#and Refusal of the Call -> But Thou Must

[cygnahime]

It is important, I think, to make your protagonists weird, even deranged, in some unusual direction. This is because doing so opens up a wild vista of bizarre actions for them to think are natural, some of which no one has ever done before and which have space for a protagonist of doing that.

Yes, you can have antagonists and mentors and prophecies shoving them unwillingly along at every step, but frankly the antagonist is overworked and does not have time to burn every peasant village the chosen one might be raised in. You can't collect taxes from smoking ruins!

Decide what you need your protagonist to do, and then create a character who will just Do That given half a chance. Saves a lot of effort all around.

[s0dium]

Douchebag

A/n: This is honestly the BEST fic I've ever written! I took a lot from prompts I found on this site and the smut scene is inspired from a book called "The Kiss Quotient." (It was just so damn good). This fanfic is also inspired by my original fanfic, "Douchebag" Tengen x Reader. ALSO, I AM WORKING ON YUTA FICS, SO DON'T WORRY! Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Gojo Satrou was a man of many things. It would be hard to find anyone in the jujutsu world who hadn’t heard of his name before, whether that be through his many wins in battle or his reputation as an A-class player. Some describe him as eccentric, and others (mostly girls) describe him as irresistible. You? Well, you on the other hand would describe him as nothing else than an utter, complete,  douchebag. Warnings: Enemies to lovers,  teasing, fingering, intense kissing for a sec, squirting, use of pet names, belly bulge, cervix fucking, breeding kink, virgin!reader, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, choking ~

You scoffed, watching through the classroom window as a clearly frustrated old man stormed out of the building, no doubt a higher up. No doubt the work of Gojo Satoru. "God I hate him." You hissed, turning to face a dozing-off Shoko and your other friend Haibara. The classroom you sat in was almost empty, bathed in the soft light of midday filtering through large windows. Sparse shadows stretch across the well-worn wooden floor. Rows of desks, mostly unoccupied, face a dusty chalkboard at the front. "Who Satoru?" Shoko yawned, leaning into the palm of her hand to face you. Haibara lets out a loud chuckle. "Why? Because he's an ass to higher-ups?" He nods to the window and you click your tongue against the rough of your mouth. "No, it's because he is an ass in general. His whole 'holier than thou' attitude, and don't get me started on the way he treats girls." You practically shiver as you remember the time you saw some poor girl from Kyoto Jujutsu High profess her love to the white hair man, only to run away sobbing. "I swear to god it's like he expects us to kiss the floor that he walks on, he's.... infuriating" "Who's infuriating?" Oh god, you knew that stupidly deep voice anywhere. You whipped around to find yourself face to face with the very tall white-haired man you were talking about; a shit-eating grin spread across his infuriatingly handsome face.

“You couldn't be talking about me, could you?” Satoru's voice dripped faux shock and you rolled your eyes.

“Well you know what they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You spat.

“That must be why you love using that pretty mouth of yours to talk about me so much.” Satoru lowered himself to close the provoking height difference between the two of you until your noses were inches away from touching. “Cause ya love having me around  doncha.”

In that moment you have to conjure up every ounce of self-restraint to not spit in his face there and then, and luckily your friends catch the drift. "Hey Satoru! What are you doing here?" Perked up Haibara who reached out his hand to dap Gojo up. "Well, Suguru and I are heading for a night out today, small club, and I thought, out of the kindness of my heart," You scoff and Gojo merely grins and continues, "I'd invite you all. Drink on me of course." As Satrou's invitation lingered in the air, you noticed Shoko's ears perk up. Her curiosity was piqued, a subtle lift of her eyebrows betraying her interest. You bit your tongue, the taste of reluctance sharp against your teeth. The idea of going anywhere with Satrou was far from appealing, but knowing your friends might join made it harder to outright refuse.

You crossed your arms defensively, leaning back slightly as you fixed Satrou with a skeptical look. "And why would you want me there?"

Satrou's lips curled into a half-smirk, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint."You're annoying, I'll give you that," He took a casual step closer, and leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "but I never said you weren't fun."

His words, intended to irk you, did their job well. You glared at him sharply, the frustration evident in your furrowed brows and the hard set of your jaw.

Satrou chuckled.

“Great, I’ll take that as a yes then, I'll text you guys the details.” He turns around to walk out of the classroom. “See you guys there!”

There was a silence as you all watched Satrou walk away before Haibara turns to look at you. “So are you going to go y/n? Come on it will be so much fun!”

“Yeah no way in hell.”

~ You were a liar. You were a liar because here you were, leaning over the counter of a bar in a club that was far from "small." The nightclub was a pulsing, chaotic hive of activity. Neon lights flashed in syncopation with the deafening throb of electronic dance music that shook the very air. The club was jam-packed with bodies moving rhythmically, the heat from the mass of humanity palpable as the scent of sweat and sweet perfumes mingled. The bar surface was sticky under your arms, and the occasional spill from a too-hastily poured drink added to the chaos of sounds and smells around you. You lazily stirred the thin red straw into your drink, trying to politely ignore the creep who wouldn't stop talking to you.

Somehow, in the maze of gyrating bodies and blinding strobe lights, you had lost both Shoko and Haibara, leaving you stranded at the mercy of this clueless conversationalist. Despite the roar of bass and the chatter of dozens of conversations, his words seemed to bore into your ears, relentless and unyielding. He leaned in closer than necessary, trying to make himself heard over the club's cacophony, not realizing or perhaps not caring, that you were more interested in plotting an escape than in anything he had to say. "And might I say you look gorgeous tonight." It took everything you had not to scoff at this creep's words, but before you should shut the man down, you felt an arm wrap around you. "Everything alright love?" Oh god. You knew that voice anywhere. As you turned, you were met by Satrou's piercing blue eyes, their color vivid even behind stylish rectangular sunglasses. The multicolor flashing lights overhead caught in the threads of Satrou’s light blue button-up, making it shimmer subtly, and the fabric clung just right to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the well-defined physique beneath. You hated the fact that your brain immediately noted how damn good he looked. His arm was wrapped around your waist drawing you close and you had to bite your tongue from frowning at the pet name he had given you As he leaned in, his voice was low, a soft murmur over the noise of the club, "This guy bothering you baby?" His tone was teasing, and you could detect the challenge in it, as if daring you to admit that his closeness and pet names affected you just as much as he knew it did. "Of course I'm fine baby!" You smile brightly and for a second you think Satrou looked a bit taken aback. If playing along got you out of this situation so be it. "This guy, I'm sorry, what's your name?" You glance back at the creep who had turned bright red. "I'm sorry, excuse me." You watched as the man disappeared into the throng of the bustling crowd, your attention fixed until he was well out of sight. Only then did you turn back to Satrou, the false warmth on your face instantly transforming into a cold, hard glare.

"Thanks for that, but you can get your hand off me now," you said, your voice icy as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. Despite your efforts, Satrou’s grip on your waist remained firm, unyielding.

"And why should I? I think we made a fantastic couple," Satrou cooed, a teasing lilt in his voice. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying the moment far more than you.

You rolled your eyes, exasperation seeping through. "You really think I would fall for something like that?"

"Why? Did you?" he probed further, his smile widening, eyes searching yours for any sign of genuine affect. Anger started to boil up inside you as your attempts to escape his grasp remained futile.

"I don't think you understand the dynamic here very well, Satoru," you began, your voice low and deliberate, each word punctuated for emphasis. You stepped closer, invading his space as much as he had invaded yours, your eyes never leaving his. "Let me make this crystal clear, I'm not someone you can just fucking conquer, and I'm certainly not one of those girls who's gonna kiss the ground you walk on with your whole 'I'm the strongest' act," you seethed.

Your face was mere inches from his now, your breath mingling, the tension palpable. "Because I know what you really are, Satrou," you hissed, the anger in your voice barely contained. "You're a fucking douche bag." "Oh? Is that so."

Satrou's expression shifted subtly, the amusement fading into something more measured, more cautious. He studied you for a moment and you took the chance to wiggle out of his grasp and make your way through the crowd on the dance floor toward the door. The beat of the music pounds in your ears and throughout your body making your synapses jump like beans in a tin can. You can barely see the floor, only flashes of bodies you frantically tried to push past. Before you can make it to the back door, a hand grips your wrist tightly enough to halt your forward rush. Above the din of the pulsating music and amidst the strobe-lit shadows of dancing figures, Satoru's face comes into view. You feel your breath catch in your throat. God his is beautiful. Strobe lights catch and accent every one of his sharp features alighting them in a multicolor color hue. He pulls your wrist to him so you're close, too close. You can smell the old spice shampoo from his hair mixed in with some sort of sweet cologne. It's a smell that makes you want to bury your nose into him over and over again. "Jesus fucking Christ y/n" he breathed his eyes searching yours. "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?" You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so

“I-fuck you” the words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and his eyes are soft. Fuck it. You can no longer hear the lyrics to whatever song was playing, only a soft dull hum of the beat in your ears. Immediately your lips are on his. The kiss is frantic, hot, messy. The club's pulse thrummed through you like a second heartbeat, the noise and chaos all but forgotten in the singular focus of his presence. You could feel one of his large hands on the small of your back, drawing you in until there was no space left between the both of you. Your mouths clashed against each other as if you were both seeking something vital, something long-denied. Satoru's lips were insistent against yours, moving with a fervor that matched the pounding bass surrounding you. You whined as his tongue slipped into your mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the firm press of his chest against yours. The scent of his cologne mixed with the smoky air around us, intoxicating and heady.

Your mouths separated with a soft pop, and Satoru is grinning while you're left dazed, breath heavy and chests rising and falling after it. "How bout you say we get out of here Princess."Gojo's voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear as you broke from the intense kiss.

Before you could even respond, a dizzying rush enveloped you. The loud club vanished in an instant, replaced by the quiet, dimly lit ambiance of his bedroom. You were suddenly on his bed, the soft duvet beneath you a stark contrast to the hard dance floor we'd just left. Right, he can teleport. You forgot about that. Wait was he... where are you going to... Before you can get a word in, he’s once again engulfing your lips with his and pulling you into a feverish kiss in which the two of you can’t seem to get enough of each other. The moment one pulls away to breathe, the other is immediately searching for their lips again; intertwining tongues and teeth clashing together recklessly.

Your hot, everything is hot, your body is burning up by the second and there’s a sickly sweet feeling in your stomach that keeps on expanding as time passes. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hand slip under your skirt and lightly trace the outline of your slit with his index finger. You're painfully wet; your arousal has made a large spot on your underwear translucent. “Just touch me,’ you whined, arching impatiently against his hand. He couldn’t make either of you wait any longer. Slowly, he brought his middle finger down and slid it gently over her folds. You threw your head back. "Ahhhh, more please." He did it again, this time his fingertip slipping between and gathering your wetness. He parted you with two fingers. You let out a gasp when he hit your clit and started to rub it in small circles. You tried to say something, anything to explain how hot you were feeling right now, but your words were lost against his soft lips. The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him so close against you, skin to skin. Time and space had no meaning anymore. There was only you and Satrou.

“You feeling good baby? Satrou speaks slowly, breath on your neck and voice in your ear making you shiver. You bite your lip and nod like any words that came from you would ruin it. You almost wince when you feel two fingers slip into your tight hole. "Jesus, fuck. You gotta relax princesses." He chuckled, knowing far to well that the tightness was going to feel delicious around him. Two fingers worked into you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. He began a steady rhythm as his tongue nipped and sucked the tender skin of your neck. You couldn’t prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, you were riding his hand. That had to be bad. You told herself to stop. You couldn’t. Somehow, you found your hands tangled in his short white hair. Your body was coiled tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now you could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into you. "Hnghhh.... so good." You squeezed your eyes type, becoming focused on the tightening feeling of your core and the blossoming warm pleasure. Your legs started to tremble under the unbearable pleasure and your back arched against the bed as if your body was trying to escape the euphoric feeling that coursed through your skin. "That’s it, fuck, beautiful girl... such a natural submissive...." You want to tell him he's wrong, all this pleasure wasn't because of his egotistic ass, but it'd be a lie. And as if on command, all feelings come to a heightened crescendo; explosions of euphoria clouding your brain causing your toes to curl from pleasure and your body to shake like a leaf.

It takes a couple seconds after you calmed down to realize you squirted all over Satoru's hand and all blood rushes to your face turning you a bright red.

“Oh my god in so sorry I didn’t-”

Your voice dies out as you watch Satrou pull off his shirt, revealing his extremely built body and toned muscles, to wipe the liquid off his hand. You don’t even notice that he had pulled out his dick until you feel something pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so. Your stomach inwardly twisted,  filled with the sickly excitement and your breathing started to quicken. "Shhhhh baby," Satoru cups your cheek and kisses your forehead. It was a sweet gesture despite everything happening right now, a gesture that made your heart swell and your mind yearn for Satoru. The stretch of his dick spreading your walls is insane. No amount of preparation could've prepared you for the length of Satoru's dick. You feel it heavy inside you and Satrou pushes into you until he can't push anymore, until his hips are flush against you and the tip of his length is smushed against your cervix. The pleasure of that alone felt numb, unbearable, you needed friction, you needed him to move. You practically faint when he first thrusts into you in earnest. It's euphoric; the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up. His cock pulsed inside of your silky walls, stretching you to the fullest capacity as he bottomed out again and again. "Oh fuck." Satrou groaned. He was no longer grinning, Satoru's playful resolves vanished and his smile quickly dropped. He knew you'd feel good, but he didn't expect how good you'd feel. The feeling of his hand he had fucked himself to the thought of you for so many nights was nothing compared to the real thing. It was too much, the feeling of your wet soft walls gripping him so tightly. How was he able to live without your pussy in the first place? The pleasure built rapidly, too potent, too insistent. He kneeled over you, a groan escaping his lips—a raw, primal sound that vibrated through the charged air between you. Satorus thrust your quick and hard, a clear display of strength and endurance he had gained from years of jujutsu training. "Been thinking about this, so long, bet you have to have ya~"

As Satrou's long, deliberate fingers encircle your neck, a thrilling chill races down your spine. He applies pressure gently at first, then with a firmer, insistent grip that gradually restricts your airflow, sending a wave of exhilaration through your senses. The world around you narrows, focusing intently on the point where his skin contacts yours, heightening every other sensation that courses through you. His other hand slips under your bra bra to grab and massage your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipples.

"Satoru..! Ahhhh..! I..I, fuckkkkk can't handle this.." You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with his hand squeezing your throat it was just all too much.

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru

"Slow down.. please im gonna ahhhh~" Drool slipped passed your lips and you writhed and squirmed at the feeling of hot euphoria passed over your body in flesh arrow. "Gonna cum? Fuck baby, let's... let's come together m'kay?" Satrou almost stuttered. His body had kicked into autopilot, and a deep primal need for you settled in as he thrust in and out, creating a methodical rhythm that echoed in your ears. Your ankles lock around his lower back and you cry out when the head of his cock kisses your womb, your legs shaking as you feel yourself start to be thrown into an intense orgasm. You want to say something about the weird feeling in your stomach, how your skin is buzzing but it's all too much, and before you know it your tumbling toward the edge. It feels like your whole body was shot with electricity and color dances in your eyes as you float in ecstasy.

"Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny. Satoru doesn't pull out as you both come down from your high, instead watching you intently as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Wanna do this again?" He chuckles.

"Fuck, yes, please."

[crownofgildedlilies]

late nights

pairing: aizawa x reader summary: Shouta really ought to expel whoever told Eri that Santa comes every night in December... wc: 3.7k event masterlist

Rarely did you ever see Shouta Aizawa after dark.

It wasn’t that he was an extrovert to begin with, you knew, but somehow it became even harder for you or Hizashi Yamada to drag your friend out to pretend to be social after he took on the caretaker role of little Eri. You were pretty sure it wasn’t healthy for someone to spend such little time with who he probably considered his best and only friends, or maybe he was drowning in responsibilities attached to teaching Class A and training Eri. 

You were honestly a little worried about him.

Or maybe you were just overly sensitive to the number of times you saw Shouta in a day because of your embarrassingly immense feelings for your fellow UA teacher.

Nights were a struggle. They were long, and cold, and lonely—they let your mind wander to unimportant things, like whether or not Shouta was joining everyone for dinner the following night to celebrate Yamada’s successful launch of a school-wide news broadcast—and you had tried every trick in the book to calm your mind enough to finally fall asleep. 

The teacher’s dormitories at UA were more like individual apartment units, with a common area furnished with couches, a television, and several computers for when you couldn’t separate yourself from your work. 

Deciding that if you were going to be awake, you might as well be productive, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and shuffled out of your unit and into the common area. Once in the hallway, you heard the faint sounds of a television playing softly in the otherwise silent night. 

Must be Vlad, you reasoned as your slippered feet padded towards the couches. He had a similar habit to you of staying up far later than he should, and the blinking 12:01 on your alarm clock you checked before retreating from bed told you that he was likely to be the only one you were going to run into. 

“Santa?” A tired, tiny voice called out through the darkness.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness and minimal light coming from the television—an old Christmas special you remember watching a few times as a child—you spotted the source of the voice. Small head peeking out from over the back of the couch, little Eri was staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I told you,” A gruff voice you’d recognize anywhere replied to the small girl before you had finished processing what you were looking at. “Santa comes one night in December. The twenty-fourth.”

Shouta.

“Not true!” Eri, as sweet a child as she was, was still only a child. Which meant she grew more whiny the more tired she got. And from the exasperated sigh Shouta let out, you realized both of them were probably very tired.

“Sorry, honey,” You cooed, moving closer towards the couch and trying to avoid looking at Shouta, who dropped his head back against the cushions at the sound of your voice. “But Mr. Aizawa is right. Santa only comes once a month.”

“But Deku’s friend said—!”

“And when I find out which of Midoriya’s friends told you Santa comes every night, I’ll have one less student on my roster.” As you rounded the couch to stand in front, you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the stressed out look on Shouta’s face, the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers. 

“Stop it.” The command left you in a snort, and you settled gently onto the couch opposite Eri while still wrapped in your blanket. You’d known Shouta long enough to know he was just talking tough, but he’d never expel a student for anything less than their own good. “You adore those kids.”

“This is the fourth night in a row she has refused to sleep because she’s been so excited.” His voice was even as he finally turned to face you overtop Eri’s head, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. At least, more pronounced than usual. “Trust me, I don’t adore them that much.”

You snorted a laugh, and Eri giggled, though you were certain that she didn’t know what was so funny.

“Right, well, grumpy—” You sent a playfully teasing look to Shouta in an attempt to make the young girl sitting between the two of you smile. A personal goal of yours from the moment you had met her. “Eri is probably just overtired at this point. C’mere, sweet girl.”

Opening your arms, you gestured for her to climb into your lap. In the months she had been at UA, you’d spent a considerable amount of time watching over her when Shouta had classes or other business he couldn’t bring a child too, which meant you had earned her trust—something you very much valued. 

Eri let out a yawn as she settled into your arms, sitting sideways in your lap and resting her head against your chest. You could feel Shouta’s eyes watching your every movement, but you pushed aside the threat of a blush and focused on slowly rocking her from side to side. 

“Turn it off, will you?” You hummed quietly, nodding your head in the direction of the television still playing the holiday movie. When Aizawa made no move to reach for the remote, you lifted your gaze from Eri’s face to see what was holding his attention and found that he was already watching you. “Shouta?”

“Right,” He snapped out of his trance, leaning forward to snatch the remote off of the coffee table and turn the television off without further distraction. 

Silence finally settled over the room, and it only took a few minutes longer for Eri to finally fall asleep in your arms. Even still, you waited an extra moment before nodding to Shouta that you had accomplished his goal of getting her to rest despite her excitement. 

“Thank you,” He breathed, scrubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. You offered him a smile and tried to think about anything other than how warm your face felt in the dim room. “I know I shouldn’t indulge her in staying up so late, but after everything she’s been through…”

“I get what you mean,” You murmured, and with the hand that wasn’t supporting Eri’s back, you reached out and squeezed his arm. “I did a lot of the paperwork regarding Overhaul, remember?”

You had been sick to your stomach for weeks after you found out just what the young yakuza head had put the poor girl through, and you hadn’t even been part of the team that took part in the raid to rescue her. You understood what Shouta meant when he said he couldn’t bear to take the excitement she felt away.

Even if it meant she was staying up until midnight every day in December, falsely waiting for a Santa Claus that would only come once a year. 

“I should get her to bed, finally.” Shouta stood from his end of the couch, and you carefully sat up taller to transfer the slumbering girl from your arms to his. 

“Next time you can’t get her to sleep,” You start in a soft voice so as not to wake Eri, and Shouta pauses in his retreat to his rooms to turn and look at you. It takes a moment to remember what you planned to say, your focus briefly knocked off kilter by the full force of his attention. “Knock on my door so I can help.”

“Are you sure?” There was an edge of hesitation in his voice, though you could tell he didn’t like the idea of bothering you so late at night. But he was too rational to think he could do it all himself, especially with all the responsibilities he took on. 

“Of course,” Smiling as bright as you could, you tried to assure him that you were fine with possibly being woken up at midnight. But if it was to help Eri, help him, then you would suffer a few late nights. Despite his initial reluctance, you watched more of the fight leave him in the subtle sag of his shoulders. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I hadn’t meant it.”

“Alright,” He agreed, adjusting Eri in her arms so that her head laid more comfortably on his shoulder. “Goodnight, then.”

“Night, Shouta.”

And if your eyes followed his retreating figure longer than what was probably polite, it was no one’s business but your own.

Despite your worrying the previous night, Shouta had shown up to Mic’s celebration dinner the following day. 

Eri had been in tow, though she had been the one tugging Shouta into the restaurant by the hand, excitedly cheering that she wanted to sit between you and Zawa. You had readily accepted Eri’s request to sit beside you, and spent the dinner fluidly entertaining the young girl and holding conversations with your friends around the table. 

And maybe it was your imagination, but you could have sworn you felt Shouta’s attention falling to the side of your face on more than one occasion in the evening. 

“You look like a little family!” Mic teased towards the end of the night, clearly having over indulged in the wine on the table. 

“You look like you’re going to need a cab home,” You had fired back, sipping the water in an attempt to cover the heat threatening to warm your face. Your comment distracted the table, earning you laughter and good natured jeers towards Mic, but Shouta remained quiet. 

And you knew you weren’t making things up when he seemed determined to look anywhere but you for the remainder of the night.

You were still throwing a pity party for yourself hours later, back on campus and in the safety of your assigned room. It was nearing midnight, your clock told you, but your eyes were far from heavy and your mind was still running wild with ideas for the next day. 

Then came the knock. 

Two knocks. 

You hated how quickly you grinned, knowing what those two knocks meant. You hadn’t expected him to use the deal you had created so soon, but you weren’t going to back out of it as you padded softly through your apartment towards the door. 

Swinging it open, you were wholly unsurprised to see a wide awake Eri cradled in Shouta’s arms, his face darkened with exhaustion. 

“Happy Christmas!” Eri cheered once she saw you, and despite the late hour and her refusal to sleep on time, you couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. So unfamiliar for her. 

“Merry Christmas, and you should be asleep by now.” You gave her a pointed look, though any reprimanding you attempted was far overshadowed by the smile on your face. Shifting your attention to Shouta, you gave yourself a moment to take in his appearance on your doorstep. Dark hair disheveled from trying to put Eri to bed, tired eyes laden with exhaustion to the point that you worried he might pass out standing. “You should be asleep, too.”

“She’s refusing, again.” He explained, shifting his attention from you briefly to glare playfully, lovingly, at Eri. The sight made your chest warm, and your smile softened from one of amusement into one of adoration. “I wouldn’t ask, but I have training with Shinsou early in the morning, and I can’t stay up with her.” 

“You don’t need to give me an explanation, Shou,” You rolled your eyes with a tease, reaching out to take Eri from him. She came easily, and though she clearly was forcing herself to stay awake, you could tell by the way her head fell to your shoulder that she only needed some gentle urging and she’d fall asleep. 

You looked back to Shouta, expecting him to be preparing to leave with Eri settled in your arms, but you found him looking at you instead. 

Eyes slightly wide, hands clenched in fists at his sides, mouth pressed into a firm line. The expression could be misconstrued for annoyance, but you knew Shouta better than that. He was watching you, holding Eri, with an expression that was entirely too familiar.

You could have sworn he was looking at you the same way you usually looked at him. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Shouta, seeming to regain his focus again, cleared his throat and dropped his stare from you. “Thank you for this.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” You reminded him, but he only pinned you with a final look, like he was trying to chastise you for not accepting his gratitude the same way he tried chastising Eri. 

Not that it really worked on either of you. You both knew how much of a softie he really was. 

Eri shifting around in your arms brought you back to reality, and with a final glance at Shouta’s retreating figure, you closed your apartment door behind you. With a pointed look, you frowned at the young girl.

“Time for bed. Santa isn’t coming tonight.” You reminded her, and she sighed like she knew her games would only work on Shouta—not you. Like the previous night, you settled on the couch with her in your arms, rocking side to side gently. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Her tiny, tired voice replied, and though you considered that it might only be a distraction to stay up a bit later, you relented. 

“Only if I can ask you one after.” 

“Why did Zawa’s face get all red when he said I was coming here?” 

“I’m not sure,” You fight the flush threatening to climb up your own neck at her innocent words. You didn’t think that Shouta had it in him to blush, but hearing that he so obviously did—to the point where Eri noticed—was hard to comprehend. You needed to change the topic. “My turn. Which of Deku’s friends told you about Santa coming each night?”

“The lightning one.” She replied through a yawn, rubbing at her eyes. 

Denki Kaminari. 

“Ah,” Your lips curved up into a grin. If you had guessed, you probably would have thought it was him. “For his sake, don’t tell Mr. Aizawa that.”

“Okay.” Eri smiled sleepily before snuggling into your shoulder. You knew you needed to get her into the spare bed she was taking over for the evening, but you were enjoying her sweet company. “I like spending time with you. And Mr. Mic told Zawa he’s not as grumpy when you’re around. I think so too.”

Suddenly, any attempt you were making to not freak out over what the sweet girl was saying became nearly impossible. You just hoped she wouldn’t go back to Shouta and tell him how red your face had gotten.

“I like spending time with you, too.” You decided on answering with, hoping that it was enough to settle her curiosity.

You’d have to yell at Yamada for putting ideas in Eri’s head later. 

And Denki Kaminari, too. 

After a week of Eri staying up far too late, you and Shouta decided you needed to put a stop to it. The sweet girl had been so tired even Mirio had mentioned that she seemed grumpy and out of character. Eri needed to go to sleep at a reasonable time and in her own bed. 

Which brought you to your current predicament—trying to convince yourself that your heart wasn’t going to beat out of your chest as you sat on the edge of Eri’s bed and twisted to face her, Shouta standing directly behind you. 

Mic had teased you and Shouta about playing house on more than one occasion. If he had seen you then, both tucking Eri into bed, you wouldn’t be able to convince him that you weren’t. 

“Santa only visits good girls who go to bed on time. Do you want me to tell him you haven’t been listening?” Shouta tries to use ration against Eri, and if it weren’t for the look of horror on the young girl’s face, you would have laughed. Instead, you jammed your elbow back and into the muscle of his thigh in reprimand.

“I’ll be good! I’ll go to sleep!” Eri hurries to clamber under the covers, and while she’s distracted, you shoot a glare over your shoulder at Shouta. 

You nearly do a double take when you find him grinning down at you, arms crossed and clearly amused at the situation. 

“Remember what we talked about, Eri.” You try to hide your grin at Shouta’s teasing by turning back to the child you’re supposed to be tucking into bed. Adorably, she has the covers pulled up to her nose and her eyes screwed shut so tight her face is scrunched up. “Santa comes once a year, and only when you’re asleep.”

She keeps her eyes shut, and nods stiffly. 

“Good girl,” Shouta hums, clearly satisfied that she isn’t refusing to even get in bed like she had for the entire month so far. “Now, sleep.”

She nods again, and you press a palm over your mouth to keep from laughing. You stand as gently as you can before slipping out of the room silently. 

Suddenly, you’re standing in front of Shouta as he closes the door soundlessly. You’re too close, or maybe not close enough, in the cramped hallway with only a few inches separating you. It’s a little exhilarating, having to tilt your head to look up at him while he studies you just as closely. 

You think, distantly, that you’d like to kiss him. 

“Stay for a drink?” He murmurs, and you’re not sure if it’s to keep Eri from overhearing or to not burst the quiet bubble surrounding the two of you, but you’re positive that you don’t care either way as long as he keeps looking at you as intensely as he currently was. 

“Yeah, okay.” You agree, hating how you sound a little breathless. 

It’s not your first time being alone with Shouta, but in all the years you’ve known him, it’s never felt so intimate before. Maybe it was because it was the evening, or that you had worked as a team to tuck Eri into bed, but something had shifted between the two of you.

Something had been shifting. 

You followed him into the kitchen where you climbed onto one of the stools sitting at the island counter. It was silent as he opened the fridge to pull out two beers, and it was still silent as he opened one of the cans and handed it to you. 

“Thank you for this.” His words carried through the kitchen as he settled onto the stool beside you, and you knew he meant more than just staying for the drinks. 

You twisted on the stool to face him, your knees pressing into his thigh and head propped on your fist. He didn’t turn to face you, but you could tell he felt the weight of your stare in the way he held his can between his hands, how he pushed his thigh back against your knees in both acknowledgement and acceptance of their presence. 

“You take care of so many, Shouta. Who takes care of you?”

You hadn’t meant to ask that question. Not really. But it had always been on your mind. He gave his all to those around him; Yamada, his students, Eri. 

He took care of you, too. Offering to stay late to help you grade or plan, helping brainstorm ways to push your students to the absolute maximum of what they were capable of. 

“I guess I’ve never thought about that.” He answered over a sip of his beer, and the honesty in his voice nearly cracked your heart open. 

You wanted to take care of him.

“Shouta,” The call of his name finally earned you the prize of his attention, and you didn’t hesitate as you leaned forward to press your lips against his gently. 

At first, it was only a desperate need for him to know how much you cared for him that had you acting. Kissing him was the only logical conclusion to those feelings, a final attempt to show him how much he meant to you without tripping over the words you had never been able to force out. But when you felt Shouta kiss you back? When you felt the fervent press of his lips just as urgent against yours?

His hand, cold from the can he had been clutching so carefully a second before, curved to the side of your neck with his thumb notching just under the side of your jaw. A possessive touch, and one you absolutely could get used to. Leaning even further into him, you set a hand on his leg to balance yourself between the two stools. 

But somewhere between Shouta pulling you even closer by the hand on your neck and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip, you managed to hear tiny, sock-clad feet pad into the room. 

“I thought I heard bells!” 

You shot away from Shouta like he electrocuted you, one hand shoving at his chest to separate the both of you despite the act being seemingly impossible only seconds before. Your chest rose and fell quickly, out of breath from both the shock of seeing Eri standing in the kitchen and what had just transpired with Shouta. 

“What did I say about getting out of bed?” Despite having been shoved from his stool, Shouta himself seemed relatively relaxed about the whole situation, and for the first time, you cursed his rational head. 

Except, in the dim lighting, you managed to spot the faint blush creeping up his neck. 

“No Santa!” Eri gasped, hands slapping over her mouth like she was in shock she had forgotten before she turned and ran back down the hallway towards her bedroom. 

Shouta shook his head in amusement, then turned towards you, a determined look in his eyes that almost made you shiver. 

“I’ll put her back down.” He promised. “Then we can talk.”

About the kiss. You flushed brightly just thinking about it, and you watched as the hint of a smile twitched in the corner of his lips. 

“I’d like that.” You murmured sincerely, and with a final glance to make sure you weren’t running off, he followed Eri down the hall at a much more relaxed pace. 

You pressed the tips of your fingers against your lips, still tingling even with Shouta in a different room. And for a moment, you considered that maybe Kaminari was right, after all. 

Maybe Santa came more than one night a year.

[dearjoons]

⚔️ KNIGHT!JIMIN HEADCANNONS

warnings: yearning and pining. knight!jimin x princess!reader. if ur heartstrings aren’t tugging, i haven’t done my job.

lulu speaks: request by @rosequartzz77 !! i actually had a namjoon ver. of this in my drafts as well as a cai bot on my page soooo !! check that out if you’d like.

☾ knight!jimin who drops to one knee and bows his head every time he addresses you, even when you beg him not to be so formal.

☾ knight!jimin who always stands just a little too close, hand on the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning the crowd like he’d fight off an army for you.

☾ knight!jimin who calls you “your highness,” but it burns on his tongue—because he wants to say your name like a lover would.

☾ knight!jimin who bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched your slipper the day he was appointed your guard. you gently told him to rise—and when his eyes met yours, it was the first time he ever forgot to breathe in full armor. he swore loyalty to the crown, but it was you he meant in his heart.

☾ knight!jimin who sharpens his sword when suitors arrive. you’ll hear the angry thrashing of steel against stone echoing through the ballroom form a nearby armory.

☾ knight!jimin who secretly teaches you how to wield a dagger just in case he isn’t there to protect you someday.

☾ knight!jimin who refuses to leave your side when you’re ill. not for food, not for sleep, not for orders. when you wake, pale and weak, he kisses your hand softly while you pretend to still be asleep.

☾ knight!jimin who turns away when you undress for a royal fitting, face red and jaw tight, even though your lady-in-waiting assures him it’s routine. he simply says, voice low and strained, “i dare not look upon her in such state. ’tis not mine right.”

☾ knight!jimin who would carry you through mud, over rivers, into fire—without hesitation. when your carriage breaks, and you jokingly say “well, someone must carry me,” he doesn’t laugh. he simply lifts you in his arms, voice low: “as thou commandest, my princess.”

☾ knight!jimin who steps in front of a lord’s outstretched hand when the man tries to touch your waist. the man scoffs, “i meant no offense.” and jimin bows, cold and sharp, eyes hard: “and yet, offense was taken. her highness is not to be touched without leave.”

☾ knight!jimin who sees you in a gown stitched in gold. that night, he dreams of unlacing it—only to wake before his lips ever reach your skin.

☾ knight!jimin who walks a step behind you in the gardens, carrying your cloak, your books, a flower he picked just in case you liked the color.

☾ knight!jimin who falls asleep seated at your bedside when you’re unwell, fingers curled loosely around yours on top of the covers, armor long since abandoned.

☾ knight!jimin who trains beside the royal pond, shirt discarded, hoping you’ll pass by and notice—but never bold enough to call you over.

☾ knight!jimin who when you’re away for a week, his bed remains untouched. he trains until his knees give out, collapses in armor, dreams of the way your fingertips grazed his cheek months ago.

☾ knight!jimin who would give you everything. his sword. his life. his soul. but the one thing he won’t take—unless you command him to—is your heart. because he still believes a princess deserves a prince, not a guard’s love.

lulu speaks pt2: um HI I LOVE HIM. REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND WELCOMED 😌

cai bot. masterlist. navigation.

[helluvapoison]

Crystal Clear

Zestial x Reader

warning: lil violence, probably inaccurate old english

Consider yourself lucky to find yourself under Zestial’s good graces and watchful eyes. While he sends you bottles of delicious, ancient wine and carnivorous flowers, others are on the opposite end. That’s what Alastor tells you at least and he refuses to elaborate. While you’re curious to know what could be the opposite of flowers, you think your imagination might be an easier pill to swallow than the truth.

You’ve long since agreed to go on that promenade with the Overlord (which you’ve found out means a walk by a lake) but Zestial, according to the notes on the recent bouquet of grey roses, “hasn’t known a moment’s peace” for a month now. His cursive is flawless with accentuated strokes and curls that take up the entire card. You wanted to thank him for all the gifts but a call felt impersonal… and something told you he didn’t own a phone.

A letter would probably suffice except you weren’t sure where to send it. Alastor continued to be no help. At first it struck you as odd because you thought the two of them were friends but that’s on you, you should have known Alastor doesn’t have friends. So you set out to Zestial’s corner of The Pride Ring. It was old fashioned like Cannibal Town but not nearly as nice.

By that, you mean the people are just as shitty as they are everywhere else in Hell.

Not even two steps over the invisible threshold and you’re shoved into the side of a building, cool brick meeting your shoulder hard. You move to give the jerk a silent “fuck you” at the very least, raising your middle finger as she bolts away from you. Two steps the same, she’s dragged into an alley by a shadow.

“Pray tell,” A familiar voice, so smooth and close, drowns out the nearby screaming. Zestial himself steals your attention and your breath. You don’t even have time to wonder where he came from.

“Doth thyn own eyes deceive? A firefly has entered the web of a spider by thous own accord? Thy had not expected this turn of events. What brings thee to my web this hellish day?”

“Oh! I wanted to thank you for all the presents you sent.” You explain, patting your pockets for the envelope addressed to him.

Humming, his eyes roam across his name as he gingerly takes the pink paper. He doesn’t open it then, instead bringing into the abyss of his coat where it disappears from your sight.

“The pleasure belongs entirely to thyn own self,” Zestial says politely, his smile disappearing as he speaks, “Oh how outrageous thou must be, for thou has been generously patient. Apologies, firefly. Thyst swears this will not happen twice.”

You tilted your head, brows pulling together as you deciphered Zestial’s words. When it settles in you’re quick to hold up your hands. You’re so quick to fix things, you missed his pet name again.

“I—Oh! No, I’m not upset! I understand you’re busy.”

This pleases Zestial immensely, his smile returning and etching across his face once more.

“Thous kindness continues. Please, allow thy to return thee from whence thou came. Thyn would be remiss should something happen to thee.” He paused, voice dropping as he glared over his shoulder, “Twice.”

Zestial swiftly offers his arm to you when you try to see what he was looking at. A part of you did know he was sparing you a gruesome sight… the other part didn’t care as much as you should.

Falling into step with the Overlord, you’re suddenly aware of how much labor he’s putting into walking at your pace. It looks effortless enough. He practically glides as he walks anyhow. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Despite slightly delving into his frustrations (via cards) about how busy he was, he seemed in no rush to return to his territory to deal with whatever it may be.

“I looked up what promenade means, by the way,” You say eventually, though the silence between you both was comfortable enough, “I’d officially like to accept your invitation now. When work slows down for you, of course.”

Zestial chuckles, looking straight ahead, “Thyn has been working tirelessly to ensure uninterrupted time with thee. Much like this, only with a more suitable location for such a sweet soul as thou.”

“Tirelessly, huh? Don’t forget to take breaks,” You chastise playfully.

“In thys undead existence, thyn has come to be sure that there is no time for breaks. Change is constant and quick. Thyn is forced to adapt when thyn does not wish to or thy will be left a—how did one say? A relic.”

Now it was your turn to frown.

“Someone said that to you?”

His amusement remained alive as ever despite the terrible insult.

“Fret not. There shan’t be much for one to say any longer.”

You cross your arms and nod firmly.

“Howevermore, mayhaps there was truth in one’s words. It appears to thy, that the more thyst resists the ever growing changes of this modern day, the farther thyst casts thys own self into darkness.” Zestial sighs and trails off towards the end, “Tis a rather lonely existence.”

Slowly, you nod your head. It takes a minute to translate what he said and another to respond but Zestial is nothing if not patient.

“Change is constant,” You begrudgingly agree.

He hums in appreciation, “Precisely.”

“But it doesn’t have to be lonely if you don’t want it to be. You have Carmilla and—” You hesitate which caught his attention.

“And?”

“Well, I was going to say me. If you want, that is.”

Zestial chuckles. It’s a dark, raspy sound that makes your bones vibrate and sends a shiver throughout your body.

“Thy would be honored to call thoust a friend.. for the time being. Thy can only be content in the darkness for so long now that light has been seen. Thoust will inevitably succumb to a courtship, thyself assures thee.”

“You lost me a little bit,” You replied, dipping your hand from side to side in a so-so motion.

The green of his eyes shrink upwards in amusement yet again. Zestial straightens, looking around as if debating something he doesn’t feel inclined to share this time. You show him the same courtesy he showed you and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“As commerce for such a divine outing, and solidifying our enriching conversation, thoust will be repaid in kind. Just this once.” Zestial declares, holding up a single, slender finger from his coat, “You and I are much alike, dear firefly, we shall not be easily discouraged from our desires.”

He holds out his hand and waits for yours to join. It’s not a perfect fit, his fingers could wrap around yours two times over, but it feels nice. Zestisl is oddly warm with soft palms and an unfailingly gentle grip. Bowing, he kisses your knuckles like he did the first time,

“Until next time. Thy will count the seconds,” He says quietly.

You don’t realize there’s an audience until he sinks into the cracks on the ground and absconds from your view. If you’re honest, you didn’t catch quite a bit from the last few minutes. You’re still stuck in the web of time where Zestial said he desired you. At least you think that’s what he said. Funny, even when he says it in layman’s terms you’re still not sure what Zestial meant.

[ennas-aesthetic]

What the fuck is Jesus up to in Good Omens season 3?

This is a question I've been thinking long and hard these past couple of days and I have some THOUGHTS SO. Buckle up.

Aziraphale and Crowley watching the Crucifixion (Good Omens, 2019)

First off. The answer to the question posited is relatively simple. What is Jesus up to in GO3? With s2's ending in mind and with the hints we've gotten for 668: Neighbor of the Beast over the years, we know he's descending to Earth to initiate the Second Coming. And that Aziraphale would probably make that happen - or do everything that he can as Supreme Archangel to sabotage it.

But I wanted to examine on how Jesus might fit into Good Omens' overall narratives and established themes - about morality and humanism and free will, and. I'm just saying, there are A LOT of fascinating routes they could do for his character.

(Disclaimer as usual: this is a theory that I obsessed over when I was stuck at the cemetery during All Souls' Day and must be treated as such. In no way am I insisting this should be how canon events must happen. I am just doing this for the funsies.)

The THING about Jesus if you situate him in the world of Good Omens (with the assumption that most of the pop culture Christology mythos associated with him remain intact) is that in this context he very quickly becomes: 1. Adam Young's narrative foil; and 2. an Aziraphale parallel.

Now, the first one is obvious. Of COURSE he is Adam Young's foil, duh. Adam isn't called the ANTICHRIST for nothing. Brought into the world just for the sole purpose of ending it. However, when the time comes for him to fulfill the Will of his Satanic Father, Adam flat out REFUSES.

Both the book and the show attribute this to Adam's human upbringing. He was raised as a human, and because of that he has the trait that the book uses to DEFINE human beings: free will. At the end, Adam had the AGENCY to reject the destiny planned out for him.

'Adam stood smiling at the two of them, a small figure perfectly poised exactly between Heaven and Hell.

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's arm. "You know what happened?" he hissed excitedly. "He was left alone! He grew up human! He's not Evil Incarnate or Good Incarnate, he's just… a human incarnate—"'

- (Good Omens, 1990)

That is NOT what happened to Jesus.

Adam Bond as Jesus in Good Omens (2019)

Like Adam, he was raised as a human -- being a human incarnate was his WHOLE DEAL in Christology. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us... yada yada yada.

UNLIKE, Adam, though, Jesus wasn't able to REJECT his Destiny of Dying Really Horribly and Painfully on the Cross. Narratives in the Bible also made it clear that the Crucifixion was NOT his Will, but that of God's. Like... him begging to be spared from torment but ultimately following God's Will is such an important event entire devotional practices are made out of it.

"39 And he went a little farther, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt."

- (Matthew 26: 39, KJV)

We get a glimpse of that in s1ep3 of Good Omens, too:

"JESUS

(muttering through the pain)

Father, please . . . you have to forgive them . . . they don’t know what they are doing . . .

Crowley, in black, comes up next to Aziraphale.

CROWLEY

You’ve come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?

AZIRAPHALE

Smirk? Me?

CROWLEY

Well, your lot put him on there.

AZIRAPHALE

I am not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley."

- (The Quite Nice and Fairly Accurate Good Omens Script Book, 2018)

SO. Here we have the character of the Christ whose free will and agency had been STRIPPED from him in the guise of a "noble sacrifice." He comes back again on this Earth to fulfill another "inescapable destiny."

Aziraphale and Crowley need to stop him. The solution the Good Omens narrative offers to "inescapable destinies and systems" (both in s1 and s2) is for the character to realize they have the freedom to choose their own fates. It happened with Adam, and it happened with Gabriel, and perhaps it will happen to Jesus.

(At this point my sister frowned and said: "Are you telling me you think Aziraphale and Crowley are going to help Jesus realize he has agency and that him Dying on the Cross for the 'Great Plan' was kinda fucked up actually?" which sounds crazy when you put it like that BUT NEVER SAY NEVER BABIE.)

Because that brings me to my second point: if this all happens, Jesus becomes an AZIRAPHALE parallel.

In the same way Anathema is an Aziraphale parallel and Sergeant Shadwell is an Aziraphale parallel. Here is a character stuck in a suffocating status quo. To save the world, he needs to know he can escape that status quo and decide for himself. In the same way Anathema has to learn how to stop being a descendant or Shadwell to stop being a Witchfinder, or Gabriel to stop being an Archangel, and Adam to stop being an Antichrist, perhaps Jesus has to learn he can stop being... Well, the Christ, as well.

And this, of course, supplements Aziraphale's journey of letting go of the idea of being an idealized vessel of God, so he could finally enjoy the freedom of personhood and choice on Earth, with Crowley.

Or they could turn Jesus into a cackling villain who Aziraphale and Crowley need to kill in season 3, and I'd probably eat that up, too.

[girlrandomstuff]

Effie Trinket and the Trinket family: my analysis and theories.

I know that as a fandom we have get to the conclution to believe that Effie is not exactly a rebel (at least not like Haymitch or Katniss or many other characters), but I had start to think that maybe two Trinket generations before her were at least sympathizers. Let me explain.

We are being told that Messsalina and Silius Trinket are married, they're Effie's great aunt and uncle and since they're married, I would believe that Silius is the Trinket one, a brother to Effie's grandfather, (thou if Messalina is the Trinket one wouldn't change much, just shows that she didn't took her husband's name). Then, we're told -by Haymitch's pov- that whatever they did to get that stigma has something to do with weapons and blood, now I just read a theory that says Messsalina and Silius Trinket being rebels in some way got Silius killed by Snow, killed with his favorite method, poison, that's why Silius clothes Haymitch is wearing are stained with blood and Effie almost panics about it, yes, she may not know what killed her uncle but there are always rumors "if half the rumors are true", and if we have in mind that Suzanne Collins craft her characters like no one else, we can say that Messsalina and Silius Trinket are somehow inspired in Empress Valeria Messsalina and Gaius Silius, Messsalina being a woman who cheated on Emperor Claudius with senator Silius, and was taken as betrayal to the Empire.

And I know, I know that a lot of people are more incline towards the cann1balism theory which I do think it makes sense too, BUT, it doesn't seems enough. Why? Because by Snow pov we know that even thought cannibalism was seen really bad by Capitol citizens it wasnt enough to be ostracized for THREE GENERATIONS, we have seen people who had practice it through Snow's eyes but there's is nothing more than ugly feelings, not a desire to kill or ruin them.

I think it can be a mix of both, Messalina and Silius must be Snow age, maybe older, so probably during the Dark Days they sold or traficked weapons OR were the children of the generation that did it, and probably indead commited cannibalism. Rebel sympathizers + cannibalism being enough reasons for Snow to decide to kill Silius when he climbed high enough in power. Also learning that her family has commited cannibalism would actually be something important to Effie's character, why? Because learning that her family had to commit something so horrible to survive would not only shape her personality, a personality that takes manners and being a "well behaved citizen" really serious, it would also lead to believe that as bad that the status quo is, it prevents worse things, Effie having to deal with the stigma of her family would also lead her to be this person who is willing (at some point) to TRY to make blind eyes to oppression, maybe forced or feeling forced to work to bring respect to her family name, since we know this kind of things are really a matter and important in the Capitol it wouldn't be out of place, but also her experience and nurture nature would give her mixed thoughts and an internal war within her, because she knows everyone deserves freedom, deserves safety and a descent life.

Also, don't you find interesting that the Trinket sisters are called Proserpina and Euphemia (probably), one is the Roman name to a mythologic woman who was found eating human flesh and the second the name of a Saint who got executed (probably tortured) by the Emperor for refusing to make human sacrifice. Cannibalism + Rebelion = the reason the Trinkets are ostracized.

What I'm trying to say is that Effie is such an amazing and more complex character that we seen at first and I really hope we get more of it very soon

[forthegothicheroine]

And now, the Connecticut Yankee meets Morgan le Fay- the best villainous version of Morgan ever, hands down. In my lecture on Arthurian Gothic, I argued this is where the book goes into southern gothic. Hank finds his hostess charming and beautiful and has come to the conclusion that she has been slandered as wicked, but then-

Presently a handsome young page, clothed like the rainbow, and as easy and undulatory of movement as a wave, came with something on a golden salver, and, kneeling to present it to her, overdid his graces and lost his balance, and so fell lightly against her knee.  She slipped a dirk into him in as matter-of-course a way as another person would have harpooned a rat! Poor child! he slumped to the floor, twisted his silken limbs in one great straining contortion of pain, and was dead.  Out of the old king was wrung an involuntary “O-h!” of compassion.  The look he got, made him cut it suddenly short and not put any more hyphens in it.  Sir Uwaine, at a sign from his mother, went to the anteroom and called some servants, and meanwhile madame went rippling sweetly along with her talk. I saw that she was a good housekeeper, for while she talked she kept a corner of her eye on the servants to see that they made no balks in handling the body and getting it out; when they came with fresh clean towels, she sent back for the other kind; and when they had finished wiping the floor and were going, she indicated a crimson fleck the size of a tear which their duller eyes had overlooked…. Morgan le Fay rippled along as musically as ever.  Marvelous woman. And what a glance she had:  when it fell in reproof upon those servants, they shrunk and quailed as timid people do when the lightning flashes out of a cloud.

And even when he outright confronts her, she insists that the servant was nothing but her property- and she is going to pay for his funeral, after all.

“Crime!” she exclaimed.  "How thou talkest!  Crime, forsooth! Man, I am going to pay for him!” ...Confound her, her intellect was good, she had brains enough, but her training made her an ass—that is, from a many-centuries-later point of view.  To kill the page was no crime—it was her right; and upon her right she stood, serenely and unconscious of offense. She was a result of generations of training in the unexamined and unassailed belief that the law which permitted her to kill a subject when she chose was a perfectly right and righteous one. Well, we must give even Satan his due.  She deserved a compliment for one thing; and I tried to pay it, but the words stuck in my throat.  She had a right to kill the boy, but she was in no wise obliged to pay for him.  That was law for some other people, but not for her.  She knew quite well that she was doing a large and generous thing to pay for that lad, and that I ought in common fairness to come out with something handsome about it, but I couldn’t—my mouth refused.  I couldn’t help seeing, in my fancy, that poor old grandma with the broken heart, and that fair young creature lying butchered, his little silken pomps and vanities laced with his golden blood.  How could she pay for him!  Whom could she pay?  And so, well knowing that this woman, trained as she had been, deserved praise, even adulation, I was yet not able to utter it, trained as I had been.  The best I could do was to fish up a compliment from outside, so to speak—and the pity of it was, that it was true: “Madame, your people will adore you for this.” Quite true, but I meant to hang her for it some day if I lived.

[creadigol]

Hey y’all! Here’s a little snippet of something that was rattling in my mind. Hope y’all like!

It can be complicated to make sense of family. Hero knew this. Hero had always known this. With how their life was growing up Hero doubted there were many who could understand this concept as well as they did.

But this was just ridiculous.

“The answer is still no,” Hero tried very hard to keep their voice level and calm.

“Seriously? I don’t understand what your problem is!”

The voice over the phone held the tone of one who had already decided they were right and there was no chance of changing.

“It’s not that I have a problem…which I don’t,” Hero ground out. “It’s that I just don’t feel like inviting him.”

“And why not?”

Hero resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of their nose. One, it was a bad habit which showed how frustrated they were; and two, it would loosen their mask. God, couldn’t their sibling have called earlier? Hero really didn’t feel like having this conversation on the roof of a bank at 11pm.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s my call and I don’t want him there. End of story.”

“No, not end of story! This is completely unfair! Why am I always the one trying to hold this family together? You think it’s easy being the responsible one when…”

Hero let the rant commence as they held the phone a few inches from their ear, Sibling gradually getting louder and more hurtful with each word. They looked up at the star bedazzled sky and tried to tune them out until they could jump back in again.

It’s not that Sibling was wrong, it’s just that Hero could only take being called absent and holier than thou so many times. It was the same speech every time a major event happened in Hero’s life. And at the end of every speech, Hero always caved and let Sibling invite the whole family…well not this time.

‘...and out of everyone, you of all people should take the high road on this…”

That did it.

“Me of all people? Why? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Dammit, I’m tired of being the one to take the high road! For once would it kill him to apologize? Or better yet, clean up his fucking act?!”

Sibling was making sputtering noises on the line when another voice joined Hero on the roof.

“Well, I must say I’ve never heard words like this before coming from our fair Hero.”

Hero froze, their sibling yelling into the receiver, and turned.

Villain stood, arms folded, looking incredibly smug.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” Hero said softly. They hung up before Sibling could protest.

Shit, they would hear about that later.

Villain sauntered closer, “Having a little domestic are we? I’ve never seen you that agitated before.”

Hero glared, “Coming to rob the bank?”

Villain chuckled.

“I was, but this is so much more interesting. Come on, what’s happening in the world of the Golden Hero?”

“None of your business,” Hero stood tall. “Now are you breaking the law or not? I have a long patrol tonight.”

“Oh yes, I heard you were taking the long shift tonight. Something about needing time off…wait…that couldn’t be what you were arguing about on the phone was it? Vacation plans gone wrong?”

Hero felt a vein popping in their forehead.

“Why must you alway insist on being a prick? And why do you know my shift schedule?”

Villain shrugged noncommittally, “I have people.”

They walked right into Hero’s space, doing their best to intimidate with their towering stature. Hero refused to move and met their gaze head on.

“You’ve never taken a break before.” Villain stated.

“Never needed to until now,” Hero responded as if Villain had asked a question.

Villain gave them a once over.

“What’s the need?”

God, was Villain always this infuriating?

“Like I said, none of your business. I’m sure you’ll survive a substitute hero for the next few weeks.”

Villain frowned, “Few weeks? That’s a lengthy time.”

Hero rolled their eyes and nodded. They weren’t falling for Villain’s way of fishing for information by not actually asking a question.

“A few weeks and a family member who’s not welcome…if I’m to interpret that phone call correctly. My, my, what do you have planned?” Villain finally took a few paces back to lean on the wall, “Can’t say I’m too thrilled. Other Hero’s are such tight-asses.”

“If you mean that I’m lenient then, yes, they’re not as nice as I am,” Hero smirked.

Villain outright laughed.

“I would describe you as many things Hero, but straight up nice has never been one of them. Seriously, why the vacation? Family reunion or something?”

If Hero’s Sibling had anything to say on the matter it would be.

“Not as such,” Hero relaxed their stance now that Villain was a few paces away. That and it seemed Villain was more in a talking mood tonight. It was rare that they just talked rather than taking on their usual ‘Hero vs Villain’ roles. Rare, but it had happened a handful of times over the course of the last four years. Whether this was professional or not, Hero chose not to think about.

Villain folded their arms in thought, “Birthday? No, yours is in March…A celebration for another medal from the Mayor? No, he’s out of town until next month…” Hero tried hard not to smile as Villain ticked each possibility off their fingers, “Oh I know! You’ve finally graduated high school!”

Now Hero did laugh. It was a running joke with them and Villain’s Henchman that Hero must be younger than they seemed due to their young sound voice. Of course there was no way to tell due to the mask, but Hero estimated they were about the same age as Villain. Something they were sure Villain had put together as well seeing as the Hero Agency didn’t employ anyone under the age of 21.

It didn’t stop the quips though.

“Afraid I did that long ago,” Hero supplied.

“Well then I’m at a loss,” Villain got up and leaned into Hero’s space once more. “Other than medical leave I can’t think of anything else. And I assume you wouldn’t be fighting about invitees if convalescence was your goal.”

“Guess you’ll just have to live with uncertainty,” Hero shrugged and turned to leave the roof. Before they could take a couple of steps a hand was on their arm.

“You really not going to tell?” Villain asked softly. “You seemed upset and not the kind of upset like when you're on the job.”

Hero felt their heart rate increase and their cheeks warm. Why did Villain have to go and ask like that? How could they go from the city’s terror to a caring person with humanity and feelings? Perhaps Hero could tell them…the event was happening down in the Bahamas anyway. Not like Villain could figure it out…

It would be nice to talk to someone not expecting anything from them.

“I have a celebration happening and I don’t want my father to be there…it’s caused rather a ruckus in my family.”

Villain’s hand remained on Hero’s arm. “Well, if it’s your celebration it’s your choice. I don’t see why anyone else should be involved.”

Hero laughed and patted their hand. “And you’ve just summarized the entire argument I’ve been having for the past month.”

Villain released their arm. “I’m smart like that.”

Hero nodded with a warm smile. They turned towards the fire escape.

“Seeing as how you don’t seem to be robbing the bank, I have places to be,” They turned so they were facing Villain while standing on the ladder. “Thanks Villain. I’ll see you in a few weeks if you manage to keep yourself alive.”

“Say that to your replacement hero.” Villain hesitated, “Hero?”

Hero popped their head up from their descent, “Yeah?”

“What is the celebration?”

Hero smiled softly at them.

“I’m getting married,” they whispered.

And then they were gone. Down the fire escape and into the night.

Villain stood stunned, not knowing why the words made their heart freeze and their eyes water.

[canvas-madness-txc]

I hate this image

So let's talk about it!

Point the first: in what world is Romeo canonically 17 years old? Nowhere in Shakespeare's play is there a citation that even hints at him being 17. Capulet calls him a "youth," so he is definitely not an adult. Also, wouldn't it make more sense to the story if Romeo was more around Juliet's age? Let's look at what is explicitly said in the play:

A. Juliet is 13 about to be 14 in give or take 2 weeks

B. She is being married to Paris, who, despite not having a confirmed age, is most definitely an adult.

C. Juliet does not want to marry Paris, which makes sense: he's way older than her, he's never spoken to her, and when he does, it's in a very possessive and creepy way. Romeo doesn't. In fact, he reveres her, which we're getting to.

With all this in mind, wouldn't it make sense for Julieet to fall in love with a boy who is most likely her peer? This brings me to:

Point the second: "Romeo and Juliet is not a love story." Well, it is, and it isn't. It's a story about love, but it's also about hate. The point of the story is that the innocent love of Romeo and Juliet is killed because of a petty feud. The story is not memorable if we do not see the hate kill the children of the families because they loved each other. And they do love each other. Yes, it was fast, but sometimes that happens. Ever meet someone and instantly vibe with them? That's what happens when they meet at the party. Their love is still very real even if it did not last that long, and we have a reason for this: the feud. They had to get married in secret because if they did it in public, their families would literally cause the end of the world. They got married in the first place, so it would be near-impossible for their families to try and stop it because they're now a union in the eyes of God. And they married because they do love each other. "What about Rosaline?" I hear you ask. Well, what about her? Her stake in the plot only lasts for about half an act at best. Plus, she was a nun. Was that really gonna bring out a romance? That is a situation where you are allowed to be upset but you should eventually cut your losses. Also, it's probably better that Romeo moved on from her in favor of Juliet. The boy was a mess in act 1, and Juliet is the person who brings him back to himself ("Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo"- Mercutio). Romeo and Juliet work, they balance each other out: Romeo is himself again with Juliet, and Juliet gets a taste of freedom/control of her life with Romeo. Romeo literally is ready to disregard the ideas of honor and masculinity to make Juliet happy. He does respect her. He does love her. I want you to look at these two lines and tell me that neither of these two are in love

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand / This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: / My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand / To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."- Romeo; I, v

"Thy face is mine and thou has slandered it"- Paris; IV, i

Would you really disregard someone who reveres you and basically says his world revolves around you/ you are a heavenly being that he worships like a pilgrim in favor of the guy who pretty much implies he owns you?? Would you?? Look, I'd hate to pull a Hamlet by pointing between these two lines and start berating people for this, but we do what we must. Romeo's dialogue makes it clear where he stands with Juliet: he adores her. He loves her so much that if he could carve his family name out of his body, he would (Act 3 scene 3). Obviously, you don't need to go all extreme to prove love, but you get the point. He willingly decides to sacrifice what he's been taught for her and she to him. They aren't each other's enemies. Their families are enemies. Romeo refuses to fight Tybalt because he loves Juliet. He is willing to sacrifice his family's idea of hatred because he loves Juliet. He does not act like he owns her or that anything he does if justified. When Juliet questions him about "leaving (him) so unsatisfied," he doesn't double down. OBVIOUSLY Juliet would choose Romeo:

He gave her choice throughout the play, unlike Paris. Juliet was confined in her life, and she only agreed to consider Paris because her parents asked her too. She never wanted him. She was just doing as told. Romeo ASKS to hold her hand. Romeo ASKS for her faithful vows. He doesn't push it towards her. He lets her take the reigns, and she reciprocates. Would this be considered bare minimum, now yes. Then? Juliet is basically being strung along to do as her parents ask, Romeo is different from that. Different to the feud. He doesn't make her do things. He lets her make her own choices. As a partner and equal; she definitely would not get that with Paris. The guy literally says that girls younger than Juliet (13) are already mothers. If that sounds like a yikes, that's cause it is. Shakespeare wants us to understand why Juliet did what she did, there is reasoning in the play.

He is sweet to her, and his "it is the east and Juliet is the sun" can be interpreted as him being so smitten with Juliet that she is the center of his universe. Her happiness is important to him; he goes to great lengths to say this.

He is also most likely in her age group. He's a youth. Even if he IS older, he is probably like 14-15 at best. He's a kid. They're both kids. Most people want partners who are their peers or at least similar to them, and Juliet does not seem to be different.

Finally, point the third: the love of Romeo and Juliet never killed anyone. It was the Montague and Capulet feud that did this:

Tybalt, being raised to hate Montagues, goes on what he was taught to fight Romeo over the dishonor at the party. If there was no feud, the gate crashing would've probably been less of an issue. Lord Capulet did not do anything to stop this behavior and decided to berate his nephew in front of hundreds of people, say some things that are hypocritical based on act 1 scene 1 and low key imply that this is only not OK because it would make HIM look bad. (I could make a whole separate post on Lord Capulet alone, but that is a story for another time) Yeah, that all works as well as you could expect, and Tybalt swears revenge on Romeo because his logic his whole life was Montague=bad, and you don't revert those habits by public humiliation. Romeo is more of a scapegoat to Tybalt after what happens than the actual problem.

Tybalt tries to fight Romeo, and Romeo doesn't engage because he's married to Juliet; he and Tybalt are family now. Romeo tries to reason with him, but it doesn't work. Mercutio, also being raised on the notion of honor and probably thinking Romeo has lost his mind or something, jumps in. The thing is, he's a kinsman to Escalus. He is neither Capulet nor Montague. There is no point in him getting involved but it happens anyway. They fight, and as Romeo is trying to stop them, Tybalt ends up killing Mercutio. If there was no feud, this fight would never have happened.

Tybalt is killed by Romeo as an act of revenge that he would later regret. Even though Romeo did what Montague called "what the law should end," it makes it no less wrong. The cycle of violence is bad, and repeating it doesn't make it better. Also, justifying this removes the nuance of the feud. Neither family is in the right. They are equal houses with equal power. There is no reason to hate each other. But they do and kick off a chain of events that only get worse. You can't make either house more in the right than the other. If Tybalt is a de facto antagonist, that ruins the message that this stupid feud killed 6 people. And it IS very stupid, and it gets stupider from here. No one knows why they're fighting, and now 2 people just got killed for no reason, one being literally royalty.

Lady Montague dies of grief after Romeo's exile. Did she have anything to do with the exile? No. Could the whole situation have been avoided? Yes. Again, there are no winners. People are just losing family and friends left, right, and center. Are the parents in R&J great? No. Is it still tragic to know that a mother lost her son and gave up on life over a conflict that never mattered? Yes.

Paris dies in a fight with Romeo in the Capulet tomb in Act 5. He picks a fight with Romeo because he believes Romeo will desecrate Juliet and Tybalt's corpses. Why? Only because he's a Montague. There's no other justification for what Paris does. All he knows is that Romeo is of the enemy family and jumps to this conclusion. If there was no feud, no one would go to this conclusion, but still Paris jumps on that and gets killed in the process. In the events of the story, the justification adds up with what we know about the Capulets, Montagues, and the people take sides, but that does not give it a point. Paris is also supposed to be neutral. He may be marrying Juliet, but he is not a Capulet, only associated with them. The point of having 2 members of the royal family get killed is a deliberate point: even neutral parties were not safe. The feud controlled literally everything and people died for it.

Finally, our main couple who everyone, blames for this. Romeo dies because he believes Juliet is dead. Before you berate him, I would like to introduce a concept known as "dramatic irony": when the audience knows something that the characters don't (vocabulary.com). The problem in Act 5 is that the letter explaining the plan never reaches Romeo. He hears from someone he trusts that Juliet is dead and believes it. Why wouldn't he? "What about the letter!" Stopped by the plague. "He should've checked!" He did. He snuck back into Verona at the threat of execution to check. And she was buried in a graveyard/ catacombs. If I brought you to a graveyard, pointed at a grave, asked you if the person in it is dead and your answer wasn't a resounding "yes" I would be concerned. Juliet wakes up, finds Romeo dead for real, and kills herself too. She doesn't really have another choice. It's either die with Romeo with the autonomy she has or keep living under the control of her parents. She and Romeo were each other's escape from the feud-ridden life they lived. They loved each other and needed each other, but because of that, they had to die since Verona did not let them keep that love.

If there was no feud, Romeo and Juliet would've been married in peace. No one would've had to keep secrets or carry out elaborate plans to get their means. Unfortunately, the way they lived was incredibly toxic for everyone involved. Kids felt like they had to keep secrets and kill themselves because that was easier than dealing with their parents, and is that not sad. Would it not be upsetting to know that you as a parent were so terrible that your kids chose death over you? Had they not been so hateful, everyone could've been happy. Escalus quite literally spells it out for us:

"See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, / That Heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!" (V, iii)

If there was no HATE, Romeo and Juliet wouldn't have had to die because they were in love. It was never Romeo and Juliet's fault. It was always their parents' fault. It is said in the play time and time again, from the chorus to act 5 it is this bitter hate that ruins everything. That is why the lovers marry in secret. That is what kills 6 people. That is the cause of the tragedy. Romeo and Juliet were victims of the feud and ignoring that basically disregards the whole play.

Bottom line, this photo is inaccurate and dumb.

Sincerely,

Everyone who read the play

[shakespearepicnic]

I Present; Mimi Imfurst vs Everyone by William Shakespeare

Alexis: Troth, my bar in its entirety had no use for my service since the valiant Mimi hath conquered it. By my troth, I do love the lady, as it was, to my knowledge, no fault of thine. However, I do feel quite betrayed.

they pause

Alexis: In my own division, by my own heart, I am truly sorry, but each lady I do see before me, is of fairer face than thou.

Mimi: But pause, but pause, here is…if thy tongue hath a quarrel with thy head which doth possess, in faith, nothing heartier than thoughts of myself, I say do! Let us quarrel in the arena of these secretest of desires which I know you to have many: When a Lord does approach thee, or thee! Or thee! With talk of employment; wouldst thou not be a fool as to refuse him? I swear it, I caught no wind of news that the Lord of the bar had relieved thee of thy employment. And if thou hast a February face for it; do talk with me before such clouds overtake you, lady.

Alexis: Thou-

Mimi: Nay, nay, nay! I hath given over mine ear most graciously: Henceforth, you shall lend me thine for the briefest of moments, in which you will feel hellfire upon it.

Alexis: The fool struts, lady. The fool struts.

Mimi: We do live upon this earth, where man, woman and child, gaze daggers upon us like unskilled jesters in the king's court. Or such lowly creatures which serve only to their pleasure, but sour in the mouths of favour.

Tammie: O! O! I am a player.

Mimi: For what reason, are we gentlewomen, seated in this hour, to fleet and jeer at one another? I’ faith, tis’ vile.

Manila: Vile? Tis’ not vile! We ladies talk freely to one another now, as cousins do to cousins.

Chad: Fie! All you, stop thy mouths!

Mimi: Lowly jests and gossip like humour. I did not come to be whipped.

Manila: And what did you think to happen, trow? Thy mind and body are weary of such repetition!

Tammie: O! Advance Teletubbie! Bring us henceforth to a land redder than earth!

Manila: What means the knave?

Manila aside

Manila: Dost the dog speak in earnest?

Mimi: I did not think to… nay.

Tammie: Switch thy attires Mimi!

(Sung)

Switch thy attires, switch them around!

Chad aside

Chad: I did think the lady Mimi to have taken up new lodgings in a whiter heart. However I hath been much deceived. And do look upon the lady I do know as, the former Mimi.

Mimi: I must speak my mind; Tis’ odd to speak of any matter which did not see thy face, nor the walls of any room you may have here.

Raven: Then you must shield thy ear, Mimi. Because we ladies have spoken such.

A pause

Raven: Thy! The Lady Mimi Imfurst hath surpassed the spaces reserved for the fifth and the fourth? I did not dare trust my true judgement!

Mimi: Mock not my friends, stale!

Raven: Of the crowd I have seen, thou dost not possess so many to call it such. Meaning, of all fifty good and true ladies that hath set foot in this place, how didst thou surpass them?

Yara: Ay! Because the Lord Rupaul is in the need for a premier fool!

Laughter

[mapleleaftag]

here again to the wizards tower 🗼let down your hat wizard…. I must inquire you for your wisdom for this post: https://www.tumblr.com/mapleleaftag/782018518208151552/yest-this-if-u-wish

8, 11, and 31 💥🔥

tumblr refused to save my draft of this SIGHSSS. okay!!! FUAAAHAAHAAA!!! ASK AND THOU SHALT RECIEVETH THE ANSWERS YE SEEK!!! here are the questions asked!!!

What is my favorite line/section from [what I'm interpreting as a sizable handful of my fics]?

What makes a fic 'successful' in my opinion?

What fic meant the most for me to write?

ok LET US BEGIN

What is my favorite section from a sizeable handful of my fics?

i'm interpreting this how the asker did- that is to say, just putting a bunch i like and going from there. so BEHOLD!!!!!! and brace thyself

the history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself(the seawatt isolation fic)-

And the air chills- the wind slows, ceasing any movement, and the lava stills. If this was only for a moment, to give more emphasis to the other's next words, he'd admit, it was an impressive display of authority. So when the other speaks, it matches the tone of their surroundings- contrasting his previously casual, relaxed tone, Evbo suddenly talks with a much more authoritarian voice, firm and cold. "You are a parasite, Seawatt."

mostly it's just evbos one line but i want to put the context that makes it a little imposing yknow? GAH i hate this version of evbo i've made because i characterize him to be much more of an active asshole as opposed to a passive one. canon parkciv!evbo did a lot of active hating but he's not eggsactly "let me tell my former ally and current prisoner that he's an asshole in the worst way" hating.

moving on from your dead best friend tutorial no borax no glue(the seavbo gore fic)-

He looks to the organ, clasped so tightly in someone's hand, and sees the muscle writhe in the dark. It beats, slowing with time, for a few more seconds, before lying still, and it's such a terrifying sight Evbo can only watch in a stilled silence for its duration. He cannot feel it beating anymore, in fact, it now lays still in Seawatt's hand, a sight that only incites further panic in Evbo-- his chest feels hollow now. Why, why only now, is it hollow?

call this narcissism but i feel like i just described this well... shoutout to my partner, who beta read this and reminded me that your heart wouldn't actually just immediately stop beating once pulled out if you ever find yourself in that situation- it would SLOW and then stop beating. and i find that horrifying myself.......GOD did that added detail enhance the scene

anecdotes from the white rabbit(the vaultwatt hijinks fic)-

It's the perfect crime, he can't help but smile at the thought, you can whack your boss and not lose your job. Think about how rare of an opportunity this is!

putting the entire fic here would be cheating. i find my characterization of guardfriend here a little amusing,,,a strong second place would be his first interaction w/ evbo, which is like 2 seconds after this internal dialogue- where he clumsily tries to hide the fact he was seriously debating whacking his boss with his copy of the very hungry caterpillar. i hjate themb 💔

the strange case of seawatt and clownpierce(i can't fucking believe this even came to my mind at all)-

Perhaps the unsightly part of his appearance was the pristine white porcelain mask adorning his face...it looked to be porcelain, for how it reflected the dim flame of the streetlights, and judging by his next few actions and what may be surmised from them I would judge nor assume anything more. Two cross-shaped slits for his eyes, and a long ear-to-ear cartoonish grin were carved on the front. The man looked to me, after holding a short dialogue with the doctor of that victim, and then looked to me, wherein- either as some greeting or other motion, I could not tell- he raises a hand to the grin and traces his fingers along the outline of it as if to accentuate it. To tell you the truth, good sir, the sight did nothing more than to reinforce the shiver crawling down my spine and my further hatred of the man.

IM PROUD OF IT SOLELY BECAUSE ITS MY ATTEMPT TO MIMIC 1800S PROSE AND I FEEL LIKE I DID WELL 💔💔💔 me and the other 50 or so people who spared it a glance........thank you to those people btw this one's a passion project. the things i do for fanfiction....

mama a girl behind you(the one where pvpevbo dies by zam)-

You Axes, always so full of yourselves," he walks past, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "is this what it took for you to learn you don't decide who lives and dies here? No, no, that falls upon me, see. Keep your chin up- I'll do you a favor, save you the embarrassment, and tell Clown you failed. Feel free to play the waiting game, hope and pray for another Chosen One to come along." Tabi knows he's stifling back laughter. "It'd be fun."

zam dialogue is always so fun because it's entirely batshit and can be summarized by "heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a good point". unfortunately where he is in the story means he's either DEAD or allied with that DUMB CLOWN and i hate either option. i miss him and his 5 minutes of screen time 💔💔💔

What makes a fic 'successful' in my opinion?

congratulations on bearing my fic related ramblings. anyways-- usually i consider a fic successful when it gets like 100+ hits. bookmarks, comments, or kudos don't eggsactly matter. if it's what goes into one, i find simple twists on popular ships work fairly well in drawing in readers. innovate later and start with a bare concept that's like "what if x character was y?" this is my reminder to do a roleswap au

What fic meant the most for me to write?

chapter 2 of the seawatt isolation fic. mostly because it was my first real continuation that people WANTED to see, but also because it was my first ever experience asking people to beta read. i mostly just wrote on ao3 for funsies....but then.....twas getting Forreal.

THANK YOU FOR READING TO THE END!!! HAVE A SUFFICIENTLY EVIL DAY

[firecrackerhh]

I sometimes wonder if the reason (if not at least one of many reasons) why antis are so against Hazbin Hotel as a show (besides the obvious anti viv bullshit) is because the very concept of redemption is anathema to them.

They do not believe people can change, and thus the entire premise of hazbin, (and frankly helluva too) is something they literally cannot understand. Refuse to understand at the least.

They don’t care about other people, they do not care if their actions in the name of their own twisted form of justice causes undue suffering, they simply want to be seen as a “good person” without putting in any actual effort to be good.

Sure, it’s easy to find a shitty person online and rake them over the coals for things they’ve said or done years ago. Effortless. But it takes real patience, compassion, perhaps slight firmness but certainly no undue cruelty to convince people they need to change, and even then, that’s a personal journey that others can at most try to influence, but they can’t make people change.

And even if the person they’re bitching about does, it’ll never be good enough.

There’s nothing Viv can do to change these peoples minds, nothing we can do. No matter how many apologies she gives they will never accept it. No matter what we say they will never accept that Viv is not fucking Satan incarnate.

Engaging with these people is a waste of time. Always has been. If Viv is so irredeemable to them, they likely look at us the same way.

I wonder what skeletons people like this must hide, anyone who acts holier than thou about being a “better” person while engaging in reprehensible behavior themselves is a rather irritating form of hypocrisy that boggles my mind.

I am no saint, god knows I’m no fucking saint, but I know what’s right and wrong and antis are wrong every. Single. Time. Any evidence they claim to have of Viv’s awful behavior is either nearly a decade old and thus clearly irrelevant given the people who vouch for her in the present, doctored discord messages (which even if they were real, shows no dates, so we have no idea how old those are to begin with) or the ‘evidence’ is so flimsy that if a lawyer looked at it he would say you’re wasting his time.

I think these people don’t like Viv’s shows because they are morally incompatible with it. They do not believe in redemption. They believe once you’ve fucked up in life, that’s it, no second chances.

I fear what they must think of our current prison population. I fear what they might say.

These people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

They dare to talk shit about the fandom, Viv, anyone else associated with the show, pretending that they’re saying what they’re saying in the name of justice, as if attacking people with their past when they have clearly changed and made apologies is in any way a justifiable thing to do.

They don’t have to like Viv, they really don’t, but calling her irredeemable, calling us irredeemable, is fucking bullshit.

None of us are irredeemable.

The fucking conceit. The fucking gall. The fucking balls on these people.

Everyone has the capacity to make good and bad choices in this life. Yes, many people don’t make the best choices, but that doesn’t mean that they should be stoned to death for the most minor of offenses. For shit that’s long been in the past and apologized for.

I’m not going to say I think very highly of humanity as a whole, I’m a fucking misanthrope through-and-through, but I don’t think we’re incapable of being good, or doing good things, we just…choose not to, a lot of the time.

I also do not deny that there are some crimes so horrible that redemption isn’t even on the table, nowhere near it. But I feel like antis treat every perceived fault of Viv as some most grievous sin that must be met with full penance by…doing what exactly?

Apologize? Again, they won’t accept it.

Donate to charities or causes? She gets shit on for it, say she’s “flaunting her wealth.”

Get off the internet entirely? In an anti’s wet dreams maybe.

Her very existence makes them so mad. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.

These people twist her words in every way imaginable to make her look like some horrible person undeserving of her success, without realizing they make themselves look far worse than her by several measures.

They claim she’s racist and queerphobic, but if anything acting as if BIPOC and queer people shouldn’t ever be shown doing awful things because “bad queer/ BIPOC rep” or whatever I think is just as racist and queerphobic. Minorities are human beings, and as such they are just as capable of being shitty. I already made a post about this before, so I’ll keep this paragraph short.

They claim she’s abusive to her coworkers when it seems the one person bitching about it has no problem putting other past co workers under the bus for their personal gain. Antis claim she’s abusive while engaging in downright emotionally abusive behavior (I know that sounds kinda dramatic but I’m making a point) themselves as they shit on us for the stupidest reason imaginable: liking a cartoon.

They cry about ableism while ignoring their own.

Not that I’m all that offended if I’m honest, it’s just more evidence that antis aren’t any better than the people they bitch about.

I could go on about this for a while but you get the point.

I repeat, these people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

Frankly, as much as it bothers me that they leak patreon shit and whatnot, many fans are actively warning against them, and I think the idea of someone actively choosing to give money to someone they hate just so they have more content to shit on is fucking pathetic and getting upset about it is exactly what they want.

They want you to be just as miserable as they are. They just want to suck all the fun out of this fandom, I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, these people are tar pits, trying to drown us in their muck. It’s pathetic and sad. No use in having sympathy, they don’t deserve any.

It’s funny how antis scream and cry about how awful we are as they ignore their own sins and mistakes, hypocrites.

If anything, their behavior is far more irredeemable than Viv’s has ever been.

I wonder when they will realize that, if they ever do. I can only hope some of them grow the fuck up and realize what the fuck they’ve done. If the ensuing guilt eats them alive, I can’t say I have pity for them.

Wonder how many of us would accept their apologies, if they chose to make one.

Alright it’s almost 7 am I gotta get to bed. Peace.

🔥🧨~Firecracker out~🧨🔥

[oc-challenges]

WELCOME TO THE OC HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE!

Calling all the monsters, it's time for the OC 2023 Halloween Challenge! This challenge has been hauntin' you for five years, and we're wantin' you to participate!

If you're new here, here's what you need to know: This is an event that takes place over the 31 days of October and presents oc creators with Halloween-themed challenges to get the creative juices dancing. It is open to creations for both fanfiction and original ocs, and if you want to participate you don't have to every one or even in order. It is brought to you by @purpleyearning / @aliverse, @elmunson, and includes suggestions by members of our discord! (special thanks to @endless-hoppington for helping with some descs)

Rules

DO NOT copy others edits.

If you are doing crossovers, PLEASE make sure that the creator of the other oc is okay with crossovers.

If you want your post to be reblogged onto this blog, it must contain the hashtag ohc2023.

Feel free to ask questions, I promise I’m more treat than trick.

Everything is up to the creators interpretation, although I have tried to include some examples for help!

Have fun!

RANDOM/THEMELESS (1st–5th) Some of the challenges that don't coincide with each other.

Day One: Life In Plastic

It's fantastic! Is your OC more of a Barbie or a Bratz? Maybe they go to Monster High, or they're an American Girl Doll with an inspiring story? Perhaps you want to make a Funko version of your OC? To put it simply, this day is about dolls as an ode to the best movie of 2023; Barbie.

Day Two: Lights, Camera, Action!

For day two, we're combining oc as canon, oc as celebrity, and oc's social media into one day where you get to choose which of those challenges you would like to do... maybe even all of them!

Day Three: Born In The Wrong Century

Movies depend on a lot of things, but time and place helps create the ominous feel for it. Like Crimson Peak that belongs to the revival gothic period of 1880s or Jason Voorhees waking up on a spaceship in the year of 2455, give your character(s) a new decade to explore and even monsters to face.

Day Four: Twisted

From reality episodes where two people experience switching roles with one another to an alternative reality where their roles are different from their home's universe, make your character experience life through a whole new perspective by making your hero the villain or your villain the hero.

Day Five: Vampires, Werewolves, and Witches... Oh My!

From Godzilla to Dracula to The Mummy, the monster-verse is rich with lore. Today we focus on those monsters that never go out of style, after all they’re called classics for a reason. Is your oc Frankenstein or his monster?

OH, YOU WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER? CAN I BE THE HELPLESS VICTIM? (6th–12th) Due to its popularity last year, we're bringing back the horror character tropes week.

Day Six: The Harmless Antagonist

Ah, a classic in more than just horror; the mean gorgeous holier-than-thou character; more specifics of this are often The Jock, The Cheerleader, The “Slut”, The Bitch, The Rich Kid, etc. While they may annoy the main character or make their everyday life difficult with academic rivalry or teasing, they’re really nothing compared to the new enemy; the thing or person killing everyone. Which one of your ocs is getting brutally knocked down a peg… or the stairs?

Day Seven: The Comedic Relief

Honestly, they make even the scariest movies bearable. They're almost never the main character but almost always the most liked. They say laughter is medicine for the soul, so which of your ocs soothes the characters and the situation with a joke made at the worst of times?

Day Eight: The Denier/Non-Believer/Skeptic

It doesn’t matter the subgenre, there’s always one. They don’t believe a killers out to get them or their friends despite the fast growing pile of bodies, they claim there’s a natural explanation for the supernatural event terrorizing everyone, they just refuse to get with the program. This often combines with the cop or older-than-everyone-else character. Which one of your ocs will get killed by their stubborness before their loyalty?

Day Nine: The Harbinger

We hear about omens of death in every kind of mythology. Irish folklore warns you of hearing the wailing woman and German myth tells you to never find your doppelganger. Even Western Society in America will drift from their path if they see a black cat on the way. So which of your ocs stands outside of the haunted house and tells the redheaded twins “you’re going to die in there”?

Day Ten: The Accomplice

You never saw it coming, but you should’ve. There’s not just one killer you have to worry about, there’s two. This is the person whose been helping the killer since the very beginning, pretending to be your friend the entire time until the plot reached its rising action. You’re heart broken and the very ground shakes under your feet, the good person you once thought you knew is gone… or worse, had never truly existed. Which of your ocs is not only willing to help a friend hide the body, but kill it too?

Day Eleven: The Killer

They’re haunted and bloodthirsty, compelling in a dangerous way. Everyone has a monster within but due to some tragic backstory of abuse, hate, or ridicule, these people – or things– let the monster win. Whether they done a mask or turn your dreams into sentient nightmares, they’re the main reason why anybody shows up to movie night. Which one of your ocs looks into the reflection of the knife in their hand, and pictures themselves chopping up human bodies instead of vegetables?

Day Twelve: The Final Girl

It’s all come down to this, the last stand. There’s two people left, or at least two important people left; the killer and the final girl. She’s fought tooth and nail, and grief has made way for rage. At first she was just another potential victim, now she’s in the killers way and she won’t go down easy. In the beginning she just wanted to survive, but like Laurie Strode now she wants revenge. Which oc becomes the monsters monster?

WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME We're exploring classic horror locations. Throw your ocs into a horror story that take place in these locations, or make up your own story.

Day Thirteen: Have Killer Fun At Summer Camp! (Location: Summer Camp)

It's Friday The Thirteenth... literally. For today, the location is a summer camp like the one Jason Voorhees terrorizes. Counselor, killer, or camper? Whatever role your oc plays, they certainly didn't read this in the brochure.

Day Fourteen: Vacation Nightmares (Location: Hotel/Island/AirBnB, etc.)

An island that magically speeds up your aging, a hotel with corridors that lead to nowhere, a psychotic airbnb host; Today is about horror in locations that are supposed to be a break from the horror of everyday life, but instead introduces you to whole new horrors.

Day Fifteen: Home Is Where The Haunt Is (Location: House or Apartment)

A home can be a place to make memories and some memories leave a scar. Focus on your characters when a place they call home is threatened.

Day Sixteen: She Doesn't Like It In The Barn (Location: Farm/Ranch)

Samara Morgan was forced to stay in the barn's hayloft to keep her burning images out of her adoptive parents minds. Framer Graham Hess had to defend his home and family from aliens that threatened to kill his son. Pearl craved to be a movie star and experienced a psychotic break where she killed those who denied her her dream. What deadly passages does the farm bestow to your characters?

Day Seventeen: Death is a Mystery and Burial is a Secret (Location: Cemetery or Tomb)

Cemeteries and tombs are the places we put our loved ones to rest, but in horror movies we find that final resting places are not so restful after all. Whether it’s ghosts, zombies, psychotic gravekeepers, or grave robbers ensuring no witnesses; how do your ocs go from mourning to trying to survive until morning?

Day Eighteen: What's The Opposite Of Miracles? (Location: Places of Worship)

Places of worship are supposed to be places of good, where people go for guidance and safety, places full of good beings and devoid of sin. But what if the bad beings sneak in or the sinless place is just a hiding place for those full of sin?

Day Nineteen: This Won't Hurt A Bit (Location: Hospital and/or Asylum)

In season two of American Horror Story, we were welcomed to Briarcliff, an asylum that became ‘home’ to the misunderstood and the criminally insane. Much like other hospitals of the past, many attempts of healing were there to disguise the evil hiding in plain sight. How does your character deal when the place that was supposed to heal them becomes the place that harms them?

Day Twenty: The Trees Have Eyes (Location: The Woods/Forest)

Shadows of the trees cast illusions, the cracking of sticks cause hairs on the back of your neck stand. The wind howls which sounds of a voice, and the birds no longer sing. The woods are creepy, desolate, and you find yourself lost in the sea of their trunks. What happens when your ocs are stuck in the woods?

RANDOM OUTLIER

Day Twenty-One: I Want To Play A Game

Some of the most recent hits in horror history have been not movies, books, or shows, but video games. From Dead By Daylight to Until Dawn, horror fans have been able to experience immersion at a whole new level by trying to make all the right choices as a character. Now, it's time to put your oc into a horror game AU. Will they live, or will they die? Only their stats and choices will tell.

STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED (22nd–27th) Character tropes are fun and all, but for the next six days we're focusing on genre tropes.

Day Twenty-Two: Solitude Causes More Wounds Than It Was Meant To Heal (Trope: Isolation)

Fear is increased when one is alone by themselves, or cut off from civilization like an reclusive island. Focus on your characters in the horror of isolation; are they forced to recognize who they truly are on the inside? Do they practice the law of nature or nurture? Do they keep their morals or own laws?

Day Twenty-Three: The Apocalypse Is The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me (Trope: Apocalyptic)

Just as everything must begin, it also must end. This, unfortunately, includes humanity. What will happen when the world as your oc knows it ends, when that world goes from millions of people to tens or perhaps even one? Will they be forced to adapt, doomed to die, or perhaps even thrive?

Day Twenty-Four: You've Killed Me Before (Trope: Time Loop)

The best thing about the sun setting is that it will come up again in the morning, and a new day will begin. But what if the sun comes up and an old day begins? Whether your oc must solve their own murder, solve somebody else’s murder, or face difficult truths about those around them, it’s time to put them into a time loop.

Day Twenty-Five: Better You Die Than I (Trope: Doppleganger)

In real life, seeing your “doppleganger” is said to be an omen of misfortune or good luck. In horror movies, dopplegangers usually take a more direct approach in ruining the lives of their lookalike. Whether they’re an omen of bad things to come or trying to steal ones life, give your oc a doppleganger and explore the horrors of a stranger that shares your face.

Day Twenty-Six: No Wonder Everyone Keeps Invading You (Trope: Extraterrestrial)

Whether your oc was a believer before or not, life from another planet has arrived to Earth on this day. These so-called aliens come in all shapes, sizes, and colors; They can even come in a human disguise, as a deadly plant, as a machine, or even as little green men. No matter where they came from or what they look like, humanity is not ready for them. Whether we try to hurt them or they try to hurt us, how does your oc deal with extraterrestrial life on Earth and the problems this arrival presents?

Day Twenty-Seven: All Politics Is A Personality Cult Now (Trope: Cult)

What simply starts as a simple dinner meal, a visit to a secluded area where people celebrate, or deciding to reunite with the estranged side of your family, can easily be your steps toward a cult. Have your characters fight to stay alive against those who have welcomed them with sinister intent.

COSTUMES TELL A STORY

Day Twenty-Eight: Let's Be Weird Together

We all know of an iconic squad that so many people are just dying to be a part of. Well, it’s your ocs and their friends chance! Day 28 is group costumes!

Day Twenty-Nine: That Could Be Us

Love isn’t in the air but maybe it’s in the fabric of costumes! It’s time for couples costumes!

Day Thirty: I Can Be Anybody I Wanna Be

If your oc could be anybody, who would they wanna be? Well, for one night only, they can be! It's time for your oc to dress up!

TRICK OR TREAT!

Day Thirty-One: I'm Just Here For The Boos

Halloween is a time for tricks and treats, for ghost to walk among the living and us to disguise ourselves. But it can be killer, and the transference of evil can be achieved. Give your shape to another, gift them and you shall receive in turn. Ocpotluck awaits.

[thomastanker02]

God’s wrath is very real, and it will be experienced by those who reject him.

God’s wrath is not what the world makes it out to be. In order to understand it, we must understand the character of God.

God is good, he is where all goodness and excellence comes from. Everything that is morally good and upstanding comes from and imitates him. God is loving, kind, merciful, graceful, gentle, patient, and long suffering towards us. He doesn’t wish for anyone to parish, but for all to come to repentance.

But in order for God to be good, he must also hate what is evil.

Goodness, but its very nature, cannot coexist with what is evil. If it does, it would cease being good. A seemingly good father will not stand by with watching his daughter get bullied, or his son lie to his wife.

In order for God to be good, he must punish what is evil. God’s wrath is his punishment for all of the evil of this world, and all of its corruption.

But God doesn’t wish for anyone to experience his wrath.

Psalm 86:5 states, “For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee”.

Matthew also writes in Matthew 18:14, “Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish”.

John explains further in John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life”.

Claiming that God wants to watch us burn in fiery torment could not be further from the truth. Why then would send his Son, his most beloved treasure, to the cross on our behalf?

The gift of Jesus Christ, and the grace he secured for us through his sacrifice and resurrection is the gateway for us into eternal life. Like with any gift, we can only do one thing with it, receive it.

Any polite person when being given a gift will receive it. Imagine if you gave a gift to your friend that was from the bottom of your heart, and they refused to accept it, and then spit in your face?

God’s grace and salvation through Jesus is a gift from God, not just from the bottom of his heart, but the gift is his heart. And like when receiving any other gift, he wishes for us to accept it.

But God is not forceful with us. He doesn’t force us to do his will, because he wouldn’t be good if he did. God wishes to be chosen by us, just like how you wish to be loved by your husband/wife (that is, if you’re married).

But God also is respectful of our choices. If we choose to reject him, he will respect that, even if it’ll break his heart.

If we reject the one who is good, then we side with what is evil, the world. As a result, we will be subject to God’s holy wrath. We have chosen what is evil, so we will experience God’s holy punishment on what is evil.

If we choose the side of the villain, we will lose when the hero prospers.

So God leaves the choice to us, him or the world, goodness or evil.

But be warned, his wrath is very real, and it will be experiences by those who reject God, who reject what is good. Evil must be punished, and God will respect our choices, but the choice is ours.

God bless, Jesus loves you ✝️❤️

[faiseuse-d-histoires]

Well, you saying you dont know the answer of what should happened to Pen tells me more than anything. What she did it wasnt that badN it wasnt that important. Really, marina like went really well, eloise have the pretty never bad bridgertons and all the money and beauty and the protection of her brother ( unlike Colin Who is hate by him) . Are you telling you are naking that problem for a silly beast comment?? Im sure you had call poor fst girl worst in school and here you are. You just hate her for the sake of it. Thats the truth, if your dislike was genuine for her actions you would knlw the answer. Just what i thought. Another buller. And please dont lie, you didnt like Pen from books either. For Kate and Anthony you base their personalities with the ones in the books ( she is nit a family person in the show) but for Pen you dont think of that cute girls in the book and críticamente the writer like you did with KA, you blame Pen, the wallflower

Just because the consequences are any less dire because others persons intervened doesn't erase that what show Penelope wrote was actually ruinous and malicious and could have been disastrous. It's actually quite sad that in need to defend her, you have to dismiss others' suffering, and banalize what she writes, what she makes money of.

One laughable thing is that you don't actually seem to have grasped that I was being sarcastic while saying "oh, I don't know". Had you read the entire post, you would have had your answer. What should happen to her? Well, show Penelope should learn that her words have consequences, can hurt people, ostracize them, ruin them. She should learn that she could have made Marina ostracized by her words, prompting the girl to dangerous options, just because she did not want her crush to marry her, and that it is not ok (and it even backfired on her, because by association, there was that disgrace on her family that prompted Eloise to seek LW to do something about it). She should learn that calling someone a beast, especially a WOC, certainly for comic relief, or even insulting anyone like that is not ok. That antagonizing the queen was never a good idea in the first place. She should learn that she cannot criticize one for not doing something when she actually made sure that person was stopped from actually doing anything about it, else it is very hypocritical. That by unravelling everyone's dirty laundry and even twisting things at her convenience, of course it can have dire consequences and she is responsible for it.

This season had people dismissing the consequences of her actions and praising her. That should not be the case. It is at least realistic to think at least some will just give her hell for it, and some families refuse to invite her.

That doesn't mean she can't make amends. That she deserves to be unloved and alone for the rest of her life, or to be bullied. Just that she should aspire to be a better person (she certainly could have the power to inspire more reflection about social classes, the status of women, etc), and not one that thrives on others'misery while still maintaining a holier-than-thou attitude. I certainly cannot root for that last kind of person.

You keep bringing up the body, the wallflower parts. You keep patting yourself in the shoulder, telling yourself you are right. At this point, it seems you are making your own story and do not read at all what I actually said. I can see clearly you need to vent and have your enemy (any unresolved issues, perhaps), and anyone would do, and perhaps it must feel very satisfying to throw hateful words while being anonymous, for you do so on and on (I will certainly not read the others that are rotting in my inbox, and that will find their place in the bin). It is still very much a coward and a bully's move.