#anyway thanks anon that was fun!!

[i-am-dulaman]

Tell us about your dnd character ideasss!!

Okay SO.

The 3 ideas i have at the moment fall into 3 different kinda genres of dnd campaigns. Like one serious one for a lotr-esque game, one silly one for a monty python-esque game, and one in the middle somewhere around a thor ragnarok-esque game.

The silly one I haven't really fleshed out at all but basically she's a world war 2 nurse who has been magically transported to the dnd universe without knowing how. She's a 'proper lady' like character with all the manners of an upper class british woman of the early 20th century and takes to the rough and tumble adventuring life like a baby otter to water and all hilarity follows. Once she gets her bearings she dedicates herself to learning magic (wizard class) to get back to her true love, a sailor in the war.

The middle serious/silly one I've actually talked about on here before. I played him for like 2 sessions of a campaign (long story why we don't play anymore nevermind that). He's a total himbo, really dumb but really friendly and charming with everyone. Bisexual (obviously) and always happy to have a drink and chat with anyone at the pub. He's just an ordinary human tho, as far as he knows. Hes a potato farmer. And one day when ploughing the field he digs up an old rusty sword. When he picks it up, magic bolts fire forward from it. He thinks he's found a magic sword but actually he's a sorcerer and has been too dumb to realise until now, dismissing any magical things that's happened in his life before as something else (luck, someone else, random acts of god, etc.).

Then there's the serious one with a dark back story. I'm gonna tell this one in first person I think.

My name is Ký and 120 years ago my life ended. 120 years ago I met Betrand Dupont. Of THE Duponts. One of the wealthiest families in the kingdom. He was a young human of just 23 when we met, just married and a father to his newborn son, Jacques.

Betrand was of a noble heart and never considered me his servant or him my master. He introduced me as his friend to all his wealthy acquaintances. Imagine! Me a friend of a Dupont! He was kind and never asked anything of me that I would not offer. In fact he never asked anything of me at all. Actually that's not true. He asked One thing of me. Just one.

We met through chance, and through what I thought at the time was extraordinary luck on my part. A runaway cart hurtled down a steep road directly at me. My back turned and too focused on making my next sale, I was the none the wiser. Betrand saved me, pulling me out of the way at the last second. Looking back now, I wish that cart had flatted me into the cobblestone.

I am a Gnome of the kali culture, and when someone saves your life it is your duty to pay that debt. I dedicated myself to serving Betrand Dupont from that point on.

With his last words he asked the first and last thing he would ever ask of me. Take care of Jacques.

4 years after he saved my life I finally had a chance to repay the debt. A mugger had pulled a knife on him. Betrand was a proud man, and never one to shy from a fight. He deftly knocked the knife from the muggers hand and the two of them ended up grappling each other on the ground, wrestling for control. I picked up the knife and shouted at the mugger to let go. He didn't. So I stabbed.

The knife went in clean but not into the muggers back as I had intended. In the same instant of my thrust, the mugger and betrand flipped around in their wrestling match. The knife went straight into the back of Betrand Dupont.

How could I refuse? Why would I refuse? Not only had I failed to pay the debt of my own life I now owed him his. More than that though, Betrand was my friend and a great man I would do anything for, debt or no debt.

However i couldn't bring myself to admit to his accidental murder. I blamed it on the mugger. He was found, tried, and hanged. Another death on my hands.

And so it went, I would serve Jacques to the best of my ability to the end of my days, or his, whichever came first, humans dont seem to live very long afterall. He was a good boy in his early days. Kind and thoughtful. But the years took his toll on him. He grew arrogant first, then stubborn, and finally bitter in his old age. But he always treated me with respect at the very least.

But his kids. His grandkids. His great grandkids! The little shits. It seemed with each generation of Dupont they got worse and worse. They didn't treat me, or anyone for that matter, with respect. Corrupt, cruel, sniveling brats the lot of them.

Jacques had become the Patriach of the Dupont family, and I had become the head of his household staff. It was a large household to take care of. Jacques, his 1 surviving daughter, his 8 grandkids and their husbands and wives, and his 23 great grand kids. All in one house but it was my duty to care for them. So long as Jacques lived I owed him everything, but damn did he live a long time. He was 98 when he finally passed.

And now I was finally free. But now what? I had no where to go. For the last century I lived with and served the Dupont family. So I stayed, despite the horrible offspring I now served.

But with the death of Jacques the family seemed to become even more hostile. Gone was the respect I was shown by Jacques. After bringing Jean, Jacques eldest grandson and the new head of the Dupont family, the wrong suit jacket one day I received a beating. I couldn't walk for a week. Something Jacques would never have allowed to happen to me.

Those little shits deserved it.

Just a few weeks later while in the markets I was approached by a man. He offered me something I couldn't refuse. A way out. Enough money to buy passage home and more still to live comfortably for some time thereafter. He asked, knowing I commanded the household staff and the grounds, that I arrange for guards that night to be off duty and for the gates to be unlocked. They wanted, they claimed, to rob the Dupont household.

So. I did it.

I changed the guards schedules, and that night I fled with the gates left unlocked behind me.

As I waited at the docks to board my ship, hidden in my crude disguise of an oversized cloak, I heard it. The cries of fire.

Looking from the docks, the Dupont mansion could clearly be seen on top its hill, ablaze.

By the next evening it was revealed to all what exactly had happened.

Every Dupont, evey single one of them, was dead. Not by fire, no. The marble mansion was relatively unscathed by the fire once was all said and done. No, every Dupont was murdered in their bed, their throats slit. Even the babies.

I didn't know what to feel? Horrified? Or glee? They wouldn't hurt anyone again. Or at least that's how I justified my mixed feelings.

That night i slept on a pile of grain sacks at the docks, as all ship departures had been delayed for the time being. But i didnt sleep much, not because of a guilty conscience, no but because I was visited by the ghosts of the Dupont family. All of them. Including my beloved Betrand.

I couldn't look him in the eyes.

They all screamed at me. Their eyes were white but filled with rage. Betrand said I betrayed him.

The ghost of Jacques commanded me. I still belonged to him, he said. He commanded me to protect the one thing left of the Dupont family.

In a box, buried far underneath the mansion, was a treasure so important to the Dupont family that apparently even I, their closest servant for the last 100 years, didn't even know about it.

I was still not allowed to know about it, the ghosts told me. I was to protect the box for the rest of my life, but never open it.

So now I live in a crypt. The Dupont crypt where the family is buried. I hide the box in the grave of Betrand. The ghosts give me the demonic powers of a warlock which I used to protect the crypt at all times, usually by creating the illusion that the crypt is haunted. Which I guess it is. But it seems to keep out any curious eyes.

So this is my punishment. An eternity of living in a crypt surrounded by the hateful dead. Do I deserve it? Probably.

[q1ngqve]

idk if you take requests but like..........

dr ratio x bratty gf,,,, perhaps a bit of daddy/sir kink as well,,,,,,,, you're really good at writing him like i literally luv your work :3

(btw sorry if this isn't allowed)

ANON THIS IS SO (>/////<)♡

CW; fem! reader, implied relationship, bratty reader, sir kink, manhandling, murder, choking, knife play, fear play, biting?, vaginal penetration (with the knife & his dick), orgasm denial, slight degradation but he calls you pretty <3

do not, I repeat, do not act like a brat when you are with your boyfriend, unless you want to be completely and absolutely destroyed by him, verbally and physically. but where’s the fun in being good when you know how thrilling it is to rile him up?

veritas ratio’s eyes narrow as you prance around the room, giggling at something this random guy said, slapping him lightly on his arm. he’s not exactly one for jealousy, but when you’re so oblivious to the way other men are looking at you in your short skirt has his head going fuzzy with irritation.

truth is, you know exactly what you are doing. your boyfriend has been so caught up in his research the past few days he hasn’t had much time for you, and your fingers just aren’t enough to satisfy yourself. so consider this as punishment for not giving you the attention you needed.

the man’s lips graze your earlobe as he leans in, whispering something flirty that makes you sick in the stomach. you hide your face in his chest, acting as if you’re embarrassed, and wrap your arms around his waist.

before the man could slide his hands down your back, you were pulled away harshly by someone from behind, a small yelp leaves your lips as you’re dragged away and out the bar, tripping over yourself with almost every step from how fast he was walking.

your head whips up when the two of you finally stop, only to find your boyfriend glaring down at you, his hair tousled and brows furrowed, clearly displeased with your actions. you lock eyes with him, and a shot of electricity runs up your spine — ah, there it is, that delicious feeling of being hunted.

“get in the car.” and he’s gone.

you watch from your seat as he walks out of the bar ten minutes later, hair slightly wet, blood splattered on his jaw, his strides long and angry, and you feel yourself sink a little deeper into the leather seat.

silence fills the air as he drives, the tension so thick you could barely breathe. why is there blood on his face? did he just murder someone? oh god, it better not be that guy from before…did you just accidentally help in ending an innocent person’s life? you feel your body shake as you watch him from your peripheral, his jaw and shoulders relaxed, which is worse than when he’s mad and showing it.

you’re immediately dragged out of your seat when he stops, carrying and dropping you onto the hood of the car. his touch is gentle as he runs his fingers up to your chin, gripping at it harshly and forcing your head to tilt up uncomfortably to look at him.

your eyes adjust to the dimly lighted empty car park, legs closed shut as he towers over you, his shadows ungulfing your own on the hood. “what is that?” you break the silence with a stutter, your eyes flitting between his other hand and his face, body tensing at the sight of a bloody knife in his grip.

the man before you smiles softly, something he rarely does, so you know this is gonna be bad. “you like making me angry?” your lips part slightly at his question, knowing the answer is yes, but his aura is so terrifying that nothing leaves you other than heavy breathing.

his other hand grabs the underside of your knee, pushing your legs apart as he steps between your legs before leaning down even further, chuckling when your breath hitches at the intensity of his stare.

he flips your skirt up as he runs a finger up your already drenched underwear, the slick sticking to the pad of his finger. you squirm backwards when he lifts the knife, twirling it in his hand like a toy. “no— what’re you going to do with that?” the bloodied knife glistens under the dim white lights, and you swear his eyes turned a shade darker as he runs the tip down your neck, reveling at the sight of you trembling beneath him in fear.

“teaching you a lesson.”

your legs twitch involuntarily when the sharp blade reach between your legs, whines escape your lips as you feel it press softly against your entrace. tears sting your eyes, every inch of your body is telling you to run the moment he presses in harder, the thin fabric of your lace panties tearing immediately.

“‘m scared…”

veritas ratio laughs, the sound cruel and deep, straight from his chest. “this is punishment,” smirk returning to his face, making him look like a devil in disguise, “for acting like a brat.” a strangled gasp leaves you when he plunges the knife handle into your pussy, your walls tightening around the rubber like a vice.

oh god, there’s a knife in me, was all you could think of before he fucks it into you again and again, the rough textures rubbing deliciously against your gummy walls. the adrenaline heightening your senses, making this feel better than it should.

“you wanna act like a brat? wanna be a little slut and flirt with every guy you see? go ahead, be my guest. your boyfriend’s jaw finally clenches, allowing his anger and jealousy to take over as he bites at your collarbone, the stinging pain has you scratching at his biceps. “‘m sorry!” a flurry of apologies fly from your puffy lips as you cry from the pleasure and humiliation of having a knife making you feel like you’re in heaven.

“sorry, what?”

“sir— sorry sir!”

calling him ‘sir’ seems to bring out his animalistic side because the knife clatters on the concrete floor instantly, before being replaced by his dick. the air is knocked out of your lungs the moment he slides in, so long and thick, stretching you out nice and wide under him like a toy.

another whimper leaves you when he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly at the sides, successfully controlling the amount of air leaving and entering your lungs. panic fills you as you claw at this hand, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall.

“take it,” his other hand reaching down to circle your clit, “like the pretty little slut you are.” black dots fill your vision as you clench around him, getting off of everything that is happening to you.

your boyfriend groans above you as he cums, warmth engulfs you while he continues to pound into you, riding himself down from his high. “sir, ‘m close— please!” you manage to say breathily, your hips bucking into his on its own accord, chasing your high.

veritas ratio steps away in an instant and your eyes fly open at the empty feeling of your core, seconds away from your orgasm. “wait, no!” he flips your skirt down before kissing you roughly on your lips.

“only good girls get to cum.”

⭒ A/N — not proofread yet!

[blindmagdalena]

i'm thinking about john killing someone in front of his s/o, but that was about to kill them so his violent is seem a protectiveness. to be seem bloody and not be feared....

18+ 2.7k homelander x reader, established relationship, gore, blood, morally grey reader? shower sex, fingering, praise kink, breast play, dirty talk, rough sex, count down, needy/possessive/yandere HL, reader is nondescript with f!anatomy.

Homelander is breathing shallowly, eyes wide—wild—blood dripping from his chin and from the stray strands of hair that fell forward when he lunged. He's elbow deep in a man's sternum, and his other hand is wrapped tight around his broken neck, the bones like fragments of glass poking out from beneath rapidly cooling skin.

It all happened in an instant. One second, the man currently in his hands was grabbing you by the hair, a knife swinging wildly towards your throat, and the next he was dangling from Homelander's grasp, heart slowing against his knuckles.

He laughs through his teeth, licking his lips reflexively. The blood is sour, contaminated with god knows what, but that hardly takes away from the thrill of the moment.

It's been a while since he held the gaze of someone whose life he just claimed. Long enough that he forgets where he is, and who he's with.

He drops the man to the ground like a wet sack of potatoes, innards spilling out from the hole his arm leaves behind. In the man's hand, Homelander sees something that sets his teeth on fucking edge: strands of your hair ripped from your scalp in that limp, dead palm.

"You stupid motherfucker," he growls through a crooked sickly smile, lifting his boot to crush the hand like it were nothing more than an insect. The man's heart has long since stopped, but the rapid pound of another is still loud in his ears.

Yours.

Slowly, he turns around to look at you. You're cradling your skull where you'd been grabbed, tears gathering in your wide glassy eyes, the shock of it all catching up to you. You're staring intently at the corpse, watching blood pooling out from beneath it.

You've never looked at him with fear in your eyes before, but that's precisely what he sees when your eyes meet his. It makes him bristle internally. What was he supposed to do? You were in danger, and the way you screamed will follow him into his nightmares.

He could have lost you just now. You could be the one soaking in a puddle of your own blood, losing your life to the press of nothing more than a flimsy metal blade. While Homelander has always been logically aware of your humanity and the tender vulnerability that entails, nothing has ever put it so viscerally in the forefront of his mind as a freak incident coming so close to erasing you from his life.

He did what he had to. You'll understand. You have to understand.

"Hey," he says, hands raised to you placatingly, as if coaxing a spooked wild animal. The blood just makes his crimson gloves look glossy. He blocks your view of the body. "Hey, it's alright."

Your terror is palpable in the race of your heart and the sour smell of adrenaline coursing through you.

He reaches for you with the hand that isn't drenched in viscera, but before he can take hold, you beat him to the punch, throwing yourself into his arms, your own wrapping tight around his middle, hands clasping together beneath his cape.

Caught off guard, Homelander's arms hover awkwardly for a beat before he returns your embrace. He'd been certain that he was the source of your fear after a display like that.

"He just-he tried to kill me," you rasp, tears overflowing, spilling down your cheeks, wetting his suit further. "Yeah, yeah he sure did. S'alright, he's not gonna hurt you again," he coos, stroking your back with one bloodied hand, the other cupping the back of your neck. He kisses the top of your head as you cry, working the shock and fear from your system. "Ssshhh, shhshh."

Looking over his shoulder once, he lifts you up into his arms and takes off gently into the night sky, keeping you gathered close as he flies, carrying you far away from the mess spilled all over the pavement.

Not his problem. His focus is you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he can feel your tears rolling down into the collar of his suit, can smell the sea salt sweetness of them. He's never let you see that side of him before. When the shock wears off, will you see the moment for what it was?

Will you realize how much he enjoyed it?

Landing on his balcony, your arms are still tight around his neck. Neither of you have said a word since take off. He's not sure where your head is, other than the fact your racing heart has slowed to a more natural—albeit still nervous—patter.

Inside, he sets you down gently on your feet. Your balance wavers, and he settles you with his hands on your hips, staining your clothing with smears of dark blood.

He's almost afraid of breaking the tenuous quiet, but he needs to know where your head is. When you glance away, are you looking towards the door, planning your escape?

His hands tighten reflexively on your hips, and your eyes spring back up to meet his.

"You okay?" He asks quietly, warily.

"Yeah," you say, though it's hardly convincing.

"You're in shock," he says, touching the side of your face. Enough of the blood has been wiped on your clothes that it doesn't transfer much to your skin. "You remember what happened?"

Maybe your distress will leave you malleable enough for him to shape the incident just right. Make sure that you remember first and foremost that- "You saved me," you say, cutting his thoughts short. "That man was trying to hurt me, and you... you saved me."

His brows lift, surprised to hear you say it first. "Yeah. Course I did."

"You were so..." You trail off, gaze moving along his features.

Apprehension prickles from his spine all the way up to the back of his neck. He's accustomed to being scolded for his brutality by Madelyn, or looked on with thinly veiled disgust by Maeve.

They're both long gone from his life now, yet he finds himself waiting with bated breath for your response, his throat tight under the gripping hands of the ghosts of his past.

"Amazing," you exhale, banishing his specters with the sweeping wind of your breath. "God, I've never been that scared in my life, but you reacted so fast. No one has ever protected me like you do," you say, cupping his blood spattered face in your palms, smearing it into thin pink swaths across his skin with your thumbs.

He breaks into a slow, pleased smile. "Well, you've never been with anyone like me before."

"No," you agree. He can still feel a slight tremor in your hands, your body still coming down from the adrenaline high. "And I never will."

That strokes his ego deliciously. He likes the finality in your voice, the dreamy way you're looking at him, even as the smell of blood hangs heavily in the air. He almost kisses you before he remembers he's got the blood of some random thug all over his face.

"I need a shower," he says, lips close enough that his breath teases yours.

"Me too. Guess we'll have to share," you say, feigning resignation.

He grins. "Uh oh."

In the bathroom, Homelander makes quick work of undressing, but you're faster. You're already in the large shower, steaming water pouring down from above. He steps in with you, letting the water wash over you both. The water turns pink as it carries the blood away, and then sudsy as you both soap and shampoo the mess of the day from you bodies.

Once he's rinsed, he slips in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I love you," he says at your ear, trailing kisses down to the lobe, to your neck. He loves the feel of goosebumps rising against his lips.

"I love you, too," you respond as you have a thousand times before. Maybe more. He stopped counting when he was sure you'd never stop.

"How much?" He prompts, hungry for more. Your praise and assurance after a moment of such uncertainty has only made him desperate for more. He wants to wring more pretty words of admiration from you, hear more of just how good he is to you.

He can't help but color your answer with a slip of his hand between your thighs, toying with your clit.

The touch earns a shivering sigh from you. "So much. More than I can stand sometimes," you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"I thought you'd be scared of me after seeing what you saw... What I'm capable of," he murmurs, pillowing the reminder with deft, wet fingers. "Are you?"

You shake your head. "No, m'not, mmm... You'd never hurt me," you say, breath hitching as his fingers slip in further, fingertips stroking the lips of your pussy.

"Never," he echoes, his other hand slotting over your throat just to feel each noise you make. He pulls you back flush to his body, presses his hardening cock to the curve of your ass with his a shaky groan. "I liked it," you admit quieter, moaning when he slides his middle finger inside you. The confession stirs something primal in him, makes him growl out a rough little noise against your skin, grinding his cock into you.

"I wanted to rip his fucking guts out for touching you," he says, working another finger into you, savoring the slick, velvet feel of you around them. "For trying to take you from me." His words make your cunt quiver. He can't help himself, has to pull them from you just to taste you, sucking the nectarine sweet flavor from his fingers, rolling his tongue between them, hungry for every ounce of it.

He moans around his own fingers when you reach back and take his cock firmly in your hand, jerking him slowly. "I want you inside me," you say, your legs spreading slightly, back arching into him. "Touch me until yours is the only one I remember."

Fuck. Yes, that he can do.

You let go of his cock, and he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding himself between your wet, soft thighs. You close your legs, earning a breathy noise from him as he rocks between them, the warm, wet heat of your cunt a tease along the top of his cock.

"Take me," he murmurs fervently at your ear. "Wanna be in you, feel you, fuck you, make your pussy mine."

Shuddering against him, you reach down between your legs. Pressing your fingers to the underside of his cock, you push it up as he moves forward, the thick head of it catching on your entrance and splitting you open in one long, slow thrust.

Christ, you're so fucking tight. He can feel your muscles contracting, flexing, pulling him deeper. Your cunt feels made for him.

No one will ever take you away from him.

His right hand goes across your chest, cupping your left breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger while he braces you tighter to him. He rolls his hips slowly at first, relishing the tight, slippery pull of your cunt before he begins to pick up a proper pace.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He grits out, the slap of naked skin against skin loud in the shower. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels like being fucked by the fucking sun," you moan, gripping his arms, useless for anything other than taking his cock when he holds you like this. "Hot, you're so hot inside me, and I can feel... I can feel you holding back, it's like you're vibrating," you say, voice catching with every solid thrust. "It's like... it's like getting as much as I can take from something so much bigger than me."

He doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it isn't that. The idea that you can feel the true gravity of his power behind each restrained thrust drives him wild, makes him want to give you more, but he knows he can't. Not without breaking you. Sweet, frail, human thing that you are.

If he could, he would break you apart, fuck you until you fall to pieces in his hands, and then he would put every single fragment back where it belongs, but he can't. If he breaks you, he will lose you.

He needs you to survive him.

"Fuck, fuck," he rasps, holding you that slight bit tighter, lifting you nearly off your feet as he arches his back, lifting and dropping you onto every thrust of his hips. "M'gonna come," he says, voice reedy. "Come with me, let me feel you. I know you're close, can fuckin' feel it. Touch yourself for me, sweetheart."

Immediately, you drop a hand to your clit, the tips of your fingers brushing where he's pounding into you. The touch must be electric because you jolt against him. "I am, I am," you whine, rubbing yourself, the pleasure making you squirm.

"M'gonna count us down, alright? And you, mmmgh, you're gonna come with me," he says, already fighting to hold himself back. Your cunt is only getting tighter the closer to release you get, making it hard for him to stay focused.

"Five... four," he manages to say, desperately holding onto his final tethers of control. You're beyond speech now, reduced to nothing more than desperate, needy noises as you finger your clit, not even bothering to try and hold yourself up while Homelander mercilessly bounces you on his cock,

"Three... two..." His words are strained, balls drawn up tight, cock throbbing in the slick grip of your cunt. He needs to come so bad it makes his toes curl, but he won't let go until he feels you coming undone.

"One..."

One, two, three more thrusts, and you're screaming his name, knees curling up, your whole body tightening like a vice. The spasm of your orgasm rips his clean out of him, has him gasping into the crook of your neck.

He comes so hard his vision goes white, every movement halting, his focus purely on the ardent pounds of his cock emptying deep inside you, flooding you so thoroughly that the excess spill back down his shaft, his balls, mingling with the hot water and making him shiver from head to toe.

When he can, he takes in a deep, shuddering breath, easing his hold on you, though not by much. You're all but limp in his arms, panting, head lolled back against his shoulder. He lets the water run on the two of you a little while longer, savoring the aftershocks of your release before gingerly slipping out of you.

Carefully, he rubs the water between your thighs, tenderly cleaning you, kissing your neck, your shoulder.

"That was..." You trail off, words half slurred, and then you just laugh softly, the marvel clear in your voice.

He laughs, too, his own voice frayed. "Sure was."

The two of you put as much effort as it takes to get dry before making your way to bed, slipping beneath the cool sheets and rapidly warming them with your bodies, Homelander's in particular. He's always run hot, and you seem extra appreciative for it tonight, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his arms.

"I love you," you mumble sweetly.

Homelander draws the covers up over your shoulders before slipping his arm around you, drawing you into the warm, safe circle of his arms. "And I love you," he purrs, gently rolling his knuckles up and down your back.

You look peaceful, he thinks, watching as you begin to drift to sleep. He's sure it helps that he wore you out so thoroughly, but still, he'd anticipated that the shock of the evening would still have you worked up. It could be that you're still processing, that the trauma will return in nightmares that follow you into the night.

Maybe the threat of a rat simply makes less of an impact when you're cradled in the jaws of a lion.

Regardless, should you sleep fitfully or peacefully, he will be here.

No force in this would can keep him from you.

[allastoredeer]

Do you have any headcanons about Alastor's participation in WW1? The Selective Service Act of 1917 made it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service and was later expanded to include men as young as 18, so if the stream saying that Alastor was late thirties to early forties when he died is still canon he'd have lived through that

So, I hadn't gotten to this part in my development of Alastor's backstory, but it got me thinking because, huh, how DID Alastor manage to get out of that?

Unless he just served in WW1. Which...I find oddly funny. I don't know why, but the the image of Alastor in the trenches...

But anyway, you got me curious so I looked into it. You're 100% right about the Selective Service Act of 1917 making it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service, and they even came up with different "classes" of the men who qualified, and if they exhausted one class, they'd go down to the next.

However, even with the Selective Service Act, there was still a lot of draft evasion going on. In fact, a significant amount of draft evasion happened in the South, which, as I'm sure you know, Louisiana is part of (some of it was in part of Southerners not having documentation, and thus, unable to even legally draft, which would probably give them a whole other slew of problems).

So, I was looking into how people evaded the draft. A lot of it is split up into different groups, like draft avoidance and draft resistance, with their only little list of things, but that's a lot and I don't wanna get into all of that. But my bet is on Alastor doing draft avoidance.

And there were actually quite a few interesting ones, like:

Claiming to have a mental or psychological problem (if you could find a doctor willing to certify that for you)

Student deferment, when someone is primarily in school to learn and study (or obtaining one in an effort to avoid the draft)

Deliberately failing the military intelligence tests

Professing sincere or religious ethical beliefs (join a church, avoid the draft!)

Bribery

and my personal favorite:

Being homosexual.

Because, as you know, the government can't allow the gay in the military!

And look, I'm a silly goober, so of course I immediately went to Alastor claiming to be homosexual. But the thing is, I kind of do think that is something Alastor would do for a majority of reasons.

In the 1920's, social values were evolving, and a lot of postwar "youths" began questioning traditional concepts of family, sexuality, and gender. There were "little Bohemia's" around the US, including in Manhattan and San Francisco, with communities and groups like this, and they weren't exactly unknown.

Back to Alastor, he lived in the French Quarter in New Orleans (or, at least, that's where I think he lived as a majority of mixed-raced Creole people lived there, which we know Alastor canonically is). And it just so happens, that it became the birth place of New Orleans gay community in the 1920's. There were entire gay neighborhoods, there were clubs where people dressed in the clothing of the opposite gender, they had parties and bars, and while it wasn't "the norm" to live this "lifestyle," and there was still a lot of harassment, it was still fairly normal to see. (Of course, then came what we can call the "gay panic" where government started cracking down on it, and claiming the gay community were all predators and pedophiles, and - well, you know. You know.)

But that was after/close to Alastor's death, so...

Anyway, I 100% believe that Alastor did take part and lived in communities like those. Names and labels for those things didn't exist at the time, so it's not like he knows what they're called, but homosexuals, cross-dressing, drag queens, they were normal to him. He's lived with them, partied with them, maybe even tried a few things out himself(so many headcanons, guys. So many).

This is to say, I think Alastor would 100% be comfortable claiming to be homosexual to avoid getting drafted. You've seen getting married for tax benefits, now consider becoming gay for draft evasion! I actually had a pretty fun talk about it with a friend in Discord, which only cemented it in my mind LMAO.

I have SO many headcanons around Alastor and him living in the French Quarter, in gay communities, where they challenged social norms (and we all know how he feels about challenging status quo's 😏)

But if not that, my runner up is that he totally bribed his way out of it. I don't know how he got the money, maybe he killed someone and stole their wallet, IDK, but bribery is a yes from me.

And if not THAT one, then he joined and church and claimed to have sincere religious and ethical beliefs 😇 🙏 (Yes, this is inspired by Nun Alastor, and no, I do not take constructive criticism. That's what happened guys, I was there). Besides, New Orleans was pretty Catholic, I'm sure he could find a church somewhere.

That's my take on it XD I think the one closest to Alastor's canon character would be bribery, but this is fandom, and if I say he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war, then goddammit he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war.

[crazylittlejester]

yknow those scenes in movies where something horrific and awful just happened to a character and the audio is cut so it’s dead silent (except maybe some soft music in the back) and you just see a character close to them screaming in absolute agony but you can’t hear anything at all because there is just absolutely nothing they can do to fix the situation, and they know it, and it’s ripping them apart from the inside out and it feels as though something has just broken and can never be repaired again, and you as the viewer can just feel something shatter deep in your bones?

^^^this but time and wars

[crystallizsch]

Yuusha = Jamil's Charging Station

(help 😭)

[rattkachuk]

Hello! Hope you are having a good day.

So I have a question for you, just ignore when you don't feel like answering.

I came to Mattdrai via the enemies/rivals to lovers tag and then got sucked into hockey. I really like the fanon take on Leon, fav character, fanon Matthew was fine but way too woobified and infantilized in so many fics. So my surprise when I started to watch games, interviews etc. Public Matthew is so confident, so loving, awesome family to back him up, especially Brady, hot as hell, sexy way of playing hockey, amazing public persona. Loved and respected by his team, beyond hockey.

Then Leon. His only trait seems to be that he's pissy which I can appreciate but it seems that he's just a downright mean, arrogant guy with a superiority complex (see that interview when he puts Silovs down.) I don't find him stoic at all but he's just seems boring and bland and yeah, pissy. It doesn't seem like he has fun or likes his team a lot or is liked by them (Connor aside and his skills aside.) His friendship with Connor seems the only endearing or likeable thing. He even looks good in a bland way and his hockey is while it's so skillful it's not hot and also I wonder why his dirty plays aren't called out more often.

So what do I miss? Where does great fanon Leon come from? Why is he written mostly so superior to Matthew and where comes the "his team likes Leon so much but Matthew is an outcast in his own team come from?) It's so far from what I gather from old and new interviews or games and I have watched a lot, also German interviews. I really would like to like Leon, shipping them had been more fun when I didn't find his public self so jarring. What do I not see what everyone else seems to get?

Sorry for the long ask! Have a great day and thank you

first off thank you for such a thought out ask! i don't get to dive into things like this a lot outside of writing fic and it got my brain gears going.

to get right into the bulk of this ask: i get what you are saying about leon. that can be the way he comes off for sure, and look everything i'm gonna say? i'm talking out of my ass here. i don't claim to know anything about him as a person besides what's publicly presented, and i don't have much right to theorize about why he is the way that he is, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it. how would i write rpf otherwise, right 💀

i think he cares a lot. and i think sometimes he gets so wrapped up in things, how things should be, how he should be performing, etc, and when it doesn't go a certain way he gets frustrated and snarky (eg, pissy comments and such). but i don't see that being bad necessarily, especially when it's seems to come from such a team oriented state of mind. which, i dont think he dislikes his team at all? i think if anything, he has a sort of blind faith in his team, and that's the only context i could see a 'superiority complex' making sense in. and yah maybe a little misplaced at times, but ultimately i think it comes from believing so fully in his team and not seeing that come to fruition. he really does not seem to care about his individual performance much at all, so how self obsessed can he be? when i think about leon i just see someone that is ultimately very passionate and committed to the game he plays. i'm also curious to know where you get the vibe that his team doesn't like him? simply because i never got that impression from any of the other oilers, they all seem like they're obsessed with him.

beyond hockey, i see a caring, sweet, kindhearted individual. anytime i see a picture or vid of him interacting with bowie, or even the things his girlfriend posts about him, the comments he leaves for people on ig, and yah of course in the way he talks/acts around connor, i see fragments of someone soooo different than the little two minute post game interviews (which, can we judge any hockey player on those? i think they all hate them dfkjgsd). it's not always something i actively go digging for or have examples of the top of my head, but i do see it, and it definitely goes into creating the version of leon that i have in my mind.

hey, and, he's a silly guy!!! please, i know the reputation is pissy and humourless, ESPECIALLY in fic, but that man is so funny. so many random offhanded comments that make me pause and then laugh. a different sense of humour but it's so there. i love the sandcastle vid from the asg last year and feel like it's a good example of that, all sunburnt and happy. also hey, big man in tune with his fear of the ocean? love that. that little vid of him dancing on the ice earlier this season, those halloween photos where he's dressed as a monkey, every time he talks to a kid. hell, seeing him in warmups and watching the way he takes time to interact fans?? loveee watching warmups but i'd never had a player actually acknowledge my existence before leon!

also i really enjoy his personality on the ice, i like the rat behaviour and the sassy comments that he makes to other players/refs, i like the bitch moves, and i like his hockey too. i think his game is dependable and like you said skillful, and while maybe not the most creative, the sureness and the technical aspect it is hot to me. so my thoughts on everything are probably skewed in that regard.

anyways this was just a whole lot of rambling about why i find him interesting, endearing even, but i understand the perception you have. i don't like some players that other people love, just cause i cant see what they see. and honestly that's sometimes just the way it is! if you don't like leon, maybe u just don't like him and thats fine.

disclaimer that i have only been on hockeyblr for a couple years, and really didn't spare many thoughts for leon til the beginning of the 22/23 season. truthfully i'm hardly the person to ask about leon imo, but of course i have thoughts anyways! if someone else with more knowledge reads my bit of rambling here, please feel free to chime in and add your voice to this!

and side note, ofc, i have to touch on this bc who would i be if i'm not one to talk about matthew; in the way of m.tkachuk, i think that in the early days of mattdrai it was maybe a fair take away during his time with the flames (minus the woobifying). even though he was loved so much here and had some fucking times, and i think the team was mostly good to him (player wise if not regarding management, that is), i see such a stark difference now that he's on the panthers. he seems much happier and more confident, and obviously he's clicking with the cats on another level, and i do see a shift in how he's been portrayed in fics since tbh.

[berlingotesque]

What are your ships for Batim? :D

VERY GOOD QUESTION- I know my answer should be rather straightforward but I feel I have to put some context to my answers since they may seem contradictory/paradoxical otherwise, so bear with me-

Sammy x Norman : Well. I think that one was pretty obvious, anyone who's seen more than 3 of my posts knows that I'd die for these two. They're just so PERFECT for each other, from their complementary personalities to the fact that their relationship allows us to delve deeper into batim's historical and social context. Sammy and Norman have one of the few relationships that develop the most during the game's lore : Norman originally complains vehemently about Sammy's frenetic behavior, only to end up lamenting to Buddy and Dot how 'Sammy isn't the same anymore'. What's interesting about this statement is that he says it in relation to Sammy's strange behavior : clearly, the two men have grown close enough for Norman to differentiate Sammy's extravagant habits from his ink-influenced behavior.

Furthermore, Sammy is a very gray character morally, a perfectionist who is extremely socially maladjusted (surely due to the fact that he's coded on the spectrum and autism wasn't properly diagnosed at the time), naturally ostracizing him. For his part, Norman comes from a rural background (which surely earns him the animosity of the people at the studio, given the historical context and the fact that he could very well be poc) and also seems ill at ease socially : to me, it's fascinating to see two characters excluded from their peers because of differences they can't change (being autistic or poc and gay) getting closer to each other, to the point where Sammy, who is deeply misanthropic, naturally compliments Norman by describing him as very bright. To me, Norman is the perfect partner for Sammy : ready to apprehend him as he is, since he's completely free of social conventions, without taking any shits from him.

I think Sammy and Norman can really get the best out of each other, during a historical period when being different was strongly proscribed. I think I'd have trouble enjoying Batim as much without their dynamic at its heart (considering how narratively rich it is) : Norman is Henry's confidant, Sammy is Joey's, both remain morally gray deuteragonists fundamentally opposed to the ink machine, while remaining fascinated by its powers. And who wouldn't love a good old enemies to lovers ending tragically with the unwitting murder of one by the other ? After all, Norman's main flaw is that he's too curious for his own good, and it was Sammy who inevitably led him to his doom..

Allison x Tom : what more can I add. She's everything. He's just Tom. I've always been drawn to characters/ships with a vibe completely opposite to the vibe of the work they originally came from, and the 'turning poison into positivity' energy that Tom and Allison bring to Batim has always fascinated me. In a world as tragic as their own, I find it touching to see these two find beauty in all the ugliness and manage to ask themselves 'what if we were happy after all ?' It's really striking and brings a narrative richness to the work, since they directly mirror what failed with Sammy and Susie : Allison is perfect, but that was never what was at stake in Tom's eyes. Tom was looking for humanity, not perfection, and he managed to go beyond the image of the muse to discover a friend, unlike Sammy with Susie. They're literally Romeo and Juliet but, well... Not dead.

Joey x Henry/Henry x Linda : oh boy. These three... Let me get it straight right away : Henry and Linda are perfect for each other. She's exactly what he needs to be happy : she's present, patient. There's no denying that he loves her immensely. But Joey... oh Joey is undoubtedly Henry's soul mate. The subtlety is that Joey can't bring him the stable happiness Linda can : Joey tugs at him, pushes him over the edge. He knows exactly what to do to push him beyond his own limits. The love Joey offers Henry is an uncomfortable but unconditional one, one that would allow Henry to go beyond what he thinks he's capable of achieving because no one knows Henry better than Joey ! And let's be honest, Batim only exists because Joey refuses to move on, to live his dream without Henry in it. He's stuck in unrequited love and refuses to learn to live with it. And that's the tragedy of this trio : Henry sincerely loves Linda but is truly himself with Joey, which prevents him from hating OR loving him (And Joey exploits this information by remaining extremely toxic and convincing himself that he can wear him down lmao). Henry is stuck with this dilemma : Existing peacefully with Linda or living painfully with Joey. And that's why I love the dynamic of this love triangle : because there are no solutions that will satisfy everyone.

Joey x Sammy : okay, don’t get me wrong : these two are HORRIBLE for each other. Does Sammy periodically want to quit just to piss Joey off? Yes. Isn't Joey's fascination with Sammy intimately tied to his refusal to forget Henry, who was a genius like Sammy? Yes. Nevertheless, it's impossible for me to read The Illusion of Living without feeling embarrassed and like I'm reading Joey's diary : whether you ship them or not, Joey is practically canonically smitten with Sammy. I sincerely don't think Joey and Sammy can sustain a healthy relationship with each other, but oh boy, surely that won't stop me from exploiting their bizarre obsessive love-hate relationship, where it's hard to determine whether they're going to throw hands or make out.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

HONGJOONG

hongjoong.

hongjoong and his leadership, to begin with. hongjoong and his creativity in everything he says and does. hongjoong and his ambitions and dreams that you can see in his eyes. hongjoong and his voice, his singing, his sexy rapping. hongjoong and his style, his unique touch that makes him stand out in every space. hongjoong and his pretty face and pretty eyes and pretty nose and the prettiest smile ever. hongjoong and his jackets and his colourful hair and ugh, his presence. hongjoong's powerful presence. hongjoong's charisma. hongjoong's entire existence.

kim hongjoong. the man the myth the legend. again, i could write a 500-pages thesis but i will hold myself back for my own sanity :')

[imminent-danger-came]

do you think MK is gonna have a circlet arc?? Going along with your eldritch mk theory jt could parallel his past life being contained and also more parallels to SWK and MK how fun

This ask has haunted my ask box for 3 days. Circlet arc??? CIRCLET ARC???? THAT WOULD BE TERRIBLE AND SO SO SO GOOD.

I have no idea if it would actually happen in show, but I have a feeling MK is at the very least going to have an "anti-circlet" arc. Go with me for a moment:

So, we know MK's bandana parallels Wukong's phoenix feathers in design, right?

MK with the two ends of his bandana and Wukong with the two feathers coming out of his cap.

However, MK's bandana is ALSO a parallel to Wukong's circlet:

And MK was given this bandana by Pigsy (presumably):

This is basically a long winded way to say that MK has already been "crowned", in a sense. Unlike Wukong, MK never needed to be controlled in the same way his mentor did at the beginning of his journey. MK, instead, was given morals and love by our wonderful Dadsy from a young age, which effectively functioned as a "circlet", if that makes sense.

So, the bandana, a symbol of both who he is/was raised to be and the crown, is already his circlet. As MK is now, he doesn't need a circlet to exert control over him because of who he is—a good kid who is trying his best to make the right choices.

But, you know, there was that really scary scene that one time where MK didn't exactly feel like MK and he kind of went off the rails...and...WHAT IS THAT

HIS BANDANA WAS DAMAGED BY HIMSELF IN AN EPISODE TITLED "Rip and Tear" !!?!??!?!?

SO.

Say MK were to rip his own bandana off, symbolically showing his complete decent into his "harbinger of chaos" role...that would mean another crown would have to go on to replace it, right?

Whether MK get's crowned symbolically with another bandana or an ACTUAL circlet remains to be seen, but the potential is definitely there! And I'm normal about it

[mikkokomori]

AU where the group actually sees Sunny and Mari’s fathers words against them.

Hero using his charm and the trust in him the Father has for him, lures him into the forest where Kel and Mari using their more athletic abilities, kill him and Basil using his knowledge of the layout of the forest helps hide the evidence.

"Let's keep this between us, okay?"

[fujii-draws]

Just found and read your chatot rant and I'm curious. How would you rewrite him to be a more understandable/likable character?

Anon you are the light at the end of the tunnel.

I wouldn’t change a whole lot about him. Personality wise I think he’s funny/well-rounded. It’s more of how many times they made him do needlessly cruel stuff to h/p that’s never addressed again.

I say, let Apple woods stay the same. Like I said before in my rant, I enjoyed the conflict there. My problem only stems from the fact that??? He doesn’t have any real reason to distrust them???

Give him a reason. Show that h/p were fucking up a lot of jobs when they first joined the guild- and chatot (begrudgingly) took their excuses because they’re new. And he gives them a lot of chances despite his callous demeanor.

THEN, let the incident in Apple woods be the moment where he finally decides those two had enough second chances. And doesn’t hear them out. And other than that I’m alright w/ chapter 6.

NOW… CHAPTER 17…

Ughhhhh man. I already made my grievances known with this chapter but I genuinely hated how they handled chatot here. Will start off by saying (again), I LIKE that he’s distrustful about majority of what partner said. The future, Grovyle being good, The “magical hidden land”, etc. IT MAKES SENSE LMAO. ITS SO OUT THERE.

What pissed me off was how he immediately tried to play off that he trusted them the whoooole time. And it’s called out as a JOKE. And never addressed again. I’d do either 2 things here.

1. Let Chatot actually test the guild’s trust in h/p.

Do you know how awesome it would’ve been to have him IMPROVE from Apple woods? Have the entire guild that once had your back— now distrusting our main duo? And have CHATOT be the one to actually stand up for them there???? And HE be the one to point out Dusknoir grabbed those two in broad daylight? (Further emphasizing him as Wigglytuff’s right hand man(bird) and how much more competent he is than his pink leader? LIKE MAN THAT WOULDVE INSTANTLY REKINDLED MY LOVE FOR HIM. But what we got in main game was so much more disappointing.

2. Chatot doubling down on what he said.

Okay this MAY sound weird but hear me out. Having chatot still be distrustful until Brine cave would’ve, in my opinion, also been EONS better than him going “oh lol I trust them hehehe!!!!! I’m so silly!!!!” <<(accused two Pokémon they lied about the traumatic ass experience they went through.)

Have him still not trust a word they said. And that in turn comes with some actual consequence. (Like Wigglytuff being upset/disappointed in him and it driving a wedge between the two until Brine cave) Have him suffer some kind of consequence. Not some off screen rant he had w/ Team skull. Not some random sacrifice that’s disconnected with the stuff he done. A consequence that actually makes him realize “wait am i being an ass” before he continues to double down.

(I’m a sucker for characters doing bad things as long as they get consequences or try to make up for it.) (doesn’t have to be both at the same time.)

AAAND THATS PRETTYYY MUCH IT! I love Post-Game chatot a whole bunch and If I’m being honest???? I still like Chatot when he’s not being a colossal jackass.

I love that he’s stressed and snippy. I love that he’s trying his damn hardest to keep the guild running. I love that when h/p fail the graduation fight— he’s the one smiling towards them like a little shit. I love that he regards h/p in a positive light and acknowledges the good they did for the guild in the rare few moments he’s being honest with them.

It’s why I liked him at the start and near the end. The middle was just waaay too rocky for me. But on my replay of the game I’ll try to keep an open mind for the bird. I wanna give him a chance.

[oifaaa]

did you know theres a monopolys cheaters edition with an ultimate cheater mode

batfam

I did know it was the edition we had in our uni house but I also know the bats would absolutely hate it - you can not convince the most annoying people about the rules would enjoy a game were cheating is in the rules

[zoomimal]

In your opinion what are the most important areas F1 needs to work on to be more inclusive to omega drivers? ~ Luci

Ah a very serious matter, and one I am passionate about.

First off, I believe stewards and FiA officials should receive training in reading omega body language and how to properly accommodate non-disruptive behaviors. Currently the only training they receive of this sort is for conflict de-escalation between alphas (and the fact that alpha ‘accommodations’ are focused almost solely on their potential for aggression is a whole other rant I could go on but will not here). Better awareness of omega non-verbal cues is badly needed, and we got yet another clear demonstration of this after quali in Jeddah. As you yourself said, it was incredibly distressing to witness Charles being dragged away from Max like that, and all for what? To make sure the schedule was adhered to? To keep up the laughable facade that Max and Charles aren’t bonded just because they haven’t spelled it out on instagram yet? Charles was clearly so upset by it, and Max was visibly distressed about it too! Yet the official seemed to have no concept at all of what he was doing beyond ‘come on silly omega, you’re holding things up and need to be elsewhere’.

This actually brings me to my next point - the blanket ban on publicly visible scenting in the paddock is atrocious, explicitly anti-omega, and should be done away with.

As we all know, scenting, especially casual light scenting, is such an integral part of omega social interaction, hormonal/instinct regulation, and emotional well-being. (It is of course important for alphas too, but again, that’s another discussion). Using this latest incident with Charles as an example again, both he and his bonded mate had just performed incredibly well in front of thousands of people, of *course* he would be keyed up and his instincts would be screaming at him to reenforce their bond after that. Just a light scenting to calm his instincts and Charles would have been settled and ready to move on to the next thing, but because of the ban he couldn’t do that and instead had to resort to more extended proximity and eye-contact to settle himself enough to comfortably leave Max’s side (which then of course also got interrupted because anti-omega bias is systemic in F1 just like it is in many other settings)

Yes I do acknowledge that there have been instances in the past of scenting being arguably taken too far for a professional setting, but anything that crossed the line could be covered just fine under the injunctions against disruptive behaviors. Even in countries with strict ‘decency laws’ the FiA could, if they cared to, easily provide a space for omega drivers to step aside for a moment to quickly and discreetly scent with a mate or pack member as needed. (And before the ‘Alpha Rights’ crowd starts whingeing about this being somehow unfair - yes of course this should be available for alphas to use as well if they want to!)

I have even more thoughts (like how the restrictions on nesting in drivers rooms in the name of ‘professionalism and preventing unfair advantage’ are both infuriating and archaic), but this answer is already fairly long so I’ll leave it off here for now.

( @charles-leclerc-official I finally finished answering your ask! XD)

[dysenchanted]

Do you think Hannibal was in love with Alana and Bedelia? The same way he was in love with Will? Or how do you see Hannibal's relationship with Alana and Bedelia compared to his intense love for Will?

Hiii 🫀

Short answer: No, I don't think he was ever in love with Alana or Bedelia

Long answer is a bit more complicated

I do think he had a true appreciation for both of them, him being a mentor turned college/friend to Alana and a mix of patient and somewhat friend to Bedelia.

(I also use the term "friend" kinda loosely in here because I also believe Hannibal never truly considered someone his friend until Will, but that's another rant)

I think hannibal used his romantic relationships as a means to an end. With Alana he started seeing her as a way of taking something from Will (same way as he was taking his position as profiler on the fbi) while also solidifying his good image and innocence (he used her as an alibi in Futamono), while with Bedelia he used her as a replacement for Will after Mizumono and as way to maintain his image while in Florence (they took the role of an existing married couple).

(While tipying the last paragraph I kinda realized he looked for the company of both woman after being rejected by Will so... take that as you will)

Returning to the appreciation, I do think he saw worth in them, as intelligent people and someone nice to have around, people worth maintaining alive. During Mizumono he could have decided to kill Alana without hesitation, but he didn't, he only promised to kill her after she refused to turn away after being given the option. During Dolce he could have killed Bedelia after she refused to go with him, but he didn't, instead he helped her support her alibi declaring he was maintaining her drugged and not conscious of her identity or actions (but Bedelia did deduce during their goodbyes that Hannibal was going to eat her someday, but that's another rant aswell)

(Also, i see hannibal as a hedonist, so of course if he's maintaining a romantic relationship with beautiful women he's going to take the opportunity to have sex and enjoy it.)

He saw worth in their company and in their minds, but he didn't see them as an equal, someone who could truly understand him, while he did see Will as one.

Alana could have never understood him, with her strong morals and inclination to always do what's right. Her transformation occurred only after being changed by Hannibal (and Abigail), she didn't have a tendency for violence beforehand. With Bedelia is a bit different, she had an awareness of his person suit and has always had a tendency for violence (I love her scenes with Will and their dialogues, I think that's when we begin to understand her more as a character), but also she had a deep fear of what Hannibal truly was and what he was capable of doing. He saw potential for her violence and changed her through their patient, but he also used that to have something to hold against her to encourage her to keep his secrets.

With Will is different, he saw his potential and by the end of the show he could truly see and accept him as he was, finding beauty in their conjoined slaying of the dragon. For Hannibal love is that, understanding and acceptance, and Will was the only person who could truly see him as he was. He could have never had that with Alana or Bedelia.

Anyways, I care so much about Alana and Bedelia and their relationship with Hannibal <3 I truly believe the exploration of the different types of romantic relationships enrich the show a lot and also highlight how special Will is to Hannibal.

[detroitbecomeonline]

hankcon fucks so hard why did we hate it so much

I'm glad you got over your hate anon! I personally don't hate things because I'm perfect