slicing down the side of his face, trailing over his eye running down the side of his cheek to reach the edge of his lip.

Virgil glowered at him, hunching his shoulders. He unfurled his wings, the feathers unkempt and so dirty the white was almost black, now, but still as glorious and empowering as ever. He blocked the entrance of the house with them, keeping both his possessions in, and Janus out. (He could hear impatient bustling as Roman paced at his back, wanting to get past.)

“What do you want?” Virgil demanded. He heard shuffling behind him, and the sound of Logan’s tailfeathers brushing in alarm. Distantly, he remembered that he and Roman hadn’t heard his tempest tongue before.

Janus visibly composed himself. “You told me that once I had done as you required, I would-”

“I told you I would consider forgiving you,” Virgil spat. “Not that you could return here.”

Janus seemed to be at a bit of a loss at this, closing his mouth and blinking.

“Ah,” he said finally. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Should I... I suppose... I’ll... be leaving, then.”

“Good.” Virgil snarled, baring his teeth for good measure.

“Wait!” a little voice cried, and Patton burst between the doorframe and Virgil’s wing. The Angel of Anger gave him a chagrined look. “Wait, maybe— maybe we can hear him out.”

“Sure.” Roman scrambled out behind Patton, and Virgil sighed, exasperated. What was the point in trying to protect them if they didn’t get the hint? “Right after I dig something sharp into his back.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Patton, distressed, grabbed Roman’s arms.

“Let’s see how he likes it!” Roman snarled. “What if we slit his throat as well, while we’re at it?”

“Perhaps we should think this through,” Logan piped up. At least he was being sensible and staying behind Virgil, where it was safe. “I doubt he came here for a fight.”

“No,” said Roman fiercely, and he almost shaking, “but we can sure give him one.”

“Stop it,” Virgil growled, his voice losing its unnatural tone. Silence fell and he tried to swallow guilt. “Go inside.”

“What?” Roman demanded, whirling on him. “But he—!”

“Roman.” Virgil stared him down, unwaveringly. Roman growled.

“We’re not helpless, Virgil,” he said.

Virgil sighed and moved from the doorway, cupping Roman’s face in his hands. “This is less of me being worried about what he’ll do to you, and more of me being worried about what you will do to him. You are quite a formidable foe when you want to be.”

Roman squinted suspiciously. “Flattery isn’t going to get me to relax.”

“But it’ll make you listen,” Virgil countered smoothly, and Roman finally relented. He shuffled back, but Patton slipped his hand into Virgil’s and peered up at him.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked in a whisper. Virgil smiled down at him.

“I’ve got it,” he reassured him. Patton nodded and stepped back. Virgil’s palm burned as he strode forward.

It was strange. They were... together, now, all four of them. Apparently, the trio of demons had been before Virgil had even arrived, but despite Virgil having been head over heels for Patton first, the pair of them still hadn’t exactly... made moves. Virgil wasn’t sure why. He hoped it wasn’t something he’d done to make Patton second guess anything.

He shook those thoughts from his head. That wasn’t what he needed to focus on.

The glare he fixed on Janus made him blurt, without pause, “I came to see you.”

Virgil’s eyebrows arched. His blackened wings twitched. His tail swished warningly behind him.

Janus looked like he understood the unspoken message clearly: you see me, and I am a demon.

“I... wanted to inform you that—” Janus’ voice became a little uneven, and he cleared his throat and straightened himself — “that I did as you asked.”

Virgil glowered.

“Started to do as you asked,” Janus corrected himself. “It’s... a work in progress?”

Virgil tried not to let his surprise show on his face. Janus was smug, and cunning, and insufferable, and he didn’t ever show any sign of weakness, and he certainly didn’t act so unsure of himself.

“I approached... many other angels, and... the majority of the Ancient Angels have been confronted about the community’s... opinions.”

Virgil’s lip twitched in disgust and Janus winced. “They... have considered my suggestions of changing a select number of rules. I... have the heads of Humility and Abstinence aiding me. And Remus, too, of course. I think I can sway Head of Kindness with a little more time, too. Emile does not like me very much.”

Virgil realised with an inward jolt that his face had gone slack from his tight scowl.

He resisted the urge to clear his throat. There were countless things he could say. He could growl a deep, “Good.” He could bare his teeth and snap a sharp, “Get out.” He could snarl and slash at the other side of Janus’ face, give him a matching set of scars, and roar that he didn’t care what Janus had done or would do.

The truth was: Virgil could say a lot.

The truth was: Virgil said nothing.

Virgil stared at this angel and refused to admit that he really did just want to see him as his brother once again.

He stared at Janus and nodded once.

“You can... always return,” Janus went on. “There are rules about demons and angels coexisting, and I doubt I will be able to change those ones as swiftly, though... I believe I can be convincing enough for an expectation to be made.”

Virgil’s ears flicked.

“Remus misses you, I think.” Because of course, Janus wasn’t going to admit to any weakness, and missing someone was certainly a weakness. “You... know that you can return to your family, no matter what, right?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes as he said, “I am with my family.”

Janus’ face didn’t betray any emotions, and Virgil wondered if he had seen that coming, and had been prepared. For a long moment of silence, he said nothing. His eyes darted over Virgil’s tensing shoulder. Virgil’s ears swivelled to listen as Roman shuffled on his feet anxiously, and Patton’s hands brushed over his shoulder, and Logan’s feathers fluttering as he strained to overhear their conversation.

“So you have,” Janus admitted faintly.

Virgil lifted his chin. Similarly, Janus lowered his gaze.

“I... will return, now.” The angel stepped back.

A quietly cleared throat made Virgil glanced over his shoulder. Patton, between Logan’s curious eyes and Roman’s deep frown, made a face that Virgil couldn’t make out. He blinked uncomprehendingly, and Patton gestured, a little wildly desperate, to Janus, who had turned to leave.

Virgil almost ignored him. Almost said nothing.

But then he was blurting out a jumbled, “Wait.”

Janus went rigid, but he paused. He didn’t turn, and didn’t speak up, obviously waiting for Virgil to speak.

“You... you may return,” Virgil said haltingly. “Once... once there are... more developments.”

For a long time, Janus said nothing.

When he turned, it was only a slight tilt of his head. The scars on that side of his face glistened in the heat of the Demonic Kingdom’s landscape.

“Only for updates,” he agreed without a hint of bitterness or malice. “Understood.”

With that, he flared his wings and shot into the sky. Virgil watched until the clouds swivelling around his disappearing form and he vanished.

Well, Virgil thought in a voice that was almost painfully reminiscently Patton’s. That could have gone worse.

“Are you going to stand there all day, you striped shorthair?” Roman called, still obviously impatient.

With a jump, Virgil turned and returned to them.

“How did it go?” Logan inquired.

Virgil tried to think on that, but all that his mind provided was static.

Logan smiled and rubbed his arms reassuringly. “That’s a perfectly normal reaction, Virgil. Don’t worry.”

Virgil nodded. Another warm hand brushed against the side of his face, and he looked down at Patton.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked with that soft, light voice of his, those gorgeous, caring eyes staring up at him. Virgil decided that after a long time, he really was.

In answer, Virgil grinned, and kissed him.

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themountainsays · 3 years

Text

(CRUELLA SPOILERS AHEAD)

Ok ok i'm not done. There's this one criticism of the Cruella movie that I find increasingly frustrating and it comes down to a disdain for the very existance of such a film.

"Why do all villains need to have a tragic backstory or a complicated motivation? Why can't they just be evil for the sake of being evil?"

You know. As if people didn't have a problem with villains being one-dimensional pieces of cardboard before. As if character development wasn't celebrated by everyone and their mom. As if nobody protested one-dimensional characters and demanded depth. Now that Disney listened and said "Got it!" and took note for their following movies, everyone is complaining their characters have too much personality now. God forbid not everyone who's happy and healthy in real life was born as unhinged as to skin puppies on a whim. God forbid writers aim for realism when developing their characters. God forbid Disney wants it's live action adaptation to be less cartoony.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with villains having any semblance of an explanation for their cruelty! It's clear you guys like it when the villain in question is Zuko or Catra or Azula or even Maleficent, who as far as I remember was better received. And i understand Zuko's character could put all Disney movies to shame, that's not what i'm talking about. Ya'll had no idea how Disney was gonna handle Cruella's batshittery in the film just from watching a trailer. It's not about the quality of the villain themselves. It's that suddenly, for some reason, people became averse to villains with a backstory (as if characters in general having a backstory wasn't the norm) and demand to go back to their cartoon carboard villains.

And look, I understand some villains don't need a personality. Ozai from AtLA wasn't a particularly deep person, but Ozai was more of a symbol of colonialism than his own character. Colonialism isn't evil because it's dad was mean to it. It's just something evil you need to get rid of. I could list a thousand examples like this one.

But these kinds of villains have their time and place and when your story is about a character's descent into evil, then they HAVE to have a certain level of development. There's no fun in watching a character become evil if they already eat puppies for breakfast and always have simply because they're °○☆~evil~°○☆. And if THAT is what bothers you, the fact that the writers even dared to tell a story about Disney's most batshit villain, then you're not addressing the quality of the writing! You're just mad the story isn't what you would have written yourself! That's not serious critique! If it makes you so mad don't watch it!

There are problems with the writing in Cruella, yes. I think her descent into madness and evil could have been better handled. But jesus i'm not mad at the writers for daring to try! We should analyze the message they intended to send, where they succeded and where they failed at that instead of complaining there's a movie about Cruella de Vil at all.

Plus?? I think people are approaching the text in bad faith. Okay. Okay, this is another criticism that bothers me:

"Cruella wants to skin dalmatian puppies because her mom was killed by dalmatians (and this is bad)".

This. This is the most cartoonish interpretation of the text you could come up with. Its a Dr. Doofenshmirtz backstory. And while I think there's more to it than that, if this is what you take away from the film, then why are you complaining? Cruella hates dalmatians because dalmatians killed her mom. Here is your one dimensional cartoo villain backstory! Do you want your cartoon one dimensional villains or not? Because no one complains when cartoon villains have backstories with the depth of a puddle.

And i don't even think this is what the writers were going for! Cruella watched dalmatians kill her mom. Dalmatians were the weapon the Baroness used to commit the crime. Girl has a trauma with dalmatians. It's not a simple dalmatians killed mom -> I want to kill dalmatians. It's less rational. More unhinged. Cruella is a bit mad in case you haven't noticed. I think the place dalmatians have in the narrative makes sense, actually. Through the story, Dalmatians haunt her and she tries in more than one ocassion to have control over them, and this thematically mirrors her gaining the upper hand over the Baroness. By the end of the film, she's able to control the very same dogs that killed her mother. She's in power. She's no longer scared of dalmatians. And we know she's later going to go and skin dalmatian puppies! It's the culmination of her character arc as a villain. It makes perfect sense to me. Its use of dalmatians one of the film's strenghts. The fact ya'll treat it as a meme strikes me as jumping onto the Cruella Hate bandwagon because your mutual laughed at this, so it must be funny. But personally? The silliness is flying over my head. It doesn't seem strange to me at all.

Plus, she clearly had a cruel side as a child, with no explanation or justification. She was just a mean kid. There you have your cartoon villain with no backstory.

And one more thing, and this one really makes me scream into the pillow:

"Disney wants to make the puppy skinner more human and sympathetic."

Holy shit what kind of Twilight-induced satanic panic room did these girls who aren't like other girls came from? Movies aren't trying to teach you morality. Cruella doesn't want you to sympathize with a puppy killer because puppy skinning is good actually. They just want to give you screentime of an evil lady being evil. And when it does make you sympathize with her, it's on perfectly acceptable matters. Like the Baroness insulting Cruella's mother, killing her etc. Cruella wants revenge. And even if you're sick of Cruella, you want revenge too. You want to see the Baroness suffer. Sooo you kinda do root for Cruella on this one. Cruella and the viewer share a common interest. Because God forbid we write villains with sympathetic motivations among their more unjustifiable ones.

No dude Disney doesn't want you to think skinning puppies is good. Is this what paranoid twilight parents did to society? Do we assume films are trying to teach us how to live our lives now?

And Cruella's story is clearly not about girlbossifying her. During the very beginning you see her mother begging her to keep her cruel side (nicknamed "cruella") inside as to not hurt others. She wants her to be Stella, her more loveable side. This isn't like, a Frozen case in which parents repress the child's true self or whatever. Lots of kids are little shits and are told not to take their anger out on others. Repressing "Cruella" is presented as a good thing.

Then Cruella talks about honoring and avenging her mother, being someone she'd be proud of etc etc. She may have mentioned at some point being unable to do so and openly embracing her "evil side", but if she did i can't remember. Ignore this point if that's the case. But as she pursues her goals, she takes on Cruella's persona more and more, eventually killing Stella and becoming Cruella full time. And she seems happy but the viewer who remembers what her mother said and is aware Cruella insists she's doing this for her mother's sake, will realize her happiness and fulfillment are misguided. Cruella becoming Cruella isn't portrayes as a good thing. And the movie ends with her feeling satisfied even though she spent the whole movie going against her mother's wishes and insisting she was making her happy. She doesn't even realize. It's a tragedy IT'S LITERALLY HER VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY

I'm getting distracted. I wanted to wrap up sharing why I think people hate the fact a Cruella movie as much as exists. It's because nothing is ever good enough for people! Because hating Disney is cool and trendy! Everyone hop onto the Disney Hate train! Nothing Disney does could possibly not suck. It sucks by virtue of being a Disney Live Action adaptation. Even though, by telling it's own original story, i'd compare Cruella more to Maleficent than to any other recent Disney live action film. But, you know. No one wants to be convinced skinning puppies is good actually.

Or to watch the movie before shitting on it at the very least

#cruella #ya'll skip the 'watching' part of hate-watchint #please at least watch it before blindly whining please 😭#cruella spoilers

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yokelish · 4 years

Text

Rhetorical.

This is not easy-peasy-lemon-squizzy. This is difficult-fucking-difficult.

I hate myself for the person I am because my first reaction was “that’s a drag, I don’t remember much of the manga already”. But then I remembered complex human relationships is nyom-nyom-nyom. And so fell in love with working on it more and more as I went. So here you go, @gogolparadise

Unfortunately, I am one of those people who doesn’t blame Ango for Oda’s death. My blaming scale looks more like this: Gide, Oda, Mori, everyone else. I blame Oda for Oda’s death, mostly. And there’s no denial about who shot Odasaku in the first place. But Ango isn’t blameless. He done fuck up.

I won’t write how and when Dazai sabotaged the airbag, I am sure even he wouldn’t know it either. P L O T. The scene between Ango and Dazai unfolded differently in manga and anime. And I like manga’s version better. I rarely use Japanese respectful suffixes like “san” and “kun”, but here….it’s sorta important.

✏ Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs ✏ Characters: Dazai Osamu, Ango Sakaguchi ✏ Word count: 2,166 ✏ Warnings: none?

Rhetorical.

He couldn’t deny the fact that having a gun in his hand felt distantly pleasant. The power and control that came with the weight in his hand would add more pleasure to it. But the weapon was oddly light compared to his memories of handling one. It wasn’t loaded. A good decision: a smart and safe decision. If Dazai couldn’t trust himself, he could trust in the distrust people have for him. And no one would know that better than someone he once called a friend. The two loyal guard dogs wouldn’t be able to stop him if that’s what he wanted. The resting blade against his neck only sharpened that tiny thrill coursing through his veins. It was bringing up old memories of having his life on the line every other day. The sound of raining shots, the lightning bolt shine of it, the heat of the muzzle afterwards. And the lingering smell of gunpowder. Unloading the gun was the smartest decision his once-friend had ever made. Because Dazai also couldn’t deny the fact that when it was aimed at the back of Ango’s head, it felt invigorating.

“What on earth made you think…” Dazai asked calmly. “…that I had forgiven you?” He didn’t regret asking. The question didn’t need to be answered. There was no need to have a conversation about that part of history. After all, there was too much to forgive, and Dazai didn’t even start on it. But asking had to clearly state where they stand.

“I was the one who cleaned your record when you fled the Mafia. If anything, you are the one who owes me,” Ango replied, unfazed by the threat, and even sounding a little exasperated.

“Alright.” Dazai easily dropped the threat, the aim of the gun, the feeling coursing through his veins. “The gun isn’t loaded. You knew I’d do that.”

A hand was offered to collect the empty weapon. “I am glad you catch on so quickly.” The man in glasses offered a calm, collected smile, with a little amusement traced in the lines of his face. Dazai would roll his eyes at this if the man wasn’t so obviously looking. Credit given where its due, Ango wasn’t slow on the uptake — always deceitfully sharp. But Dazai didn’t appreciate proximity or eye-contact. Least of all he wanted to grow an appreciation for Ango’s quick thinking, stoic and neutral approach, and overall efficiency. He remembered the man from the past too vividly, and separating those images was harder than it should have been. Liar. Traitor.

“If we are not rekindling our old friendship,” Sakaguchi spoke again, more hesitantly this time. “…What do you want?”

How eloquent and bold it was to say that there was something to rekindle between them. When a torch goes out, you look for a fire to light it again. You don’t wet the cloth and chop up the wooden stick. And you sure do not let the torch burn to ashes. If so, there was nothing to rekindle.

With his back to Ango, Dazai allowed himself to smile. The half-masks he knew how to transform and switch seamlessly. His goals were for him to know. Ango would find out soon enough. The bandaged man shifted his smile into a childish grin. “Oooh…” He patted the roof of the car. “You government men drive fine cars, eh?”

The government man graced him with an unamused stare. A sharp look of a man who didn’t want his car touched in such manner. Pity, really, that should be the least of his worries. Government men drive fine cars, but there are many fine cars in this world.

Ex-Mafia rested his elbow on the car if only to gauge a reaction out of the man he once made a mistake to call friend. “Care to go for a drive?” Dazai didn’t regret asking. The question didn’t need to be answered.

Fine cars indeed… For what those government men got those fancy cars Dazai could only guess. “It’s your job to keep those skill-oriented crimes in check, isn’t it? You mustn’t shirk your duty like that.” He spoke leisurely, enjoying, savouring. There was something sickeningly amusing in the ease of the situation. The tension that was visibly lacking in the air. Ango’s safe driving befitting of a good citizen. The calm Dazai couldn’t help but feel. He almost felt guilty about it, too. The calm that comes with the knowledge of what’s to come. And yet, by all canons of the world, it should not be as easy as breathing.

“We have been keeping tabs on the Guild as well,” Ango finally gave a reply fitting for a government man. A limited, careful answer.

Dazai’s interest was piqued by the narrowness of such words. “You knew…and you simply let them be? Do I have that right?” He knew he did. The question didn’t need to be answered. But he didn’t regret asking, he savoured it without guilt.

“Unlike you, Dazai-kun, I believe in an honest day’s work,” Sakaguchi answered evenly, never taking his eyes off the road. “Do you even know what kind of kind of group the Guild is?”

Dazai could guess that this feeling inside him was glee. There was nothing compared to the feeling of knowing and seeing through the deceit of others even if that deceit was a delusion for one’s self. He cared little for the games the government played, he just despised them. He cared not for the power the Guild possessed, he just wanted to beat it.

“Oh my, wait a moment,” the bandaged man said. “This discussion is taking a strange turn.”

“This is politics, Dazai-kun.”

That’s an exceptionally fine carpet word for lies, deception, manipulation, power play and the like. Perhaps, it was a matter of perception, the things one believes in. If perception can stop you from seeing the world upside-down, if it can grant you the vividness of colours and appreciation for abstract, then it surely must be able to install a belief in the greater good.

“…to grant immunity to their members…”

Like Ango believing in an honest day’s work. Or Atsushi believing in his own worthlessness or that saving people will justify his existence. Like Kunikida upholding his ideals stronger than any other man alive.

“…truly, above the law…”

Perhaps, it was all about the installed moral compass within a person. The lines one draws to walk a straight path. Those constructed margins of morality that should never be crossed lest the world changes its meaning or loses it completely. Dazai’s compass had been broken for the longest time, he could admit that much. There were too many bold strokes beyond the margins: crosses, stains, incomprehensible lines made in indifference and irresponsibility.

“…they’re surveilling our little conference even now…”

But, truly, how morally superior is the government handling the bizarre world of skill-users compared to the Mafia? He couldn’t be the one to judge and tell. He couldn’t understand.

“Dazai-kun, start running away. Now.” The urgency in Ango’s voice brought him back to the oncoming reality. Whatever emotions were hidden behind the glasses, Dazai couldn’t press into his memory. The mind was too preoccupied. He pressed back into the seat — a response of his body to the upcoming and unavoidable danger. The thought of dying had never once scared him, but pain, broken bones, and the like — loathed.

“Run, and tell your agents that danger will find them soon —” It didn’t matter what the answer was. There was no need for it.

If there were indeed parallel worlds — an infinite number of possibilities of the current one — then it could be different. In another world, perhaps, it could be different. They could have never met and, thus, never had their past shared. Two perfect strangers to each other — two parallels never meeting. In a different world where the events unfolded differently, where they still met, became friends and met in a bar with, preferably, a similar menu. In a world where he didn’t die, they could remain forever as they were back then. Dazai would feed them his terrible tofu and talks about suicide. They could eat and drink together while sharing nonsensical stories. There would be no guilt or regret. But that would have to be a different world.

In this world, Sakaguchi Ango, a government agent, successfully infiltrated Port Mafia and then Mimic. In this world, Sakaguchi survived in the Mafia and climbed the ranks. In this world, he had successfully pretended to be a friend to Dazai Osamu, youngest Executive in history, and Sakunosuke Oda, the lowest of the ranks. He done so not out of necessity but because he could. In this world, Sakunosuke Oda was dead, killed in confrontation with Mimic. Ango’s betrayal of the Mafia didn’t matter in the least. After all, Dazai had done so too: even he wasn’t such a hypocrite. In this world what mattered was the death of a man who didn’t get to write his novel. In this world, Dazai Osamu wasn’t a better man to forgive. In this world, ex-Mafia held grudges despite knowing the regret of another.

If he were in a different world and was a different human being, he would understand the necessity for the flowers when visiting a hospital. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t really understand it. Nonetheless, he had done it. A man who believes in honest day’s work deserved that much, at least.

“Why, hello there, Ango!” Dazai’s chirpy voice carried through the ward. “How are you doing?” With a bouquet and a basket of consumable goods as visiting protocol dictates. And a bright friendly smile, of course. “Well, you look lovely,” Dazai lied effortlessly, seamlessly. He had done so not out of necessity but because he could. “I have a fine story for you!”

It was in the very same bar where the three of them met that he witnessed it: regret. Sakaguchi Ango, a government agent who infiltrated Port Mafia and climbed the ranks, expressed regret. Perhaps, that alone was the thing that steadied the Executive’s hand. That, and Odasaku’s presence. Unfortunately, there was no more Odasaku to steady the bandaged Executive’s hand. Only the words of a friend now gone to guide this ex-mafioso.

It was much later that Dazai truly saw the guilt behind the round glasses. It’s much easier to recognize guilt in others when experienced. He couldn’t tell if it was cleverly hidden from others or if Ango had hid from himself.

“Thirty-five count murderer?” the bedbound man asked, unsurprised. Dazai was a visitor but he sure wasn’t a good one after eating from the basket. According to him, that’s what he planned. According to everyone else who could be in the room to pass judgement: selfish, inconsiderate, and even mocking. He didn’t do it out of necessity but because he could.

“Murder is murder,” Sakaguchi stated simply. Dazai remained a patient listener despite how easy it would be to probe at wounds unhealed, to uncap the bottled regret, to stir their shared but erased past. He knew full well what murder was. So did Ango. But the thing about murder and death is that it often was accompanied with guilt. And guilt was a disobedient spirit: it didn’t follow you because you murdered, it followed because it could. For all that Ango did, for all the lies and treacherous moves, Dazai knew one thing for sure: in the moment it mattered most he had nothing to offer Odasaku to cling to. In that vital moment all he could offer were pitiful words that wouldn’t even convince a child. If he had to live with the guilt of it, he would.

“…if you seek other help…I’d be glad to do that.”

“Is that so?” Dazai asked, getting up from the chair. That was all he needed to hear. The task was accomplished. “Well, I’ll be back.”

“Dazai-kun.”

That stalled him at the doorway.

“I am accepting your offer of treatment in exchange for support. So just tell me one more thing.” Sakaguchi Ango was deceptively sharp as ever and just as calm. “When we were struck by that mystery vehicle, the airbag on my side alone failed to inflate. Would you happen to know the reason?”

Just as Ango doesn’t put his regret and guilt out on display, Dazai, too, had trick to hide his darkness. If guilt was a disobedient spirit, then darkness was a parasite set on self-destruction.

Oh, he hoped to make his once-friend regret the question. For it would be easy to hide the smile with his back to Ango. It would be equally as easy to switch one smile for another. But there was no need for that. Whatever it was he hid, the other would soon find out. Dazai allowed himself to smile with sincere darkness of his mind and offer it to the man who betrayed him. There was no need for an answer.

#yokelishtorturesenglish #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines #bsd fanfic #dazai osamu and ango sakaguchi #dazai osamu #ango sakaguchi #did i allude to BEAST? who knows~#i am not very happy with this work because it's not fucked up enough #i want more fucked up thank you #a very shitty character dynamic exploration

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ssaalexblake · 3 years

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I finished 11! I was never super into him during his run, i didn’t dislike him but i didn’t care much either, but during rewatch i actually came to like him a lot? I think hindsight is helpful here, because i could see the building blocks being laid that take the doctor further away from ten’s more toxic traits and actions, because for being Wildly irresponsible, 11 was actually making a concerted effort to Try to be better even if he rarely in practice succeeds.

He tries to do right by Amy and Rory, and like i said, he may not always succeed and he may say stupid things but he honestly tried to make it so they’d have a healthy relationship with him. A town called mercy showed us shades of the doctor’s realisation that their actions have consequences, he even calls himself out for how ten acted around the master, which will bring us into s8 with Missy and 12.

His relationship with Clara is also less *side eye* if only because now i Know full well where they go and it wasn’t happy go lucky masquerading as reasonable as much as it was the prelude to some meaty and self aware character plots to come with clara and 12.

I can’t necessarily pick out things i’d say ‘wow i love that’ about it, but a vast majority of it was very watchable and i’m not actually looking for peak brilliance in dw, so i call this a win actually. Some episodes i Do really love, even if i actually don’t love the vincent one as much as everybody else? I find tthe fact that they kill the creature that’s just scared and disabled pretty... not great. But??? The Doctor’s Wife is my favourite, still. The vampires of venice was a totally forgotten jem, i Loved the ‘you should be in a museum... or mausoleum’ scrap of dialogue, McCrory killed that performance.

Also liked Amy and Rory more as people this time, i actually think they’re easier to relate to now i’ve almost lived their age through? Didn’t really Get them back when i was in my early 20′s, couldn’t really place amy’s early 20′’s immaturity and the tension between her and rory because of it. Now it’s vastly clear that as we meet amy for the first time as an adult, their problem was that Rory had been made mature more quickly Probably due to his career choices and the gulf was wide until amy caught him up, which moved her from 11 to rory and so on.

Though, I do believe the low point was either A) how he treats river, B) the use of the whole mystical pregnancy trope or C) that time 11 did a genocide but used humans as the weapons in it and forced murder upon like... everyone on earth. I’m still not sure if the narrative even realised either of those things were bad. I know 12′s resolution with River has him realise the damage he did to her, but it’s a bit Vague to the point that i know the doctor is Aware their behaviour was bad but depending on what the writers at the time may have thought was bad or not in their writing,still may not really be calling out everything that was a problem?

11′s last few eps were deeply questionable from a writing standpoint, tbh, his very last episode was Much better than the three previous but they kind of spoilt it for me with the whole unnecessary and uncomfortably sexual nakedness thing that had like... No baring on the plot and just made what would have been normal, sweet scenes just creepy. They were so close on this one.

The name of the doctor was a fine episode if i ignore any and all feminist ideals i possess and conveniently ignore that the plot of the episode isn’t Actually resolved at all and honestly, the 50th anniversary was kind of fun as well, except they used the zygon plot as a vehicle for the emotional story surrounding the doctors and their choice to destroy gallifrey and then... Totally abandon That plot as well when they don’t want it anymore.

and that’s a shame, genuinely, because they really pulled him down at the uh... eleventh hour. Bad plot resolutions are better than No plot resolutions and they weren’t even giving us Anything.

But all in all, i found very few episodes hard to get through and while it was a nightmare in terms of casual offensiveness increasingly as time went on, the episode morals themselves were rarely questionable if at times badly executed to the point it mangled the moral. The River Amy thing is a whole can of worms on its own, which would involve a detailed take down of the mystical pregnancy trope and it’s late so no, but it’s awful and should never exist and it did here.

idk, i didn’t hate it, and i kind of did by the end of 11′s run back in the day, but my criticisms are more founded in actual critical thinking now and are ironically probably more scathing for the emotional detachment. I’m left with that frustrated feeling of ‘the bones are good but if it could just be Tweaked i’d properly like it’ mostly, i think. idk.

i rambled but that’s fine who needs sleep anyway

#dw shit #i Didn't hate it but if i cared i think i might have #idk on to 12 now i guess

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verse50 · 4 years

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How can a gentlemen show attention to his lady on a regular basis without looking needy ?

What an absolutely beautiful question. Thank you for sending it in.

First, let’s address the “needy” part. Today it’s very cool to shame people for being needy and the definition can vary from person to person. I think there are two ways to approach it.

Healthy needy. Humans are social animals. We are biologically wired to need physical touch, communication, and facial expressions to navigate our relationships and build connection. This is how we create a functioning society. We use our bodies to connect. We talk, look, touch, and feel the world around us. Personally, we need clear communication, respect, boundaries (social and intimate), kindness, affection, compassion, honesty, and morals to build good relationships. Never allow someone to accuse you of being “needy” when you want any of those things. It’s ok to ask your partner to speak in a lower tone of voice so you don’t get scared. It’s ok to text “I really miss your arms around me, can’t wait to see you.” It’s ok to stop a sexual encounter because any or all of the participants feel uncomfortable. A healthy needy person wants to connect with someone on a deeper level and respect the feelings that both of them have.

Unhealthy needy. This comes from fear and insecurity. I also believe it is one of the main triggers for domestic violence. Here, someone is mistrustful/angry/shamed inside and projects this to their relationship, trying to fix everything the wrong way. They get controlling. “Give me your phone. Where were you? I texted and you didn’t text back right away. Where did you get that jacket? You weren’t wearing it when you left the house.” They stalk, sulk, and create terror. It starts slow but builds up. Conversely, this needy can also show up as extreme anxiety and the inability to trust in the reality of a good relationship. After a time the mistrust erodes the good. This person is an empty well of need. No matter what you do, it is not good enough.

So, we want our need to create connection, not separation. Healthy need allows the self to be vulnerable and reach out for that connection in meaningful ways.

Daily routine. A couple is going to have some sort of routine with work, kids, school, hobbies, etc. Your day should be built so the relationship is noticed and supported within the routine. This means you become teammates and try to relieve the stress of life. Do you work opposite shifts? Come home at 2 and she comes home at 5? Have agreements on division of labor. Pull your weight. You might take care of all house stuff and she is the car person. Think about what would make her/your life easier. You might get up early and clean the snow off her car while she takes a shower. You can take the kids to the park while she studies for the exam. Ask her “what can I do to help you” then listen to the answer. Notice her achievements. Praise her for things that have nothing to do with her body.

Affection. All women crave touch from a partner they love and trust. Incorporate touch into every aspect of your life. Walk together and hold her hand. Skin on skin in bed. Touch her arm during conversation. Hold her face when you kiss her. Brush her hair. Massage her feet/hands/neck. Arm around her waist and tuck her hand into your elbow. Wrap her up in a towel out of the shower. Snuggles on the couch. These touches are the stars that make up the galaxy of deeper sexual touch.

Words. Some guys are not big talkers, I get that. You can talk in voice or writing. I’ve even heard of guys who have a tough time saying “I love you” coming up with a code that means that, e.g. three hand squeezes means “I love you.” Any way you do it, she wants to hear you. “I was thinking about you this morning. That shirt looked sexy on you. I heard you talking to my Dad, I know he is difficult but you were so kind to him. You are my best friend. I love kissing you. Can’t wait for our weekend together. I got hard just thinking about those beautiful eyes looking at me. I need to feel your hands on me.” If it makes you feel good to think it, it will make her feel good to hear it.

Responsibility. Women these days are busy. We have families, careers, are caregivers for elderly parents, have school schedules, hobbies, and fitness routines. The best thing you can do is not mess up the good she is trying to do in her life. Take care of your shit. Don’t spend $3000 at the strip club when she is scraping pennies together for a new car. Don’t burn the house down trying to be an unlicensed electrician. Don’t sign the kids up for classes without a conversation about who is going to transport them for it. Don’t drink and drive. Be a good person. Find ways to elevate your character and it will automatically add to her life.

Notice. She has a body. mind, goals, dreams and ideas. You might not know all of these very well. Notice what she reveals and ask questions to learn more. You don’t need to control or give advice unless she wants it. Just support. Again, ask “how can I help you with this” and listen. She has a life attached to you and parts that are hers alone. Even if she doesn’t need help, celebrate her uniqueness and efforts. Value who she is as a person, not just her relationship to you.

Rituals. This is the bread and butter for D/s. Check-ins, greetings, honorifics, rules. In general, think of ways you can build a structure with her. Is there a Friday night movie? Do you spend lunch break together once a week? Do you write a love note and leave it on her steering wheel? Always get her an orange when you go to Walmart? The smallest thing done on a consistent basis means the world to her.

I hope this is a good starting point. I’m sure the fans will have some great ideas as well. Do think about checking out my Patreon and Instagram. Couples love reading my stories together before bed.

#askv

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ts-unsolved · 4 years

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Final Wrap-up for Chapter One

((since chapter one will be coming to a close shortly and there is still an assortment of questions left over, here is a masterpost of responses to queries that couldn’t be addressed during the story!

[reminder: the ask box will be left open, however the characters are not available. please keep in mind that non-plot related questions will not be answered by the characters after this post.]

Anonymous said: ((Just wanted to tell you your drawings are so pretty and I love ur blog. That is all I have no braincells to ask questions))

Anonymous said: OKAY MOD I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH AND ITS SO COOL AND GOOD AND YOUR ART IS TOO!! sorry for caps I’m just excited

Thank you! Sorry I didn’t always get around to answering asks like this, but for every one that was sent in, I appreciated it with all my heart. You guys are angels 💖

Anonymous said: What is one haunted location you guys would really like to visit someday?

Poveglia is definitely the highest on the list for the notoriety alone, although they would likely never get the permission to go (the history in general is almost excessively horrible and tragic, so nothing good would come out of doing an episode there. Maybe it’d be good as a final-chapter type location? 🤔).

@anxious-fander-bean said: Hey Logan, have you ever tried swing dancing? It's really fun and good excersize! There's also a lot of bouncing and upbeat music, so Patton might enjoy it as well! ((I'm doing it. I need the qpp boys to be happy and have fun, bc they deserve it.))

(LOGAN: I’ll...consider it.)

You did it, you got them to go on some good ol’ platonic dates! B)

Anonymous said: I feel bad that I don't have any deep question or something along those lines, but what's your favorite thing to bake, Pat? - 💐

That’s alright! Questions don’t have to be deep to be fun/interesting.

(PATTON: Cupcakes! You can make so many different flavors, and there are tons of fun ways to decorate them!)

@why-should-i-tell-youu2 said: Why cant anyone else see the seal?

You need to have The Sight to be able to see demon sigils. Patton has this ability naturally, and Dee has it because Elliott taught it to him. Otherwise, Virgil and Roman would be the closest in terms of gaining this ability, but a scared/skeptical part of them is holding them back.

Anonymous said: My good dorks, is there a way to, I don’t know, get a better/more effective charm for your office? One that costs more than $10? -🍁

Anonymous said: Hey, Logan, potential naturalistic explanation for ya: depending on what the charm was made of, shifts in ambient room temperature could have caused minuscule expansions and contractions in the material that would eventually crack the charm. Do I believe my own explanation? Absolutely not. Am I grasping at straws for a non-supernatural explanation? Absolutely. And ambient room temperature doesn’t even begin to explain the red symbol around the charm

(LOGAN: Our budgeting is already a mess as it is, the last thing we need is to waste more funds on decorations. And that theory seems much more reasonable than the contrary explanation.)

Anonymous said: Is the demon that Pavreen summoned the same demon that possessed Elliott?

Anonymous said: Welp Virge SUMMONED A DEMON- (Why do I have a feeling Remy was the demon that possessed Elliot-)

Nope, they’re all different demons! The demon that Parveen summoned is notoriously difficult to contact, so a bunch of teenagers wouldn’t have been able to do it. Likewise for Remy; you can only summon him once you have his True Name, and he’s already destroyed most references to that (sorry Patton).

Anonymous said: omg omg omg what part of mythology is remy part of???

He’s not from any particular mythology, but he is partly based off of Alps from German folklore and the general mythology around sleep paralysis!

Anonymous said: Can Patton see supernatural beings like ghosts and demons and stuff? I just think it would be interesting if his scars make him able to see them :3c

Anonymous said: If both Dee and Patton can see the sigil, and Dee can see ghosts, does that mean Pat can see ghosts too? With the whole red glowing thing (forgot what its called) it seems to be connected.

Yes he can see ghosts/demons, and you’re right that the scars (or rather the deal with the demon which gave him his powers and scars) are what lead to him being able to do it. The red is just a general indicator of something supernatural/not of our Realm.

Anonymous said: Wait so if Patton and his family all have that mark could that mean Patton is not completely human 👀 -🌈

I supposed you could say that Patton’s not entirely human because he’s a witch who was born without a soul, but he’d find that pretty offensive tbh.

Anonymous said: Are Elliott and Patton maybe related, even distantly? Also, roman needs to suck it up and have Feelings for the Snake Man

There’s no relation between Elliott and Patton. Elliott is the child of a seer and a psychic, Patton is the son of witches. They’re similar, but different. (Also you’re assuming that Roman hasn’t liked the Snake Man since high school, but considered him off-limits because he’s his brother’s best friend).

Anonymous said: Does Patton know that Dee can see spirits and does Dee know that Patton is protecting them all?

Anonymous said: Dee, pat, do you know that each other can see the sigil?

Anonymous said: is ... is patton a witch and dee a dee-mon and that's why they don't like each other.....?

Anonymous said: Pat what do you think about making deals with demons?

They’re both aware of each other’s secrets! Technically they’re both doing their best to protect everyone, but that doesn’t mean they agree with each other’s methods or bond over the shared responsibility.

Patton is indeed a witch, and Dee is a regular human who happened to summon a demon one time. Patton thinks Dee is the occult equivalent of a satanist, which he disagrees with because dark magic is unnatural/dangerous in his eyes (making deals with demons only leads to trouble!), and would prefer Dee not endanger his friends. Dee doesn’t like Patton because of his perceived moral superiority, and finds the way he can be so secretive and two-faced creepy

Regardless, they’re both sitting in glass houses and have more in common than they think.

Anonymous said: Patton Should Hug Dee *

Maybe. But he won’t. 8′D

Anonymous said: Since Dee has been able to see ghosts for a long time, was he an open believer in ghosts before Elliot died? Since it was mentioned that the reason he lies about his belief is because he knows that they're dangerous, he wouldn't have had a reason to hide it in the past. And if he did are any of the others aware of the belief change? Well, besides Remus. I'm guessing that one is pretty obvious.

He may have been more involved as a believer in the past, though that doesn’t mean he was ever super open about it. He was aware of how it would look like to outsiders (being genuinely skeptical at one point himself), so he wasn’t going to paint a target on his back by talking about ghosts and demons and things most people can’t see.

Of course, that didn’t stop people from stereotyping and making those sorts of assumptions about their friend group anyway, but no one besides them really knew about their secret-- not even Virgil.

Anonymous asked: What would happen if one time, the gang ended up getting something supernatural on camera?

The result of that would depend on the being. Ghosts can kinda appear on camera, although it’s very rare for them to appear as a full bodied apparition, which is why they usually only manifest in spirit orbs or light/shadows. Poltergeists are better since they’re able to interact with objects, but likewise since they can’t manifest into a physical form they can easily be brushed off. Demons and other miscellaneous creatures will straight up not appear if captured directly on film; you’ll simply get video glitches and distortions.

So essentially, they may technically have found something already, but capturing evidence that’s also compelling is a lot more difficult than you’d think. I imagine there’s a good chance that anything legitimate wouldn’t get taken too seriously because of how easy it is to fake evidence nowadays.

Anonymous said: Okay so a little bit of a rant but not really ig but imagine the ladylike and unsolved crossover for this AU like I can see it as like Thomas' friends dressing up Roman and Dee in style and seeing a blushing mess and maybe flirting going on because of how good the clothing complements each other but this is kinda a weak idea lol

It’s not a weak idea at it, it’s really cute! (though I may just have a soft spot for the Ladylike cast and crossovers).

The only thing to note is that I’ve chosen not to include Thomas’ friends in this AU because I personally weird about writing fiction about real people? (I was on the fence about including character!Thomas for a while too, tbh). So, apologies to anyone who’s sent similar asks or wanted to see any of Thomas’ friends; they wont be around!

Anonymous said: Did Dee and Remus ever have that talk Dee said he would try to have a while back????

They might have gotten the opportunity to chat back when Remus came back to help shoot the Room 1046 video. It wouldn’t have been a complete reconciliation by any means (dealing with years of baggage in one sitting is Hard), but now Remus is aware that Dee is open to discuss things again at some point in the future, so progress!

Anonymous said: wait wHAT?! When did he (Emile Picani) die?? Give us the deets oh wise one

Anonymous said: emile is... dead? what happened?

I see y’all, but unfortunately you’re not getting any answers from me just yet! You’ll have to wait until the next chapter~.

Anonymous said: Shit is about to go down and I am worried about the next ghost "adventure"

:) Don’t Worry About It.))

#OOC #((that should be all the big questions!#i'll update this later if anything comes up))

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tangyyyy · 4 years

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Triangle and bullshit

Taking part in every dramas inherent to this fandom is not in my habits, I must admit it. Generally, I don't agree with the majority view. Why? I don't really know... I already asked myself the question without really finding any answer that totally suits me. Do I have different logics because I'm older than the average age of the fandom? Perhaps my opinions, steeped in French culture, do not match the cultural majority of the fandom? I really don't know. The fact remains that I often disagree with the majority opinion and that more often than not, I force to shut myself up. Unwilling to give anything to chew to people who spend their time complaining, questioning everything, most of the time, I keep what I think for myselfn just sharing my views with fandom friends who, without necessarily sharing my opinions, can themselves be open-minded and less radical than some in the tag. Anyway, seeing the increasing criticism and, above all, the more or less hateful messages directly addressed to the Skam France team, I feel the need to explain myself. Completely selfish approach, it has no other goal than to bring out what I have in mind, nothing else. Afterwards, I will no longer take part in this sterile and somewhat childish "debate". The vox populi (aka the majority opinion of the fandom) seems to reject the idea of a love triangle. Small parenthesis... This rejection is so massive, so extreme, that it's impossible for me to forget the underlying narrow-minded morality that seems to create it. I don't judge you ! Myself, at the start of the season, I was one of those who prayed not to be entitled to yet another love triangle. What I regret is the little thought shown by the fandom now that the event they feared has happened. The love triangle... Let's talk about it. Love triangle is a dramatic scheme widely used since time immemorial. The literature (western or otherwise) of the past three millennias testifies without controversy to this dimension of archetypal universality of the love triangle. I won't cite all the books, films and series that deal with love triangles, it would be endless. Why does this dramatic pattern come up all the time? But because these triangles can give rise, among the protagonists, to a palette of feelings, each more interesting than the other. Jealousy, humiliation, betrayal, guilt, feeling like a traitor, being dishonest, hurting someone... And guess what? All this... This is love too! To believe in a love without cloud, without wound, without misunderstandings, excuse me, but I find that a little... Naive. Youy think I'm cynical? No no, I sincerely believe in pure and eternal love. I don't turn a blind eye to the difficulties experienced by couples to achieve this, quite simply. In short.. As unpleasant and painful as it is, the experience of the triangle can be a powerful growth lever for the characters involved. Betrayal has enormous potential value on us. It denounces an identity flaw and at the same time authorizes a process of quest for identity, which will succeed or not, depending on what the characters decide to do with it. If a triangle comes into our life, on our own or someone else's act, it has a purpose. It becomes the revealing mirror of our unconscious. You don't like relationships based on triangles? That's too bad, The majority of interactions between humans is based on triangular issues. (One of the three people may very well be imaginary, a fantasy. The triangle may very well not be romantic but can take place into family (Freud and his Oedipus)). The problem in this fandom is the poverty of meaning that the fans seem to add to the love triangle of this season 5. Exemple: “Arthur cheats the nice Alexia with the bad Noée, it's not good, it does nothing for the story”. Or even without a personal value judgment... “Arthur hesitates between Alexia and Noée, it's silly.” WTF? But if we stick to this vision of things, necessarily that no intrigue is worth exploring. Through this intrigue, instead of grumbling and rejecting it, how about considering its potential? OKAY! Ok I know! You did't want to see a love triangle. Neither did I. But once we have said that, once we have expressed our dissatisfaction, we should perhaps think of moving on to something else, right? I only see posts that ramble, that always say the same thing, it's kinda annoying, really...

We have no choice, we aren't decision makers. The writers decided to write the story this way. Well. We can have reservations, but that won't change anything, so go ahead, right? Or else, you know what? You can also make the choice to stop watching Skam France or even to shut up... Yes, yes, I assure you, it's possible! I say all this while finally, for me, in this season 5, there is no love triangle. Let me explain... For me, there is a love triangle only if there is real hesitation, if one of the three protagonists is really attracted to the other two, may not be in the same way but in any case with the same power. Is this the case here? No! Arthur is not in love with Noée! Arthur is clearly in love with Alexia, it shows, it feels. Maybe I'm wrong but for me, there is no doubt. For a love triangle to work, the outcome must be uncertain. There, we know very well that Arthur never thought of becoming a couple with Noée. So no, for me, there is NO love triangle, Arthur is not attracted (lovingly speaking) by Noée. Okay... Okay, but he kissed her, right?! Yeah right... But there is kiss and kiss, right? I know many will disagree with me. I know it and I expose myself, by giving my opinion, to many outraged reactions but I want to say it anyway ... (My blog is not important enough to receive haters anyway :P) I don't think Arthur really cheated on Alexia. Is kissing cheating? Everyone discuss about it, often sticking firmly to their positions. The debate rages between those for whom the kiss wreaks havoc in the couple with a strong taste of cheating, and those for whom kissing remains harmless and is not adulterous. the notion of cheating remains at the discretion of each. In my opinion, a kiss can be considered as cheating if it's leaded by attraction, by desire. In the case of Arthur and Noée, it wasn't really the case I think. Maybe yes on Noée's side but certainly not on Arthur's side! And it's Arthur who "cheats", not Noée. This kiss came to fill a moment of interstellar emptiness. We all know these voids. These moments, often silent, which follow great confidences, when people find themselves in a state of great vulnerability, an intense fragility, where we could die of embarassment or fear. So yes, at that time, Arthur and Noée kissed. It wasn't desire but simple reassurance. Let's face it, kissing someone, touching one another lips, it's a feeling that can make you forget everything. An intimate gesture that comforts, that warms. Did you know? In some cultures, friends may very well kiss on the mouth without this being considered a loving gesture. So ok, that was bullshit. Instead of kissing Noée, Arthur would have done better to burst into tears, to give her a hug or even to make a mental breakdown, that would have meant the same thing (at least for me) but would have been much more politically correct.It would have less shocked very young fans who still believe in the love of fairy tales...

But... Ok, I take a step aside, I take a step back (come, try, do like me, you'll see, it's pretty easy actually!). For this paragraph, I will consider this kiss as cheating... An infidelity can speak of many other things than disaffection. It can be linked to a problem in the couple: loss of communication, concern for the other, desire, estrangement from the two partners, conflicts ... It can also respond to a very personal problem. Kissing Noée, Arthur didn't mean to say: "Noée je t'aime", or "I don't love Alexia anymore." or even "That's it, I hesitate between two girls now!". No! Perhaps this "cheating" simply meant "I'm lost", "There is a problem between Alexia and me, we no longer understand each other. ", " I'm scared.". By kissing Noée, Arthur expresses his doubts to the spectator, he lets go under the pressure of being perfect on both sides. He shows himself to be human. And yes! Before being the perfect boyfriend, Arthur is a human. Anyway! Love is worth living, it is a feeling of intense lightness, of absolute happiness. But one cannot ignore all the pains which can gravitate around this love. It's not magic. All that to say that I will continue to follow Skam France season 5 with great happiness. Ok, they did not go in the direction I wanted but... This is also why I watch series, films, that I read books. To be surprised. If I want to control all the stories, I write them, it's that simple. I do not agree with everything that the writers put in place (the treatment of Alexia's caracter disappoints me a lot so far for example) but I won't flood the social networks with my own disappointment and my hateful comments. Trust me, I have a lot better to do with my free time. So, in short: Take a deep breath, try to step aside, get out of your own representations and you'll see, the Skam France experience is worth living.

#Skam France #Now I shut myself again #I said everything I needed #Don't make me talk about Alexia please #Relaxxxx guys !#Oh and I swear... I never cheated on anyone ^^#I know I can sound bitchy sometimes

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