#instead of some type of righteous?

[dyed-red]

It’s not just that Cas knows Sam didn’t have the info about Lilith; it’s that Cas is the one who let him out of the panic room to kill Lilith.

Did the others ever find out about that actually

not sure if the others find out about that tbh. it's never explicitly explained on screen, that's for sure, and we have no reason to believe it would be communicated to sam and dean (though i assume they figure out it was the angels in general).

[remi-harbinger]

When SJ first joined the sect he was been petty in ways that made complete sense to him and not to anyone else at all. He whispered answers to the people that get called on because he thought that it was the height of embarrassment to accept help from others. He'd be internally giggling at the thought of the turmoil going on in The Damned's minds and they'd just flash him a relieved grin and repeat the answer word for word. He's so confused he tries it out every single class. He gets a reputation for being There For You, and now people start coming to him with their problems.

He's hit with an epiphany. Yes. He's managed to manipulate them into trusting him. He doesn't know how but he's not going to doubt it. With this, half the sect become his personal bodyguard/shadows. When he started sneaking to Warm Red Pavilion a shijie saw him and instead of spreading nasty rumours etc etc she sat down with him and coaxed him into telling on why he wanted to go (he said its bc they need medicines and he technically isnt lying!)

So now he has yet another layer to his reputation. He's the xianxia version of Florence Nightingale, bringing love light and happiness to the unfortunate. (SJ doesn't even care at this point as long as no one stops him he can bear with the people coming up to him and going on and on about how he's righteous)

When he was reading and a bird landed on his hand (he wove the type of seeds that birds like into his little bracelet because he thought they were pretty), instead of people saying he cultivates the demonic path, disciples started whispering about how Head Disciple Shen is so beautiful that birds and butterflies follow in his footsteps. Okay, so maybe one time the shijie's wove him a flower crown and he put it on and the butterflies got attracted to the flowers. He was in a FLOWER GARDEN. There were SO MANY available flowers why?? just why??

Everyone (Liu Qingge) is convinced that SJ is some secret flower nymph that's sent to... steal sect secrets or something... Anyways the conclusion is that he absolutely!!! must !!! hang around SJ to ensure that he doesn't do anything wrong!!! And to keep suspicion away he has to bring increasingly elaborate and beautiful gifts of course!!! Yue Qingyuan why are you coming closer yue qingyuan stay awa-

[wvyik]

signed, sealed, seduced. d.w. ⋆˚࿔

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: she’s high-maintenance, deadly, and doesn’t take shit from anyone; especially not from dean. but when their worlds collide, the hunt becomes personal… and a whole lot more complicated.

⤿ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, (i couldn’t help myself) tons of sexual tension, mild explicit content, cursing, dirty jokes, fluff + filth combo, (because why settle for one?), some light violence, a sprinkle of possessiveness, lots of playful banter, reader is so bela talbot coded, frenemies to lovers.

⤿ notes: thank you anon for the request!! im happy to oblige, such an awesome idea btw >ᴗ< think mr. & mrs. smith meets supernatural with just a pinch of unholy sexual frustration.

The first time you ever met Dean Winchester, he tried to shoot you.

In his defense, you had just scammed a warlock out of a cursed amulet that he’d been trying to track for three weeks. In your defense? He was being a little bitch about it.

“You stole it,” he’d growled, all puffed chest and righteous fury.

You’d just smiled, blood-red lipstick flawless, one perfectly arched brow lifting. “I acquired it. Stole is such a blue-collar word.”

He hated you instantly.

They say hate is just the other side of passion. Dean’s starting to believe it. Every time you roll your eyes, every time you sass him, every time you bend over in that tight little pencil skirt that definitely wasn’t accidental— he gets closer to just snapping and pinning you to a wall.

And you know it.

You flirt like it’s war. Batting your lashes just to watch him sweat. Dropping dirty little one-liners that leave him choking on air.

“So serious, Dean. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying not to get hard.”

He whips his head toward you. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh relax,” you hum, leaning your head back against the seat. “I’m not gonna jump you. You’re not my type.”

He scoffs. “Good.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I like men who at least pretend they don’t want me. It’s more fun when they break.”

You’re a ghost in the hunter world. No last name. No phone number. Just rumors and red lipstick. You’ve sold hex bags to demons and then double-crossed them for hunters. You flirted your way through vampire nests and stole angel blades from under Heaven’s nose. Nobody knows whose side you’re really on.

That’s your whole thing.

Dean hates that it turns him on.

The job takes you to Louisiana. Swamps, heat, and the kind of cursed object no sane hunter touches without gloves, prayers, and a last will and testament.

It’s an old Creole relic. An amulet that traps souls in a loop of violent death. You’ve seen it before. Once. You didn’t walk away clean.

Dean doesn’t ask about it.

You don’t offer.

Instead, you two ride down in the Impala, sniping at each other the whole way. He complains about your luggage (“We’re not staying at the goddamn Ritz!”) and you call his music “sad divorced dad anthems.”

But underneath the sarcasm, something’s shifting. You catch him looking at you longer. Laughing under his breath at your jokes. And when you fall asleep in the car, head resting against the window, he doesn’t say anything. Just glances at you, once, and turns the music down.

The house is cursed, because of course it is. Two people already dead, one missing, and a sulfur trail leading straight to the basement.

You go in first. Dean protests, obviously.

“You’re not bulletproof, you know.”

You glance over your shoulder, smirking. “Neither are you. But I look better while risking my life.”

He doesn’t argue.

Not out loud, anyway.

Inside, the air is heavy. Thick with bad energy. The kind that sticks to your skin. Dean’s right behind you, flashlight sweeping, gun drawn. You’re holding a small dagger you stole got from a Haitian priest once. Dean always makes fun of it— until it saves both your lives.

Which it does.

Twice.

“You okay?” he breathes after the second time, chest heaving.

You glance at your bleeding shoulder and shrug. “Ruined another blouse. Guess you’ll have to buy me a new one.”

He glares at you, then rips part of his flannel and presses it to the wound. “Stop joking.”

You blink. His hands are warm. His voice is serious. “You could’ve died,” he mutters.

You smile, softer now. “So could you.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours. And for once, there’s no banter. No sarcasm.

Just that look.

That goddamn look.

The one you’ve seen flicker in motel rooms and over diner coffee, in the lull between hunts. The one he always hides before it can mean anything.

This time, he doesn’t hide it.

He brushes your hair back, careful of the blood. And you let him.

You defeat the cursed object together; barely. It shatters in a flash of flame and screams, and when it’s over, you’re both on the floor, breathless, singed, bleeding.

You laugh.

Dean groans.

“You’re the worst,” he says.

“I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but stops. Because he’s realizing you might be right.

Next thing you know, the air in the motel room is heavy. You’ve both cleaned up—sort of. You’re in a silk robe now, blood rinsed from your skin but not from your memory. Dean’s wearing an old band tee with a rip near the collar and sweatpants, barefoot, jaw still clenched. He hasn’t looked at you since the kiss.

You don’t know if that’s a good sign.

You sit across from him at the little table between the beds, picking at your nail polish, pretending you’re not waiting for him to say something. Anything.

“You could’ve died today,” he finally mutters.

“You already said that.”

He looks up, eyes sharp. “You didn’t react the first time either.”

You shrug. “I didn’t feel like getting all misty-eyed about it while covered in ghost goo.”

Dean leans forward, elbows on the table, and you swear— his gaze softens. Just for a second.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Your stomach flips. Violently.

And now you’re just… staring at him. He’s not looking away. He’s not covering it with sarcasm or barking an insult or making some gruff joke about how everyone dies in this line of work, sweetheart. He’s just sitting there, looking at you like losing you would gut him.

You don’t do emotions. Not like this. Not in daylight. So you smirk, instead. “God, you’re being so clingy.”

Dean chuckles under his breath, but it’s not amused. It’s devastated.

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend this doesn’t matter.”

You open your mouth to toss something clever back, but nothing comes. Because it does matter. And you both know it.

So instead, you get up.

Walk over.

Slide into his lap like it’s nothing.

But it’s everything.

His hands automatically grip your hips. His breath catches.

And you whisper, “I don’t want to lose you either.”

It’s the softest he’s ever seen you. And he looks at you like he’s memorizing it — like this might be the only time he gets to see you with your guard down.

Then he presses his forehead to yours. You sit there for a long time, just breathing each other in. Not kissing. Not speaking. Just holding.

The line between friends and lovers? It’s already blurred. Hell, it’s obliterated.

You slide your hand up the back of his neck. His breath hitches. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I’m not gonna run anymore,” you whisper. “So stop looking at me like I’m gonna disappear.”

Dean exhales shakily.

And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat. His hands grip your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. You sink into him like he’s home.

It’s not neat. It’s not soft.

It’s messy.

Years of denial crash in one second— teeth, tongues, groans swallowed into skin. You push him back further against the mattress and climb over him, still straddling his lap, your hands yanking at his shirt like you’ve waited lifetimes to touch him without consequence.

Dean flips you, presses you into the mattress, mouth hot on your neck.

“Should’ve done this the second I met you,” he mutters into your skin, voice wrecked.

“You were too busy pretending I annoyed you.”

“You did annoy me.” He grins against your collarbone. “Still do.”

You moan when his hands slide under your robe. “Shut up and take it off.”

Dean’s hands are on you; rough, urgent. His fingers digging into your waist, your body pressed flush against his. His breath is ragged, hot on your neck. You’re both trembling, not from the cold but from something deeper, more raw.

You gasp as his lips meet yours again, his mouth is hard against yours, like he’s trying to consume you. And you’re not exactly pulling away either.

Your hands are on his chest, pushing his shirt off, nails scraping against his skin, making him groan low and deep in his throat.

“You sure about this?” he growls, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm and possessive. His lips move down your neck, kissing and biting, and you can’t stop the shiver that races through you.

“I’ve been sure since the first time I laid eyes on you, Winchester,” you breathe out, your voice shaky but bold. The words feel like they’ve been building up for months, desperate to spill out.

Dean’s hands slide lower, just shy of where you need him. “Yeah? Then why’d you keep running from me?”

You’re not sure if it’s the heat, the pressure, or the way he looks at you with that fire in his eyes, but you snap, your patience snapping like a rubber band. You rip his belt off, hands shaking but determined.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this too,” you snap, before kissing him hard again, all teeth and tongue, pushing your body against his, aligning the two of you in one swift motion.

Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, a low growl escaping his lips as he finally lets you have control. His hands are on your hips, guiding you, the pressure between your legs sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body.

The world outside the room disappears. There’s nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the slick slide of skin on skin, and the rhythm you’re both setting— raw, frantic, desperate.

His voice breaks as he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against your ear. “God, you feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

You don’t hold back. The tension, the need, it’s been bubbling beneath the surface, and now, it’s exploding. You move against him, your body finding its rhythm with his, chasing that overwhelming heat, that burn that has nothing to do with the hunt, with monsters. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in sheets, no masks, no pretenses.

Dean groans as you shift, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Should’ve had you like this from the start.”

You smile, teeth grazing his jawline as you pull back just enough to look him in the eye, your breath uneven. “Took you long enough to catch up.”

“You feel so good,” he mutters between kisses. “Damn, you feel better than I imagined.” His voice is low, strained, the heat in his tone like fire. “Always knew this was gonna happen… didn’t realize it’d be this fucking good.”

Your movements become faster, rougher, and Dean matches you, his hands gripping your hips harder as he takes control of the rhythm. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the soft, breathy moans you both can’t hold back, fill the room. And you can feel his eyes on you, burning with an intensity that sends a wild thrill straight through your core.

His name is a whisper on your lips as you both fall into it. That final, explosive moment when you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. It’s pure, intense, all-consuming.

And when you both finally collapse into the bed, gasping for air, sweaty and wrecked, there’s no question.

You’re not just two people sharing a night anymore.

You’re tangled up in something deeper.

Something that’s not going to fade in the morning.

After, you’re tangled in the sheets, your head on his chest, his hand lazily tracing patterns across your bare back.

“You’re mine now, huh?” he murmurs, voice all husky and smug and soft.

You hum. “I was starting to think you’d never ask...”

Dean kisses the top of your head. “We’re really doing this?”

You look up at him. “Yeah. We are.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin, clearly amused, but his eyes flicker with that intense, familiar heat. “You sure you’re ready for all this, sweetheart?” He motions to himself dramatically. “I’m a lot.”

You pause, staring at him, before letting out a mock gasp. “Oh no. Does that mean I’m gonna have to be the one saving you next time?”

Dean laughs, the sound rich and full of life. “Baby, the only thing you’ll be saving is my dignity— if there’s any left after last night.. And maybe if you get lucky a few monsters along the way.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” You give him a wink, running your fingers through his hair. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you out of trouble, huh?”

Dean leans in, catching your lips in a kiss that’s lighter than before but still packed with that unmistakable Dean Winchester intensity. “You’re my trouble now, sweetheart.”

And for the first time, it feels like everything’s exactly as it should be.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @brutuuallove @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @littlesoulshine @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @twelveyearsofit @tinas111 @riteofpassage77 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡

[novy2sirius]

ways to heal your karma

⋆ ˚｡⋆ acknowledge and understand what your karma is: this is the first step to healing your karma. obviously, you must first create an understanding of the presence of the patterns in your life showing you this

⋆ ˚｡⋆ simply let it take its cycle: there’s only so much you can do to heal your karma as some of it has come from past lives and you can’t take back what you’ve already done. this means you’re going to just have to learn challenging lessons. that’s what life on earth is about. earth is a karmic place, almost like a giant school. learn your wrongs from the challenging lessons you will endure. feel your feelings

⋆ ˚｡⋆ meditate: mediation is one of the best forms of healing. it allows you to work within yourself instead of focusing so much on external factors/events and really reevaluate your life decisions and feelings about things

⋆ ˚｡⋆ forgive and make amends: both forgiving the people you hurt and making up with people you’ve gotten into any type of conflict with in the past can be healing although it seems hard to do. holding onto the negative energy or grudge you have against them is actually only going to damage you. now don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean you have to be besties with someone who hurt you, but you can still forgive them and create closure to move on. it’s also good to apologize if you happened to be the one in the wrong and take responsibility as this is more mature and will help you grow

⋆ ˚｡⋆ pay attention to your numerology: if you have 5 energy (numerically) in your birthday then you can simply travel a lot to heal karma, if you have 8 energy live a righteous life and kill others with kindness so you don’t create more karma for yourself, etc

⋆ ˚｡⋆ pay attention to the pisces/12th house placements or sign in your saturn persona chart: if you have a pisces venus in your saturn persona chart it can mean you need to be a good and loyal lover to heal karma, if you have a 12h sun in your saturn persona chart it can mean you need to be kind and never mean to others in order to heal karma, etc

⋆ ˚｡⋆ create good karma: engage in positive karmic actions and avoid engaging in negative ones. creating more good karma for yourself will make your life better and help you to attract more positive karma. this balances your scales

[chuluoyi]

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

[pearynice]

So Eddie, who grew up gay in Hawkins, Indiana, has probably never had anyone genuinely interested in him in his entire life. He’s pined long sufferingly, of course, on celebrities and gag athletes (that he would only admit to under pain of death) and even, embarrassingly, his classmates, but no one’s ever liked him back. There was never even a girl thrown into the mix for him to reject. There was no one.

And he got used to it. There are worse things than not being attractive, or desirable, or lacking in whatever quality made others flock to you. Did it suck? Yeah, but he’s been through worse. He has his platonic relationships who love him, who he loves in return, and it’s enough.

So color him surprised when Steve Harrington starts, what seems to be, testing the waters with him. It’s honestly a little funny, at first, because Steve is joking, because he has to be. Because people don’t like Eddie like that. Least of all Steve, who is attractive and kind and desirable and has all those things Eddie doesn’t.

But then it keeps happening. And it starts to scare him a little, because he knows that if Steve thinks he likes him, give them a date, or two, and Steve will realize he fucked up. Which. Which would be worse than it never happening at all. Because Eddie likes Steve so much it hurts. He can’t take his eyes off him, most of the time, can feel his heart flutter whenever Steve says anything- but Eddie’s made peace with who he is in this world, and he doesn’t want that to be disturbed. He’s not the type of person anyone wants to wake up to. #3 of the Munson Doctrine.

And it’s the classic it’s not you it’s me, but it really is Eddie, because he could never believe that anyone could truly like him. Not like that.

And Steve, who has had his love questioned in the past, who’s been called bullshit by Nancy and has never been enough for anyone besides Robin, falls apart a little. He thought Eddie was different. He thought he was reading the signs right and that Eddie liked him back. But he’d been wrong before and he’s wrong now and it’s all just too much. He locks himself in his room and directs all of his sadness inwards, like his parents taught him to.

And Robin, in all her righteous fury, goes to Eddie and screams herself hoarse because she knows Eddie likes Steve, she isn’t blind, but Eddie’s so flippant about the entire thing Robin wants to kill him. Because this is her best friend- her platonic soulmate- and Steve deserves whoever he wants.

And then Eddie says something very sad that takes the wind out of her sails. Something like “Robin, I’m not the kind of guy anyone would ever want to wake up to. I’ve accepted that.”

And Robin of course knows what it’s like to be queer and alone and in Hawkins, so she doesn’t murder him, even though she still kind of wants to. She gives him a hug, instead of stealing Nancy’s gun and killing him, and asks him if he trusts Steve.

Which. Eddie does trust Steve. If he trusts anyone in this world, he trusts Wayne, the Hellfire club, and Steve. And the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. And he’s so, so scared. But he goes straight to Steve’s house and pours his pathetic little heart all over Steve’s front porch, tells him he’s never thought himself worthy of love, that Steve is the first, ever, as mortifyingly embarrassing as that is, to ever want him. And how it took him some time to wrap his head around the fact that his crush likes him back. And that he’s so sorry. That Steve is enough in every sense of the word. And that Eddie just couldn’t accept that someone liked him.

And Steve is just like??? “Your crush?”

And Eddie’s like “ofc you’re my crush are you kidding me? Have you met yourself?”

And after that they’re gone for each other.

And it takes Eddie a while to trust himself- to trust himself to be worthy of the type of affection that pours from his boyfriend. But he trusts Steve- with every fiber of his being, he does, so eventually he gains his footing and is able to see himself as lovable and loving.

Robin kicks herself everyday for interfering because they’re so disgusting but also Steve is so happy, and Robin would do anything and put up with anything for Steve to be able to smile like that.

[tinolqa]

god I haven't mentioned it enough here. Myths of the Realm is my enemy. easily my least favorite 24-man- or rather it's my least favorite raid series of either type.

probably made worse by pandaemonium being genuinely very good? the contrast was stark.

weak answer to the question of the twelve's nature, very unambitious and mediocre visual designs that were largely too married to visual fidelity to boring statues and card designs. some real disney's hercules shit. there were some innovative or appealing elements here and there: nald'thal was genuinely great visually and conceptually, I actually respect the concept of making menphina a magical girl instead of a generically hotsexy love goddess, byregot's halo of nails, uh... the models for thalaos and perykos looked good? but overall they were a bunch of very boring idealized humans.

and my god eulogia is the ugliest thing. eulogia might actually be the most hideous execution of a concept in the game yet, you might as well just clip all of the models of the twelve into each other and play their animations at once and get the same effect. zero elegance, zero thoughtful design. it's actually shocking to see in a game where we got perfect omega as a raid boss once upon a time. even eden's promise, while superficially a hot mess, is a hot mess because it pays homage to extant depictions of artemis! art history is why it looks like that! eulogia looks like the artists were asked to recreate knife dad from monster factory using ffxiv assets.

and you might ask, well, are the mechanics of the fights better than the boss designs? absolutely not. week one aglaia was a little fun, because there being a chance of failure to people not knowing the trick of the meteors in the rhalgr fight or panicking during the nald'thal scales instead of just deliberately failing the mechanic to waste everyone's time. gear creep destroyed any chance of interacting with most of the fun bits of aglaia, and they didn't repeat that "mistake" in the other two, which were boring and easy from the jump. just an absolute void of challenge or chaos. why even bother putting mechanics into your raid at that point, apparently that's only for savage.

and the rewards... boy I hope you like ugly yellow-gold saint seiya armor and generic draping faux-hellenistic robes and vague suggestions of togas. I hope you fucking gluttons for endless less-problematic rehashes of ancient greek mythology like gaudy costume jewelry and sandals and meaningless neoclassical flourishes. did you want gear that might look like something your character would wear in a city they've visited or that has a connection to a historical aesthetic? I guess if you make believe you can stretch a tenuous bond from this tacky armor to the uniform robes and masks of the ancients. ostensibly. since we all know the ancients didn't have a societal taboo about ornamentation or making your clothes individualized or anything.

so what did we achieve? did we learn anything? turns out the twelve were real all along, but also powerless except in the specific context of having flashy anime duels with the warrior of light. it's VERY important that we say they aren't primals, because primals are only summoned by primitive subhumans like the ixal and the garleans. but we do need you to fight them to return their aether to the star because... they're definitely not primals! no. not primals. primals are fake gods, and the twelve are *aetheric constructs* based on *real people* made by *hydaelyn*, which means they're good and Not Primals. the mechanic by which they visually reflect the beliefs of their followers? definitely not the same as the one that does that for primals. their nebulous dependence on the faith of eorzeans? totally unrelated to primals, because it's apparently important for the ego of the players that *their* god is real and not fake, which makes them ontologically good and righteous.

and it's definitely satisfying to find out that the goddess whose name gave weight and gravity to the reveal of the warrior of light's past incarnation and their name... is called that because she was a failed candidate for that role? she's a consolation prize sun goddess?

for that matter it's definitely satisfying to find out that the twelve are just recreations of venat's boring ancient friends, who are largely nameless and have no significance to you or your interaction with the past aside from a mediocre sidequest. oh it's so thrilling to know that the god of crafting used to be hytholdaeus's coworker. this would mean so much to me if he had any role in the setting beyond a skill name and a rock sitting in an overworld zone.

admittedly it would also suck for the reveal to be "actually eorzea's gods did create the world and are all-powerful, boy it sure is silly that those delusional foreigners are out here worshipping kami and manusya and mrga and primals which are all FAKE, as opposed to us (non-beastman) eorzeans who have the literal mandate of heaven"

but surely there's a more elegant solution (ambiguity, leaving questions instead of a glut of answers, not making this raid series at all). was this really the best they could come up with?

[suiana]

I miss the time you used to make actual fics

(yandere! villain x gn! hero's sidekick reader) (idk what this is bruh i wanted to make it heroic but then it turned out like this)

when your world gets shrouded in ugliness and grime, a time will come when a person will light up the torch that guides you through even the darkest of nights.

if you had known that things would be like this, you would never have decided to take on the duty of being a hero. after all, with glory came the overwhelming loneliness of being the saviour.

you were never really the righteous type. always put yourself over others when a life-threatening situation would come. sure, you were a sidekick to the number one hero but you still had to save yourself first, right? well, no.

because for some reason when the gods decided to punish the earth, you had stepped forward to protect everyone when no one else would.

people called you a hero. with tears running down their faces as they thanked you for saving them and their families. the press recorded your selfless act and praised you as humanity's saviour.

you wished you could take your words back. to say that you didn't want to shoulder the punishment of humanity on your own. that if you could reverse time you'd hide in the crowd as god rained his fury down on everyone.

because at least then you wouldn't be alone.

the wind brushes past your face, hair flowing wildly in the cold of the dead night. the road to hell was a long one after all, and god's first punishment was to have you walk the cold path to your death.

it's okay, you told yourself. you're saving people, you tried to reassure yourself.

yet you had never expected the cost of other's freedom to come at such a great price. for here you were, trudging into the lonely night with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

humans are inherently selfish. the only reason they praised you was because they wanted to make themselves feel better for choosing to sacrifice one of their own instead of accepting the punishment. if they were truly grateful they'd have walked down this path with you together, wouldn't they?

but you were all alone. the city was alive as always, people going about with their daily lives. happy chatter and innocent smiles as they walked the streets. the city skyline was beautiful, buildings coloured in bright lights and advertisements. life was normal.

it's not fair.

it's not fair.

it's not fair.

why did you have to suffer when they could walk free of sin? they were the original sinners! why did you have to bear the weight of their actions all on your own?!

looking down at your shivering hands, you walk towards the edge of the building. how high up were you? 50 floors? 55? you couldn't remember. you didn't want to remember. because you knew that it'd be a long way down either way.

you didn't want to die yet. you still had so much to live for, still had so much you wanted to accomplish and do.

but everyone was counting on you to save the world.

so you took a trembling step forward, planning on embracing the cold embrace of death.

"ah... i'm falling."

your body felt weightless as you fell off the building, eyes shut as you tried to bite back the tears that threatened to slip past.

no, you couldn't cry. you had to be brave. that's what a hero does. be brave no matter what, right? even when you were dying?

"if only someone could save me, how nice it would be."

"what are you doing you stupid hero?!"

a shout snaps you out of your trance, his hands reaching out to grab you.

"you-!"

"do you seriously want to die?!"

his hold on your hand was tight, almost afraid as though you'd slip out of his grasp. you take in the way his normally cocky face was now full of fear, face scrunched up in a way that exposed all of his hidden vulnerabilities.

then you had realized he jumped off after you.

"you- you jumped off! now we're both going to die!"

you scream at him, eyes darting all over. no freaking way. you knew that the villain was always stupid but to jump after you after you were going to die? did he cook his brain in the air fryer today?!

"shit shit- no! you can't die too! please tell me this is a dream! only one of us needs to handle divine duty-"

"shut up! who said anything about dying?"

his sharp voice cuts through your thoughts as he wraps his arms around your body.

"i'm the villain, remember? how could i die just like that?"

time seems to slow as he brings both of you to a complete stop. attached to his back was a piece of dark matter rope, probably made with his ability so that it wouldn't break halfway. oh, so he had a backup plan.

you stammer, feeling your cheeks heat up as the man slowly brings you back up to the top of the building, his arms tight and secure all the way up. when he had ensured both of you were right back on solid ground, he exhaled sharply and shot you a glare.

"stupid hero. did you want to die that badly?"

he questions, flicking your forehead before scoffing.

"even your damn hero that you worked for didn't want to give up his life, why did you want to do it? don't you know that i like you?"

the villain's words are surprisingly soft despite the hint of anger in them. how cute, he was worried for you? and yes, you know that he likes you. how could you not? he literally shows it every time you meet up to fight with him.

making kissy faces at you, casually flirting while he tears apart a building, beating up random people who had the audacity to flirt with what he thought was his to court, inviting you out to dinner as he avoids an attack from the hero... well, you suppose it worked out in the end? he did save you from dying.

"look, all that god told us to do was to clean up the garbage. don't know why you decided taking on the sins of everyone was a smart idea."

he grumbles, running a hand through his hair before placing a hesitant hand on your waist to tug you closer. your breath hitches as he suddenly rests his head against your shoulder, his breath tickling your skin.

"we could clean it up, you know? i mean, what's stopping us? i know you don't really want to die after all."

wait a second, what was he suggesting? to become god's messengers

"after all... we're the strongest, aren't we?"

well, not really but you suppose so.

you stare at him, a conflicted expression on your face before you huff. you didn't really want to be a villain but... what other option was there? you sure as hell didn't want to die for the sake of people you've never met before. especially when some of them were literal criminals.

"how do we clean up the trash?"

the villain smirks at your words.

"great question, we'll kill them all!"

"no."

"okay, we beat them up and make them all repent. then we kill them!"

"no!"

shaking your head, you let out a sigh. damn it all. looks like you're no longer the saviour.

"hehe, don't look so down cutie. we're technically doing god's work."

you stare at him, eyes narrowing before you roll your eyes.

well, you suppose he's right in a sense... a smile creeps up your lips as you start chuckling softly.

"sure, we're god's messengers now then."

"that's right!"

he ruffles your hair with his other hand, a cocky smirk on his lips.

"so how do you want to start? shall we nuke them?"

"no!"

[rueclfer]

evergreen

𖤓 part vii. | series m.list | prev | part viii.

touya had been at camp for less than 24 hours and he could already feel himself cracking. you were insufferable, stubborn, and self righteous, but it doesn't take him long to remember that you always had been.

betweens silent sips of the beer bottle twirling between his fingers, he thinks back on the summer after his sixteenth birthday- which he concluded was the last good summer before things started getting bad.

this was the year that touya had forgotten to pack deodorant for one of japan's hottest summers within the last decade. knowing you, it didn't take much convincing for you to practically beg him to take your spare. you two spent the entire summer smelling like lilac and white tea.

touya distinctly remembered all the teasing from other campers that so obviously made its way under your skin. you've always been so easily irritable. he probably spent that entire summer warning you about getting a crinkled tan line right in between your eyebrows from all the scowling.

he almost audibly laughs to himself. compared to the look on your face when you two made eye contact earlier today, he half-way wished it was that scowl instead.

touya leans his head back and lets it hit the smooth wood of the cabin wall, bringing the opening of the bottle up to his lips. this wouldn't be the first night he'd be drinking with you on his mind.

"dude, get your fucking shoes off my bed." tomura tosses a pillow off of hawks' bed, hitting touya's shoulder.

he rolls his eyes and straightens his legs, letting his feet dangle off the side of the bed.

"loser." he mutters into the back of his hand as he swipes it across his lips.

"and if you throw up on my bed, i'm setting your cabin on fire." tomura downs the remainder of the contents in his red solo cup. "y/n in it and everything, you fuckers can die together."

touya rolls his eyes with a glint of a smirk on his lips. 

“always such a romantic, shigs. you’re more than welcome to burn with us.”

"shut up, I can't stand emo on emo crime, or flirting or whatever the fuck you guys are doing." hawks slurs, swivelling back and forth on the desk chair with his cheek pressed against the palm of his hand. "y/n is just another one of touya's victims, leave them out of this."

tomura drops his head into his lap, slapping a hand over his mouth to suppress a fit of drunken giggles. hawks look over at him with a wide grin.

"that wasn't even funny, shigs." he giggles. "shut up or else touya's gonna beat your ass."

"me?" he exclaims. "you're the one who said some stupid shit, not me. i'm gonna tell y/n and have them beat your ass." he says in between laughter.

touya's eyes flicker between the two bickering and laughing back and forth in their drunken daze. if he was a bit less intoxicated, he'd have more to say to his idiot friends and their antics.

maybe that was a cue for him to leave.

touya sits for a bit longer. it would be wise of him to sober up before stepping out into the open woods and making the trek back to his cabin- especially if he had to come to face you this late. is this feeling excitement or dread?

he taps on his phone screen. 12:37 AM.

he wonders if you were done packing. it's been almost three hours since curfew. what would you be doing now? making a summer bingo card? read a book? going through his things? plotting his demise? you were always a mass of type-a unpredictability.

the cabin door suddenly swings open, bringing the bickering to a halt and inviting in the warm summer night breeze.

while the breeze rolls in, the air sucks out of touya's lungs.

"what?" you sheepishly say, suddenly self conscious over the amount of eyes on you.

touya noticed the familiar old jacket slung over your shoulder. there was really no need for one on a warm summer night like this, but of course you had to grab it.

just in case!

your voice rings in his head.

"am i interrupting something?" you cock an eyebrow, eyeing the line of empty beer bottles lining the wall. "weren't you losers just saying something about missing me? what're you guys so quiet about?"

"you're late." hawks exclaims, breaking the wall of silence. "shots. now. you need to catch up." he reaches down from under the desk and pulls out a half empty handle of vodka.

"nah, put that shit away." tomura slides himself off of hawks' bed and stumbles onto his own beside touya "i wanna go to sleep."

"pull it together, crustbucket." you huff, taking his spot on hawks' bed across from the others. "you can handle a couple more shots."

you silently said your prayers. you and touya haven't seen each other since the bonfire, and he hadn't bothered stopping by the cabin before heading off to hawks and tomura's. you weren't sure if you were unintentionally-intentionally avoiding each other, or if things really are different now.

get a grip.

you silently curse to yourself, accepting the handle of vodka that you were sure had been passed around many of the other counselors that had stopped by earlier.

you squint your eyes shut in anticipation before tipping the bottle back, taking in a deep swig of the lukewarm alcohol.

you hold your breath through the burning sensation crawling down your throat. a beat passes. then two.

your eyes slowly open and catch touya's. he doesn't notice his lips curling into a smirk or his head nodding in approval as you pass the handle over to him.

you were grateful that in this weather, with this alcohol settling in your stomach, the heat prickling your cheeks and ears could pass off as nothing.

"where'd you learn how to do that?" he casually brings the spout up to his lips, the smirk never disappearing.

"you don't think i know how to drink?" you cock an eyebrow at him.

"can't i be impressed?" he playfully rolls his eyes. "you used to be such a wimp when it came to this stuff."

you don't reply, but instead press your lips together and avert your gaze down to your shoes.

if they were kids again, touya would take this as a success. you don't let him win often- or at all, really, but there's something bitter laced with your silence.

things feel different.

a/n: ok time to check in how r we feeling abt this fellas!!!! i rlly do writing shigs n hawks like this like i lowkey think they should all kissssss heh

tags:

@iluv-ace @bitchyfestivalbouquet @redr0sewrites @babylambdietcoke @bnhabadass @hanmastattoos @1ndee @starsryi @nesrynsblog @twoplayergaymers @suksatoru @ita606 @pookiebear16 @fictionalcharactersownmyheart @in-the-marina-trench @haruhi269 @itgetzweird08 @ilophilia @chimimon @emluvs-sugu @punishblue @whorror-complex @akumakitsune21 @maddie-rose-1 @ixeyi @commonmisery @ggriwm @exselily @kryscent @starrmage @vannyinthestars @burnishingbagels @soobhns @kaybug88 @lantsovheiress @0skullyard0 @albakugo @sleepyk0dyz

[snek-eyes]

I keep thinking about what slotting the Job sequence in between the Flood and the Crucifixion does for Crowley’s arc, and his relationship to both Aziraphale and heaven.

@amuseoffyre did a great analysis of the importance to Aziraphale's arc here that sparked this thought, but it sent me down a rabbithole because A+C are both having very different experiences here.

Compare how Crowley bounces up to Aziraphale at the flood vs how standoffish he is when the angel shows up to the Job situation. Aziraphale is the one who's all friendly, "Oh it's you!" while Crowley... is pretty businesslike, at least until he gets the chance to start rubbing the reality of the situation in the angel's face. 

The flood pissed Crowley off. Job is the first time we start to see the more bitter Crowley we'll get to know. In the Garden he was bemused about overreactions and almost having fun poking this angel with questions about God's plans. Beginning of the flood sequence he was pretty playful. This whole earth thing hasn't been so bad so far, and oh here's that weird angel again, that's fun. 

But then he gets hit with God turning on their creation without warning, again. And the flood was at least in God's name ("That's more the type of thing you'd expect my lot to do," he said. Wasn't heaven supposed to be the good guys?). But now with Job? God turns their back and just... doesn't stop hell. Heaven's hands stay clean while hell dirties their evil little claws. Oh, so this is how things are, Crowley realizes. This is the part he's meant to play. Fine. 

And seeing how he acts here... I can't help but feel like he'd mostly given up on Aziraphale after the flood. After Crowley went, "Wtf, this is clearly an atrocity," and Aziraphale stuck to "You can't judge the Almighty!" ...well. Giving away the flaming sword was probably a fluke. Just another tool of heaven, that one. Disappointing, but what should he have expected? 

So all through their Job interaction he plays up his demonicness, trying to force Aziraphale to toe the party line and prove Crowley's new view on things right, once and for all. But there is a crack there, because not-so deep down Crowley would love for Aziraphale to surprise him again.

(After all... he is lonely. Try some wine with me, or have an ox rib, angel.)

(Fascinated by the difference in Crowley's gleeful "That's just how it started for me, see you in hell" vs. "I'm not taking you to hell, Angel. I don't think you'd like it." And only admitting to the loneliness once he isn't totally alone anymore; I think the original lie was more to himself than anything. He's angry, he's bitter, these righteous angels shouldn't think they're any better than him, not when they can doubt too. But when it comes down to it? No, I don't actually want to drag you all the way there. Something about guns and miraculous escapes, and his comment about Wee Morag, it's different when it's someone you know, isn't it. Hm. Anyways.) 

By the end of the Job situation they have a moment where they confirm they are more similar than they thought. But it's not a happy thing. It won't be until Rome when they start enjoying each other's company just for the sake of it. So at the crucifixion Crowley comes up to Aziraphale still prodding at him. You happy about this, Angel? You smirking over how righteous it is? But now instead of, "You can't judge the Almighty," we get "I'm not consulted on policy decisions." Implying he disagrees without really saying it. And that's enough for now, Crowley will take it. 

From the flood -> Job -> crucifixion -> Rome, we see Crowley get angry, then more and more resigned and bitter. Until Aziraphale reaches out and pulls him out of it.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

you know how you did bg3 types of yanderes, could you do that for castlevania? Like the trio and isaac, hector, dracula/lisa, carmilla, st. germain??

A/N: For reference, here is the one I did for BG3 villains, and here is the one I did for the BG3 Main Companions. Also, this is unedited as hell so if you see grammar mistakes, no you didn't. 

Castlevania Characters as Yandere! Types: 

Yandere! Trevor: 

Defensive. Calucative. Hardened. Trevor’s seen far worse than you, from humans and monsters alike. He knows the terror and the cruelty that lurks out there. He wants to shield you from it all, for as long as possible. He has this overwhelming need to prevent what happened to his family from happening to you. Even then, he knows your innocence won’t last; it couldn’t possibly. So long as you’re tied to him, you will know hardship. So as much as he babies you, and refuses to grant you complete independence, he is also distant, and frequently unaffectionate. In his line of work, people don’t die of old age; neither of you will be in the other’s life forever. Just let him love you the way he needs, when he asks for it, please. Everything else is so difficult in his life, you don’t want to add to that. Make yourself into the one piece of his life that is easy. And enjoy the easy while it lasts. 

Yandere! Sypha: 

Confident. Feisty. Unyielding. Sypha is always sure of herself. Everything she does, she does with 100% effort and full intent- your relationship is no different. From the moment she sees you, she’s sure she likes you, and she’s certain you like her. Any behavior that suggests otherwise on your part must simply be beginning relationship nerves. After all, she is a scholar and a Speak Magician. Her infectious optimism seeps out of her every pore. Her love for you knows no bounds, and she will not hesitate to throw herself into danger to prove it. I mean, she can conjure fire and ice instantaneously in her own two hands! Who wouldn’t want to be her partner?  Only some sort of complete and total asshole would try and turn her down, or worse, fight against her. She fights for what is right, and what is just. You wouldn’t fight against what’s just, would you? 

Yandere! Alucard: 

Intellectual. Sharp. Melancholic. Alucard is not a stranger to romance nor heartbreak. Losing the people closest to him has left him vulnerable, both emotionally and physically. Instead of processing his feelings, he bottles them up, until he can no longer bear their weight. He feels such pressure to remain composed, remain controlled, not animalistic, to go against the programming of half of his biology. At the same time, he is starving, desperate, and filled with an insatiable thirst for closeness. Such a complicated, disconsolate man, Alucard needs you to stay, more than anything. His life has been so lonely, and so hard; at times it feels like all he knows is loss and the cruel impossible whispers of desire. You need to stay. You need to choose him. He cannot take another heartbreak. It’s quite possible, given his role throughout history, that humanity wouldn’t survive another one of his heartbreaks either.  

Yandere! Isaac: 

Keen. Precise. Self-Righteous. Isaac has journeyed far on his quest for revenge, coming not only into a new land and new role but a new self as well. Gone is the former subservient, sacrificial lamb, who has risen into a stronger, wiser, seemingly benevolent king. Do not mistake this kindness for weakness, however. You must be either admirable or too kind-hearted to pose a genuine threat. Once you’ve caught his eye, prepare for an odd game of cat and mouse, you being the mouse of course. Isaac is not used to having friends, much less romantic companions. You must be patient as he learns the intricacies of your psyche. Surely, you must know he’s been analyzing it since you met? Be an honest, positive presence in his life, and he will keep you safe from all others who may do you harm. Treat him as the wise king he now sees himself as, and perhaps, he will ask you to be his queen. 

Yandere! Hector: 

Reclusive. Embittered. Suspicious. Hector has been forced to toughen up. Too late did he realize at the end of the road, that it is the people, not the zombies you command that can make or break a man. That is where you come in my dear. Following Lenore’s death, Hector’s purpose is up in the air, he is suddenly a puppet, free of its strings. He feels much wiser, but just as lonely. Hector cannot help but latch on to you, the first “normal” person to view him as human. He yearns for a simple quiet life, with a dog (a live one) and a partner to call his own. You’re perfectly plain, or perhaps, you’re just odd enough to make him look normal, and he relishes that. You have to understand that he can’t share much about his past. He can’t possibly tell you about his old life, no, no, no. He’s hiding it from you, hells, he’s hiding from it with you. He loves you dearly, he does. But he can’t trust you, not fully. A man with a history like his cannot truly trust anyone. 

Yandere! Dracula/Lisa: 

Nurturing. Captivated. Smothering. Dracula was not keen on humans before meeting Lisa; she bewitched him body and soul. And now the two of them have become enthralled by you. Dracula has learned the ‘other’ humans are not to be trusted, not with you, and certainly not with his wife. Lisa finds it unfortunate how she is no longer able to treat her former patients in Lupu, but she’s also incredibly thankful now that she has you to take care of! Ever the eager student, she still wants to learn so many things, and how wonderful of a practice dummy you are. Dracula is also eternally grateful that his wife will not be completely lonely; he knows how much helping her fellow humans means to her, and now that you’re here, Dracula no longer has to worry about keeping his wife (and by extension, you) to himself for eternity. 

Yandere! Carmilla: 

Prepared. Calculating. Cruel. Carmilla is a sadist at heart, there’s no denying it. She loves feeling the power she wields over all other people, humans, and vampires alike. For you to have caught her attention, surely you must be something special. Either you are particularly gifted in something she’s not (negotiations, necromancy, art, etc.) or you’re just so unbelievably precious, that she can’t help but want to steal you away for herself. She sees you as a possession, as a rare and beautiful gem, not a person. Even if she did ‘hear’ anything you had to say, she’d simply consider it further fodder to be used in manipulating you should it all come to that. She is not a woman who is denied, not by God, not by man, not by Dracula, and certainly not by you. Chin up, pet. Things could always be much worse. You could be thrown in the dungeons and left to rot. How lovely of Carmilla to instead treat you to more luxury than your kind could ever dare to deserve. For your continued safety, may I suggest showing a little gratitude? I mean it’s not like your life depends on it or anything. It does. 

Yandere! St. Germain: 

Wise. Inquisitive. Obsessive. St. Germain is a man who knows his mind. He knows a great deal about alchemy, and that alchemy, at the end of his days, will be his greatest work. That was of course, all before he met you. You opened up a whole side of him that he didn't know existed. Before you, his conquest was kings and courts; his acquaintances were mages and scholars! But now, in his effort to keep you from himself, you have become his conquest; his acquaintances are vampires and demons, all practitioners of dark magic. To him, it’s of little matter, so long as he can secure you, his one true love. To him, it’s the most important to have someone to share all his knowledge with, all that he’s achieved. To bask in the victory alone does not hold the same merit. He needs you at his side, he needs you to be invested in the great work. Without you, without your love, he fears he cannot achieve it. As such, he will do whatever it takes to get you by his side. And I do mean- whatever- it takes. 

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[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul Pride Special

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Non-binary! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Non-binary! Reader

Pride Special 2025

Content Warning: Homophobia/transphobia, discussion of physical abuse

            (Y/N) walked along the sidewalk of the Pride Ring, rolling their eyes at the people standing in front of TVs. They were literally hypnotized, and no matter how much time they stood there and let their energy be sucked away for Vox’s profit, they always ended up back at the screens. (Y/N) was glad their phone was minimally accessible by the modern media Vox used to control people—a measure of security Vaggie pushed for, and Charlie, despite seeing the good in everyone, agreed with her on that point. So, (Y/N) kept their eyes away from the TV, remembering the people stuck there as a warning.

            Of course, (Y/N) wouldn’t really be tempted either way. They felt so…gross when they looked at the screens. They had glanced occasionally before they learned what Vox’s screens did, and it always left them with a headache. Once or twice, they felt wilted. (Y/N) didn’t enjoy it, so kept their eyes away from the cold light.

            (Y/N) lifted their head once they were away from the screens, checked the list they’d written down, and turned into a supermarket. Normally, they’d do their shopping in Cannibal Town—it was safer, and the fruit was as fresh as could be in Hell (until (Y/N) learned how to grow fruit, that was). However, Cannibal Town didn’t exactly sell the right type of meat for the Hazbin Hotel. Therefore, (Y/N) was running errands.

            They wandered through the aisles, grabbing the weird, hellish versions of chicken, beef, and pork. (Y/N) tossed it in a basket and went to pay. They saw some sinners staring at them, but (Y/N) focused on their errands instead of reacting. After their fight against Adam and his later death had been televised, (Y/N) had gotten plenty of stares. Some were afraid, some were in disbelief, some were in awe, and still others were condescending, unable to comprehend that a new sinner could be that strong.

            (Y/N) didn’t care. They’d been helping their friends—their family. So of course they’d fought as hard as they could. And Adam was the sort of “righteous” person that deserved to feel the consequences of his actions.

            (Y/N) bought the food—at a discount of fear, they suspected—and headed to the door. As they headed towards it, two demons—Victorian, at least, by the outfits—began to whisper.

            “I can’t believe how far society has degenerated,” said the woman in disgust. “Look at that dress! It’s so short.” What that meant was that it didn’t cover (Y/N)’s ankles, which was a horrendous sight to the woman. It wasn’t short by any means. “Revolting, honestly.”

            “It’s no wonder there are more sinners than ever,” said the man. “People look like they live in sin before they even make it here.”

            Whisper was perhaps an understatement. The words were clear and carried. (Y/N) slowed, knowing who they were talking away as people glanced at them warily.

            “And so many claim they’re not men or women? Or that being with men when they’re men wasn’t the sin that brought them here?” The woman scoffed.

            “Utterly ridiculous,” said the man. “We may have stole, but at least our lifestyles weren’t sins.”

            (Y/N) spun on their hell and looked at the man and woman. The cashiers in the store and everyone who recognized them froze. The man and woman were blissfully unaware, so they just smirked at the smaller demon—they had the advantage of being tall, insect-like demons.

            “Do you think you’re better than some sinners? You’re in Hell, just like the rest of us,” said (Y/N). “So who cares who’s with who or how they dress? The only one who cares are archaic demons like you who couldn’t hack it in life and can’t hack it here.”

            “Excuse me, young lady!” said the woman. “We were respected—”

            “Not a lady,” said (Y/N), and their eyes narrowed. A small flowerbox outside began to grow at a rapid rate. “And obviously not. If you were this-this judgmental when you’re as ‘bad’ as you think we are, then no one respected you. And no one respects you now.”

            They had and still struggled with bad thoughts about themself, their identity. They knew murder had brought them to Hell, but their identity…their parents had always forced them into a box (Y/N) couldn’t fit into. They had the exact thoughts of these people. They handled it with more force against (Y/N). But (Y/N) was getting better. They weren’t—they weren’t the sin. Their existence wasn’t wrong.

            “We barely stole. We didn’t live and wallow in sin as if it was something to be proud of,” said the man. “It’s a sickness, and if the Princess really wanted to save sinners, she’d get people like you, young man, out of that life of sin.” He stared at (Y/N)’s outfit. “Like getting men out of dresses for a start.”

            “Not a man,” said (Y/N). Another warning, and the people in the store were backing away.

            “You’re one of those?” said the woman.

            “And they think you can be saved?” The man looked at them like they were something rotten, and (Y/N)’s stomach turned over as they saw the looks in their mother and father’s eyes in this man’s. “The only way that could happen is if they beat the ugly queerness out of you.”

            (Y/N)’s throat constricted, and the phantom sensation of scars opening up on their back ran hot as the rest of their skin turned ice cold. The entire room turned dark, and sinners fled as they saw plants blotting out the windows and the sun.

            “Beat me?” (Y/N)’s voice was low, hoarse as they spoke through the lack of airflow pressing down on their lungs. “Beat me? You…You monsters. The reason you’re in Hell isn’t that you stole. It’s that you treat other people as things.” So many people here still did. Adam had done that to sinners. Valentino and his fucking contracts. Vox sucking people dry of energy. This was the real rot in Hell, the realest sinners. “I despise people like you.”

            A shower of glass punctuated their words, and vines shot through the window. They grabbed the man and woman, and they cried out as thorns torn through their skin. (Y/N) flicked a wrist, and the vines dragged them out of the store, screaming and kicking. They dragged them down into the flower bed of dirt until only their heads were exposed, like demented flowers.

            (Y/N) glared. “I’d kill you, but I can’t be bothered.” They stepped carefully over broken glass and stared down at the heads. “In the future, shut up. Your mouth got you into this problem, and if you keep running it, I will personally remove it.”

            They glanced back at the store where people were fearfully peeking out. (Y/N) pulled out some more money and tossed it back into the store. “For your window.”

            They walked away, feeling the gaze of people on their back. They swallowed. They knew it was fear. But was that what (Y/N) wanted? They had just—They had remembered—They couldn’t stand there and take it anymore. (Y/N) had lost it. It happened sometimes. More these days.

            But (Y/N) wasn’t ashamed of who they were. They couldn’t just stand there and let themself be shamed for something that wasn’t shameful. (Y/N) was who they were. No one could change that.

l

            “Thanks for doing the shopping,” said Charlie, putting the food away.

            “No problem,” said (Y/N), sitting down. “Had to deal with some bigoted sinners.”

            Vaggie frowned. “What?” If (Y/N) had gotten bothered, she wasn’t letting them go out alone.

            “They just made some comments about queer people’s ‘lifestyles,’ ” said (Y/N).

            “Ugh,” said Angel Dust. “Those types are the worst.”

            “Are you okay?” asked Husk.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N). “I buried them.”

            The four adults exchanged looks at (Y/N)’s matter-of-fact tone.

            “You what?” said Vaggie.

            “Dragged them into dirt.” (Y/N) waved their hand in the same motion. “Taught them a lesson.”

            “(Y/N), violence isn’t the answer,” said Charlie worriedly.

            “I didn’t kill them. And their heads are sticking out,” said (Y/N). “But they were saying—” beat the queerness out “—I couldn’t stand there and do nothing.”

            “Well, I think our sprout did the right thing!” said Alastor, appearing out of nowhere. “They exercised refrain but also didn’t roll over like a coward!”

            “Being kind isn’t being a coward,” argued Charlie.

            Alastor laughed, clearly disagreeing.

            “Listen, Charlie,” said (Y/N). “I’m sorry. Really. But some of what they were saying—the idea that you should beat the queerness—” they forced the words from their throat “—out of us—I couldn’t just…”

            Husk and Angel exchanged glances. (Y/N) never completely explained their situation in life. They knew (Y/N) had killed their parents, but they knew no other details. They had their suspicions of abuse, though, by the church, by their parents, for their identity, for standards no one could meet. It angered both men, and if they had a chance, they both personally wanted to teach (Y/N)’s parents a lesson for what they’d done to the innocent kid. They wouldn’t be in Hell if whatever had pushed them hadn’t happened. Husk and Angel didn’t doubt that their parents had been the catalyst. (Y/N)’s instincts didn’t lean towards harm unless their triggers appeared, and then it was fight or flight.

            Charlie seemed to come to the same realization, and she calmed. “It’s okay. Just…be careful. You’re a good kid, (Y/N). I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N).

            “Where did this happen?” asked Alastor.

            Everyone looked at him in surprise, and Angel and Husk exchanged glances.

            “Um, Alastor? What are you going to do?” said Charlie warily, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She had to stop further violence from Hazbin Hotel guests, though. (But Alastor wasn’t technically a guest, so he didn’t care).

            “I want to see their heads sticking up!” laughed Alastor. “Squirming and wriggling like worms.” He clearly found the entire thing entertaining.

            Angel and Husk felt a little different. They still hadn’t figured out what Alastor’s around (Y/N) were, and it worried them. He had taught them to use their abilities, and (Y/N) had grown stronger because of it, but why did Alastor care? What game was he playing? It was doubtless that he had a game, an angle. Alastor couldn’t just care about the kid. Not this quickly, no way. Husk doubted Alastor was even capable of caring about another person without profiting from them. So what was he planning for (Y/N)?

l

            Alastor stood over the pathetic insects—almost literally—in the dirt. They had managed to get their torso’s partly out of the earth, caked in mud. The sinners had all left the street as the Radio Demon approached, and now he and his prey were the only people left.

            “My, my,” said Alastor, his large smile not leaving his face. “Two plants trying to escape.”

            The sinners paled as they looked at Alastor. They recognized him.

            “We can’t have that, can we? You were freshly planted,” said Alastor.

            Shadows rose into the air, and screams filled the street a moment later. Come morning, the flower bed would have arms, legs, and heads sticking out of the ground, blood drying on the stumps of their limbs.

Taglist:

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[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

Levels of narcissism, lack of empathy part 2—

Hey yall! Hope you enjoy the post below <3 please know this is not 100% accurate for all persons with these placements, so much goes into it! Thank you :) hope you all are well! Reblogs and likes and comments are appreciated. 🤍

Sun conjunct mercury retrograde can make someone a pathological liar, motivated to focus on their reputation, image, and self success. Even if it means hiding, distorting, or manipulating the truth to others. Mercury is afflicted here, which can suggest issues psychologically and the nervous system. Even worse when paired in Capricorn, they can be closely related to their work, often overworking themselves, or using it to escape issues. They prefer stonewalling, distancing themselves, and behaving as if nothing wrong happened on their end.

Mars conjunct moon can make for an impulsive, hotheaded individual. Moon is not comfortable here with the affliction of Mars' harsh energy, which an individual can seek either intelligent, or escapist ways of avoiding emotional conversations. Moon and mars in a water signs prefer escapism, moon and mars in a fire sign prefer confrontation, and arguments, not resolving things in a calm manner. Moon and Mars conjunct earth sign can be very detached and insensitive. For air, they can gaslight, twist realities, re-write history to their liking.

Moon at 3 degrees in pisces I've seen can prefer to use their words to sound calculated, intelligent, and ''higher,'' in terms of their reasoning. They have an extreme way of painting their realities, and it's often stained with ideas of perfectionism, and even religious reasoning for their behavior. Not always are they religious, but some can prefer occult ways of hurting others especially. Those with this placement could have grown up in a cult, or been surrounded by this mentality. It's even more likely when Moon is afflicted.

Mars at 0 degrees is underdeveloped, not knowing how to express their anger. They resort to underhanded tactics, manipulative tactics and power games. They assert dominance by insulting your image, projecting their wounds, and insecurities. Or, they can resort to blowing up impulsively, refusing to take accountability. If mars sits in an air sign, this energy is expressed through calculated means. They prefer verbal disputes and shaming, and control. They can also be a covert narcissist.

Venus with no aspect can struggle to find healthy expression. Healthy attachments with others can be common with this placement, and often hints at a displaced, destructive home life. They view others as a chess piece, with little to no regard for emotions other than themselves. They can become vain, channeling their wounds into only focusing on their self image, and looks, whilst shaming others. These are the type to also have an unhealthy understanding of femininity vs masculinity, and have double standards against themselves and others. In a mother role, she can resent her children for receiving more attention than herself.

Stellium in Capricorn can use work as a way to focus their attention instead of working on real issues at home. They can have a ''disguise,'' a distinct persona at home, versus work. They play it very well. If paired with water signs, they are adept at their personas and meticulous.

Sun in the 7h, 10h, 5h, Mars 5h, Sun 11h can have a big personality and can take up a majority of spaces, dominating them. They have a lot of controversy, conflicting stories of who they are as a person. They can use that as an advantage.

Moon in the 10h in Aquarius can present themselves as righteous morally, and ethically. They have this ''black sheep,'' mentality and can victimize themselves to appear small.

Sun conjunct Venus with strong affliction can cause destructive ideals and beliefs about others, derive pleasure from power games and control. They like to test and play with relationships, testing the limits of others and breaking them, bending them to their will. Scorpio influences this especially in an unhealed energy, so can Aquarius, Capricorn, Leo, and Gemini. But as long as there is strong affliction, there is an unhealthy expression regardless of the sign honestly.

Mercury conj. Jupiter in scorpio can indicate someone who talks a big game, and who shares his passions openly, to the point of exposing himself. He can be critical, harsh and unforgiving in his perception of others. He can distant himself immediately from situations he caused, refusing responsibility.

Mars conj. neptune 5h can also present as overt. The 5h is very ''open,'' and it's impressionable. The intention of this native is to control using faith, cult like thinking, and methods to isolate and deceive others. He gives them what they want, and then uses it for leverage. When in an earth sign or air this is even more methodical and this person knows how to play the long game.

Pisces moon can be adept at shifting their persona to fit in with society and use charm as a way to manipulate.

Sun in the 4h, 3h, can indicate a dreamy, innocent naive persona which can easily be seen as ''disarming.'' Sun 3h is more intellectual and calculated however in hiding their intentions.

Neptune 2h can make someone appear as feeble, weak minded, soft spoken, and yet cunning with their intentions. They like to appear as hurt to appeal to peoples sympathy. Might assert themselves as a healer, community guider of some kind, or be work in a place where they are seen as ''good.'' like nursing, social work, church member, etc. They can appear generous with money too.

Venus retrograde and mercury retrograde conjunct can make someone mimic likeability in relationships, but lacks depth. Lacks emotional understanding and tenacity and struggles to have an attachment to others. Can view others as a means to an end.

South node conjunct mars can bring a sense of grandeur. When in a fire sign it can indicate intense competition, me vs the world mentality. In a water sign it can bring about delusions of grandeur, and wanting control.

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[astraaa3]

Yandere Lucifer and GN!Reader headCanon

A/N: Thank you for the request Anon. I absolutely loved writing thisss. Kisses and hugs. Feedback is much appreciated. Also, if you want to proofread this degeneracy that I write please feel free to shoot me a dm. Mwah. Now, let's get this bitch on the road.

Yandere!Lucifer X Gn!Reader

Note: The first few ideas/phrases/headcanons whatever you want to call them might not seem like straight-up Yandere behavior, but it will get there. Lucifer doesn't seem like the type to instantly go full "You're mine, you're not allowed to leave". You'll see what I mean by that~ Cw/tw: yandere behavior (obviously), given the first warning possessive and obsessive behavior are a given so keep an eye out for that as well; threats of violence; actual violence; 

=========꧁🍏꧂=========

Initially, you came to the Hazbin Hotel out of pure curiosity and boredom. You didn't actually think that sinners could get redeemed. After all, everyone here had their chance of leading a righteous life. That said, you ended up staying at the Hotel. Whether it was because of the Princess' puppy eyes that basically begged you to remain, or whether it was because you found yourself actually enjoying the company of the residents, you still didn't know why for sure. 

It was a few weeks into your stay at the hotel when you first met Lucifer. It was apparently the first time Charlie saw her father in quite a while as well. 

After Lucifer spent some (much-needed) father-daughter time with Charlie, he found himself at the bar right next to you. He was immediately taken aback by your looks. The two of you quickly found yourselves making some small talk. As most talks over a drink go, the topics took a deeper turn after a while, when Lucifer asked you "Do you really believe sinners can be redeemed?"

You smiled looking into your drink as if it could give you the words you couldn't find within yourself. Finishing your drink in one big gulp, you stood up, looking at Lucifer with a small smile: "Not really, no. But I think that if anyone can find a way to do it... it's Charlie" With that you left. Unknowingly leaving behind you a flustered King of Hell.

Since that discussion Lucifer found himself entranced by you. He analyzed everything about you. From the way your nose scrunched up with laughter whenever you were genuinely laughing, to the way you walked (he could already tell how you were feeling based solely on the way you stepped). 

He made sure to bring you your favorite drink whenever you felt down, coaxing you into telling him whatever made you upset over a drink (or more than a drink if you didn't feel particularly sharing in regards to what made you upset).

And well, if it was someone that upset you, that person would find themselves on Lucifer's radar. (and if their bodies turned up later on, well, it's not like he would ever let you find out; he didn't want to risk losing your favor)

You found Lucifer's unyielding pursuit of finding everything about you to be quite cute. Yeah, maybe it was a bit over the top and spiraling out of control, but the silly crush you had developed for the King of Hell was jumping up and down with joy whenever you had his attention.

The first time Lucifer's possessive side came out you were arguing with another sinner in the Hotel's lobby. The sinner was some runt who thought he would be able to get his hands on Angel Dust if he stayed in the hotel. Having grown fond of the resident porn star you defended your friend giving the sinner a verbal lashing. Lucifer just watched on amused and annoyed (that your attention was not on him) his love-sick smile turning into an enraged frown when the sinner proposed that the two of you "made love instead of war". HOW FUCKING DARE HE. Not only did he dare look at what belonged to the King of Hell. Not only did he dare to imply defiling your precious innocent body. He dared to utter the word 'love' while looking at you. 

Lucifer's patience snapped and with a snap of his fingers, a portal opened beneath the sinner's feet teleporting him high up in the sky on the other side of the Pentagram. You looked shocked at Lucifer. Seeing him angry on your behalf... It was hot. 

That night was one of the many the two of you found yourselves falling into bed together, soon after making your relationship official.

As days passed, Lucifer started making more and more odd requests: "My love, could you please tell me whenever you leave the hotel?", "You should leave some of your clothes over at my place, for simplicity's sake." , "Could you please stop talking to (Friend Name)? I... think they may be harboring feelings for you. I think I actually heard them admit to that once. I'm sorry if I'm overreacting but since Lilith left me....", "Darling, I know we haven't dated for long, but I would love it if you were to move in. I know you love the hotel, but I want to make sure you are safe. No? I... alright. We'll talk about it later, it's going to be ok". 

The moment that made you realize that Lucifer's obsession was more serious than you thought was after the battle against Adam and the exorcist angels. You got hurt in the chaos of the battle. It was just a stab wound, but when Lucifer saw it, he flipped. With a serious tone, he looked at you, a crazed look in his eyes: "You are going to make a contract with me. You are going to give your soul to me. I will not hear any objections. You clearly can't take care of yourself. So, do we have a deal?"

You reflexively nodded out of fear, having not seen your lover so serious.... so obsessed.... so possessive. This was the first time you looked at Lucifer and saw The King of Hell, the Devil from the Bible. As he gently took your hand shaking it he smiled, the crazed look never leaving his eyes, he cupped your face gently "It's going to be alright, my love, I will take care of everything. I will make sure that you never need for anything. And you will never leave me, after all, you are the apple of my eye." 

=========꧁🍏꧂=========

Small prompt: After the deal 

It has been two months since you moved in with Lucifer. Your lover wouldn't take no for an answer. And well, you couldn't really say no to him anyway.... After the initial apprehension ended, you fell into a domestic routine with Lucifer: he would coax you to wake up with small kisses peppered across your face, kisses which turned into full-blown sleepy make-out sessions the moment you were awake; afterward, he would make breakfast for the two of you (the duck-shaped pancakes being your favorite); then, the two of you would go to the Hotel to check up on everyone or whatever else the two of you felt like doing; at the end of the day you would take a bath with Lucifer as he would make love to you, your body warm and soft from the hot water; you ended the day with a kiss. The next day it was the same routine. And the next. And the next. 

Wherever you went, whatever you did, Lucifer was there with you. Initially, you were bothered by it, feeling like your privacy was forcefully taken from you. But as Lucifer whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he would hug you to his chest proclaiming his love for you, as he would make love to you cradling your face and telling you that you're his... You slowly forgot what it was like to have time alone. 

When you first realized how much of your time Lucifer monopolized you tried going on a walk alone. That was the first time since the deal when you saw Lucifer get truly angry. Golden chains wrapped around your body, you were tied to your bed, his smile overly sweet as he caressed your face: "You see how easy it is for someone to just kidnap you? What if someone tried doing something to you, my love? You are so weak and pure, I can't let those dirty sinners touch or even glance at you. Now then, you can play with the duckies while I make sure that no one who saw you today sees the light of day again." with that, he kissed your lips sweetly before leaving you there tied to the bed, with a rubber duck on your chest.

After that, you never tried leaving again, too afraid that maybe your lover's ire will turn to you this time around. But Lucifer would never. He loved you, obsessively so. Maybe... it wasn't that bad letting him lock you away in the gilded cage you called home. After all, did you really need anything else when you already had him?

[writersglockrambles]

Without Context, What are we? An Andor Analysis.

So, as many watchers of Andor are aware, the show was originally going to be 4 seasons, instead it was compressed into 2. With the second season being even more compressed into 3 episodes per week that take place respectively 4, 3, 2, and 1 year before the battle of Yavin.

Now, like most other fans, i adored season 2, yes there are flaws but overwhelmingly its a brilliant show and some of the best Star Wars content we've seen in years. But, i do have to stress how badly the lack of context in season 2; effects my overall enjoyment of it.

My main critique of this issue will be aimed at the relationship between Mon Mothma and her husband Perrin Fertha, as some people who've seen my blog are already aware: i really love Perrin.

To start off with, throughout the first half of the second season, we can see that Perrin and Mon's relationship isn't as rocky as it was in season 1 (Yes, barring his jealousy of Tay Kolma.) Perrin is seen as supportive of his wife and protective: which we can see in Episode 6 (What a festive evening.)

firstly, we have Perrin organising their social calendar, conferring with Mon on the issues of timing and investiture dinners that are making it difficult for him to plan accordingly. Next, we have the art collection scene from the same episode:

Throughout this scene, Perrin is trying his hardest to hinder Mon's (admittedly righteous) anger toward Krennic. Putting himself (physically) in between them.

Even in a later scene, he's doing his best to calm Mon down. This man clearly cares about his wife. Yes, their marriage was arranged and when referencing the mask of fear by Alexander Freed, we can see their marriage was very turbulent in the beginning, but he does care about her, about her political career. Which brings me to the scene i admittedly hate.

I will try to be as unbiased as possible with this section.

at the end of episode 12, this small clip of Perrin and Runai Sculdun appears very briefly. And this brings me to my overall complaint with season 2: where is the context? We have literally nothing to go on as context for what is happening in this scene, or what has led to it. Instead, its only after the finale that information pertaining to this scene and Mon's senate speech, came out.

To paraphrase the video here: Mon and Davo Sculdun had some type of unspoken alliance, Davo was supposed to be the owner of the news network incharge of broadcasting the senatorial sessions, and he would've declined the request to turn of the broadcast. This in turn would leave both Mon and Davo being disgraced and fleeing from the empire. But the scene was cut, and the context gone with it.

We then go onto to the next issue. Perrin knew all along about what Mon was doing:

Again this deleted scene would've provided much needed context and also have redeemed Perrin in the eyes of many viewers. He knew the entire time that Mon was funneling money to the rebellion "You could've trusted me." vital character development was left on the cutting room floor and now we're left with a single scene that makes it look like Perrin just decided to shack up with Runai, instead of the actual reasons behind that scene.

I understand the showrunners had limited time and space to add scenes like this, but there are quite a few scenes in the show that hinder the pace.

Not adding important context like this, just robs the viewer of vital reasonings for characters motives.

I love the show, season 2 is brilliant, but the egregious lack of context is baffling at best and frustrating at worst. Most viewers of the show won't go hunting round for clues on what these scenes really meant. As a result you have people being left with a sour taste in their mouths at the lack of context for important scenes.

All we really needed was a few lines of dialogue at any point within the show to clear up the unanswered questions.

(Added the meme for levity.)

[lychgate]

When will I get to see commander fox as the proper shit head he is

Man is head of police for the capital and yall think he's some righteous justice man who hates palpatine for all the boring right reasons YAWN

Instead of projecting the most straight forward wants what if, and stay with me here, Fox was just a tired loser that spends his days ticketing drunk politicians and semi engaging in illegal activities cause he is not immune to the effect upper world coruscant has on its citizens as it makes u a dull shit heel vs all the other commanders that are in active warzones doing actual combat.

Like truly idc how someone wants to hc a character live ur best u, but on my playground I don't even understand where a universe functions where Fox could be any type of righteous man without being some type of hard purist or elitist given his surroundings. He's not got a lot of personality in Canon but a specific point is that he's a hard by the book type of commander, so where are we getting the notion that he thinks 'fuck palpatine he's so CORRUPT I can't wait to kill him' how about instead we dig into the narrative of someone more realistic that has been raised within the system, who would be the LAST fucking clone to ever realize how fucked up something is, or if he does it's that he's so saturated in it like Who fucking cares. Just another government just another day. Empire, Republic, same shit who care.

Anyway give me that commander fox