#aph dante

[ask-thefiftystatesofamerica]

Would the Floridas get along?

A Disney Prince (1P Florida aka Alejandro) meets not a Disney villain because he’s too rated R for them (2P Florida aka Dante).

Lawful good meets chaotic evil.

Both are on the same gay spectrum and love their Illinois’ but would rather re-enact that scene in the Princess Bride with the goblets than go on a double date together with their husbandos (1P And 2P Illinois).

So they shall take down each other like the gentlemen they are.

[ask-thefiftystatesofamerica]

can we have more dante?

Note: It’s been a while since we posted any writing so here you go guys!

Summary: Dante (2P Florida) looks to the past when he first developed feelings of not love for Lawton (2P Illinois) but instead an obsession for something that he could not possess. Slowly he believes that perhaps he did fall in love for the other criminal mastermind - but it is a twisted form that can only lead to self-destruction. Not that Dante minds as long as he can take Lawton down with him in his twisted fantasy.

WARNING: Implied sexual content. Read at own risk or to hearts desire.

There was no doubt in my mind that when I willfully wanted something — to the point where life seemed inadequate without it — that I would prevail in possessing what seemed to be rightfully mine through tour de force.

It was this cynical way of thinking that allowed me to see behind the ulterior motives humanity has depicted, and instead act as my own god-like superior, for I followed my own set of skewed morals that threw humility and modesty into the flames of hell I was once baptized in.

If anything, this meritorious philosophy should have been considered noteworthy by the skepticisms of humanity, but instead I watched with subtle disgruntled horror as the egotistic mortals — who abrogate all responsibility to an imaginary friend in the sky — instead marked me as a heretic.

Not that they weren’t wrong, but even a heretic has feelings, and their outspoken words had also wounded my pride.

Nonetheless, it was not I who faced the flames of a burning stake that was ready to damn my already damned soul. It was them after I lit their intuitions aflame which crippled their beliefs in their religion, making me smile upon my convoluted masterpiece; their melodic screams nothing but euphonious.

I suppose you could say that I am uniquely twisted, and relish in my own quintessential abilities, but even my own experiences could never have substantially prepared me for this.

For him.

It is said that ‘A relationship between two individuals of the same sex is a sin.’

Naturally, of course, I will shamelessly gravitate toward the next man I see just because sin is archetypal of me.

Matter of fact, if I were to write down all the crimes against humanity that I have committed — ones that fill me with exultation — then I would be left with twinkling eyes as I rhapsodize about all my misdeeds that would make even the devil himself blush.

Truly it was a gift.

A gift that would be of great use for my next great game.

I can picture it all right now:

A man made of coarse material, Janus-faced in all his actions but never revealing the true nature of his soul, his composition surpassing Daedalus’ own labyrinth.

The very configuration of this miscreant was veiled to my eye causing temptation and a vacant longing to eat away at me. One that could never be fully satisfied despite its ravenous appetite; much like the grievances of humanity.

I wanted to possess him, to claim him as mine, but such tasks were difficult when one is resistant to your peremptory words.

Much like myself, he was his own authority, following no other and instead showing steel integrity that was not at all virtuous. In fact it was the polar opposite, and it was this that made my crimson eyes turn to him out of want – out of need – to ravage this man and all he could splendidly offer.

I lusted after him, wanting to turn his face a shade of vivid cerise, wanting to show him what pleasure really meant, wanting to make him feel special.

But even minds of magnificent intellect have plans that suddenly go awry. It was as if I was Mozart, the master of the piano, playing a wrong note, or even the esteemed Beethoven who had lost his hearing.

I had lost my hearing as I blocked out the intuitive voices of my own mind, and instead listened to the crippled heart that I once believed to be nonexistent.

I wished to mark my darling — my delightful bonny — as mine in the same way religious fanatics have marked me as a heretic.

I wished to claim and dominate him and finally remove the facade he constantly wore so that I could properly enjoy him.

It was this possessive lust and love that blended together like a fiery storm within me, threatening to scorch everything that it touched — that I could not conceal — that my abundance of skills was not prepared for. It was this improv show though that would be my greatest works.

My magnum opus.

And much like the lovers of Romeo & Juliet, I knew that I had doomed us both.

Not that I cared.