#its the nail in the coffin for his mental health
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24 REASONS I LOVE YOU!
some Lando Norris fluff headcanons🧡
scenario: 24 reasons you love Lando for his 24th birthday
warning:
pai’s words: happiest birthday to our papaya man, may health and joy fill your days 🧡
1. His laugh
It’s not supposed to be funny, especially not to you, but it’s early in the morning and you’ve spent the night playing video games with him, not resting for a minute or two. With a tired mind and bleary eyes, you stare as your character gets ejected off the track for the nth time this game, the lakitu riding a cloud getting you back on the track. Only for your Daisy to fall a few meters later. This plants the last nail in the coffin and Lando lets his explosive giggles fall free from his mouth, slapping his thigh and doubling over. You’re frustrated, tired and cranky, so really, this shouldn’t make you laugh. But he’s almost rolling in the floor, and his laugh is so contagious, filling the room with its high pitched tone, and suddenly you’re cackling with him as the race is still going on, both of your characters stopped in the middle of the track.
2. His eyes
The storm is raging outside their bedroom, angry flashes of white slipping through the closed curtains. The sky is playing a fast paced symphony, each booms louder than the last. It’s getting closer, or so the medias say, and the lump in your throat is getting bigger. Your heart is doing somersaults in your chest, you can feel your stomach drop at each noise, each flash of light. You’re laying in the middle of the bed, immobilized by your fear of storms, while your boyfriend is still unaware of it all, playing with Max, his headset blocking the sounds. It takes a blackout, and a single screech coming from you at the loss of comfort provided by your bedside lamp, to have him rush to you, apologies hanging on his lips. Only when he lays beside you, firm hands holding your face as he murmurs reassurances, you feel at peace, his sparkling eyes staring directly into yours. You may not be enamored with lightning, but you have to admit that the way it lights his blue eyes up at every strike, angry white flash instantly softened by the calm blue, is mesmerizing.
3. His hands
The crowd is particularly loud as you make your way to the paddock, left hand locked with your dear’s right one. You’re not particularly a fan of big crowds and packed spaces, but this is part of the contract, and the price’s worth the trouble. Singapore is buzzing with life and chatters, Lando barely containing his joy at the prospect of seeing his coworkers, his friends, and racing despite the weather. During all weekend, his hands act as your anchor, wether it’s resting on your waist, wrapped around your wrist, caressing your back or ruffling your hair to annoy you.
4. His words of encouragement
It’s a known fact that Lando is transparent about his mental health, doing his best to encourage fans and other drivers, public figures, to speak up about their struggle. He’s doing the exact same thing with you, always ready to listen to your ranting and give you some advices. Even when he’s particularly low, he’s pushing you to open up and share your every thoughts.
5. His friends
Now, this might sound strange. But Lando really knows how to surround himself with kind souls, having learned from past mistakes. Max, in particular, is someone you’re fond of to your boyfriend’s despair. One of your favorite thing to do together is make fun of him, during livestreams and off, he can never get one second of peace when you’re together.
6. His sass
This one is fully expected with him, but it never fails to amuse you. You’re at a club tonight, celebrating a night off while your boyfriend’s acting as a DJ. You’re hanging out with your favorite girls, Lily and Carmen, their respective boyfriends away to get some drinks while you’re dancing the night away. In the corner of your vision, you see a man coming your way, his intention very clear with the way he’s staring at you, so you choose to ignore it and fully turn to your girls. The man’s attempts at approaching you is not lost on Lando either, and he’s pleased to see him stop dead in his track when he notices the song the DJ is now playing, an electro remix clearly telling him to fuck off. He can’t hide his smug smirk when their eyes meet.
7. His moles
He’s laying next to you in the messy bed, sweat clinging to his skin, the morning sun hitting his back and highlighting his many moles. Both of you are spent, well loved and content, and as Lando moves to snuggle his face in your chest, your hands naturally come to stroke his back, circling around his moles, making him giggle.
8. His little notes
It happens whenever he’s leaving before you wake up, only for you to find out later. He likes to steal your “pretty writing stuff” and leaves you small notes in the kitchen, in the living room, right bedside the entryway, even in your bathroom. It ranges from I love you’s to random facts he knows you’re going to ask him about, and he knows he’s right when he receives texts from you later during the day.
9. His kisses
While you love each and every of his kisses, the ones he leaves on your lips in his driver’s room, almost late to his interviews are your favorite. He wants to stay by your side until the very last second, basking in each other while everyone is waiting for him. He doesn’t care about getting nagged at by his team, he only wants to enjoy your lips and takes his sweet time doing so.
10. His jpg account
Well, it quickly became a fan account dedicated to you after you announced your relation. He spends hours touching his photos up, sharing his thoughts with you about contrast, shadows and whatsoever. When he’s chilling on the couch, head resting on your lap, he takes his phone out and answers some comments, showing you funny ones, and mindlessly scrolling through his own account to admire his artwork once more.
11. His scent
It’s a known fact that he mixes all his perfume together, he proudly talks about it during interviews. While it sounds strange and not appealing at all, the notes of his perfumes all go surprisingly well together, creating a deep, masculine fragrance. It slowly clings to each and every one of your furniture and clothes, warming your heart.
12. His curls
He’s had some questionable haircuts but he learned to appreciate his curls and now can’t go back, not that you’re complaining. It stays in a fluffy mop on top of his head, shiny and silky. You won’t admit it but you clearly are jealous of his curls, so defined and soft when he doesn’t even do anything special to it. You found yourself running your fingers through it more often than not, letting him bask in the attention as he nearly purrs.
13. His teammate
Once again, strange thing to say. But Oscar is a special someone to you, and to your relationship most importantly. He was the first to know about his crush, much more observant than he lets on, and the one to watch it all unfolds before his eyes.
14. His sisters
They’re your sisters too, now, having adopted you even before you two were aware of your feelings. You have a special space for them in your heart, and so does Lando. While he’s not often free, when he is and it’s coordinated with his sister Flo competitions, he’s the first one to show up with you by his side. Both of you are also making time for Cisca, the oldest sister, and she absolutely adores you for that.
15. His brother
Oliver is pretty busy, but he’s always thrilled to have you around. He completely trust you to take care of Athena and Mila with Lando, secretly betting with his sisters about when you’ll have a child, or if you’ll have any at all. You once had to call him up in the middle of the night, after you accidentally broke Lando’s sim when you tripped on it, he wasn’t pleased.
16. The rest of his family
Obviously, you can not NOT put them. They make you feel welcomed and safe at all times, truly happy their boy has found someone like you to share his life with. You two are good for each other and they all know it, considering you part of the family from the very beginning.
17. His hatred towards fish
Not because you share it, but because you find it absolutely hilarious. Even now, Carlos still brings it to the table every chance he gets, and Lando stands his ground while you make fun of him. At this point, you know he’s too stubborn to ever admit he might not hate it as much as he claims, and he’ll die on that hill if he has to.
18. His driving habits
You’re in his car, a true passenger princess as he drives the vehicle around the south of France. The windows are down and music is blasting from the radio, he has one hand stroking your thigh while you’re munching on some snacks he stocked up especially for you. He’s careful with his turns as he knows your coffee is still full and at risks of spilling, and he parks under a tree so you won’t complain about the burning leather seat when you come back in the car. He knows your habits as well as you know his, and it’s a match made in heaven.
19. His love for dogs
Yes, you’re more of a cat person, but seeing him with cute dogs is the best part of your day. Ie he could have a tail, it’d be wagging as hard as the puppy’s he’s currently petting. He doesn’t want any pet yet, it’s not ideal with your lifestyle, which explains his joy when he sees one in the street. Fans know this by now, so more often than not, they come and see you two accompanied with their dog and it never fails to put a smile on his face.
20. His understanding nature
Sometimes all you need is some peace and quiet, alone in your bed. Lando knows it, and while he much prefers when you talk to him, he respects your needs and patiently waits for you while he busies himself. He knows you’ll come to him when you’re ready, he also knows he sometimes acts the same way, which makes him well aware of how you might feel if he pressures you into talking.
21. His shirts
It’s a common occurrence now, you steal them too often to pretend you do not do it on purpose. He knows it and it amuses him deeply, to see you prance around in his shirt as if you own it, even if you kind of do by now. If he buys some clothes by two so he can still match with you when you steal them, it’s a secret.
22. His texts
They can be tooth rotting sweet, but they can also be completely unhinged. He’s not good at answering his friends or his team, but he’s a pro when it comes to you. Bonus points for the memes oh himself he sends at random hours of the day.
23. His brand
Quadrant is his pride and joy, and it’s now yours too. If it were up to you, you’d be a human advertising panel, wearing the merch from head to toe. He’s always so proud when seeing people in the streets wearing some of his shirts, and secretly takes photos so he can show them to you when he’s able to.
24. His love
It’s sweet and warm, electric and hypnotizing, it’s all you ever wanted before meeting him. He loves like he does everything else, with his whole soul. He’d take the world down for you if you ever asked him to, he’d do everything he could to make you happy. He’s clumsy at times, unsure and careful, but he’s trying his best to be the one for you, even if he already is. He loves you with everything he has.
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its time i talk about the person who left a dent on me
the worst part of my trauma when it comes to it being connected to people i was once close with is that my perspective of what makes of them reminders of them (i do this to anyone im close with- whether it is a symbol or a certain appearance or trait or event)
little bit of serious talk here folks, so i apologize for the unexpected. hope you have the filters.
for most of my internet life, it was almost only me. completely unfiltered. came to deviantart first. became popular at an early age because of what i was doing in the fnaf fandom- it was not good for my mental health.
my groomer has a sona that never changes by design. he's always depicted as an orange fox with black long hair, black beanie and striped jacket. he likes fps games, especially the resident evil series- having associated me with Mia from resident evil 7. he likes fnaf (we met through fnaf... while i was like 14 i think- while he was 9 years older than me). he draws well... i guess. in pokemon form, he would be a jolteon. i would be a pansear. he would be the fox. i would be the rabbit.
as a child i was very impressionate, overly emotional, and cringe (ofc). i would be best friends with my groomer after finding out we shared many common interests and kept talking to each other about it- and then later fess up i have romantic feelings for him.
this would have been the opportunity for him to back up and say no.
but he didn't say no.
we continued off and became a couple. not many people batted an eye on how questionable it was for a 15 year old to be in a relationship with a 24 year old. almost nobody, save for a few concerned friends (and one stranger on Transformice) who i ignored unfortunately, talked it up with me to leave him. i held our relationship as a sort of defense mechanism. i relied on him to make me feel happy. i did a lot of things with him, and including those of the unsavory before i became of age. (i ever regret doing them- but how would i have known- i wasn't the adult here. he was.)
oh and have i mentioned he said the (un)iconic "you're pretty mature for your age." to me
you know whats one of the funniest weirdest shit about our relationship events was? he would show me this club penguin vid where there is a troll making crude remarks and harass someone (presumably a kid). that brotherman bill cp video. he would recite and memorize the song while blindfolded. ironic how he turns out to be in the end.
the wake up call was when he retweeted nsfw of an underage fictional character. seeing that purged my stomach.
yes. it was nsfw of a fictitious minor that was the nail to the coffin. nothing else. i was so delusioned. so troubled. i couldnt see anything else problematic until that happened.
it was so hard for me to let go of him. thankfully i had friends who comforted me and stuck with me through the whole way through. i was on my bed crying.
we've been in close contact for 5 years. i was convincing myself to stay on a doomed relationship because i didnt know what to do- i was already broken and unwell. i was very co-dependent (and i think some of those negative traits still follow me to this day- learning how to get out of that though). my groomer has left a large gap of my mind when we broke off- i revolved so much stuff around him.... and i forgot a lot of memories because of the trauma- taking even the happy unrelated to him ones with it.
i cared too much. and as someone who draws fast- you can imagine how much ive done.
my old files are infested with his likeness. i know i can just delete them but theres so much. so many. it is utterly revolting to see it all and the memories that come with it.
but as time went on, im starting to care less and less about what has happened between us. i am still traumatized of course and a lot of the negative things followed me, but i am healing somewhat and thats what matters i think. most of the things ive associated with him- the connection is fading. i have separated fnaf from him. i no longer associate orange foxes with him. i am comfortable drawing characters in black beanies.
if there is anything i should be grateful for, is that im no longer with him and im happier with someone else. im thankful for the friends who have helped me cope out of that shitfest.
if you know who this person is, i advise you not to witchhunt and harrass him. i dont know what hes doing and honestly i dont give a fuck on how he's doing. he should get help honestly. it is me, myself the victim, who has the say on the matter- and my say is to leave out of his sight.
if you are a minor and someone older than you does these similar things to you, please let your parents and friends know immediately. please be safe.
if my groomer ever reads this, somehow, then to him i say: i am not afraid of you and i do not care about you anymore.
thank you for reading.
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excuse my media analysis but rewatching s1 has made me realize that the demogorgon isn’t real. like it IS in-universe but it’s a metaphor for other stuff. imo it represents several abstract concepts in season one which are
1. eleven’s guilt over her past and what the lab made her do—she blames herself for the demogorgon getting free and for will going missing, which is partially why the demogorgon keeps manifesting in the byers’ house (“i’m the monster, i let it in”), and the last episode climaxes with the demogorgon (allegory for eleven’s remorse-turned-anger) attacking brenner (stand-in for hawkins lab/the DOE) before eleven manages to kill it at the expense of herself, which symbolizes her turning her back on her “papa” (along with everything he was responsible for that she was an unwilling part of) and finally managing to rationalize/move past her misplaced guilt in order to overcome it and save her friends (at a high cost of her own well-being and mental health)
2. nancy and barb’s personal tension—their friendship is implied to have been becoming more fragile over time for a number of reasons, the most obvious of which being their differing priorities (nancy is growing up fast while barb is reluctant to), and the place this finally comes to a head is of course at steve’s party where nancy makes the nail-in-the-coffin decision to choose steve over barb (at least in the moment) and cements the metaphorical death of nancy and barb’s friendship (apparently catalyzed by steve and nancy’s relationship) which is symbolized by barb’s literal death taking place in steve’s backyard, and nancy’s following obsession with finding and killing the demogorgon responsible for barb’s death (as well as the blame she foists onto herself and steve in season two) is a metaphor for nancy trying to bridge an uncrossable chasm and mend an unfixable relationship with someone who’s already out of her reach
3. steve’s attraction to jonathan—he spends a long time vehemently trying to deny the existence of the demogorgon (even though the last anyone saw it was literally six feet from his patio door), with the only person still alive to have seen it being jonathan, and says several things that specifically target jonathan’s sexuality when he’s picking that fight (the fight that jonathan wins, which i think has less to do with either of their actual physical ability and more to do with what jonathan represents to steve, but that’s another post), but is forced to finally accept and internalize its existence (notably in the presence of his girlfriend) afterward, both by the demogorgon manifesting again in the byers’ house (since, in this case, it’s an abstract extension of jonathan) AS WELL AS by steve ignoring an out he’s been given in favor of going back into the house and facing what he fears head-on (much the same way many questioning people end up finally coming to terms with themselves), specifically doing so with the nail bat which was originally jonathan’s weapon
#stranger things#last one was originally a joke but then i thought about it and was like hey wait. that might make sense for real#stonathan#< i guess?
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Cabinet of Oddities (The Final Chapter)
Gale x Tav (OC F)
The final chapter. The defeat of the Netherbrain, the docks, the Chionthar. 2 epilogues. The first is the "canon" happy ending. The second is the one I prefer but decide for yourselves.
((I'm going to add a long blurb of thanks here. And some of my own unwanted backstory.
Nana was created for a DnD game back in 2021. A year when everything for me went to shit and I had a nervous breakdown. Her aversion to touch reflected my own insecurities with it, Thomas was the self-destructive tendencies which I clung to so desperately, her 5 years in the past was my 2021 as I lost myself to my mental health. Either way, this story was written as a reflection of all that happened and the friends that helped pull me out of it (despite all the struggles that came in that area).
But yeah, thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed the story. It's meant a lot, especially with this being the first fic I've ever written. So again, thank you, thank you, thank you.))
Ao3 Link
Nana fell onto the Netherbrain, her slight changeling form hitting the flesh beneath her. “Ooo squishy…”
“Tormentum!” Gale fired off a barrage of magic missiles at the mind flayer that loomed over her. “Nana, pull yourself together!” The battle so far had been intense, fighting their way through the High Hall, taking down cultists, ghouls and mindflayers and they’d had little time to recuperate before the final stages came. Now they bided their time as their own mindflayer ally opened the last portal giving them access to their foe. Gale ran to her, helping her from the ground where the enemy had shoved her.
“Thanks,” she said, wiping the ichor from her armour before leaning around him and firing an arrow past him into a tentacle that had suddenly emerged. “This is fun, right?” He could see how light her eyes were and the way her lips curved as she saw the arrow hit.
He looked at her in confusion but then a smile crept on his face. “Hardly the verbiage I would choose, my love.”
The portal erupted into view and the group sprinted for it ready to face the brain, the hardest part they had to overcome. Gale still thought of the orb, of that final choice he would have to make if things began to go badly for them. They continued to fight valiantly leaping between the plates that barely held in place around the brain. He could see the wear and tear of Astarion’s armour, the bruises on Shadowheart’s face, and again the choice presented itself to him. If this is what is needed, then so be it.
“Pew pew!” Nana dived past him firing arrows at the brain, his thoughts interrupted. Does she even realise where we are right now? He felt his head throb as the Netherbrain attempted to dominate the tadpoles they carried within. “Tormentum!” Another collection fired in the direction of the brain. Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.
It was a spell from the Shadowheart that was the final nail in the coffin, causing the Netherbrain to cry out in agony. He heard its voice within his head pleading with them to surrender or work alongside it but the mindflayer accompanying them ordered them to kill it. Gale stood with the crystals, looking at the Netherbrain in front of him, knowing only one thing; He needed to get the crown. He commanded with authority for the Netherbrain to destroy all the tadpoles and itself, immediately feeling intense pain in his skull, the worm withering away to nothingness.
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Nana watched as Gale made the order, her cheeks flushing a little at the sight. Oh, he is nice when he’s in charge… She bit her lip and then grimaced before crumpling to the ground in pain. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping for it to end and as it did, she looked up seeing the crown shatter into pieces before falling out of sight.
She looked down into the water. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. No Thomas, no tadpole, just the ramblings of her own mind. Jam, cushions, Gale. Going to be a fun night. And then there was a new sensation, one she had never experienced before, falling a large distance.
She felt the wind in her hair, savouring the moment before she hit the cold water beneath. A strange feeling overtook her as struggled to stay afloat, her arms growing weaker against the current, water entering her lungs. She could see the light above the surface but her mind kept drifting away from her, willing for sleep to take her. It was only as Astarion grabbed her pulling her upwards and the air entering her lungs again that she realised what had happened. She gasped for breath as she was pulled up onto the docks, coughing up mouthfuls of water. “I need to… learn how to swim.”
Astarion stood up next to her wringing out the water from his clothes. “Darling, you need to learn so much more before swimming.”
She felt Gale’s hand on her back, rubbing gently, and looked up to him with a smile. “We made it…”
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Gale walked along the docks indulging in the sensation of finally having his mind to himself again. He thought over the crown and where it was within the water, how he would find it and reforge it, and whether he was still willing to hand it over to Mystra as she had ordered of him. He looked over at Nana as she removed her soaked leather armour revealing her cotton shirt underneath, her pale skin moist with droplets of water. She shook her head, spattering Astarion, and Gale watched as he chastised her for it, her laughing at his temper. Is godhood worth losing all this?
It was as her smile faded that his attention moved to what she had seen. Karlach stood on the edge of the docks, the flames of her skin licking higher. She’d spoken little of her affliction to him throughout their travels, but he knew what was happening as Shadowheart ran towards her with concern on her face. He watched, unable to hear the words they spoke to one another as Karlach burnt hotter and brighter than any of them had seen previously, his mind racing, looking for solutions. An ice blast, the water around us. All other options except the one he knew she was against. It was Wyll who shouted past him about Avernus, the reluctance showing on her face as she heard the words, but Shadowheart managed to convince her to see sense.
They had no time to say goodbye to the trio before they fled through the portal, the heat of Karlach’s flames becoming too much for any of them to handle. Nana stood next to him, a tearful and shocked look on her face.
Astarion came closer towards them both with a smirk. “Well, loves, I guess it’s just our merry- ow!” He flicked his wrist as if he had been bitten by an insect. Gale saw how his skin began to smoke, the delicate fingertips of his hands cracking into a soft blue. “What the - oh gods. Oh no.” The sunlight.
Nana's panic was clear to see as she watched how Astarion fled across the docks, his abilities being altered by the absence of the tadpole. “We have to go after him!” she called to Gale, before beginning to run.
Gale reached an arm out stopping her progress. “There’s little point. There’s nothing we can do for him.”
“Maybe not, but he’s our friend. We can’t just leave him alone out there,” she pleaded with him. In mere moments she had lost over half of the people who had ever come to care for her, leaving only him alone with her. “We have to find him. Please, Gale.”
You’re right. The crown can wait. He gave a small nod and together they ran off in the direction they had seen Astarion flee.
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It had been over one hundred years since Astarion had felt the sun last burn his skin, a cruel torture technique that Cazador had used a few times for entertainment. But over the last few weeks, he had forgotten the feeling of it, the sting and then the pain that followed. He ran to the shadows, glad for the layer of dust in the air that blocked the sun’s direct rays from burning him up instantly. He crawled into himself, the days of those small beams prickling at his skin flashing in his mind, and he closed his eyes, willing them away, trying to work out his route to the Underdark where he would have to continue on alone.
What Astarion had not expected was to feel someone sit next to him as he sat alone behind the crates. He lifted his head and sat in confusion seeing Nana with him. After all they had been through, how he had treated her, and distrusted her so much. She still refused to abandon him like so many others had before. “He’s here, Gale,” she yelled out into the air.
Astarion didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want anyone to see him in this condition, with his face burnt by the sun, and his clothes tattered and torn. He buried his face in his knees again to shield himself from her view. As he spoke, his voice was quiet, more vulnerable than he would have liked, “Leave me alone.”
She said nothing but he didn’t feel her move. He heard Gale’s steps on the stone beside him and felt as he sat too. I don’t want their concern. He wanted to shout for them to leave again, he wanted his strength back, he wanted the sun, but they chose to never leave him. Even as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, they sat quietly with him waiting until he was ready to say goodbye on his own terms.
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“You’re going to be okay, right?” Nana’s lip quivered as she spoke the words on the shores of the Chionthar.
Gale gave her a reassuring smile, placing his hands over hers. “I will be.” He spoke with confidence, despite the worries he held within. He was thankful for the tadpole’s absence making these little moments that much easier to handle. “I will find the crown and come back to you. Do not worry for me.”
“I’m going to wait right here. I’ll stay here until you’re back.”
He could see the concern on her face, and he wished he could reassure her further. The letter he’d written lay in the journal he’d gifted her on the desk at the Elfsong Tavern, and he hoped she would never have to read it. Even if she did, he had spent hours with a quill in hand trying to provide the best words that could give her comfort if the worst were to happen. The kiss they shared felt too short, and Gale hoped it would not be their last. He boarded the boat to go out into the waters, letting his hands slip from hers. “Nana, know that I will always love you.”
He watched as she sat alone on the shore, her legs pulled up to her chest, and as she slowly disappeared from view he gave a quiet prayer to his goddess for her protection.
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Epilogue
It was a sunny day outside of Waterdeep. A lone gravestone could be seen, purple flowers lined around the base. Not far from it sat Nana in her natural changeling form, her short white hair had grown out and the scuffed leather armour had been replaced with an elegant silk gown.
"So, it's been a year now since that day by the river. A lot's happened, as you know. I held a proper funeral for you here and I was able to say my goodbyes. I met up with Karlach and the gang again. They said Avernus has been good to them. They mentioned something about a refinery and that they’re hopefully sorting something permanent for Karlach’s machine. I’m hopeful for her. Astarion went back to the Underdark as well and has pretty much put himself in charge of all the vampires. He looks well, a lot more at ease with himself than he used to be.”
She brushed her hair behind her ear. “And then there is me... Well, me and Gale are getting married. Yeah, I think he’s crazy too. I know you probably won’t be too happy about it, but then you were never really that happy about anything, were you? I wonder if you were always that way. Was there any way I could have really saved you?”
She sighed deeply looking at the tattered journal that sat beneath the stone. “I think that’s why I'm here today. I wanted to explain the choice I made a year ago. Why I didn't want to help you. I’d believed that I wasn’t enough, and when I met you, I thought that for maybe a moment you were the answer to everything. Too many times I questioned what you did and yet I allowed it, afraid of you leaving me. I was selfish and because of me, people got hurt, and people died. After meeting Gale, and everyone else, I realised that I am special in my own strange way and that being alone isn’t really what I want anymore. I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t need you anymore. I do hope though that you’re happy. You showed me a new world outside of my swamp, and maybe at some point, you did feel something for me other than the disgust you did a year ago.” She wiped away a stray tear and smiled. “Either way, I hope now that you’re gone, you’ve found some peace in death that you never had in life."
A few feet away Gale approached, his hair still weaving around the collar of his robes, though now with a layer tied neatly back. "Nana, If I could give you longer I really would but my mother is quite the stickler for being punctual. We’ve also received a letter about a tree growing at the location we previously camped at in Rivington. They’d like for us to come and claim it before they cut it down."
Nana looked at Gale and smiled before turning back to the gravestone. "Well, I guess this is it then…” She stood and placed a hand on the cold stone. “Goodbye, Thomas. I'll always remember our time together." She breathed deeply and approached Gale, sharing a brief kiss with him before settling her hand in his.
Together they left the resting place of Thomas, only the sound of birdsong left hanging in the air.
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Epilogue (Alternative)
The rains poured outside of Waterdeep. A lone gravestone could be seen, purple flowers lined around the base. Not far from it sat Gale his dark hair had grown out, greying more than it previously did and the scuffed purple robe had been replaced with leather armour.
"So, it's been a year now since that day by the river. A lot's happened, as you know. I held a proper funeral for you here and I was able to say my goodbyes. I met up with Karlach and the group again. They said Avernus has been good to them. They mentioned something about a refinery and that they’re hopefully sorting something permanent for Karlach’s machine. I’m hopeful for her. Astarion went back to the Underdark as well and has pretty much put himself in charge of all the vampires. He looks well, a lot more at ease with himself than he used to be.”
He brushed his hair back with his hand. “And then there is me... Well, I’m returning to my swamp. I stayed here for a while with Tara and your mother but they’re a bit much for me. I see the way they look at me, blaming me for what happened. I should have gone with you, I should have stopped you. I should have prayed harder to Mystra…”
Nana sat in his form holding her arms tightly around her body. She sighed deeply looking at the tattered journal that sat beneath the stone. “I think that’s why I'm here today. I wanted to say goodbye properly. I’d always believed that I wasn’t enough, and when I met you, I thought that for maybe a moment you were the answer to everything. I kept your form for comfort just like I did all those days past with Thomas and I know in some way you’re still with me but I know that I can’t keep doing this. I need to let you rest, I want to hold onto you, but I know it’s not what you want. Your letter brought me comfort and I keep it in the journal you bought for me. You never let me down, never. You were always worthy, always good enough and I just wish you knew that. I wish you were here so I could tell you every day how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you.” She wiped away a stray tear. “I’ll keep writing poetry for you."
A few feet away Astarion approached, a large black umbrella held over him, blocking his suit from becoming soaked. "Darling, if I could give you longer I really would but they expect the rain to clear in the next few hours and I’d love to get back to the Underdark long before that happens."
Nana looked at him and waved an arm not wanting to be rushed before turning back to the gravestone. "Well, I guess this is it then…” She stood, reverting back to her natural form. “Goodbye, Gale. My moon and star." She breathed deeply and approached Astarion, giving him a small nod, thankful for the rain coming down upon them.
Together they left the resting place of Gale, only the sound of raindrops hitting the umbrella left hanging in the air.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 gale#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale bg3#galemance#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 astarion#well so long and thanks for all the fish
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Imagine
Alright, imagine this.
I'll use whole cloth new material as an example, so this won't be an allegory to any one specific religious group, but will involve religious culture parallels.
Imagine some religion exists that is absolutely teatottle. Ideologically, they argue, no chemicals that enter the body and could be construed to be used as a drug are acceptable. Vitamins and minerals and proteins are fine, but imbibing substances to numb pain or cover up mental disorders are unacceptable. Only institutionalization, surgery and talk therapy are acceptable. They have decided, no use of drugs is acceptable, unless it's something like an antibiotic or antibacterial. Getting high bad.
And it doesn't matter how wrong they are. You can point to the clinical, objective, empirical proof that medicine is good and worth the risks, we just need better systems in place to manage those with crippling addiction and help prevent overdoses or dependences.
But ideologically that does not abide by their ideal world, where no one has access to drugs and no one can abuse them because no one has access to them. Their ideal world, no one is able to overdose, because no one can access drugs.
People disagree. But those that hate drugs want them gone, and it becomes a constant vigilance to push them back so they DON'T get their way. They are not even okay with Over the Counter drugs in supermarkets; To use so much as a headache medicine, you should need approval by a doctor and the entire pharmacological industry, or else no pain relief or cure for constipation via medicine for you. To them, any drug use that isn't prescribed is a crime, and should be considered a devious violation of the system worth federal jailtime.
So they start a heavy handed, emotionally charged, ideologically driven conversation about the need for, "common sense drug reform," and "miniscule reimaginings of drug access," that all but tries to whittle away what you're allowed to access, how much, how often.
Ideally, the anti-drug users would have it become something you're federally jailable for if you use anything stronger than a Halls, Vicks or Ricola cough lozenge, a certain number over both a period of hours, days and weeks.
In order to legally be permissed to access medicine, you'd need A.) to schedule a doctor's visit or go to tthe ER. B.) To be confirmed as NEEDING that medicine by the doctor, dependent entirely on if the doctor felt you needed or deserved that antihistamine or migraine relief medicine. C.) Receive your prescription, then head to the pharmacy. It gets entered into a big federal record. You get it marked that you received X many pills of Y type with Z active ingredients on the date. This is permanent and is used to correlate any mysterious patterns that may involve you or your product in them.
You can't so much as take just a little bit more cough medicine than the minimal dose reccommended by the people that don't want you to have that medicine at all, politically, in the name of public health and safety.
And every single time someone is caught abusing drugs, even drugs unrelated to you and your ailment, there's cries for change, security, mourning our, "toxically masculine" society and its "drug abuse culture," and every fucking asshole raising a ruckus on cocaine, meth or heroin becomes another nail in the coffin to legitimate access to drugs.
You now need a license for pain relievers, every single pill you acquire is catalogued on what it is and when, you're put through rigamaroll that's almost as painful as just sitting there suffering and letting the pain pass than actually pursuing help for your condition. Your freedom to just go to the god damned counter and pick up a box of cough medicine, pain reliever for tooth problems, nasal spray, even fucking silverdine ointment for burns, gets compromised and the screws put to it every time some privileged asshole in San Francisco is found dead from an overdose with needles in his arm.
"Why do you even NEED a box of 24 pain tablets? If you have a problem bigger than that, you should just see your doctor."
"Why do you even NEED antihistamines? If your pets are such a detriment to your health and immune system, maybe what's needed is getting rid of the pets."
"Why do you even NEED alcohol? Clearly you'd be better served by a therapist."
And each and every argument you make is countered with pointing to the government to provide something to change your behavior or deny you access to something they don't want you to have.
You shouldn't want to have a box of 50-80 antacids, you should solve your problems with a more thorough examination of your biology and reasses your diet for foods you're sensitive or allergic to, and not eat those.
You shouldn't NEED cotton swabs for your ears; those are bad for you, so they should be controlled and regulated if used for medical purposes.
And again, every time someone illegally goes around this system you virtually have to opt into in order to regulate your behavior, only really making consequences for those that agree to live under it, the wheel turns and the straps tighten until you're limited to only possessing what medicine the pharmacist will give you for notarized consumption in front of the prescribing pharmacist. The number of pills you can have on hand legally goes down. The number of pills you're allowed to acquire in a window of time goes down. If there's ever an abuse that required a supply of consumer level pills, they go looking to see if you've been hoarding and not using your prescripted supplies, because to even use these drugs, they decide you waive your rights to unreasonable search and seizure; these are controlled substances monopolized by the government and society, and society reserves the right to treat your medicine like its property. Even if it's inside your body.
Eventually the anti-drug advocates get their way. No one that is law abiding can legally use medicine except to ake the edge off of excruciating pain, not solve it. They whoop up how they've saved so many lives and prevented so many overdoses by hard drugs, every time they make it harder to buy pepto bismal or antifungal cream. While the criminals that use them to poison people remain poisoning people, their statistics unaffected and the laws and regulations not preventing a single deliberate homicide.
This is how it feels to be a gun rights advocate in the face of people that despise guns. Arguing for the right to medicine and privacy in the face of someone that thinks you'd be better served not having the option for medicine or the discretion to use it yourself, so why not just say 1 pill over the federal limit s tantamount to conspiracy to kill, and give them a negative mark on their permanent record, a massive fine and legal ban on medicine until the legal mea culpa.
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I'm watching LS mark's reviews of every spongebob episode right now and you know- it's not like I agree with the dude on everything he says like I WILL DEFEND PEST OF THE WEST TO MY LIFE IF NEEDED LIKE THAT EPISODE WAS GREAT AND THE IDIOT FRIEND SONG WAS WHOLESOME!! but yeah he mentioned that mr. krabs tends to get paranoia-related episodes a lot and tbh...I never really realized it but that's true- mr. krabs suffering from paranoia seems to be pretty engrained in his character from early seasons on and I'm curious on why that is...is he so protective over his wealth and success because he knows how tough life can be without a dime on your name?
Yo I'm glad I'm not the only one who disagrees with his videos. He hates a lot of good episodes lol
Anyways yeah! Mr. Krabs tends to be paranoid. There's a lot of episodes where he starts to get nervious when Plankton doesn't try to steal the formula. Just being slightly off from the schedule makes him paranoid. I've always assumed that was more because the whole formula shenanigans are the only way he can maintain somewhat of a friendship with plankton. Losing that link puts the nail in the coffin in their relationship and Krabs just can't afford to lose that. He even sabotages Plankton's attempts at building his own life because he's scared of losing him. They got some toxic codependency going on there.
But tbh Krabs has a lot of reasons to be paranoid about stuff. He's been through a lot. From being born into poverty and barely scrapping by in his childhood. We all know his greed stems from his paranoia of falling back into his situation. Even if its a penny. It hurts him deeply to lose it. It's also implied his father abandoned his family as a child. And that episode where he mentioned his father gave him a dollar when he was a child and how guilty he felt over spending it. I'm assuming he kept that dollar loong after his father abandoned them which explains why it hurt so much to spend it. He pretty much described the dollar as being his best friend. How he behaves about money seems more clear that this digs up a lot of painful stuff for himself. He behaves more like he's losing everything or he's leaning really close to that in his mind. When it's something small.
A lot of stuff happened to Krabs that's barely aknowledged in the show. From losing his best and only friend over an argument, to being in the navy. There was even a war mentioned in the Krusty Krab training video episode so you can assume it must have taken a toll on his mental health. It was even mentioned he fell into a deep depression after that. There's also the chum famine of '59. The spongebob movie video game mentions the famine lasted 2 years.
But yeah, this is a pretty interesting topic. I feel like Krabs is the most interesting character in the show but barely used to his full potential. His greed gets out of control in some episodes but its facinating to dig into why. You get some pretty good episodes when you dig into that.
#A-n-n-i-m-i-a#Ask#Fun ask tbh#the spongebob connoisseur#spongebob#spongebob squarepants#sb#spongebon squarepants#spongebob meme#Mr krabs#eugene h krabs
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just rewatched kal ho naa ho instead of working on my assignment due in 4 days
horrid early 2000s transitions and cringe script that yells "how you do fellow young ones" aside i think its better to watch it as a character study and perhaps social commentary instead of how it is at face value. maybe doing that would probably give too much of credit to the writers because they definitely aimed for it to be like a "typical bollywood movie" that falls into many pitfalls (homophobia as a running gag, depressed nerdy girl removes glasses and that makes her prettier and confident)
so like the societyschmiety main stuff i've noticed that were definitely intentionally put in there with much consideration
a lot of idolisation of the "perfect wife/ mother" in which her motivations may almost appear saintly - despite how horrid or incompetent the husband is or unappreciated she is by her family. see jenny and how she chose to adopt her husband's child that him and his mistress were about to abandon/put up for adoption just for the former to kill himself from "guilt" lol -> even after which both she keeps crying to herself repeating over and over again that "he was a good man" which is oxymoronic in nature
how traditional indian values are increasingly valued and maybe even more regressive (compared to the mainland) when it comes to being indian diaspora. also coupled with the fact that many indian immigrants in the states are of upper caste and upper-middle class origin to begin with which is why so many people unironically believe in the model minority myth
homosocialism that could also be coupled with misogyny - funnily enough the chemistry between the two MLs were better than the chemistry between 1stML and FL and the film also goes into making jokes about how one of the 2ndML's employees think theyre both gay. the FL here does have a choice when it comes to accepting the 2ndML's proposal but also it feels like she has no autonomy because she's doing things they way theyre supposed to be i.e. upholding the status quo plus the 1stML had to force 2ndML to marry FL even after the news of his terminal illness because he wants to leave both of his best friends with love even when hes not there (the final nail on the coffin being that if he doesnt love her at least stay with her as part of his dying wish). Men really do value other men than they do their own lovers
im trying to reach where theres barely anything to reach to but it would have been decent if the movie discussed family dynamics and how it affected the FL mental health wise because of isolation being an immigrant with a small conservative community coupled with the fact that her family is also extremely dysfunctional, though that part gets skimmed over a lot or flat out ignored because its way too prevalent amongst desi families lol
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are we talking ab fathers i dont talk ab kurts father enough. Conrad Horton is Horrible no ones surprised by that though. He won gold at the olympics when he was younger, but ended up injured before he could further his career. thus, when kurt was born, it was decided that he would be the one to hit those life goals that conrad couldn't. it was decided long before kurt was actually born, and conrad especially became so obsessed with the idea of what kurt would become that failure wasn't an option. kurt was born and named conrad horton, the first of many insane attempts to live vicariously through his son. diet and exercise were a key part of kurts life from before he could talk, the moment he could eat solid food he had a specific diet. he was in gymnastics the moment he could walk, conrad was his coach and his manager, would have control over everything food and gymnastics related. he'd get angry when kurt messed up, would push his body beyond its limits even as a child.
kurts first win was the first nail in the coffin, the first domino falling in the chain of events that would eventually lead to kurt's mother almost killing him. for conrad the first domino fell when his own olympic dreams were crushed, but melissa didnt truly become horrible until she'd gotten a taste of what she could get out of kurt. she'd gotten a lot out of conrad while he was at the height of his olympic fame, but that had faded and disappeared with time. she missed it a lot and seeing that success from kurt made her grow to crave the success again. They were still wealthy and had a well known name, but it wasn't enough. so conrad kept pushing, made kurt do things that were a little too advanced. he kept pushing kurt physically and mentally, would not hesitate with harsh punishments for the smallest of missteps. When puberty hits things get rough, kurts body going through changes and needing more nutrients and more rest. That wasn't something conrad cared about, not at all. To the point that the space above the garage, a storage room connected to one of the bedrooms, was turned into a home gym. kurt was moved into that connecting bedroom and suddenly it didn't matter how much rest he needed, because any time he got out of bed he was 3 steps away from the home gym. His diet didn't change, maybe a slight tweak to proportions but still the chicken and vegetables and rice hes always had. He loses weight, but his parents just call it baby fat. Hes encouraged to work out more and more through his teen years, eventually to the point that the olympics become a genuine possibility for him. By the time nightwing comes along he's been in international competitions and world championships. He didn't make it to the '76 olympics, but he was on track for the '80 olympics (or whatever year applies for aus/modern verses). If nightwing had happened he would've gotten into the olympics and won gold, would've eventually ended up with more medals. He would've outshone his dad by a lot, would've become the more famous conrad horton. His dad would've gotten angrier and more vengeful, things would've spiraled even more and kurt probably would've ended up just as physically and mentally fucked as he ends up anyway. The ending where kurt hits the olympics is not a happy ending, its far from it and in many ways as tragic as his canon.
But he doesn't get there, because of nightwing, because an injury means he can't perform. Conrad sees it as his own failures reflected through kurt and it leads to him not really caring much about kurt after that. Kurts only use to him then was the interviews and the money that came out of it. He doesn't work, never had a need to with the money kurt brought in mixed with what melissa earns. In the verses where kurt takes them to court conrad leans heavily into kurts declining mental health and tries to paint him as too mentally unstable to be reliable, probably uses bullshit evidence but has the charm and influence to make it seem real. Once kurt is even more injured by his mother conrad has long given up on him entirely, pretty much entirely ignores that he ever existed. Especially once it becomes clear that for at least a few months kurt is unable to stand or walk on his own, conrad has no more interest in kurt. Even if he still supposedly relies on his parents at that point, they just don't care. They end up getting arrested for it due to the public nature of what happened and how it was filmed (or at least melissa does, im not sure about conrad yet), but even without the arrest they would have left him to his own devices. They won't pay the hospital bills, especially if he's distanced himself from his parents at that point. They don't visit him in hospital, they just don't care.
When kurt is no longer useful to conrads desire for fame, weath, and living out his olympic dreams, conrad tosses him aside without remorse. Kurt never saw his relationship with his father as that bad - knew calling him sir all the time was different to his friends and their dads, knew he could be harsh, but viewed that relationship in a much better light than his relationship with his mother. But conrad saw kurt as a means to an end, a tool to get him what he wanted. And once that tool was broken it was easy to discard. It hurts kurt a lot that his father could drop him so easily, and makes him seriously rethink his view of their relationship.
#this was just gonna be a like 3 sentence post but i wilded out a little#i tend to mostly only talk ab kurts mom so. now u get an info dump on his dad#headcanons.#dyn: conrad horton senior
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RKO Radio Picture’s Unique Horror Genre Comparing Isle of the Dead (1945) to Cat People (1942)
Julia Merolle
After having watched Isle of the Dead (1945) this week, I can see the obvious similarities and differences between it and Cat People (1942). The first thing that I noticed that was different was obviously the cast. Unlike last week when I compared Frankenstein to the sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, these two films are completely different. Something that was similar that I noticed was that both of these films were produced by Val Lewton, who worked with RKO Radio Pictures. A quote from Mark A. Vieira’s “Darkness, Darkness: The Films of Val Lewton Looking Back at a B-Movie Master Lewton’s struggles to make magic had their own horrors”, states, “What worked, however, was the scene in which Mrs. St. Aubyn (Katherine Emery), terrified of being buried alive, succumbs to the plague and is interred. “After the pallbearers have gone,” James Agee wrote, “the camera coldly, tenderly approaches the coffin in silence so intense as to be almost unbearable. When the shriek of the prematurely buried woman finally comes, it releases the rest of the show into a free-for-all masterpiece of increasing terror.” (Siegel, The Reality of Terror, 75) A West Virginia exhibitor concurred. “The first part of the picture is boring, but the last part had my patrons screaming and shouting their heads off.” (Vieira 12, 13). This quote is important because it points out the importance of the camera and how advanced it was for its time. I could tell when watching Isle of the Dead the difference in the effects that were present compared to Cat People. It is obvious that a lot of people praise Cat People but a lot of people forget about Isle of the Dead. Boris Karloff, our protagonist, who is also known for famously playing Frankenstein, is seen in a different role here as a General instead of a horror villain. Karloff plays General Nikolas Pherides and nails his performance, which again is drastically different than the role he played as Adam the Frankenstein in last week’s post of Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein. Something that is similar to Cat People from Isle of the Dead is that while I mentioned in my first post that Cat People discusses the way that women are treated in society, Isle of the Dead also focuses on the seriousness of the illness, which could be seen from COVID recently. Both of these films with their issues, and both almost eight centuries ago, still present relevant issues today in our society. Women are still fighting for equality, as seen through the Women’s Marches, especially for abortion. Separately, mental health issues are really important and are talked about more and more today. This film shows that Dr. Judd didn’t take Irena seriously and represents society and how they don’t take women or mental health issues seriously. For Isle of the Dead, I think connections could be made with the plague and COVID. It is an important film that illustrates the horrors of pandemics and quarantining. Another similarity between Cat People and Isle of the Dead is the theme of superstition. For example, Cat People has protagonist, Irena, is afraid throughout the whole movie that she will turn into a panther if she has any sort of arousal, which means that she has never consummated her marriage with her husband Oliver. While Isle of the Dead doesn’t relate to superstition in that type of way, it does based on Karloff’s role of General Nikolas Pherides being suspicious of Thea, the film’s heroine, of being a vampiric demon or a “vorvolaka” which is a type of vampire, but in this specific case she did not suck anyone’s blood. Additionally, and similarly to Cat People, there isn’t a really clear villain or monster. Cat People is Irena’s superstition of turning into a panther while Isle of the Dead is fear and paranoia over the deaths due to the plague, which is invisible.
Sources:
https://edinburghfilmguild.org.uk/2010-11/Val_Lewton_films.pdf
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I need some advice. I recently was broken up with and I'm reeling from it. We met when i was 19 and he was 32 and we ended up hooking up 6 years ago. He didn't tell me until after we hooked up that he had a wife which started a crazy feud, but he eventually divorced his wife and convinced me to be in a relationship with him. The relationship was pretty rocky at first because he was very emotionally abusive. Like he would constantly reprimand me for doing the wrong thing and saying the wrong thing and would lecture me for hours and not let me sleep until I agreed with him. I used to live with him sometimes because my mom got evicted and i couldn't hold down a stable job because I had an untreated learning disability and he would pick fights with me every day when I would say/ do the wrong thing and sometimes he would even kick me out.
While he did all this its v confusing bc he was also very good to me at the same time?? He helped me out when I was evicted and let me live rent free with him. He helped me get my diagnosis and helped me look for a job. He helped me get over some of my insecurities and would urge me to go to therapy and helped me get my driver's license. The last 2 years he started becoming more spiritual and became a lot nicer to me (He would still reprimand me but not as often) and urged me to do yoga and meditation. He started getting serious and during that time he was throwing ideas around of leaving everything behind and going to a yoga center etc. I was so drained atp from the constant mistreatment and feeling like I wasn't a priority so I went outside the relationship to explore my options. i met a guy that I was going to meet for dinner and just talk to, but I was drugged and assaulted. I felt so guilty that I told my boyfriend and he broke up with me. This was a year ago. Since then, we've been on and off because he would come back but couldn't commit because he couldnt trust me. Early this year he moved to a different state and he reached out to me to ask if I wanted to visit him out there in the summer. I was cautious but I agreed because I missed him. We started calling and texting every day and he started hinting that he wanted a relationship with me again. I started catching feelings again and was grateful for the opportunity to make things right because I fucked up. I bought the plane tickets and two days after I bought them he told me that he was getting women flirting with him out there and that he wanted to explore his options. I was so upset and I asked him why we couldnt work things out, he told me he still couldnt trust me after what happened. He told me it's best if I get a refund on the tix and just stay home. I felt so crushed, I felt like I was lead on and I feel so ashamed and guilty over what I did. The worst part is I felt like I ruined everything and it's my fault that the relationship ended the way it did. What do I do???? I have no friends and no one to talk to.
Oh girl. He's abusive and leaving him is the right thing to do. Don't fall for it again. He seems really mentally unstable to me also tbh. I don't really know what to say, I think your biggest hurdle is going to be loneliness. And perhaps the reason you haven't left yet and are in this really messy situationship is because you seem to only have him. I know what it's like to feel you only have a partner in your life and no other friends, and feel like it's impossible to make new ones. But this man is not good and not worth it - a grown, married man pursuing a teenager is a nail in the coffin on its own. Then add all the rest. You need to put yourself first, and probably get some therapy if you can. The feeling of guilt and shame and disgust over being assaulted, even over just feeling used and dirtied, is something I know all too well and I haven't quite healed, not sure if I ever will. What I do know is we need to prioritise our future well-being, and this guy will not contribute to your happiness and health.
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— more random diabolik lovers headcanons i had at one in the morning
trigger warning : manipulation, drug addiction, mentions of mental health issues, dissociation, self-harm, trauma, substance abuse.
word count : 749
➵ kou speaks french.
➵ laito's favourite position to cuddle in is when you lay your head in his chest, it just makes him feel alive; as if he had warm blood and an actual heartbeat.
➵ kanato is obsessed with those butterflies in a picture frame.
➵ reiji has pet rats, like a multitude of them.
➵ ayato has named every single one of reiji's rats; names all after singers from the 2000's.
➵ kanato likes to touch and do your hair, he also enjoys when you return the favour by doing his hair.
➵ subaru hates the summer with a passion, the heat is too much and it even makes his coffin uncomfortable to be in.
➵ kino keeps a shit ton of crystals on him at all times, he is super into the whole spirituality thing.
➵ he also burns sage and incense in his room to rid it of 'bad vibes'.
➵ azusa's favourite drink is gingerbread latte.
➵ shin is overwhelmingly competitive; just because he likes you does not mean he will let you win.
➵ carla's guilty pleasure is having you plait his hair, but he constantly complains whether you do it or not.
➵ azusa thinks of you as his moth.
➵ laito loves baking with you, or just cooking in general.
➵ ayato is super into astrology, like he even knows the meanings of each persons venus sign.
➵ kanato loves the smell of burnt caramel, but hates to clean up after himself when he does burn it.
➵ shin is the type to not be able to take spice at all, yet he will still eat it to avoid looking like a weakling.
➵ carla used to have raspatory problems as a child, but will obliterate anyone that brings it up.
➵ kou is an introvert who would much rather spend time with his family than anyone else.
➵ laito is so clingy, he literally gets so insecure every time you leave him - even if its just to go to the bathroom or to fetch some water.
➵ azusa is autistic.
➵ kino has adhd.
➵ laito feels super scared to have kids because he would never want to pass on any type of generational trauma because of his own baggage.
➵ kino and ayato often bond when they smoke weed together, otherwise they're constantly bickering.
➵ kou is incredibly smart but hardly ever applies himself at school because he wants to maintain a dumb façade that helps him manipulate people.
➵ sometimes azusa feels so lonely he starts to hallucinate as if it were a mirage.
➵ yuma frequently feels like he is not part of his own body, not like he is insecure of his body, just that his life does not seem to revolve around himself personally.
➵ kou is such a hard worker that he once worked for more than three days straight, because he was secretly afraid of disappointing his company and fans, yet still felt a crushing guilt for not going home to see his brothers.
➵ he uses hard work to distract himself from his traumatising past.
➵ kino suffers from so much anxiety that his teeth have imprinted on the side of his tongue for clenching his mouth for too long.
➵ azusa tends to sleep walk into others rooms so he can sleep next to them.
➵ which is convenient for kou, who has a very hard time sleeping alone, so he ends up having a lot of sleepovers with azusa anyways.
➵ ruki dissociates a lot.
➵ he doesn't dissociate in the way of him replacing the reality around him with that of a daydream, but in the way that he doesn't feel like anything is real.
➵ azusa uses piercings and tattoos as a form of self harm but also as a coping mechanism.
➵ yuma could stare at the ceiling for hours just trying to recollect his past memories (he fails every single time).
➵ kanato has major trust issues, but when he does trust someone he tends to develop separation anxiety.
➵ symptoms of kanato's separation anxiety includes things such as shaking, and picking at his nails.
➵ laito is a recovering drug addict.
➵ shu was severely traumatised by any type of fires, so he refuses to enter any room that has candles, incense burners, etc.
➵ this is the reason he only ever uses electronically powered stoves.
➵ reiji struggles with multiples types of substance abuse; the most prevalent is his use of LSD and speed.
➵ shu doesn't enjoy going out because he is the type of person to be constantly looking behind himself to check that no one is following him, or doing anything suspicious.
#diabolik lovers headcanons#diabolik lovers#diabolik lovers hcs#shu sakamaki#reiji sakamaki#ayato sakamaki#kanato sakamaki#laito sakamaki#subaru sakamaki#kino sakamaki#ruki mukami#yuma mukami#kou mukami#azusa mukami#carla tsukinami#shin tsukinami#diabolik lovers shu#diabolik lovers reiji#diabolik lovers ayato#diabolik lovers kanato#diabolik lovers laito#diabolik lovers subaru#diabolik lovers kino#diabolik lovers ruki#diabolik lovers yuma#diabolik lovers kou#diabolik lovers azusa#diabolik lovers shin#diabolik lovers carla
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(never) lucky
one.
pairing: (eventual) clyde logan x reader
wordcount: 4.9k (a lot ik but im not sorry)
warnings: mentions of terminal illness.
a/n: WELL HI. i would like to first apologize for it taking me this long to update this fic. like actually i am sO sorry. secondly, i’m not sure about this one. i don’t know if i like it and its not beta-ed and yaknow. ya girl is an amatuer. anyway. love yall, and enjoy. i would love any and all feedback on this baby fic of mine and im excited to be updating again.
The phone had barely rung two times before you answered, thumb punching the accept call button as soon as you glanced at the caller ID. Pulling the phone up to your ear, you looked ahead at the cornfields and the open road in front of you. Your mom’s crackly voice filled your ears.
“Darlin’,” she sighed on the other end. So, she’d gotten your message. You thought to yourself.
Mentally, you kicked yourself for giving her any notice in the first place. You knew she’d try to talk you out of it, like she had successfully done the previous two times you’d tried moving back home.
“You got out, honey.” she’d say. “You got to do what I never did. You went to college, you got your degree, you moved to the city. Don’t throw that away. There ain’t nothin’ for you here.”
And after your Gramma’s first stroke, it had worked, no matter how guilty you felt for being states away while she recovered.
It had been a minor stroke, the summer before your junior year of college. Not fatal, or with too many lasting health complications, but it had been enough to scare you. It had been enough to scare you into almost dropping out of college and moving home, but your mother and grandmother had insisted that you go back after she’d begun the road to recovery.
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason you decided to go back, a small voice in the back of your head whispered. Two dark brown eyes danced in your mind's eye; freckles scattered sparsely across tan cheeks, the deep rumble of a laugh, the crackle of a tape on an old car radio. You dispelled it before you allowed your mind to wander further.
That’s in the past. You insisted, chastising that quiet voice trying to bring up old ghosts. You wouldn’t let your mind go there again. He left. You reminded yourself, instead resolving to focus on the road in front of you, and the nagging voice of your mother in your ear.
She sighed your name.
“I told you not to come, honey. This is the whole reason we were going to wait so long to tell you–”
“I’m already on the road, mom.” You interrupted her. “I moved out earlier this week, and I’m already on my way home. No use in trying to change my mind on this when it’s already done.”
For the first time in what seemed like forever, you were met with radio silence; Your mother was speechless. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again. Secretly, inside you’re smug. You’ve managed to outsmart her.
“You’re on the road right now?” She asked in that familiar disapproving short tone.
“As we speak,” you shifted, holding the wheel with one hand and slouching in your seat. Your mother sighed again.
“Stop that,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice.
“Stop what, mama? Driving?”
“Stop sounding so smug,” She scolded in that tone that all mothers have perfected, before addressing you by your full name. “This is gonna upset your Gramma. The last thing she wanted was you puttin’ your whole life on hold for this.”
“‘For this?’” You asked in disbelief. “Mama, I can’t believe you waited a whole month to tell me the cancer was back in the first place! As if it was none of my business!”
You could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone.
“Now don’t be ridiculous.” She simpered. “We didn’t wanna upset you is all. And we certainly didn’t want you doin’ something so rash, like this.”
You rolled your eyes. This woman was impossible.
“I’d been considering leaving for a long time. This was just the final nail in the coffin. It was a long time comin’.”
“But you seemed so happy--” she countered.
“I don’t care! I deserve to know if my grandma is dying or not, and you have no right to keep it from me!”
You were met with silence. It was your turn to sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she conceded softly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I was just scared of something like this happening. You can’t expect me to believe that this whole thing didn’t cause you to up and move home out of the blue.”
“I know, mama, but it’s the truth. I wouldn’t make such a big decision like this out of the blue. I’m not a child.” You paused, before continuing, “I put in my notice weeks ago. I’ve missed home. A lot. The city is…so loud. And there are no mountains near Chicago. The land is so flat, and–”
“I know baby, I know.” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line. She was no doubt calling from the landline in the kitchen at the old house. Thinking of it, your heart yearned. You missed it so much.
“It’s just that this was your dream, baby. And I just know your Gramma’s gonna blame herself for you giving that up.”
“Mom, I’m not giving anything up,” you emphasized the last part, trying to get it through her head. “I still have my dreams, Chicago just wasn’t it. It took me a while to realize that, but I have. And I have no idea where I wanna go or what I wanna do next, but I do know that I miss home. I was planning on coming back even before I found out.”
“Alright,” she began, but you wouldn’t let her continue. You needed to get this out.
“And, that combined with the fact that Gramma’s cancer is back means there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me.”
“Alright,” she sighed on the other line. “I suppose there’s nothin’ I can do about it now. How did you find out in the first place? You never mentioned in that hysterical voicemail you left–”
“I had reason to be hysterical, don’t you think? Findin’ out from Jimmy Logan and all.”
“Jimmy Logan?” she asked in surprise. “Now what were you doin’ talkin’ to him? Did he finally buck up and get a cell phone?”
“Yes, he did,” you chuckled, “Mellie finally convinced him. Anyway, after she helped him get his contacts in order, the first thing he did was give me a ring, saying how sorry he was to hear about Gramma bein’ sick again.”
“But how? I didn’t even tell Jimmy Logan. The only people we told were the ladies in prayer group.”
You laughed.
“Oh, you know how word gets around. Jimmy heard it from Earl at the hardware store, who heard it from Irene, who heard it from her momma, who, if I’m not mistaken, is in your prayer group.”
“Well,” your mother huffed. “I suppose that is how it goes. I’ll tell you one thing, your Gramma will be happy to see you, no matter the circumstance.”
“I know,” you sighed, glad that the air was at least a little cleared between you. You were still hurt that she’d kept something as important as your Gramma’s illness from you, but you understood where she was coming from. She just wanted what was best for you, wanted you to have everything she didn’t.
“Speaking of the Logans,” your mom said. “Have you told her you’re coming home?”
You laughed into the phone.
“Yes, Mellie knows I’m coming home.” You were surprised that she’d even assumed you hadn’t told the youngest Logan about your returning. She’d kill you if you didn’t.
“Good. I know she’s missed you. Last week while she was doin’ my hair, she told me a girl’s weekend every few months and a phone call just wasn’t cutting it.”
Mellie’s face flashed in your mind, and the feeling of dread at returning home started to dissipate. She had that effect on you; Ever since you met nearly 20 years earlier. You smiled, as your mind drifted back to then.
𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁
You’d never imagined coming to a new school would ever be this hard. You’d expected it to be like how you’d seen it happen in TV shows or books or those kids movies you liked so much; Where after a rocky start with school bullies, the new kid fell in with the perfect group of friends and everything was fine. That was what you’d anticipated: The melodrama, the excitement. What you hadn’t expected was the monotony and loneliness.
Entering the third grade in october–two and a half months into the term–was never easy. At least that’s what your grandma had told you, and her being your grandma, you were inclined to believe her.
“It’s not gonna be easy,” she’d told you. “And kids can be real mean, darlin’. Especially when you’re new and they don’t know you. But, you just show them how kind, and special, and smart, and funny you are, and you won't have a single problem fittin’ in.”
And you’d expected it to be that easy. And, boy were you wrong.
On your first day at Daniel Boone Elementary, you’d expected to be met with a little wariness (what with being the new kid and all), but had hoped, in the end, to make at least one new friend to tell your mom and grandma about when you got off the bus and went home. Instead, you got the usual strange introduction to the class by your new teacher, and that was that. No kids even came up to talk to you. You ate your PB&J sandwich alone at lunch, and spent recess alone on the swings.
The following months went by in a similar manner: no new friends in sight. All the girls in your class were either too preoccupied with your hand-me-down clothes to play with you, or too shy to. And the boys wanted nothing to do with the weird new girl with too-knobby knees and too-big teeth because even if you liked the exact same things as them, you were still a girl, and that meant you had cooties.
So, at home you’d drift away and pass your time the only time you knew how: through stories. Whether it be babysitters’ club books or PBS kids documentaries on your grandma’s old box TV, your head was always in the clouds. You’d be cryptic when your grandma or mom would ask about school, and they’d begun to notice. Before the snow came and the world froze over for winter, you’d also begun to explore the property behind your grandma’s house, getting lost in nature as you used to.
By spring, your grandma was at a standstill.
The snow was thawing, and after a winter indoors, she was at her wits end. She could recognize a depressive episode when she saw one, and the fact that she was seeing it in you, her eight-year-old granddaughter, made her heart break all the more.
She had been just about ready to call an intervention with the school’s principal and psychologist when it happened. You met the person who would change your life.
You’d met Mellie Logan once before, roughly a month after your arrival in Boone County, when you were still new enough to be considered the least bit interesting at Daniel Boone Elementary. She was a year older than you and about a head shorter, with the same shade of rich brown hair as the older boy you’d recognized her sit with on the bus; Her brother, Jimmy Logan who was a middle schooler, but not the least bit embarrassed to sit by his little sister on the ride home, tugging playfully on her braids. She was in Ms. Granfell’s class down the hall, with whom your class shared a recess and lunch time, along with some of the 6th graders.
It had been on the bus that you’d had your brief first encounter with Mellie Logan. She and about five other kids got off a few stops before yours, down Elm street, and rather than the fact that she had one older brother, that was about all you knew about the girl, and that was all the thought you’d given to her.
The encounter was a small one: your backpack had been in the aisle as the kids filed in from the school at the end of a school-day in early November and she’d muttered a quiet “pardon me,” as she passed you to her usual seat at the back of the bus where her brother was already seated, and that was that. You barely knew her.
Now, though, as you sat in the school principal’s office, bright fluorescent lights shining over the deep mahogany desk, you felt that all of that was going to change. Mellie sat beside you, eyebrows knit together obstinately as she stared directly ahead of her at the clock on the opposite wall, frowning.
It read: 1:23.
You sighed. That meant that you were missing library time with the rest of your class while being holed up in here, waiting while the principal made calls to each of your parents that they had to come pick you up and discuss the incident. Your stomach sunk in annoyance as you crossed your arms and slumped down further into the armchair next to Mellie.
Great, now they have even more of a reason to think I’m weird, you thought to yourself.
That was the last thing you needed. You were already having a hard time fitting in in the first place, with kids making faces at you and snickering when it was your turn to answer a question or read aloud to the class. You didn’t need to be known as the weird new girl who’d also gotten into a fight with a fourth grader.
You groaned in realization that that was exactly what you’d be known as from now on. You ran a hand over your face. And just wait until your mom found out, until your Gramma found out.
Your life was over.
At that, Mellie looked over at you, her formerly sour expression turned questioning at your sudden outburst.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, moving to sit on her hands. Her legs were swinging back and forth off of the edge of the seat of the chair. She looked more bored than anything else, which was wild to you, considering the insane amount of trouble you both were about to be in the moment both of your parents walked through that door.
You looked at her like she was insane, her freckled face a picture of nonchalance, and sighed. Your heart was at the pit of your stomach as you watched the small round clock tick by, each second drawing closer to what was bound to be the end of your eight years on this planet.
You hadn’t intended to get involved. You really hadn’t. But when you’d seen the trampled, embarrassed look in his brown eyes, you didn’t know what else you could do.
It was, surprisingly, not in your nature to be confrontational at this point in your life. Though you’d later grow to be quite the headstrong person, the years spent walking around on eggshells with Keith had taken a toll on your personality. You liked to avoid conflict with even your family, nevertheless with the mean fourth graders you’d always hear snickering at people during lunchtime. But when you���d heard them picking on the lanky boy with messy dark hair something within you had snapped.
It was breakfast for lunch day, aka: the best day of the week, and when the bell rang signaling the beginning of lunchtime you moved as fast as your legs could carry you to the cafeteria.
You stepped into the line behind a tall, lanky boy who had to be at least a few years older than you. You recognized him from your bus; He lived on the same street as Mellie and her brother, and like you, always sat by himself on the bus. You thought that he was probably the only kid who was as quiet as you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d ever even heard the stoic boy utter a word in the month and a half you’d spent riding home with him. His face always seemed to stay the same too, you’d noticed.
Not that you’d been watching him, you lied to yourself.
Right now, though, the boy smiled at you as you came up behind him. A tight-lipped, shy one at that, but his dark eyes shone with genuine kindness that you were almost too flustered to know what to do. Such kindness, even small ones like this, had been few and far between in your time in Boone County. It’d been lonely, and this little boy’s smile made it feel a little less so. A part of you wondered if this town had been similarly lonely for him too. You smiled back.
The sound of giggling broke you from your blatant staring at the boy in front of you. Two girls had entered the line behind you. You didn’t know their names, but you recognized them from the time you had spent people-watching during your month or so of eating alone. The taller one was blonde, with long straight hair and thick braces covering her teeth as she smiled right past you and to the boy standing in front of you. Her counterpart was shorter and a bit stouter, with short pin-curls that practically stuck to her hair. Your stomach dropped as you took in the looks on both of their faces. Their smiles were anything but kind as they looked right through and onto the boy who was oblivious to what was coming.
You weren’t though. Just last week, you’d the pair of girls push a little girl in your class off of the monkey bars for “taking their spot,” when you knew for a fact that that girl had been there for all of recess already. Before that, you’d seen them ridicule another girl for her new haircut that had come out much shorter than expected until she cried. These were two girls you knew not to cross, and here they were, sights set on the boy in front of you whose name you didn't even know. And you were caught in the middle of it.
“Uhm, excuse me?” The blonde girl asked, reaching across you and tapping the boy on the shoulder. Her face was twisted in barely held-in laughter, while beside her, her friend’s face held an identical.
The boy turned, eyes wide and curious. Kind. Obviously unaware of exactly how nasty these two could be.
“Y-yeah?” He asked, voice cracking when he stuttered. The blonde looked over to her friend and then back at him.
“Your name’s Clyde, right?” She asked, head tilting.
“Uhm, yeah, tha’s right.” He smiled, bashful. Ears twinged red.
Clyde. That was the boy’s name. It fit him, you thought.
Her friend popped in. “Say, ain’t you a Logan?” She asked, face spread in what seemed like a kind smile.
Something you didn’t buy. You thought as you grabbed an orange from the selection of fruit.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, moving down the line. He picked up a strawberry milk carton before moving further down where the french toast sticks were. You continued to eavesdrop, feeling the most awkward you had in a while as the conversation continued with you, quite literally, in the middle of it.
“Well, Clyde Logan,” the blonde continued, reaching for an identical carton of strawberry milk. Her face was smug. “There’s something Quinn and I have been meaning to ask you for a while now.”
“What’s that?” he asked, curious. He looked at her, eyes open and welcoming and you dreaded the next words that were going to come out of her mouth. It wasn’t gonna be good.
“We were just wondering,” she snorted halfway through, hand coming to her mouth. “Sorry, we were just wondering if you’d done something to upset your momma?”
He chuckled awkwardly, obviously confused, and flicked some dark hair behind his ear. “Pardon me?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“Oh, nothin’. It’s just you had to have done something to have earned a haircut like that.”
Beside her, her friend had given up on controlling her laughter. Wheezing, her friend–Quinn–interjected.
“Or maybe your hairdresser hates you? What did you do to make someone let you walk out of the house like that?” She giggled.
“Don’t be silly, Quinn. The Logans can’t afford a hairdresser. It had to have been his momma. I mean, really Clyde, you had to have done somethin’ bad.” The blonde chimed in again.
“Although, maybe it’s not the haircut, Heather.” Quinn piped in casually, serving herself french toast. “That’s not fair to his momma. It’s those ears. They stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Mhm,” the blonde, heather, nodded. “I think you’re right. And his nose. It's so big. That’s what makes you so unfortunate looking. Not the hair at all.”
Clyde looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Surprise coloring his features, the smallest frown upon his lips.
“Or , you know what,” Heather considered, piling bacon onto her lunch tray. “It’s probably that curse your sister wouldn’t shut up about last year. What’d she call it?”
“The Logan Family Curse.” Quinn chimed in. Heather laughed.
“That must be it!” She giggled in that snotty, preteen way. “Who knew that the Logan family curse was being cursed with bein’ uglier than a mud fence!”
“Or having ears the size of Dumbo’s.”
Looking over at Clyde, you saw his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he looked down at his lunch tray. Crestfallen. It sent white hot anger surging through your chest, and before you could register it, you were turning to face the two girls beside you in line.
“Just because he has straight teeth and you don’t doesn’t mean you have to be mean.” You glared at her. Her smug face morphed into one of anger as her eyes hardened into a glare.
“Excuse me?” she asked. Beside her, Quinn’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.
“You heard me, brace-face.” You stood your ground, glaring right back at her. She gasped at the insult, not ready for a taste of her own medicine. An identical look of horror crossed her companion’s face. From behind you, you heard a familiar high voice call out.
“Clyde? Where are you–” Mellie looked confused, her eyes following the lanky, dark-haired figure racing out of the cafeteria, leaving his lunch tray deserted in line next to you. Her gaze hardened as she looked over at you and the two girls in line. She stomped over, arms crossed.
“What did you say to him?” She demanded, looking between you three. When no one spoke up, she asked again, louder.
“What did you say to my brother?” She seethed. Heather looked at Quinn, an amused smirk on her face.
“Oh, you mean Dumbo?” She asked.
“Nothing–we just gave him some beauty advice,” Quinn descended into the same annoying laughter as her friend.
What happened next was a blur to you. There was a hand in someone’s hair, another pushing someone's shoulder, and the sound of a hand smacking against someone’s face. You were pushed backwards–by who, you didn’t know–and your half-full lunch tray came down on top of you, covering you in scrambled eggs and syrup. Heather screeched like a banshee, and Quinn started crying. A lunch monitor ran over to break it up, and before you knew it, Heather was being sent to the nurse and you and Mellie to the principal’s office.
Which brings you to now.
You sat, smelling of eggs and syrup, and waiting for your life to end. After a few minutes of silence, you looked to the scrappy, brooding girl next to you.
“Did you have to hit her?” You asked, breaking the silence. Scoffing, she turned to look at you.
“Uhm, yeah I had to hit her.” She spat out incredulously. “She was makin’ fun of my big brother. You don’t let people mess around with your kin.”
“But–” you began before she interrupted you, seemingly not hearing you at all. That was something you’d grow to find out was a habit of hers whenever she talked about something she was passionate about.
“And I’d do it again, too,” she said, stubbornly. “I don’t care what Mrs. Findlay says. If you ask me, Heather Campbell had it comin’ and needed to be knocked down a few pegs. I’m only sad I got caught.”
Her matter-of-fact made you giggle a little bit. After all, you couldn’t disagree with her; You’d seen Heather and Quinn unleash their wrath before. Many times in the short time you’d been in town. They needed to be put in their place. And you were glad you’d had at least a small part in doing it, even if it did put a target on your back and was bound to make your life hell indefinitely.
“I am sorry you got involved, though,” Mellie said. “It ain’t fair you got roped into all a’ my trouble-makin’.”
You chuckled a bit.
“Nah,” you sighed. “Before you walked up, I did say some pretty nasty things to them. I guess I deserved it.”
Mellie, looking surprised at that, snorted.
“You?” she asked, eyes wide in apparent disbelief. “You said somethin’ to Heather Campbell?”
“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked, brows furrowed. “And yes, I’ll have you know, I did say something to her.”
“Nothin’.” Mellie said, “it’s just that in all the time you’ve been here, I ain't heard you speak but about two times.”
“I couldn’t let her talk to him like that when he didn’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” You said. “Besides, I was tired of hearin’ her run her mouth all the time and no one sayin’ anything.”
“Well alrighty then.” She said.
A beat of silence passed, the only sound being the ticking of the clock. Then, “what did you say to her?”
You snorted.
“I called her brace-face.” You admitted sheepishly. Beside you, Mellie howled in laughter and after a moment, you joined her.
“You know,” she said pensively, smiling at you, all trace of a sour mood gone, “I think we’re gonna be good friends.”
You smiled back at her, the first real one in a while.
“Me too.” And you meant it.
𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁
Your mother’s voice snapped you back to reality.
“And what about him?” she asked carefully, words thick with meaning. “Does he know you’re comin’ back?”
You sighed. “Mama, why would he know I was coming back? Why would he care I’m coming back?”
“Darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that–”
“He didn’t bother telling me when he came back. I had to find out from Mellie, a month after the fact.” You continued, that familiar white-hot feeling in your chest resurfacing. “Besides, I’m sure Mellie mentioned it to him. She’d have to if he’s gonna continue this disappearing act of his.”
“That’s not fair, baby, and you know it.” She scolded, ever the mother. It didn’t matter that you were twenty-five, she’d always put you in your place when it came down to it. “He’s been through a lot.”
“I’m sure he has,” you agreed half-heartedly.
“And–”
“--Not that I’d know about it! He hasn’t spoken so much as a word to me in years. Not for lack of trying on my part either, you know that mom.”
“I know, baby, I know,” she said. This was a conversation you’d had before. And no matter how many times you did, she’d always brought up the same points.
And now, Clyde Logan had been home for six months, but felt like a ghost. Your family hadn’t heard a thing from him. According to your cousin Zach, Jimmy had wanted to throw a coming-home party for him, but had canceled it last minute.
You knew better than to ask Mellie about it. She was your best friend, yes, but you wouldn’t put her in that position. You wouldn’t make her choose sides or play middle-man between you and her brother. And she knew better than to bring it up with you, too. She saw her brother’s idiocy, and, more importantly, she saw how hurt you were after all that had happened. So, Clyde generally wasn’t brought up between the two of you. Not in great detail, anyway. No matter how much you knew she had to reign herself in over it. Your best friend was a fixer at heart, and that instinct didn’t go away when it came to her best friend and her brother.
“Let’s just drop it, mom.” You said. “I am not coming home for Clyde Logan, of all people. I’m just happy to be coming home again.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” she laughed lightly on the other end. “How far out are you?” she asked.
“I’m about halfway through Indiana right now.”
“Whew,” she whistled. “What a drive.”
You laughed at her sarcasm. “Oh yeah, nothin’ but cornfields for miles. That is somethin’ I won’t be missing, that’s for sure.”
“Good.” she said, “You’d better get a move-on if you wanna be home before nightfall, then. I’ll call your cousins and see who can make it for dinner.”
Your heart leapt at the thought of it, seeing the family again. You’d missed living in the same county as them all; Not having to drive hours to hug your grandma, to hear your aunt Nikki’s laugh, or to engage in yet another political conversation with your uncle Mike.
“That sounds perfect.”
“Alright then. Your Gramma’s gonna be surprised, that’s for sure. And i’m warnin’ you now: She will not be as easily swayed as I am at your comin’ back.”
“Yeah, I know.” You shook your head. “I’ll start preparing my speech now.”
She laughed, “you better!”
“I’m gonna let you go, babe. Call your aunts. Love you.”
“Love you too, momma.” You sighed, as the call ended.
The late May sun shone through the clouds, as you steered off of the freeway to continue south. Toward home.
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500 Followers Celebration!!!: Part 1 (La Squadra Backstories)
Hey! Thank you so much for 500 amazing followers! Every single one of you mean so much to me!
Part 1 of this celebration is, as the title suggests, my headcanon backstory for each of La Squadra. As some of you know I was at some point in the process of writing a full multi-chapter fic on this, but since that unfortunately never came to fruition beyond the first couple chapters, here is a shortened version of the stories that were originally planned.
Part 2 is going to be a little something I wrote a while back but never felt brave enough to send to more than a few people. That will be seeing the light of day soon. ;)
Risotto
Risotto Dante Nero was born in a small, poor farming village in Sicily, somewhere in the vicinity of Catania. His parents were a young, dysfunctional couple who weren't ready for a kid in the first place. Seeing their newborn son had 'evil' eyes was the last nail in the coffin for them, and they gave the baby up to his paternal grandmother when he was only days old.
Despite being shunned by his family over the aesthetic defect, Risotto was able to form a close bond with his older cousin, Domenico, who would eventually move in with him and his grandmother after being disowned by the family himself. Domenico helped Risotto find friends, and was the main reason why the next few years were the happiest in the young boys life.
Unfortunately, Domenico was struck and killed at age just 19 by a drunk driver, a millionaire from Milan who on top of his intoxication, was driving incredibly fast. Risotto never recovered from the grief; his personality was altered drastically and he eventually dropped out of school. His grandmother indulged him in his revenge fantasies, believing that he would never seriously carry them out. This proved the biggest mistake of her life.
At age 18 Risotto left home to hunt down Domenico's killer. Despite the years of preparation he was in way over his head and was eventually forced to make a deal with Passione for the resources he would need to break into the mansion and not get caught. But the newly initiated mafioso found that revenge did nothing for his grief. Now, he simply had nothing to work for.
Risotto fell into a deep depression for the next two years, doing his duties as a low-ranking soldato for Passione but feeling utterly empty inside. It became so dire that after becoming injured in a fight with a stand user, he welcomed what looked to be his impending death.
But Risotto did not die that day, being saved by an associate of the gang and rushed to hospital. After hearing word that Risotto had defeated a stand user, Prosciutto became interested and approached Risotto for help with a hit he had been assigned to. Risotto agreed and Prosciutto developed a liking for the young man. A few months later, when Prosciutto was tasked with forming a specialised squad for assassination, he remembered Risotto and requested he become the team’s captain. Risotto was put through at once for receiving a stand, and was seated at the head of the brand new La Squadra di Esecuzione.
Prosciutto
Maiale Crepuscolo was born the daughter of a powerful Don in Naples, and his much neglected wife. Raised in luxury, he came to resent his callous father, especially when the man continued to behave adulterously despite his wife’s failing health. The death of Mrs Crepuscolo was a huge blow to her 16 year old son. It was around this time that Maiale discovered his male identity and chose a new name for himself: Prosciutto.
Mere months after the death of his wife, Don Crepuscolo married his pregnant mistress, a young woman by the name of Loreta. Despite the circumstances, Prosciutto and Loreta got on very well together, and the young man confided in her about his transgender identity, to be met with her full support. Any faith that Prosciutto may have had in his father before was immediately lost when Loreta was thrown out onto the streets by her new husband, along with their infant son Pesci. His sole reason for doing this was that he had become tired of her, and the baby's crying.
Without his father’s knowing, Prosciutto continued to wire Loreta and Pesci money through his hefty allowance, and counted down the days until he could graduate highschool and become eligible for his mother’s inheritance. The very day he gained access to it, he cut his father off for good.
The next few years of Prosciutto’s life were the best. He went to a prestigious university to study politics and afterwards found work as a journalist. With his father no longer an issue, he medically transitioned and upped the money he was giving to his half-brother and former step-mother. Everything was going perfectly.
At age 24, Prosciutto received a visit by members of Passione, who informed him they had annexed his father’s gang and killed him. As much as Prosciutto insisted they had been estranged for years, the men maintained that Prosciutto was still considered a threat, and could only be allowed to live if he joined the gang. Worse, they threatened him with Pesci’s life. Prosciutto knew he had no choice.
Over the next few years, Prosciutto worked his way up. By age 27 he was granted the privilege to develop a stand, and was quickly pushed into the assassination business as a result of its deadly power. At that time, Passione had no designated assassination team, and individuals ordered to carry out hits had to go running around for volunteers if they needed help on a mission. This is why Prosciutto had sought out Risotto.
When the order to form a hitman squad was given, Prosciutto was initially primed to become the captain. However, he was strongly against taking this role, as Loreta was starting to show signs of chronic illness and Prosciutto wanted to make sure he could still take care of Pesci if it became necessary. Tasked with finding an alternative, Prosciutto initially approached his old friends Sorbet and Gelato, who had been part of the squad sent to confront him after the death of his father and had kept in touch out of pity. The pair were cleared to join the team, but were not trusted by the team’s superiors to become captain. And so, Prosciutto turned once more to Risotto.
Sorbet and Gelato
Sorbet and Gelato could not have been born in more different circumstances, the former in absolute poverty, and the latter in comparative privilege.
Sorbet’s mother was by no means a bad woman. It was just the case that through her crippling addictions and mental illnesses, she was in no means equipped to care for her 6 children, forcing Sorbet, the eldest, to pick up the slack. Though he loved his siblings the young Sorbet resented this role and was easily tempted by a street gang at age 12, who offered him escape from his miserable life through drug peddling. Sorbet began to drift from his family more and more. He soon disappeared from school, and became completely estranged from his mother and siblings.
By age 17 Sorbet had developed a reputation in the gang for ruthlessness, and was approached by its leader to carry out a number of assassinations. He soon became the group’s designated hitman, and was paid generously for the role. He was still however, functionally homeless.
Gelato was born to an upper-middle class family in Minsk, Russia. The youngest of four boys, his parents had been hoping for a girl, and their resentment only grew when it became clear the young Gelato was both autistic and ADHD. He suffered from extreme emotional neglect.
When Gelato was 13, the family moved back to Italy where his mother was from. Though he preferred it here, the problems with his family continued and Gelato was eventually kicked out at just 17 years old.
Following the word of a friend, Gelato made his way to Naples and found work running an illegal bar for a street gang in exchange for a room to sleep in. The same gang, incidentally, that Sorbet was working for. The two first exchanged words when Gelato found Sorbet beating up a patron who had been abusive to him, and decided to join in. Within weeks, they were lovers.
One night, while Sorbet and Gelato were asleep upstairs, the police raided the bar. In a panic, Gelato shot two, and Sorbet took out a third. The fourth got away. Knowing they would be hunted, the pair begged refuge from their gang but were denied. They were not a powerful enough syndicate to deal with something of this size. And so, with only each other, Sorbet and Gelato fled Italy.
They were on the run for two years, passing through just about every country in Europe at least once. As a means of surviving, they took on assassination contracts from local gangs and became very skilled, but of course this only turned up the heat to catch them. Eventually, it got too much, and in a final desperate bid to avoid capture, the pair went back to Italy to plead their gang to reconsider.
What they found now in charge of Naples was not their gang, but Passione. A capo by the name of Pericolo listened to their story, and agreed eagerly to dissuade the police from pursuing them in exchange for their loyalty to the new gang. Sorbet and Gelato agreed at once, and developed stands soon after.
Formaggio
A Naples Boy through and through, Formaggio was born in the central city to a large, loving family. Owing to their poverty, all the aunts, grandparents and cousins lived in one house. Although many were part of the mafia, it was always stressed to the children they were under no obligation to choose such a life. Nonetheless, many of them still did.
One night, Formaggio’s eldest brother Miguel sneaked off from the house, telling nobody but Formaggio. His goal was to seek initiation into Passione. The young Formaggio pleaded to come as well, but was told he was not ready yet. Miguel returned a couple of hours later, carrying a metal arrowhead. He told his brother that something unexpected had happened, and he needed to go now, but it was vital Formaggio told nobody of this meeting. He promised it would all be worth it in the end.
Years passed, and Miguel did not return. Then one day- a hastily-written letter, addressed solely to Formaggio. In his final message, Miguel apologised for the absence and announced that he did not expect to survive the next few hours. However, if Formaggio wanted the answers to all that had transpired, all he needed to do was recover the arrowhead that he had last seen Miguel with all those years ago. Most likely, it would have been returned to where he found it, address enclosed. Saddened and eager to understand what had happened to his brother, Formaggio followed the instructions and broke into a heavily guarded warehouse. He found the arrow, just as Miguel had said, but failed to understand how this could solve his problems.
Formaggio looked for a way out of the warehouse, and was suddenly set upon by the guards. He ran for the exit and tripped, impaling himself on the arrow. Little Feet came forth at once, stunning the guards. Not wanting to deal with whatever that was, they called in Risotto and his newly built execution squad, based nearby, to deal with it.
Fortunately, the assassins’ skills were not needed. In spite of the circumstances Formaggio met the assassins with charm and cooperation. Risotto phoned his superiors to see if killing the man was really necessary, and they agreed it wasn’t, provided Formaggio became Risotto’s business. An agreement was reached, and Formaggio was inducted into the hitman squad. It would take two more members for Formaggio to piece together what had happened to his brother.
Ghiaccio
Ghiaccio was dealt an awful hand in life. Poor, and with parents that hated him, he had little respite as a child. He was autistic, but never diagnosed, and had visual impairments that were never addressed. His fondest memory was of a bizarre couple he met as a child, a dark-haired, dour man and his blond lover, who kept him company after his mother walked away from him in anger at a shopping mall. She came back, unfortunately.
When Ghiaccio was 15, a frantic knock sounded at his door while his parents were out. Answering it nervously, an equally frantic man stood on the other side brandishing an arrow-head. He introduced himself exhaustedly as Miguel and begged for shelter- he was being chased.
Before Ghiaccio could answer a squad of men burst onto the porch and attacked Miguel, dragging him out of view. Ghiaccio was thrown to the ground and told in no uncertain terms to speak of none of this to anyone. It wasn’t until later he realised the arrow had accidentally slashed him.
At that time, Ghiaccio’s soul was not fit to manifest a stand, but it was close. And so, Ghiaccio began to suffer the slow, agonising fate that some in his position fall victim to, his half-manifested stand slowly sucking the life from him. His parents didn’t even have the heart to call a doctor.
Two months into this agony, Ghiaccio heard something outside his room. His parents. They were talking about what to do if he died. He’d had enough. He snapped.
And so, Ghiaccio’s soul reached the point where it was strong enough to bare a stand fully, after having already partially manifested one. This unheard of situation created a stand with no physical form, but unspeakable power. A surge of ice broke out around the house without Ghiaccio even meaning it to, killing his parents at once. His sickness gone, Ghiaccio got up from the bed. What the hell had just happened?
Convinced he had lost his mind, Ghiaccio fled, but left a trail of unexplainable events behind him. Realising they were dealing with an unaccounted stand user, Passione had Ghiaccio hunted down and propositioned to join them. Terrified and with no other idea of what to do, he agreed. With a stand like this, there were only 2 options: La Squadra and La Unita. La Unita had no interest in an impulsive teenager, so Ghiaccio was sent at once to La Squadra.
The group was reluctant to house a teenage boy as an assassin, but took him in nonetheless. Formaggio was grateful for the crumbs of information Ghiaccio could give about the fate of his brother. Sorbet and Gelato couldn’t shake the feeling they’d seen the boy before somewhere.
Illuso
He was an only child. There was nothing particularly wrong with his relationship with his parents, but nothing particularly right either. There just… wasn’t a connection. They were a middle class family, well to do but nothing special. An arrogant boy, Illuso struggled to make friends, though he did become somewhat close with a boy in the year below him named Formaggio, for a short time.
When Illuso was 15, his parents came to him with a proposition. A distant relative of theirs was in possession of a large castle, but could not pay for its upkeep any more. The man had asked if Illuso would be interested in becoming a live-in caretaker, to be paid less than industry standards but still a lot by the standards of a 15 year old boy. Illuso agreed at once, and moved out of his parents home in a matter of days.
At the castle, his loneliness only grew. The place was closed to visitors and had no inhabitants apart from his new employer, who even then only lived in the castle 4 days a week. Illuso thought he was okay with this life, but the effect on his psyche was indisputable.
Then one day, the castle had a break-in. Illuso was accosted by a young man named Miguel, who had been squatting in the cellar for days and believed the castle was abandoned. The pair came to an understanding, and Miguel proposed that in exchange for his silence, he would give Illuso something amazing. He pricked him with the arrow.
Thrilled with his new power, Illuso agreed to keep Miguel’s existence a secret and the pair co-existed for many years. Illuso learned that Miguel had stolen the arrow from a gang named Passione, after discovering its power and making the decision to take it on impulse. Passione is still hunting him, hence the need to hide.
But eventually, they found him nonetheless. Illuso and Miguel tried their best to fight but it was an uneven battle. Miguel fled with the arrow, chased by one half of the attacking squad, leaving Illuso to deal with the other half.
But against all odds, Illuso survived, using his stand to eliminate the attackers one by one. Eventually the last attackers gave in and fled, The next people sent to confront Illuso came with a deal: join Passione, and all will be forgiven.
Despite his stand’s power, Illuso’s superiors disliked his attitude. After a few months of being thrown between teams, he was saddled with La Squadra.
Melone
The middle of three children, Melone was born to an upper-working class family in Florence. His parents were eccentric-academic sorts, who encouraged Melone and his sisters to act without regard for social convention. Though intelligent, Melone was never quite top of the class due to his inability to stay on task. Still, he got into a decent university and had plans to become a gynaecologist.
In his second year, Melone was approached by a poor couple seeking antenatal care for their pregnancy. As they explained, they were in a gang and could not go into public care for fear of their identities as criminals being discovered. They pleaded Melone for whatever rudimentary checks he could provide, just so they could have some assurance their baby was okay. Melone agreed, and met with the couple several times.
Over the course of the next year, Melone gave similar services to a couple more women who were recommended to go to him by the first patient. It was only a matter of time before the university discovered what he was doing, especially once he started stealing equipment to improve the quality of his examinations. Melone was expelled and referred to the police, but one of his patients got Passione to bribe away his charges. Unfortunately, this put him in their debt. Melone told his family he was simply going away for a while.
Melone languished around in Passione for a while. Though he did receive a stand, its lethal capabilities weren’t immediately clear, and so he remained in the lower ranks. His main respite was the bar scene, in which he got to mingle with many of Passione’s members from different squads. It was through here that he met Illuso, Formaggio and Ghiaccio of the execution team, and formed a friendship. Through them he even formed links with the group’s leader, Risotto.
The team were eager to help Melone advance to a better position, and aided him in exploring his stand. Eventually, he discovered how lethal baby face could truly be, outshining everyone’s expectations. Risotto was pleased to welcome him into the team.
Pesci
By the time Pesci was 13, it was clear his mother’s illness was terminal. Initially reluctant to involve him around the team, Prosciutto increasingly allowed Pesci to stay with them while his mother was at the hospital, since there was nowhere else for the young boy to go. As much as everyone tried to comfort him, he was terrified.
Two years later, it was clear Loreta was in her final weeks. Pesci dedicated as much time as he could to being with her, sleeping at her bedside more often than not. It was here that he first felt the strange occurrences begin. It would be subtle at first, the peculiar feeling of his mother’s heartbeat in his hands as he drifted off to sleep. It was comforting, then. It assured him his mother was still alive. Then, it got weirder, a long string extending from his fingers and into his mother’s chest. He thought he was just sleep deprived.
When the fateful day came and Loreta’s heart monitor stopped, Pesci felt a surge of panic. Desperate to find some proof this wasn’t really happening, his stand burst forth from his body and shot its hook into Loreta’s chest. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing. Loreta was dead.
As Pesci held the rod in his hands he realised this was far too real to be a hallucination. He could sense everything, the fading metabolism of his mother’s body and the vibrations in the floor. As the nurses confirmed the death, they could not see it. Why couldn’t they see it?
Prosciutto came into the room. With one look, Pesci knew that his brother could see the rod as well. He panicked and ran.
Prosciutto tried desperately over the next couple days to get in touch with Pesci. He knew exactly what had happened- clearly the boy had summoned a stand from the anguish of his mother’s death and had freaked out in confusion. That’s all completely understandable, but if Pesci isn’t informed of what his new power means soon, he could get himself into serious trouble. Especially if Passione found out.
And so, Prosciutto set off with Risotto to hunt Pesci down, eventually finding him at a run down park near his childhood home. Prosciutto comforted him and explained he knew what was happening, but if everything was going to be okay, he had to go with them.
#la squadra#la squadra di esecuzione#formaggio#illuso#prosciutto#pesci#melone#ghiaccio#risotto nero#sorbet and gelato
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the devil judge + the seven deadly sins
so, i made a gifset about who i thought falls under the seven deadly sins. and also shameless plug - please go reblog the gifset i made for this. took me ages to do.
but i figured i might as well make a meta post to correlate. so this is that post. it’s not everything i could discuss. i could be here for hours more, truth be told. but i hope it’s enough to chew on.
while i feel like a lot of these are going to be a no-brainer, i still want to talk it through because idk. i can, and i want to, and i feel like it, lmao.
gluttony
the elite are privileged and have an opportunity to indulge so much more than the general public, but in many different ways. this is shown throughout the show in the fact that they can indulge on luxury food, have political power, they can make a phone call or snap their fingers and everyone must follow their orders.
and the thing about gluttony is that there is always more to be had. you take a little and then realize it’s not enough and so you ask for more. case in point: in episode 11 when sunah suggests that yohan could be the new president, the current one gives her an alternative: dictatorship. because it wasn’t just enough for him to be an actor and the presiding president.
you’ll also know they turn in on themselves - the two other guys in the elite group. one who owns the company and the other dude - i really cannot remember their names and what they do, but y’all know who i’m talking about. it was so easy for them, when threatened, to fabricate documents to give to yohan about each other in order to get ahead. gluttony is only shared in the relationships we have until one realizes they can take a little extra of the pie. it’s the selfishness of having all the leftovers. gluttony cannot necessarily exist without someone else’s sacrifice.
lust
i kind of had an ah-ah moment when i was talking this over with @technitango. i was trying to decide who was going to be lust because lust is portrayed very, very differently in this show than what most of us are used to. we, of course, know sunah who lusts after a life of indulgence and riches because she equates that with respect more than actually wanting it because it’s monetarily worth something.
but then i realized the public is lust because of their need for justice. i won’t say revenge necessarily because they’re doing as they’re told when given the judge show. but we can quickly see how that evaporates into something akin to bloodlust, for criminals and people who normally get away with shit, to have their fair taste at conviction for their misdeeds. we even see it with yohan’s fanboy club - the lust that comes from adoration and dedication.
and even more so, the public is easily swayed and so is the nature of lust. it follows in the vein of needs and wants, and as soon as new information is presented, however may false, so does the wants and desires of what people want sway. how easy was it for them to turn on yohan for a split second on two occasions - on two accounts of bribery.
envy
envy, above all, is about wanting what others have because you do not have it yourself. it may not be exactly what they have, but a form of it. some people don’t necessarily want money - they want what it can by, which is time, health and material goods.
sunah is the perfect example of this. she envies respect and recognition. she talks about bright and shiny objects, and that’s true to her kleptomania tendences, but more than anything, she wants to be seen as an equal because being poor with a vastly different upbringing means she’s looked down upon by those she thinks matters.
which also begs the question why she feels the need to seek validation from people in higher statuses to begin with when she can be the exception and not the rule - form her own understanding and environment to show others that the typical way of the elite is not actually all it’s cracked up to be - to which we see when she has no one to celebrate her victory with. it’s lonely being at the top. you get to your goal you thought you wanted but then what?
more importantly, sunah also envies family, relationships and simply put, human interaction. she wants to be cared for and treasured, and she looks for that in her position of power. because then all eyes are on you. because then that’s what people care about. what she fails to see is that those eyes are just as fruitless and just as wavering. to be a leader means people loving the idea of you but not you as a person.
“people of envious nature are sometimes stimulated to seek to emulate those who have completed some great achievements and in doing so achieve something great for themselves,” according to Understanding Philosophy.
wrath
while i realize that gaon not might entirely fit the wrath trope, he certainly has his moments, and i think he’s lived with a tampered flame since his parent’s death. he just learned to briefly put it out in the form of distractions and a false sense of righteousness and justice. it isn’t until he meets yohan that someone finally gives him the okay to feel the entirety of his emotions, that lets him breath and tells him it’s okay to feel anger and hurt. and while gaon ultimately chooses not to exact revenge, his wrath is what led him to becoming a judge and walking away from his teenage crimality.
gaon transposed his wrath into seeking justice, transformed it into livelihood, and reformed his narrative so that he was no longer angry and a teen with rash emotions. it was simply redirected and never really forgotten. yohan turned that redirection back around onto gaon’s ultimate heartache. fueled with that, it became easier to justify himself and his actions.
the most pivotal moment of turning his back on this mindset is, of course, the minister’s suicide, where he takes a good look at himself and doesn’t like what he sees. at this point, gaon’s upset isn’t necessarily at yohan but at the situation in which they got themselves into. because the thing is, gaon doesn’t absolve himself from what they did. he doesn’t turn a blind eye to that and try to dismiss it. he owns up to what happened and confesses how he feels to yohan and how he has to leave for his own good, and in some indirect way, for yohan’s, too.
with yohan, his ultimately weakness, despite never admitting to it, is family. his wrath comes in the form of anger when the ones he loves are threatened. yohan lives by a moral code of loyalty because that means you won’t be abandoned, and as a child who lived with that verdict since the day he was born, it’s an ever-pressing theme of his.
thing is, wrath comes in two particular forms for yohan. again, one is family and the second is the rose-colored glasses he’s given himself in his revenge story. he’s always had a goal to presumably make right the wrong for taking away isaac, but within that, 10 years is a long time to plot revenge, to the point where it becomes so much easier to lose yourself to that, to become enraged with it and forget the initial goal all along. we see this in his inability to form the bonding moments needed with his niece and his casual throwaway comments over people’s lives - the comment he made to gaon about moving on to the next plan, and the ultimately nail in the coffin of pushing gaon to leaving him.
his fury has also led him to convince himself his own humanity is nothing short of a lie. therefore, it’s easier to justify the means to an end because of his own self-worth and self-deprecation. it’s almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy: he even admitted to gaon’s mentor that he is an abyss. he’s referred to himself as nothing but an animal or a monster - all characteristics of despondency to survive and to justify what he’s doing. sort of like a catch 22, yohan claims he’s an animal/monster and behaves as such, but because he behaves as such, it means he’s an animal/monster.
wrath for gaon and yohan are very different yet the same. they are slow-burning, and that’s a dangerous type. it’s actually interesting when you think about the fire imagery surrounding the two of them because flames are quick to lap at anything in its wake, to destroy within a matter of minutes. and yet for the two of these men, their internal fire eats them from the inside out, painfully, until they’re almost unrecognizable to others and to themselves.
sloth
sloth was a little more difficult to pinpoint because of its characteristics. it was either the minister versus the mentor, both of which i think could work in this role. however, i chose the minister simply because she’s featured more and intertwines heavily with the plot line.
soth is a medieval translation of the Latin term acedia, meaning “without care.”
the ultimate characteristic of sloth is often identified as laziness, and while it’s easy to argue that the minister hasn’t been lazy in her ability to get where she is, she became as much when she started lying to get to her position. isn’t lying known as the easier way out? it absolves you of responsibility, of putting in the hard work, of apologizing and making things right. in the end, she had a goal and found the easiest solution to get there through her lack of responsibility for the roles she more than likely swore an oath to.
but that also translates into the other attributes of sloth: a failure to do the right thing, lack of emotions for people or of the self, and the fact that it “hinders man in his righteous undertakings and thus becomes a terrible source of man’s undoing” according to The Seven Deadly Sins: Society and Evil.
while i think there are a lot of components of sloth that may not necessarily fit the minister, the apathy and carelessness are enough to showcase her aggression, despondency and restlessness when what little efforts she does put in do not go her way. another interesting thing to note is that many of sloth’s traits correspond with symptoms of mental illness, such as depression and anxiety. it’s an interesting thing to note given the way the minister chooses to end her life.
greed
i don’t know that jinjoo would’ve had any provocation to the limelight if it wasn’t for sunah’s direction, but she’s eager to please and wants to be useful. it’s only natural for her to want more because it’s clear she’s a career woman, loves her job and has a heart for serving the people.
but like gluttony, greed is also that little thing that plants itself and can take on a life of its own. you start looking for justifications as to why you can’t have more than what you do, and in jinjoo’s situation, she’s already overlooked through no fault of her own. and it’s not that gaon and yohan are doing it purposefully, which is what makes their neglect heartbreaking, because truthfully, they’re after the same thing jinoo is. sure, it looks different and the foundation of it is different, same with their motives. but they’re all three judges on a residing bench working to exact justice - even if all three of them have their own personal agenda.
i don’t think jinoo fully aligns with greed, but she does want more for herself, and i think that’s only natural. you can tell she has a heart, and she’s keen not to be overlooked. this isn’t her pain point so much as it is she knows her worth and is more than ready to do what it takes to get where she wants. this, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily a bad trait, but we can see how it leads to being deceived, especially for someone who’s been left in the dark for so long.
she is enticed by the glitz and the glamour of being a head judge, but you can tell she feels some remorse and guilt for those thoughts at times. i think her sense of greed is a battle within herself more than it is extremely outwardly.
pride
soohyun’s pride comes in the form of her imbalance with right and wrong. her sense of righteousness and justice is so far leaning, even more than gaon’s. it can be chalked up to her being a cop, but we’ve seen instances of this outside of her role within that agency. her pride doesn’t let her see beyond saving gaon and getting to the bottom of every mystery that comes her way.
it also comes in the form of impulsiveness and her savior complex, putting elijah in danger, for example, instead of waiting for backup. it’s not necessarily from a belief that she can fix things all on her own, but she sees injustice and immediately jumps in. another case in point is her and gaon watching yohan wreck the minister’s son’s car. she’s ready to go stop him, but gaon pulls her back, most likely because at that point, they hadn’t been observing the situation for very long to get a read on it. also the fact that at that point, neither of them truly knew yohan and his capabilities.
but as to where her characteristics come from, we simply don’t know beyond that of gaon. it’s unfortunate because we don’t have much of her backstory, so there is no real understanding why she so firmly believes in entities of regulation beyond keeping her friend out of jail. she prides herself on her work and what she’s able to accomplish, which is why it’s devastating to her to have to protect gaon by cleaning up his bloody handprint.
aristotle is of the belief that, “pride, then, seems to be a sort of crown of the virtues; for it makes them greater, and it is not found without them. Therefore it is hard to be truly proud; for it is impossible without nobility and goodness of character,” from Nicomachean Ethics.
but pride for soohyun isn’t about honors or rewards. it’s for herself and her capabilities, her ability to protect gaon, and the virtues she’s set as the precedent for herself. because sometimes it’s not even about establishing morals and ethics upon yourself. it’s about feelings/intuition, logic and observation. and no, i don’t mean the feelings she has for gaon. there are things that humans do, both actions and words, that we inherently know are bad without someone telling us as much and without the rules of the world seared into our brains. there are some things we know, for a fact, are wrong to us as individuals.
for soohyun, she knows that gaon’s actions, and even her own, have consequences. from what we’ve seen, i think it can be argued that it’s really about not doing those actions to prevent an outcome - not necessarily from a place of being just and right. that doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand good morals/ethics, but again, we have no background of what her internal guidance actually is.
to put this in layman’s terms, we’ll use gaon wanting to stab the conman in his youth. soohyun knows it’s wrong because it will incriminate gaon and therefore she stops it. gaon’s gone to her because he sees her as a moral compass. but is her own internal navigation rooted in justice the way gaon had to find it in the judicial system, or is hers rooted in her pride of keeping gaon safe? she stops him from doing things that will get him in trouble, but is she stopping him because the action itself is wrong or because the outcome will result in undesirable consequences for the two of them?
and of course, there is a flipped argument to be had there - i’m not arguing that gaon stabbing the conman would be right or justified. but what i am saying is that for her, her worldview is the only right one, and when anyone steps out of that, even gaon, it becomes a bit of an issue: the pride she has for that is palpable.
every character indulges
truthfully, every character has at least one form of these sins rooted in their characterization. some are larger than others, but the breadth of it can be explored even further for each. and that’s what makes them more realistic and not just characters written on a page or following a linear progression of their writing deity.
the seven deadly sins are also notoriously rooted in religion. they’re also a defining feature of aristotle’s works that represent the golden mean, in which each vice is parallel to a virtue.
the devil judge is so layered, but i think at the heart of it, it’s about humanity at its core. sprinked in are the philosophies and contradictions and what it means to look in the mirror, what happens when we’re blind to seeing our true selves and most importantly, how much changes when we’re swayed by our own misgivings. it really asks us to understand nature versus nurture, that people must find a belief in something to keep them going, and how futile our hopes and desires can actually be if we’re not carefully regulating ourselves, nevermind the entities established by society to regulate us, too.
the entirety of the show genuinely begs the question as to who is truly right, who is truly wrong, and if it’s even possible to find the correct answer.
#x#the devil judge#the devil judge meta#*#*the devil judge#so i have some Thoughts#probably not very good ones but ya know
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THE 35 BEST ROCK SONGS OF 2021 (by Loudwire)
34. Dorothy, "What's Coming to Me"
Release Date: July 8
We saw Dorothy go from a high energy rock ’n’ roller to a mellow, free-spirited California queen over the course of her first two records, and now she’s back with even more of a punch. “What’s Coming to Me” proved that the high energy is certainly back — the choruses are grand, her vocals are sharper than ever and it sounds more mature all around. She’s even got a little bit of a Stevie Nicks-vibe going on throughout it, and who doesn’t love that? —LS
20. Nita Strauss featuring David Draiman, "Dead Inside"
Release Date: Oct. 15
Nita Strauss and David Draiman, “Dead Inside” (Sumerian Records)Alice Cooper guitarist Nita Strauss made a great choice in pulling in Disturbed’s David Draiman to power her first solo song that included vocals. Opening with Strauss’ spiraling guitar lick against a somber piano backing, the track transitions into a driving and catchy drum foundation in the verses that lays the perfect backdrop for Draiman’s trademark rhythmic delivery before its soaring chorus. Strauss adds her stamp with an ear-catching mid-song guitar solo, raising the stakes on the track. It’s a perfect pairing, giving the guitarist her breakout single. —CC
17. Halestorm, "Back From the dead"
Release Date: Aug. 18
This is how you announce your presence with authority! After a pandemic year providing plenty of time to work on new music, Halestorm share this defiant song about the survival instincts that have kicked in during a particularly rough period in most of our lives. “This song is personal and written from a mental health perspective,” said Lzzy Hale. “I wanted to give myself and the world a hard rock song we could shout out loud as the gates opened again. I was on the edge of this world getting completely lost in oblivion, but even though it was the harder of two choices, I didn’t just let the darkness and depression in my mind dig me an early grave.” Shout out loud we all should. Halestorm are back! —CC
9. Evanescence, "Better Without You"
Release Date: March 4
Nobody puts Amy Lee in the corner! Evanescence’s “Better Without You” is a defiant track, dark in nature and accentuated with a more electronic vibe overall. Lee sets the tone in the verses detailing a controlling and self-serving entity, unleashing her powerhouse vocal in the chorus revealing, “It makes me smile to know that I’m better without you.” It’s an anthem just begging to be adopted for those ready to move on from a bad situation. —CC
2. The Pretty Reckless, “Only Love Can Save Me Now”
Release Date: Feb. 12
If the death of Chris Cornell was the nail in the coffin for Taylor Momsen in 2017, then collaborating with his Soundgarden bandmates on her own song years later was certainly her resurrection. After coming up with a song that sounded “Soundgarden-esque,” Momsen phoned Kim Thayil and Matt Cameron to lend their mastery to it. The result is a magnificent, grungy track that is topped off with Thayil’s instantly-recognizable guitar voice and Cameron’s thunderous percussion. Even more nostalgic to the Seattle sound is that it was recorded at London Bridge Studio, where albums such as Pearl Jam’s Ten, Temple of the Dog and Alice in Chains’ Dirt were born. —LS
#Dorothy#Nita Strauss#lzzy hale#Halestorm#Amy Lee#Jen Majura#Evanescence#Taylor Momsen#the pretty reckless
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a rant (CW: mentions suicide, religious trauma, and queerphobia)
I love the church I grew up in but I also hate it. I grew up feeling accepted by a wonderful community. Now I can't tell how deep their kindness goes. I feel like I have to hide my identity in order to be accepted, because I am unsure if my church leaders would ostracize me - strip me of privileges, or tell me I lack faith or that I've been deceived - if I lived truthfully. Church leaders speak words that are 99% beautiful and uplifting and 1% scary or offensive. The church spends millions on humanitarian aid while spending billions on stocks, real estate, and lobbying. It shaped my life for the better. It's now arguably making my life worse.
I love the BYU/Provo community but I also hate it. People are incredibly friendly and invite you to parties and bring you food and also whisper the word “queer” like it's a dirty word. They'll talk so much about loving everyone - and they really try! - but see any act of acceptance as "condoning sin". They are quick to serve but they also speak of people who have left the church or identify as LGBTQ+ or struggle with addictions with a strong "hate-the-sin-love-the-sinner" tone. They are very wholesome and will defend their values to their dying days yet many will bristle at being told to wear a mask. Many of them have never met a Black person before, or a queer person, or a person who is not a member of the church. They are essentially the only friends I have. I love them. I hate it.
I love BYU itself but I also hate it. It’s given me an amazing education, and its tuition is very affordable for anyone - and through scholarships, it’s technically paid me to attend. But its standards are in many ways absurd. Modesty I can understand, to a point, but a ban on beards? no colored hair? and don't even get me started on the ban on "homosexual behavior" or the outright transphobia/enbyphobia. It offers free counseling and formed an official committee for diversity and inclusion yet condemns groups for shining rainbow lights on Y mountain, refuses to issue a statement after a church leader told students to resist LGBT inclusion with proverbial "musket fire", refuses to change a problematic honor code even after sustained protests, and boasts a student body of which a whopping 0.4% are Black. In a year and a half or so I will get my degree from BYU. My time here will shape my life forever. It already has - in good ways and bad.
I love Mormon doctrine but I also hate it. There are so, so many wonderful elements to it - eternal families, personal revelation - but also enough about its shaky history - polygamy, child marriage, racism, queerphobia - that it can be hard to balance. It talks about how God’s love is unconditional but then sets conditions on how to feel that love. Much as it repeats "you don't need to be perfect," it's easy to feel like you can never measure up. And its only answer to not feeling the way you're supposed to - having doubts, not feeling like your prayers are being answered - is to just keep going. Don’t trust outside sources, they could lead you astray. Throughout my life, through my mission, it gave me hope and comfort. But when questions came, it had few answers, and when the depression and mental health struggles came, there were fewer answers still. And then, when at the ripe old age of almost 23, I finally realized I was queer, it seemed like the nail in the coffin given the Church's history and vague doctrine surrounding queerness.
I love God but I also hate Him. I still fundamentally think He exists, and that He had a hand in my life once upon a time. When I was a child, and occasionally as a missionary, I truly felt He loved me and guided my life. I loved Him back and did the things that Mormons do not because I felt I had to, but because I loved God. But it seemed like His love and closeness expired when I hit 16. Although I did not doubt God’s existence, everything was suddenly harder, and answers to prayers seemed few and far between. And then shortly after returning from missionary service, everything stopped. I was struggling with my identity and with burnout - if there was one time I needed God's love and help, it was then, but He was gone. I nearly ended my life because I felt so abandoned. It’s been a year. There’s been no indication that He cared, or was there at all. I love God for what I truly believe He's done for me in the past. I resent Him a little now.
It's General Conference time, when Mormons everywhere tune in to watch church leaders give sermons for 10 hours or so over the course of two days. It's a big deal, especially around here where you'd be hard-pressed to find a non-Mormon within a mile radius. Everyone's excited. It's wonderful. It's also conflicting, and terrifying, for some of us. I've listened to 1.5 hours or so of the 6 hours that broadcasted today. Some of it resonated with me. Some of it made me feel sick. The same thing that used to make me feel so loved is now the thing that often makes me feel unloved.
That's the end of my rant. I want to use this blog for fun rather than an outlet for religious trauma and identity crises, but with my roommates blasting Conference on the living room TV, my social media full of #ldsconf and stylized quotes, and virtually no non-Mormons in sight, it's what's inevitably on my mind. Hopefully in a few days my brain will be off its bullshit and back onto its desired path of shitposting and memes.
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