#they have literally kept me alive before and you expect me to treat them like they're

[cc1010fox]

Rex: That number is your kill count? Fox: Roughly. Cody: I wasn't...expecting that to be honest... Wolffe: He's lying. Look, he wrote a number above it first, then crossed it out. That's the truth. Fox: No, that's the literal kill count. Cody: ... Rex: ... Wolffe: ... Fox: They were alive before we crossed paths. Rex: Oh...Most of our kills are-- Cody: Droids... Wolffe: I don't--How!? Fox: ...Why do you think I have so many awards? Wolffe: You...work hard? Fox: Doing what? Wolffe: Whatever the chancellor tells you to do. Fox: ... Cody: You protect the Senate. Fox: Coruscant. Rex: What? Fox: My duties extend beyond the Senate. I protect Coruscant. Wolffe: Ok, you protect Coruscant. Fox: ...From? Wolffe: Seppies? Fox: That's...part of it. Rex: ... Cody: ... Fox, popping his tongue against the roof of his mouth: Let me lay it out for you three. Fox: While you're out there sniping heads off of comedic relief training dummies, I have to deal with living, breathing, thinking beings. The living and breathing should make them easier to take down, but the thinking makes them unpredictable. I have to account for their individual beliefs, their morals...their sense of honor...all of which throw logic out of the window. It's not easy to land a droid army on Coruscant, so I don't get the pleasure of predictability too often. Rex: ... Fox: Instead, I have to deal with the citizens of this planet, too many of which don't want us here. They shout at us, abuse us, and have even started a market for us. You know...the skin and organ market. Yes and no. Yes, they have actually harvested our skin. No, I don't mean literal skin when I say skin market. Think collars and chains. How many times have you stood between a threat and the people you're duty bound to protect knowing at least one of those people have spat on your men, attacked them, used them like toys, or captured and sold them? My only comfort is knowing I can turn on them the second they're labeled a traitor to the Republic. And I can pick the worst of them off when there are no witnesses. Cody: ...That's-- Fox: On top of that, I have encountered creatures of nightmares because they just dwell in the bowels of this rotting planet or some pieces of garbage brought them here to sell. If you thought I was protected against watching my men get eaten by a wampa, you are sorely mistaken. Although it was the nexu that kept me up at night. For weeks. Who buys those things? Seriously...At least I put some of them down, but who knows how many they sold? Wolffe: ... Fox: The worst creatures are the ones I can't add to my kill count, though. The absolute worst is Chancellor Palpatine. He doesn't know what my job is and assigns me to literally every job in the Coruscant Guard. I have to do it personally. I'm the boss of the people who are supposed to do those jobs. He is the sole reason I will only sleep when I am dead. Fox: The second worst is 99% of the senators. Entitled, egotistical pricks. I would rather be distributed to desperate families looking for organs than catch the eye of any senator. Thire has to remember which ones show a little too much interest in the clones because we are at their mercy. He can't allow a shiny anywhere near them. If a Coruscanti attacks a clone, it's considered damaging government property, making them a criminal. If a senator attacks a clone, it's considered You better do what is best for the Republic and shut your kriffing mouth. Because treating a clone like a complimentary gift isn't betraying the Republic. Risking one of the Republic's delicate alliances is. Cody: Force, Fox... Fox: I deal with all of that while maintaining an impressive record of mission successes. That is why I have so many awards. Wolffe: ...You have awards, but do you want a hug? Fox: Desperately. All day. Every day.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

keep talking — könig

got into cod because someone told me he was 6’9 and so i told them i wanna 69

tags: light angst, bros injured, smut, dubcon kinda, phone sex except its a walkie talkie. rushed ending lowkey, ambiguous relationship. ambiguous ending ooo. light blackmail, soldier!reader, y/n is watching better call saul (dont @ me), povs might be weird idk

⚠️

“König, how copy?”

Nothing. Literal radio silence.

“König, I’m talking to you. How copy?”

“I’m here.” He grunted after a long period of silence. “Bad copy.”

“I say again. Did you get caught in the crossfire?” 

The battlefield surrounding König had bullet shells everywhere, he laid carefully in the ground, trying to hide his large body from any further incoming fire.

“I did.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“What are your injuries?”

“I’m fine.” He growled.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. Too much dust.”

“König, are you in a safe place? I’m gonna need you to stay there until it’s safe enough for someone to get you.” 

“Affirmative.” He panted. 

“I need you to say something, König.”

“Minimal damage, only flesh wounds. A few hits in the right leg.” He grunted in frustration. “I got my vest, I’m fine.”

He laid in the ditch, looking around the empty battlefield, only being able to make out clouds of smoke and dust as gunfire continued from the distance, the fight being gradually dragged away from him. He winced as the blood kept pouring out of his thigh.

He dug his fingers into one of the bullet holes in the pants, using it as a weak point to rip the fabric. His hands were too dirty to try and tend the wound himself, so he turned the leg of his pants into makeshift shorts; pulling the fabric down his leg and using the length of it to make a tourniquet for the wound.

“Come in, König.”

“Scheiße.. What?” He barked into the receiver. “I’m not dying, fräulein.”

There was a silence as he tried to shuffle his large body into the ditch, giving his leg room while trying to stay undetected. 

“We can’t risk that.” I finally said from the other end.

“Then talk to me. I’m not dying. Don’t treat me like it.” He spoke sternly.

“What do you expect me to talk about?”

“Anything. Just don’t mention that I’m bleeding out.”

“The mission—”

“Not the mission.” He snapped again. “Your day or something.”

“Sorry, um..” I paused, lost on conversation.

There was a moment of silence and he groaned at the hesitance before the receiver burst to life again. He felt a pang of guilt as he palmed himself through his cargo pants. He’d been shot at enough times to learn that the fastest way to get rid of pain is to replace it with something better, and in situations where first aid was out of the question for the foreseeable future, this was all he had unless he decided to just put up with it.

“Okay.” I started. “I started watching a lawyer show. It’s really good.” I started rambling slightly about the show until I ran out of information that König would care for.

I tried to jump from topic to topic seamlessly but a one-sided conversation wasn’t easy to keep going.

“I don’t really have a lot of spare time, so I’m running out of things to talk about.” I commented, noticing a lack of response. “König?”

“I’m alive.” He spoke through shaking breaths.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm..” He nodded, despite me being unable to see him.

“I say again. Are you okay?”

“Gut. Ich bin prima.” He spoke. “Tut höllisch weh.” While I couldn’t make out what he was saying, his sarcasm and frustration was detectable from a mile away.

“English, König.”

“Hurts like hell.” He groaned out.

All of his actions could be explained one way or another, his ambiguous silence, his heavy breathing and grunting. From one end it seemed like a man in pain. On the other end of things, he had his head thrown back in the dirt, stroking himself slowly as the words filled his ears.

His breathing was ragged, hissing and panting as he tried to distract himself. He would manage to build his composure when he needed to talk through the comms, but besides that, he was a mess. Whining and grunting as he tried to focus on the sweet voice on the receiver instead of the stinging metal that was sinking into his skin.

He desperately jerked himself off, stroking his dick tenderly. “Keep talking.” He groaned. “Bitte, I’m bleeding everywhere. Hurts.”

“König..?” I began to feel suspicious at his pleas, it was so unlike him to be like this, he’d been shot before without acting this strange, he was swaying between aggressive and gentleness. “Are you..?”

“No.” He answered quickly, to the point where it raised more suspicion. He cringed at his own reaction, realising he sold himself out, and admitting it with his chest bare.

“König.” I said more sternly.

“Ich musste es tun, es tut so weh und deine stimme fühlt sich so gut an.” He groaned, using the wrong head to think, barely comprehensive as he rambled in a language I couldn’t even speak.

I took a deep inhale, his ramblings proving my point. “Say again in english please.”

“Yes.” He managed to get out.

“Yes, you’re jerking off?”

“Musste, kleine.” He panted, and while I still couldn’t make out his words, I understood that he was admitting to it, and by the sounds eliciting from his throat, it was clear that he wasn’t stopping. “Zu sagen dass es mir leid tut wäre eine lüge.”

“König.”

“Please.” He finally spoke out in english. “Please, keep talking.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“Anything.” He groaned, and there was a moment of silence as we both sat in thought. His harsh demeanour melted quickly, he had no right of way to be a snappy colonel here as the need consumed him wholly.

“Do you expect me to talk dirty to you? Tell you that I bet you’re so hard and aching? That you’re probably leaking everywhere?”

“Scheiße, ja.” He nodded to the blankness of the battlefield, knowing that I couldn’t see his enthusiasm but wanting to express it anyway.

“And that’s all for me?”

“Ja, ja.” He panted out with need. “Need you.. Please?”

I sigh into the receiver and his breath catches in his throat, he gently massages his tip, enough to keep him going but not enough to build any pleasure. Guilt slowly began to consume him but he refused to let that be the other option. He didn’t want to sit in the dirt, bleeding out and crying out in pain instead of ecstasy.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What.. Do you want to say?” He responded carefully, keeping himself calm enough for this conversation to go smoothly. “Please, I’m.. Uh, werde abspritzen.. Orgasm.” He struggled out, his mind going blank.

“You have a lot of explaining to do later.”

“I know.” He groaned. “Tell me.”

I sucked my teeth. “I don’t know what to say to you, König. You want me to tell you how I want you buried deep in me?”

He let out a moan. “That.” He gritted.

“You’re fantasising about how good my pussy feels, right?”

“Ja, gute muschi.” He moaned, and soft slapping sounds began to be audible through the radio. I felt glad that no one else could listen into this line. He muttered incoherencies in English and German, it was hard to keep track of what he was trying to say.

The shame kept threatening to lay heavy on his conscience, though he managed to push it away every time it tried, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come back later.

“You sound close.”

“Am.” He swallowed thickly. “So sexy. So beautiful.”

“Mhm? Want me to say something about how I fuck myself in my quarters? Gotta keep myself quiet so the others don’t hear me through the shitty paper-thin walls?” I started. “Or how I’m tight because I haven’t got a boyfriend? My Colonel doesn't give me enough time off, y’know?”

The passive aggressiveness was something he made a mental note of, something to save for later to make up for his actions. Right now, he was focused on the orgasm threatening to rip through his body. 

“Mhm, like that.” He whined, covering his mouth and his sounds becoming more muffled. “Scheiße—” The embarrassment in his voice lingered in the line for longer than his words did but it didn’t dissuade him. “Can explain this.. Later. Ah, please, right there.” He managed to curse out.

He panted and groaned, a mix of ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ filled the air, surrounded by something or other in german. It was hard to tell what was happening through the walkie talkie, though before I could respond, his dick twitched in his hand, spilling cum from the tip, leaking over his hand and down onto his pants.

He threw his head back into the dirt, trying to regain himself, his afterglow of bliss successfully distracting him, but not enough to not worry about the growing guilt. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

“So.. You can explain why you were out of position or why you were jacking off?”

“Both.” He breathed. “I can do both. I’m sorry.”

“Evac van is on its way, it might take a bit to find you.” I tried to bite back a smile. “You should clean up.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “Thanks, uh.. I’m..”

He sighed, knowing better than to keep apologising, mindlessly wiping his hand on his pants, not caring too much of the stain and trying to reorganise himself. He crawled around the ditch, trying to make his position more obvious to the humvee, he could vaguely see it in the distance.

“Tell me you’re not mad, right?” He spoke through the radio, trying to walk towards a more visible vantage point where the enemy wouldn’t see him if there were any lingerers despite the fact that the fight was most certainly further down the open field at this point.

I laughed through the radio, and the cackle of life it brought to the abandoned field was uneasy as he slowly tried to move towards the van.

“No, not mad, but I definitely plan to use this against you in the near future.” 

[buccini555]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭.𝟑

♡ What would it be like to have a secret relationship with one of the city's most dangerous gangsters? (NSFW Imagine)

♡ H e a d c a n o n s/I m a g i n e s .ᐟ .ᐟ

♡ 𝑭𝒕.Kakucho Hitto

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨 . 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨 . 𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨 ♡ . 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 . 𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 . 𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 . 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

tw: only submission mention, almost none, he's a sweetheart.

𝗞𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗼 𝗛𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗼: For a long time, he kept a small spark of passion alive in his heart for you as soon as he caught a glimpse of you in a place you frequented in common, you ended up talking and becoming good friends, until Kakucho he finally got the courage and ended up declaring himself after meeting you again some time later.

Initially, Kakucho intended to assume this relationship to anyone who wanted to know, however, after thinking about the risks he could expose you to, he just preferred to keep your relationship confidential, even with this clear fact, Kakucho never treated you differently , he remained completely passionate and romantic, being extremely gentlemanly and loyal.

You end up meeting literally anywhere, but Kakucho prioritizes taking you to high-end and more reserved places, whether hotels, restaurants or even his own home, he usually makes some surprises for you when you are at his house, such as welcoming you with roses or crystal necklaces, he does everything to please you and is completely submissive, even though he is a member of one of the city's criminal organizations, his heart melts for you.

Kakucho also has his bad days, but he would never hurt you in any way, when he's like this, the taller one just becomes a little colder and quieter, another fact is that Kakucho would never be aggressive towards you, nor would he even raise his tone of voice, he cannot deny being jealous, however, he keeps them under control and is extremely respectful of your preferences and privacy.

That same day, two weeks had already passed before your eyes since he last met Kakucho, he would return to see her that night after finishing all the work he had, to eagerly await it, so, you took a shower and dressed in your best clothes, the expectation increased as night fell and intensified even more when you heard a knock on the door, immediately, you wasted no time and went to welcome him, quickly getting up from the sofa in your living room and opening the door with your heart throbbing with anxiety and joy at seeing him again.

"I'm back, my princess-" Before he had the chance to finish speaking, you jumped into his lap, hugging him in silence while even though he was surprised, he held you so intensely when you held him in the hug. "My girl... I missed you so much." Entering through the door and placing you under the sofa, he said, approaching you and making your eyes meet before kissing you.

That definitely wasn't like any kiss, it was different, intense and passionate, the rhythm increased with each movement of your tongues that did the work, even if the air ran out in a few brief moments, you couldn't stop, you needed it. "Promise you'll never be away from me again, Kaku?" Holding the brunette's face, you say in a low tone. "I promise." Looking directly at you while caressing your face, he responds and then gives you a few kisses, laying you down on the sofa and getting on top of your body, his hands roam your body, at first, the caresses are just like innocent touches, then, if they became hotter as the weather heated up, Kakucho caressed your breasts while holding one of his hands on your thigh, making you shiver with each touch and squeeze, you knew you hadn't felt each other for a long time, he really needed you right there.

"K-kakucho..." Amidst sighs, you pronounce the name of the taller one, who immediately turns all his attention to listening to you. "What happened, doll face? Want me to stop?" Kakucho questioned immediately. "I want more." In a few words and with a smirk, you said, looking away with flushed cheeks, so Kakucho immediately complied with your order and without thinking twice he kissed you again, this time, with even more desire to give you pleasure, while kissed you, he raised the hem of your dress, soon, it didn't take long for you to be completely naked in front of him, he looked you up and down making you realize his excitement when he took your hand to his member over his pants that were with the zipper open, you subtly lowered the black boxer shorts he was wearing, leaving his member visible, the pre-cum down your hand, holding it carefully, you began to make light movements up and down with your hand, making him let out a few moans at the same time as he attentively gave you watched him masturbate.

"Fuck... I-I need you, baby, right now." Looking at you with a needy look, he spoke, trying to contain his excitement, Kakucho made you come on top of his lap, being careful as he slowly placed his member in you until you felt it completely inside you. "I want to be yours again." You said, feeling his member pulsate along with your intimacy. "You're mine, you're only mine." Holding your waist, he forced your hips into his while helping you move up and down.

The rhythm increased more and more, keeping you both close to the peak, your bodies werem sweaty and reaching the limit. "I-I, I've missed fucking you, you're so...tight, damn." Putting even more pressure on your waist and hips, he looked at you as if begging for more, worried about you, he made you lie down for fear of tiring you out. "D-don't stop, K-kaku, please." Controlling his breath, you made his request while he penetrated you again. "Yes, baby. I won't stop until you cum on my cock." Going even faster than before, he uttered amidst already tired breathing. "Argh! P-please fuck me, fuck me, p-please!" Hearing you beg for him only made him more excited, he couldn't contain himself anymore so he just went even faster. "I-I'm almost... Y-yeah, that fucking tight pussy drives me crazy..." He said. "P-please, baby, fuck me, I-I need more..." To tease him even more, you continued to ask for more, so it didn't take long for you to reach the peak together. “Do you want, do you want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, hmm, baby girl?” He questioned. "P-please just... K-keep fucking me." As soon as he heard your answer, he could no longer control himself and did so, Afterwards, he removed his dick from inside her pussy, which was dripping with his cum.

After quenching your longing, Kakucho lovingly helped you shower and get dressed again, this time with comfortable nightwear, leaving you to rest next to him in your bed.

[siriuslysatorusimping]

but imagine if yuzuki and gojo met what would that be like 😭 i just have a scene in my head where yuzuki is interrogating and teasing them and maybe she’ll pull gojo to the side and threaten and say “take care of her” 😭

Oh, let me tell you that Yuzuki would have adored Gojo.

I AM A WORDY BITCH WHO RANTS SO THE REST IS BELOW THE CUT 😬🙃😭

You can read Another Level on AO3 💕

She'd have taken one look at him and immediately zeroed in on how smitten the boy already was, even early on. She would have seen the similarities in him and Naobito, as well. But, she'd have seen that Gojo was more open in his intentions. More straightforward. Remember, he set the expectations with Rinko right away. Naobito let Yuzuki think he was single and in love with her (he was a lil in love with her). And didn't tell her he was married until he tried to convince her not to have Rinko.

He would have loved her, too. Because she was literally the reason for all of the good in Rinko. All of the things that Rinko has pointed out to him over the years, the conversations that they had in Interrupted Evening and Silence Louder Than Words were because Rinko had Yuzuki as a mother. So Gojo would have absolutely adored her.

BUT, Yuzuki also would have, in that one look, seen all of the pain and trauma he carried. And she would have looked him dead in the eye and ordered him not to let that affect how he treated her daughter. Hmmmm, maybe I could do a "What If" of that?? 🤔🤔🤔🤔

Rinko purposefully kept as much as she could about Gojo from her mother, because she knew that the perceptive woman would see the potential in Gojo and would likely push for something Rinko never believed to be possible. And, sadly, if Yuzuki were still alive - like I've said before - there wouldn't have been room in Rinko's life for Gojo to become so important.

Maybe that could be a lil blurb I write??

You guys wanna know if Gojo has ever been to Yuzuki's grave since that first time back in New Memories?? (he has, once, and it was without Rinko) Maybe that could be a lil blurb?? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

[faithlesbian]

trans angel thesis post

so me and @titsgirlbuffy​ on our joint watch noticed this line (in my header image!) from btvs s1e7 and immediately thought hehehe well he said he’s not a man, that means He’s Trans. partly due to the existing bank of star trek characters who clearly meant they werent human but just happened to phrase it a certain way -- its great fun to just take these lines out of context and run with them

[ID: angel in a darkly lit scene saying “I can walk like a man, but I’m not one.”]

the thing is tho the further we got the more trans angel material we kept finding. like we weren’t even looking it was just There. so it went from basically a joke to the actual lens through which we’re now watching ats so. here’s the trans angel thesis post i guess!

so obviously this line was intended to mean hes a demon. its from the episode where we first find out hes a vampire, so the writers are clearly using “not a man” to mean “not a human being” as mentioned before. but then there’s the flashbacks in ats s1e15 to when he was alive and definitely human which...

[ID: three screenshots of angel and his father in 1700s dress. his father says “It’s a son I wished for! A man! Instead, God gave me you.” while Angel looks hurt]

i remember another post (which i will try and find and link to) saying that darla was trapped by societal confines of womanhood and she was drawn to angel bc he was being crushed by societal expectations of masculinity -- “being a man” was something he resoundingly failed at in life. crucially also his birth name, Liam, is left off his headstone and no one ever calls him it again. in contrast to spike for example, who still responds to William, Angel seems to consider Liam to effectively be his deadname (which is funny yk given he only used it when he was alive), and both of his chosen names, Angelus and Angel, are much less masculine.

spike regularly refers to himself as a man, he also sometimes acknowledges that he’s not technically a man meaning not human, but for him this is paired with wishing he could be a man (”i know that i’m a monster, but you treat me like a man” btvs s5e22, “to be a kind of man...” s7e22). in every sense masculinity isn’t something that seems to cause him any kind of distress to be associated with, and while he still has a fascinating relationship to gender i think you’d be hard pushed to say he doesn’t identify as male (tho i’d love to hear any takes on that!!).

on the other hand, here we have one of the few times angel willingly refers to himself as a man in btvs s3e10

[ID: two screenshots of angel, crying and facing buffy, saying “It’s not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy. It’s the man.”]

if there is a part of himself that he sees as a man, its something he associates with guilt, failure and weakness. obviously there’s other layers to this scene but i do think the word choice is interesting!!

and then theres what i consider one of the seminal trans angel episodes, ats s2e6. first of all he admits that he changes his appearance based on how he wants other people to see him, that he’s worried about what they think. the character he’s talking to in these scenes tells him since he doesn’t have an actual reflection, his outward appearance only matters when considering the people around him, and that there’s two versions of him -- “the image you’ve worked so hard to create, and the real you.”

[ID: Angel, looking concerned and saying “Maybe my persona is a little affected”]

his outward - masculine - presentation is something he maintains for the sake of what others think of him, it’s not an authentic expression of who he is (see this post by @buffyology​ on how he literally seems to get his whole wardrobe directly from mens fashion magazines). also in this episode, he refers to the aspects of himself that he’s repressing as “it” -- dehumanising but also degendering the things he doesn’t want to come to the surface

[ID: four screenshots of dialogue between angel and another character out of frame. he asks angel “it?” to which angel responds “the demon.” the other character then says “ah. But the demon is you.” angel says “no”, the other character responds “yes. That’s the thing you’ve spent so much energy trying to conceal.”]

he explicitly labels the things about himself he’s afraid of other people seeing with a genderless pronoun, lumping in the demonic aspects of himself alongside the other things being hidden by his artificial masculine outward presentation. he hates himself for being a vampire, and for having done awful things in the past, but also for failing to live up to the expectations of masculinity that he’s still hollowly trying to perform now as he was when he was alive.

masculinity is tied to humanity which is tied to morality -- he ascribes the bad parts of himself to “the demon” which is also genderless, he equates his failure to be a good person with his failure to be a man. in ats s1e15 his father tells him he’s neither a son nor a man, and later on in the same episode darla tells a freshly turned angelus that he’ll never be able to get his father’s approval and that his defeat will last lifetimes -- he’s still trying to prove himself a man and he’s never going to succeed. in ats s2e5 we get this exchange as darla burns angel with a cross

 [ID: three screenshots of a standoff between angel and darla, in the first two he holds her by the throat while she burns him with a crucifix. she says “See? No matter how good a boy you are... God doesn’t want you.” In the third screenshot she stands apart and says “But I still do.”]

Darla's word choice in this scene also links masculinity to morality and humanity - essentially saying he will never be a good enough person nor perform masculinity convincingly enough to be accepted by anyone but her, because he's a vampire and he can't change this fact of who his is.

but it’s not a moral failing not to want to be a man, and as much as angel tries to hide and repress it it’s still going to come through because it’s just who he is. while trying his best to Look like a man, he’s still finding ways to assert his identity through his choice of name and aversion to gendered language

[ID: two screenshots cropped to just show subtitles - “More than you might think, Mr. Angel.” “Just Angel”]

[ID: two screenshots cropped to just show subtitles - “Yeah, I’m gonna  have to go with Dead Boy on this one.” “Could you not call me that?”] And  then there’s this scene where he’s talking about the differences  between him and Cordelia and like, i get the joke but also. come on. he  cannot commit to calling himself a man without chickening out

[ID: two screenshots dodgily cropped and stitched together to just show subtitles - “Human. Vampire. Woman. Man... pire.”]  admittedly most of these lines have fairly obvious intended meanings and me and @titsgirlbuffy  were likely picking up on the subtext mostly because we were watching  both shows through this lens. it could be argued as a niche reading - up  until ats s3e6 that is, in which there’s a guy called Billy who can  curse men to become fucked up and evil, who tries to curse Angel, only  for him to be immune. A curse. That only affects men. to which he is,  randomly, immune.

[ID: four screenshots cropped to just show subtitles - “[Cordelia] I  don’t get it.” Angel replies “I don’t get it, either.” and Cordelia  continues “I mean, you’re a man, so, why didn’t Billy’s touch affect  you?”]   I cannot stress enough that they genuinely didn’t have a good  reason -- whoever wrote this episode hadn’t come up with a decent  explanation as to why angel was immune to the Curse That Affects Men.  This is not a great episode but I do consider it to be basically canon  confirmation that Angel at the very least isn’t cis.So to  conclude, Angel is nonbinary/transfemme and has been trying and failing  to perform masculinity well enough to hide this since he was alive. He  objects to being called masculine terms and almost never refers to  himself as a man, he changed his name to something more androgynous and  refuses to go by his old name, and he admits to dressing and acting a  certain way to seem more normal and masculine in other people’s eyes. He  associates the parts of himself that he hates, fears, and represses,  with genderlessness. And he is immune to a curse that only affects men.  thank you for reading this long fucking post!

[mrdragonageherself]

...

So my sister posted a super sarcastic comment for attention out of the blue in the group chat for the family and my husband messaged asking was it sarcasm because if it wasn't it was fine but it seemed bitter and angry

And my sister went ooofffffff in the group chat and I had a feeling it was because of me because I had ignored 3 messages from her but yeah my husband was like hey maybe just communicate and don't make comments like this and then she tri3d to back track saying she didn't mean it to be angry she was just overwhelmed and he was like ok maybe communicate better.

So he left it at that but then she started messaging him and went ooffffff on him about how she didn't mean it badly she just felt like I'm mad at her and she was having a hard time and she wanted to know and he was like I don't speak for my wife speak to her if you think she has an issue don't make passive aggressive attention seeking comments and theeennnnnn she did what she always does which is say she's suicidal actually and that she's been pushing it all down to support me because I'm going through so much (all of this is bullshit she hasn't helped me or spoken to me about my problems because she always smothers me, makes everything about her, uses any weakness I show against me the second I d9nt give her what I want and when I put up a boundary, claim she's suicidal) and she's really not doing well.

When my husband was like sorry to hear thst in that case seek professional help but don't make passive aggressive comments and then even though she confirmed it was sarcasm she claimed it wasn't and everything is hard over text because you can take things wrong, and when he was like but yoy literally confirmed it was sarcasm you just don't like the consequences she got mad and said he was treating her like a child. She sent over 40 messages including novel like paragraphs and every time my husband kept bringing it back to the point she kept claiming she is just suicidal and needs help and it's because I'm not talking to her enough and she's supporting me so hard. My husband sent like 7 messages. She deleted 6 messages before he could read them, probably because she was finally mad he wasn't letting her off without apologising and taking the suicide bait and finally stopped replying.

I'm so stressed for the fall out, somehow it was all because of me even though I didn't say or do anything, my little sister even said why don't you tell her you just need space and I said she would do exactly this if I did and she still did it anyway just to my husband and it was so weird because it was clear she meant the messages for me (my husband kept having to remind her, he isnt me and isnt speaking for me) and was expecting my empathy and placating, which my husband was not giving.

I'm just sick of her always claiming to be supporting me through everything when she never does, and is often my biggest bully. she's really emotionally incestuous with me and blows up if I put up boundaries and then claims she's suicidal and doesn't take any accountability and when you finally calmed her down she won't ever acknowledge her own behaviour was inappropriate. I just hate that she is always dragging others into it as well, this is her first time doing it with my husband but normally it's because I beg him not to engage but he was too mad this time because of how distressed it makes me and my little siblings don't get it because they don't know how bad her temper and viciousness can be because of all the work my mom and I have put in to get her to stop (shes a lot older than them and they werent alive/dont have working memory from then). She used to tell my other older sister with cancer she was glad her friends from the cancer ward died and she hoped my sister would die too and laugh at her when she was in pain from bone marrow transplants and steal all my pocket money and break and steal my stuff, destroy art projects I was really proud of and mock me to my friends and she would do or say anything to hurt you as deeply as possible just because you slightly annoyed her and she always repaints herself as the victim from back then simply because our dad was abusive but she was always abusive to everyone too and it didn't stop because he was forced to leave she just needed the help from me and my mom and we wouldn't put up with it or let her treat my nephew that way so she's learned to seem sweeter but I can't set any boundaries with her without her telling me she's going to kill herself and its my fault and actually what she said or did wasnt bad becasue shes just misunderstood and im taking her wrong. Ugh.

She's 35 by the way.

[aita-blorbos]

[OC AITA (anon so hopefully no one finds all those spoilers)]

Content Warning: cults, fictional religion, religious fanaticism, burning alive, asphyxiation mention, drug mentions, also this is a horror story

AITA for burning down a cult? Literally?

So, I (adult, F) was part of a religious cult that believed that there was a God in a realm between minds, I was there since I was little until around 17-18 when I did the "event".

This mind realm can be accessed through a powder that is sniffed (and is NOT cocaine before anyone assumes this) and kinda "deactivate" your senses, allowing you to go there, which is something all the cult members did at least once.

Their leader, which I'm gonna call Mask (adult, ??) cause Mask never showed their face, told the members that only those who are "pure" (like the Christian Inquisition meaning + never killing anyone) can talk to this God and live with it on the realm after death. And apparently only Mask and a few people ever got to, but Mask "decided to stay and spread the word".

But, when someone find they're "impure", the only act of redemption they can do is getting into the cult's gas chamber with a fire and burn themselves to death, a point that'll be important later.

Anyways, context aside, around 17-18 I started discovering secrets that Mask has hidden from the other members about the other few people that got to "ascend" as they call it. Their bodies were rotting in a hidden room with no life in their eyes, like they were stuck in the mind realm, but they could still talk and all I could hear is "get me outta here".

When I brought this up to my friends C and B (minors at the time, adults now, both M), they both were in denial that Mask would do anything like this, which I expected from them since they're part of Mask's family, but C changed his mind after going to see it by himself.

Me and C made a plan to tell this to the other members but we were caught and sent to the gas chamber for "conspiracy against Mask" which was never a rule since no one had attempted this before. B was still denying and didn't make part of the plan but got sent to the chamber too for knowing about the plan and not telling anything.

Since they would only open the chamber once there was an explosion or if there was no sound after some hours (died by asphyxiation), I put the gas in one side of the room flapping a sheet of paper and exploded it, giving some burns but nothing fatal. Once the door opened, we ran out of the room, but the gas kept leaking (guess they forgot to close it). I picked a torch to keep the guards away, and when we escaped, I threw the torch, unintentionally exploding the "house" and burning everyone inside.

I... I know this was years ago and it was a horrible thing to do, even accidentally but... I don't feel any remorse for it. The way they treated and threatened and traumatized me, C, B and other people is something I can't and won't forget, and I can't help but laugh at the irony of Mask dying the same way their cult "indirectly" (in their view) killed so many others.

But... since I reunited with C and B, I wonder if I was in the wrong here, at least in involving them. C still shivers at the mention of that day, though he did move on, but B has nightmares about that day and still hears Mask's voice in his head...

And... I feel like I'm no better than that cult, having traumatized B and C so much. So, AITA?

[posttexasstressdisorder]

And a touching word from Bob Lefsetz:

https://lefsetz.com/wordpress/2023/12/12/jeffrey-foskett/

"

Jeffrey Foskett

He was a really good guy. And I’m not just saying that because he died.

I knew who Jeffrey was before I knew him. He was the guy on stage with Brian Wilson, the one hitting the high notes, the one who turned his big red guitar around during the show so we could see where it was painted “Smile.”

But I don’t remember exactly how we met. Maybe over e-mail. I could comb the archives but I don’t want to, I’m too creeped out that he died.

He was sick. Diagnosed and originally treated in the Bay Area he went to MD Anderson in Houston and they kept him alive, year after year. He’d check in on a regular basis, apropos of nothing. Tell me he was getting treatment, asking how I was and really wanting to know.

Before that we’d connect at shows. I remember when he took me to meet Brian on the tour bus. Prepping me regarding what to expect.

And the last time I saw him was with Mike Love, a few years back at the Vilar in Beaver Creek. He introduced me to Mike Love and Bruce Johnston and we all had a very interesting hang in the dressing room.

And Jeffrey was not a typical musician, he was clean, and always was, no dope and no drink. And a believer, as in religion. But you wouldn’t know all this if he didn’t tell you. And he’d had bariatric surgery, he used to weigh over 300 pounds, he’d reference this now and again. That was the funny thing about Jeffrey, he held nothing back, either about himself or those around him. He would testify not in a gossipy way, but an honest way, as if you were buddies since second grade.

And then he had to go off the road, because of his treatment, but then he went back out, even though he could no longer sing.

Let’s see…

Jeffrey checked in on February 11th, and that was the subject of his e-mail, “Checking in”.

And then again on March 3rd. 

And on March 20th he said:

“I am praying for your health. Interestingly, my pre infusion drugs are Tylenol, Benadryl and Pepcid. Benadryl must be the key to no nausea.

I hope your pemphigus is under control and that you are comfortable.

Thank You for supplying me with interesting reading in the LL.

Stay Healthy. God Bless You

Jeffrey”

And on June 20th:

“Just checking in after reading ‘The Infusion’. Is your pemphigus at least under control to where you are comfortable to sleep, walk, drive, etc.?

I am doing great. For me, there is no better place than MD A. They are keeping me thriving

I’m still praying for you my friend

Love and Blessings – Jeffrey”

And on July 24th, regarding antisemitism:

“Hi Bob,

I am a Stone Christian. Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. Are these emails for real? I am so thoroughly disgusted that I want to crawl into a hole. From our private email exchanges, You know that I pray for you and your ongoing health situation on a daily basis. The person that wrote this garbage is a stain to all of humanity. On one hand I am grateful that you published them on the other, it literally sickens me. What happened to the world? I guess I have been so caught up in healing that I have ignored other truly important aspects of my surrounds.

I am sorry for the personal attacks on you and your Religion. It is disgraceful. My heart literally hurts

God Bless You – Jeffrey”

Where do you find friends like that? Believe me, they’re rare. And when one is that genuine, thinking of you, regularly checking in, you have an ethereal bond that goes beyond regular friendship.

When I heard of Jeffrey’s passing I thought I’d heard from him more recently, in October or so, I was surprised to find his last missive was in July. Which makes me think he had a rough time of it. And one thing they don’t tell you about cancer is it’s painful. But Jeffrey had such belief in MD Anderson that he convinced me, after years of treatment on a regular basis, that he’d be here for years to come.

But he’s not.

And many people have no idea who Jeffrey Foskett is. But those he touched, they’ll never forget him, because he was genuine, because he was a good guy. Fake was not in his bones.

What angers me most is he can’t read this, he can’t know how much he meant to me, how he touched me. 

I don’t know what to do with this empty feeling. My contemporaries are dying on a regular basis. It used to be a rare event, usually through misadventure, but now… You can’t metabolize these passings. Some before their time, like Jeffrey, at 67, others like Christine McVie, who didn’t make it to 80, never mind Jeff Beck. And then Ryan O’Neal. We bonded over having CML. He was a funny guy, he lived in the present, if he brought up the past it was like you’d been there together. He was honest about his son, he had to show me his Tesla Model X, and now he’s gone at 82. That might seem old to some, but if you’re a boomer, if you’re past Medicare age, that’s scary. You count on those years, you think you’ll be active until sometime shy of 90, and then you won’t be so great, but you’ll continue to enjoy TV and a good meal and music, if you can still hear. We keep pushing finality into the distance, But one by one team members are falling by the wayside. They might be gone, but their legend lives on, even if they were not famous.

So if you’ve been to a Brian Wilson show, if you’ve seen the Beach Boys in the past decade, you experienced Jeffrey Foskett. He was the glue that held it all together. The utility man who provided what the legends no longer could. And he didn’t want notice, he was glad to be the midwife for some of the greatest music of all time.

Yes, first and foremost Jeffrey Foskett was a Beach Boys fan. The fact that he got to play with his idols?

You can’t ask for much more than that.

He was cut down before his time, but he exceeded his dream.

May he live in an endless summer ever after."

---------

[tavina-writes]

HERE I have thoughts about Huang Yaoshi and Huang Rong and Huang Rong's childhood because I am ALWAYS brainrotting about how like, HYS had SO MUCH trauma re: the death of his wife Feng Heng. But he has never once blamed his daughter OR traumatized her in any way. Huang Rong is quite literally the last (1) shred of his sanity and the only reason he's still alive! (The narrator even tells us this at one point.)

Originally, Huang Rong was the Peach Blossom Island Master Huang Yaoshi's only daughter. Before giving birth to her, her mother had a turn for the worse, which caused her to be physically and mentally exhausted, leading to her death soon after a difficult labor. Huang Yaoshi had a fit afterwards, expelling all his disciples from the island, leaving only the father and the daughter alone there. Huang Yaoshi was called the Eastern Heretic because of his peculiarity of conduct. He often said that the etiquette and customs of the world were all nonsense. His love for his daughter was excessive and he naturally did nothing to control her, thus allowing her to become arrogant and willful. Although she was intelligent, she was not willing to focus her mind on learning martial arts. Her father was actually very proficient in the ying yang five lines, learning these methods from several classics. She was able to learn when still very young but even though her father had already reached a divine level, she was nevertheless unable to go beyond the Peach Blossom Island martial arts basics. One day, she was playing in the island when she came upon her father's enemy imprisoned in the cave. Feeling lonely, she conversed with that person, talking for almost half a day. The person's words were interesting to her so that she often returned, seeking him out only to speak with him, finding relief in that exercise. Afterwards, Huang Yaoshi found out and reproached her severely. Huang Rong had never been beaten or scolded by her father so she reacted with anger and self-pity. Her cunning and unreasonable temperament manifested itself suddenly and she took the boat to escape Peach Blossom Island, thinking that no one cared for her there. Thus, she cut all wish for it and disguised herself as a poor, miserable youth, going in all directions, dissolute, though in her heart she was still with her father. She thought angrily, Since you don't love me, then I will make the world feel most pitiful for a young beggar!" However, she did not expect to meet Guo Jing in Zhangjiakou. At first, she went to the wine shop with him to spend his money and cause a disturbance, intending to lay on him her resentment towards her father. Who would have thought that he would be so dumb with no idea at all, talking with her as though they were old friends and even giving her his horse, showing his concern? She was bitter and lonely, thinking about how she deceived him but he continued to treat her honestly. She was touched. Since then, the two of them became good friends.

When we DO see HYS on page for the first time Huang Rong's internal thoughts go "oh no, I haven't seen dad in a few months but he looks like he aged a decade worrying for me 😭." NOW, HYS had been mad for like maybe (2) days that Rong'er ran away, but then he'd been searching for her for the entire rest of the time. (This also builds on my theory that this man is good at everything in the world except asking for directions bc Rong'er had been running around in the same region as their home (Jiangnan) with a giant painted sign "HI I AM HUANG YAOSHI'S SPOILED CONWOMAN DAUGHTER" for months on end as well.)

At a completely different point in this book, the narrator tells us that HYS built a suicide boat to sink himself and his wife's jade coffin to the bottom of the ocean and he repainted this boat every year, but could neither bear to leave Rong'er to be raised by servants OR take her onto the boat with her parents so he kept putting off his suicide boating and vowed to go boating only after Rong'er was grown up and married and didn't need a dad anymore. (At one point during the novel he is lied to and told that Rong'er died at sea and this man has a full on hysterical mental breakdown while screaming at the sky.)

There are SO MANY lines in this book where it's like "because he was looking at his beloved daughter, he could not help but be happy anyway!" and "oh the huangs are hugging again" and "Guo Jing (erroneously) thinks that Rong'er's dad must be the best guy on the planet bc Rong'er is so wonderful."

(also lolsob uh, in HSDS we learn that he finally DID go suicide boating after hearing that his daughter's entire family died at Xiangyang. Guo Xiang comes to her grandfather's house on Peach Blossom Island and there's a line of "and the docks were empty, all of the boats had gone.")

[fallloverfic]

@nnayomaise replied to your post “@nnayomaise mentioned you on a post “i don't think...”:

yeah is definitely more headcanon than something explicity backed by canon, (and i highly doubt they would've said outright either) i actually didn't notice i didn't say its headcanon in there until your reply lol i personally just feel that way because what i said before and that he was essentially thrown away by his parents (seemingly without knowing why) to experience literal otherworldly horrors (demon) and to possibly die

I definitely think there is plenty of room to imagine him as having suicidal tendencies before being abandoned by the demon, particularly because of how his parents have treated him and how he might think he's lost the chance to be with someone he loves.

We know so little about any of his loved ones, that there are just a lot of questions. Does elf society disapprove of his mother having a baby with someone who seemingly wasn't her husband, or were there just awkward whispers? This is additionally fun because elves also have very low birth rates, so how does this juxtapose with "we need to keep our people alive, particularly since so many of them keep disappearing to fuck other races, and their kids can't reproduce" (so probably class and race elements are involved, and it makes me really curious about who Mithrun's biological father was). How do his parents currently think of each other? Was sending Mithrun to the Canaries a way to protect Obrin from the same fate, and/or just a way to be rid of the awkward illegitimate son everyone kept comparing the legitimate heir to? Or was there anger there and his parents (perhaps his father) sent him off to get rid of the embarrassment? Did they want him to die or did they assume he'd do fine because of his abilities, at least in comparison to Obrin? Did they have to send one of their kids to the Canaries and chose the one who was more likely to survive the experience? Or perhaps the one they didn't mind losing? Or was it a convenient way to get rid of one of them, and Mithrun was just shocked they didn't choose the one who looked more like the ideal of elfness? Although Obrin's said that Mithrun is welcome at home, is that wishful thinking on his part, or actually true? As for Sultha, what is she up to? Did Obrin ever act on his interest? What, if anything, came of it? At what stage of relationship was Mithrun with Sultha, and did they stay in contact when he went away to the Canaries, and if not, why? Lots of crunch. I've expanded on it a little in a few fics at this point, and I'm planning to do more.

I'm not sure why they wouldn't say anything about his suicidality pre-dungeon explicitly in some respect in canon, given Mithrun does admit to his later suicidality in canon (and there are lots of extras about him). That doesn't mean because it's not there it's not true, but again, I don't see any evidence for him experiencing it based on what we know prior to the dungeon. The only reason I would kind of expect it to not pop up explicitly is because Mithrun isn't as main a character as some other cast members, so he gets less screentime. It'd be cool if he gets even more expansion in the Complete Adventurer's Bible. He's in at least a couple comics there.

For me at least, it would definitely need more to it, though, because low self-esteem/inferiority complex /= suicidality. While these can be part of the psyche of someone who is suicidal and lead into those thoughts, not all people who have low self-esteem and inferiority complexes are suicidal, just like not all folks who are depressed are depressed to the point of suicide, and same with people who've been abandoned by their parents. But it's nice to imagine all kinds of stuff with him, and how these traits and experiences of his can lead down different paths :3 He's a dude capable of much crunch. And even if it doesn't fit canon, it's fun to do anyway.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Hi my friend 💙

I have a request from the 12 prompts list!

I would love to read your take on nr. 10 with, you probably guessed it, Nanami 😍

You can make it as angsty as you want (maybe some smutty stuff too? I wouldn't mind 😇 but only if you're up for it).

Thank you in advance! 🥰

I'm so sorry this took so long. I was feeling a little over angsty to be writing angst, ya know? There's an optimum level haha

I kept this pretty simple, may expand on it later when I'm feeling more poetic but really wanted to get some angsty fluff out into the world.

Enjoy, my friend :)

Kento tries, truly he does. He tries to show hope, tries to believe that the sun will rise tomorrow.

He's tried to tell her that everything will be alright, but Nanami has never been a good liar, not to those he loves. Dear God, he does so love her.

He loves the coffee she makes, loves the warmth of her hugs and the sight of her just being herself around their shared home gives him life.

With love, comes hate. Someone told him that once, and like many things in young life, he didn't get it.

It made sense when he learned to hate the way she tears herself apart and pushes on anyway. Hates that she won't give herself the chance to heal before wounding herself all over again; sometimes literally.

Ironic really, the ecstasy of love and life comes on the coattails of detesting the way that person treats themselves.

Kento knows he does the same thing, knows it, and ignores it.

He can handle it, he tells himself, he can hide it and he'll have time later to recover...

One thing no one ever has enough of, time. Especially not sorcerers.

Each day had all of the potential to be his last, and hers.

That "see you tomorrow" may never come true. Doesn't stop them from saying it anyway.

Wishful thinking.

Coming home to her is a pleasure...coming home to her stood over the sink, washing dishes with tears rolling down her cheeks?

Kento had enough.

Cradling her back to his chest, he feels her go stiff, fighting the sobs into sniffles while she tries to rinse dishes.

'Enough.' Kento muttered. Still, she scrubbed. 'Stop...(Y/N) just stop.'

She huffed, slamming her hands down against the edge of the sink with a wet slap. 'Why, Kento? Just let me do it.'

'Don't, don't.' Turning her to face him, he cups her cheeks and forces her teary eyes to his. 'Don't treat the person I love like this!'

Startled, eyes wide, she stares up at him helplessly, clinging to his sleeves with shaking fingers.

'I can't do this (Y/N), you rip yourself apart and expect me to watch?! I’ll put you back together as many times as you need me too, but you need to stop being the one ripping out the stitches.'

'You're one to talk...' Voice cracking, she pushed on, forcing his hands down onto her shoulders so she could speak more clearly. 'When were you going to tell me?'

Kento opened his mouth, ready to ask what she meant, before realising he knew exactly who she meant. 'Itadori, doesn't deserve his lot in life. He's a child.'

'And you thought I'd disagree?!' (Y/N) snapped past the lump in her throat. 'I told you to bring him hear! I told you I'd fight the fucking council over that execution! You know I'd win.'

Kento smiled wistfully 'You would.'

'So why in all fuckery did you-hmmph!'

Maybe words and lying were beyond him. Maybe Kento will just leave that sweet talking nonsense to Gojo and just fucking kiss the woman he loves until neither of them can think remotely straight.

Her body slips naturally against his, the place it belongs. Warm, alive, steady and strong.

It's the body that carries her out of the house every day, the body she wields like a weapon against the world, the one she loves and hates every time she looks in the mirror.

He realizes then, that he doesn't hate those parts of her that rip and clunk, the parts that make her get up and keep trying even when she's battered and done. Those are the parts that make her, that parts that got stronger each time life tried to break her.

Cradling her close, aching for every inch of her skin under his palms, Kento finds those eyes, full of love and life, and doubts nothing in this world.

[drawnaghht]

just for the record, for Samurai Rabbit fans who do like the show, objectively, the show is pretty good. What's the objective measure here? for me it's usually just much I can enjoy it while watching, but there's always more to it than that. i was a bit bored with the show the first 2 eps, but then it surprised me with a few elements in ep 3. I slowly understood what it was actually going for with the slowness. I kept watching and found things I liked about it. Got all sorts of theories and connections and story ideas. I started re-reading Usagi Yojimbo and went looking for more crew interviews. Saw how much the cast and crew seemed to like it and I'm convinced that it was a good show to work on. Rewatched it in other dubs to get some other perspective for my theories. But that's just one way I enjoy shows.

Of course, there's no real objectivity when it comes to tastes, so I say, if you like it, like it unabashedly. You never know when a show just ends or you'll look back and might feel sad you didn't really let yourself enjoy it, just because others don't. I've watched much trashier shows before this one, (comparably, Samurai Rabbit isn't even trashy at all), and those have gotten much less hate, for being much much more annoying/bad/low quality as a whole x3 You don't have to feel bad about folks hating on the show online. They just have a different taste than you. But if you like it, that's really the only metric you need to judge it.

(this is specifically a thought bc a younger fan wrote to me that they felt sad that the show got so much hate in reviews/online posts etc)

if the show was truly as bad as some folks say, it probably would not have been made. there are just so many factors at play in making a show, i personally just try to go by my gut feeling at this point abt shows and if they're going to be fun to watch or not.

and lol i don't have the energy to put this into a longer well-articulated post but still wondering i guess why there are so many posts with "oh this show ain't so good, i hate it" etc etc

so????

sorry for sounding harsh or whatever but literally, watch more animation!!!! there are shows worse than this one and if you'd been alive when those aired you would have watched them and remembered them fondly, only to realize one day you were just watching them out of boredom bc there was nothing else animated on

even shows which we lambast as critical darlings within fandoms had their ups and downs during airing

how well a show is received always depends on how much the network loves it, but also a lot of pure luck

or you'd find a good show and see that the network abruptly ended it, not even with a solution or real ending, but just something open bc the creators were hoping the show could come back. or the show would come back, but completely changed, something so unwatchable you wish you could unwatch it

at least, that was my experience watching cartoons as a 20-something or younger, coming back to cartoon-watching because I had time after highschool

maybe the show just came out too late/early, and would have found a different audience if it came out at a different time. I think about how ROTTMNT was received and how now reviewers are coming back to it, with tails between their legs like "UmU this show was not so bad... after all!!!" shut it!!!! i guess compared to how rise was treated by old TMNT fans and critics alike, this one has gone fairly under the radar or remained almost unremarked upon. Well, old UY did complain about it, and youtube reviewers too, so it's sorta the same thing. kids' cartoons will always have adult critics because everyone thinks they know how to run a cartoon/know what a good cartoon is xD

find other things to do!!!! make your own cartoons and see how easy it is. western cartoon/tv is just how it is and it's not bad to expect more of it, but also, it feels weird to go along with hating or reviewbombing etc just because that's become something "in" now. there's worse media than an animated adaptation turned into a kids cartoon, made during the pandemic.

lowkey some of you just seem kind of spoiled with how many good series there are, and you're just putting the bar so high for even shows you like, NOTHING is good for you unless it's extremely perfect or catering to each and every of your expectations xD

yea ok, it's a children's cartoon - whatever! western children's cartoons can run such a wide gamut of quality vs enjoyability, there's so many shows now you can enjoy instead.

if it's good for you, great! if it's not, ok! don't go posting it in the tags as some universal opinion lol xD

again, there are much worse cartoons out there in the past and in other parts of the world. one little animation mistake or even several per episode aren't going to break my enjoyment of the episode or show as a whole xD

the slowness i mentioned experiencing for example, is also subjective. A reviewer on Commonsensemedia, wrote that they found the show too fast-paced, but that their young daugther liked it, and how the messaging came off as good to both them and their child. It's a matter of perspective.

like yeah, it's a bit goofy and dorky at times, I personally do not get some of the jokes (more on that in a proper review) and maybe as an animator, i'm a bit annoyed at some of the things done with the 3D animation specifically. But that's personal! and those are so few things. on the flipside, I was still able to enjoy the rest of the show, because to me it felt like a lot of care and thought was put into it as a whole. Like, many of the visdev team actually asked to be on the show. It can't be that bad if long time professionals around the western animation industry want to work on it.

A show that's truly bad, would not even bother fleshing out some sort of villain or antagonists at all, and mabye would have scrapped Kagehito as a character entirely, when hearing that it was sort of impossible to animate him as intended. But there's a lot of stuff in this show like that. Compromises from the crew, so they could still make the show and focus on aspects of production and story that were more necessary. So for example also, lobbying for more appearances of Miyamoto Usagi, even though Netflix was not on-board with that themselves, the producers and showrunners were.They were pushing for more of him and his backstory in this show.

so eah, idk, this ended up long anyway, but just, if you like it already, it's ok xD you don't have to justify yourself to other fans or people. and honestly, if you dislike it, same thing. you don't have to justify it. you can just dislike things without reason.

[horror-dot-png]

Lepidoptera

CASE #017080010-008

SUBJECT: ABIGAIL PENTHESILEA

CONTENTS: REGARDING THE DEATH OF EDWARD KINGFISHER

IN-PERSON STATEMENT, WRITTEN BY SUBJECT

STATEMENT IS AS FOLLOWS:

Hospice work was always good for me. Keyword was. Company I worked for was good to me, let me choose my own clients so my caseload was always manageable. Usually I kept all of them within a few miles of each other so I wasn’t driving around too much, but it was a good time to think. Nothing like the low hum of my Prius to sooth a brain plagued with the thoughts of inevitable deaths. I was ok with my patients dying, but the human brain can only take so much, right? I tried to take clients within 3-6 months of life left in them according to their doctors, but as always there are miracles. Some folks refuse to die and that’s ok. Had plenty of patients hang on for one or two years over what they had originally expected. Hell, I had one that lived for 5 until very recently. Edward Kingfisher. 

I wasn’t Kingfisher’s nurse for those 5 years. The first 3 were by some lady that retired. I guess towards the end she was waiting for him to croak so she would be less guilty about it – or at least that’s what Ed always told me. So, there I was. We were the only two people in that dusty house of his for the longest time. As far as I knew, he didn’t have a wife – alive or dead – or pets or kids. Seemed like he was alone as far as I knew. It was sad, knowing I was the only person looking after him. I suppose he went with hospice care to have a face that was somewhat consistently present in his life. I get it. I would die of loneliness before whatever heart disease was gnawing at him. I… that metaphor might be in bad taste now. Regardless, he was dying. Slowly. He seemed to enjoy his time with me though, quite literally treating every conversation, story told, book read, and et cetera like it were his last. Those were my two years with him. Showing up, cleaning up after him, and caring for him. Of course I got close to him. Spend two years seeing a man five times a week and you’ll see him like a fatherly figure in a way – or a glorified library. 

One story stuck out to me. It was during a trip of his to the mountains out in West Virginia – he never said specifically where though. A hiking trip, a sort of bachelor party for one of his buds. They rented out a cabin to stay in while they enjoyed nature for what it was: beautiful. Sure the mountain range certainly was awe inspiring in the fall of ‘52, but have you ever considered what happens in those quiet woods when we’re not looking? When we’re too starstruck by the hues of orange and brown and yellow of those treetops that we never look down. We never bother to consider the death that happens nearly every damned hour. Edward made sure to drill that into my head, and after what I saw? I believe him. I believe the rotting, decaying corpses of the deer and foxes and birds and squirrels and insects that met their deaths at the hands of mother nature herself. I believe the descriptions of those soulless, grayed eyes of once beautiful creatures. I believe what he said, when he watched his friends become engulfed by the woods. One was devoured by wolves, another torn asunder by squirrels, and the last… the last made him shudder every time he told this story. His last friend, Alex, began rapidly transforming before his very eyes. Mushrooms. The mushrooms took his body. His eyes sprouted out with multiple of them, his arms and legs becoming stems, his head bursting into a glut of gore and spores as it sprouted hundreds more. Alex was as much a mushroom as he was a man before.

Kingfisher survived. I mean, he couldn’t tell me what happened if he hadn’t, right? He was alive, right? The last few times he told me this story, his eyes seemed almost hazy. I could swear there was something swimming inside of the sclera, but I assumed it was veins. Wait, the last few times were, the last few days I was with him? God – I can – I can remember that last day with him like it was right now, happening to me. It was my usual routine. I let myself in, hollered at him, and began cleaning. Usually he yells back, but today was a grunt. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but it had been a while since the last time he had. In fact it felt, no, it still feels like something is going to go wrong. I can still smell the stench of the mold and mildew of aged wood. I feel like I'm trapped in an attic. There’s plenty of room but my lungs feel as though they’re being crushed. Wait, I’m back in the house again? No… no… no I was just in that room writing this for you. For who?.. Right. Eddie… I should check on him. See what he wants for dinner. Maybe I’ll ask him about this stench. I was only gone for the weekend. He shouldn't have let the house get this far into the gutter. Ugh, I hate the creeking sound the stairs make. Stairs? I don’t remember taking the stairs to get to this room… where I write this. No, I’m going to see Eddie. Gramps? Are you ok?

Who is that? Why can I see myself in the doorway? Why am I in bed? Where’s Edward? 

Why does Abigail have that shocked expression on her face? She always looked so much prettier when she was smiling. 

Abigail, I can feel them crawling in my skin. It’s time they took me too. I can see them again now. Alex, Raph, Tim. They’re calling. I’m going to let them take me. 

Pop. Pop. Pop. The holes in my skin are welcome aren’t they? You always joked how my wrinkles looked like something was tearing them apart.

Don’t you enjoy the fluttering of their wings as they fly out? The droning of hundreds, no, thousands of moths? Aren’t the skulls on their wings just so fitting for my death? The very death that should have happened decades ago.

They are eating my fingernails, Abigail. I can feel their offspring in my eyes. They are crawling on me, on my bed and the floor and the walls and the ceiling.

The moths yearn for you too Abigail. Let them in. Let them burrow underneath you. They are cold. Their eggs need to stay warm. Leave them underneath your flesh. 

Good.

Their skulls mark our fate, Abigail.

END STATEMENT

SUPPLEMENTAL:

After an hour, staff checked on Mrs. Penthesilea as she wrote her statement. They were subsequently swarmed by death’s-head hawkmoths and hospitalized following a call to pest control. Thankfully they survived, however, Abigail Penthesilea was seemingly consumed by these insects – a behavior which is obviously unnatural. While searching for an autopsy of Edward Kingfisher, we confirmed that he too died of a similar cause. A worrying fact from this report was that his body disappeared as authorities were searching for family or next-of-kin to claim it. This will require future follow-up. 

Supplemental by Samara E. Ali, Lead Researcher of the Richmond University of the Abnormal.

[katcadecascade]

If you believe the lies I tell (Snowjanus fic Chapter Nine)

Ao3

Tumblr Chapter Index

Chapter Nine: Arguments

Word Count: 4,886

There is a crack in the wall that separates the Snows from the outside world. It’s been crumbling for a while now, Coriolanus can admit that now that he’s faced with the rubble. 

Clemensia Dovecote, the beta daughter of secretaries and one of the smartest students on the honor roll. 

Sejanus Plinth, the alpha son of a District couple who made enough wealth to live in the Capitol. 

Two shining examples on how education and money equals ascension. 

They’re out of place in the Snow penthouse, similar to how Coriolanus is the odd one out in the Capitol. 

Their blood red uniforms are too pristine and vibrant compared to the muted and torn wallpaper. Coriolanus can literally see the dust collecting on their tense shoulders. They both know they’re unwelcomed despite Coriolanus letting them in.

He still regrets closing the door behind them. 

No mask or armor, surrounded by the evidence of decay. This house is Coriolanus Snow’s last possession. He couldn’t maintain its state of when his mother was alive. 

Watching Clemensia and Sejanus take in every little detail of cobwebs and faded color, empty spaces and the scuff marks of where tables and cabinets once stood, the cold air and the how his spearmint scent is beginning to fill the room. The thick of the heat is threatening his muscles and bones to relax, draining energy from the weak and empty stomach. The warmth may border the lines of a fever if he’s not careful. 

But his analytical mind is focused on his two companions. 

Coriolanus dares not to close his eyes, forcing himself to accept this reality. 

Yet he can't help but demand, “Stop looking at me like that.”

He’s never seen Clemensia guilty before, the furrow in her eyebrows clearly shows her confusion. 

“I never knew,” Clemensia admits softly, “I never thought…” 

She trails off but she has said enough. 

“Good,” Coriolanus grits his teeth, “that means I have done so well for so long!”

“Coriolanus, please-”

“Please what?” 

His harsh rhetorical question is met with silence. 

The way they're staring at him boils his heart. Coriolanus is just another piece of ill-kept furniture. It completes the painting of snow falling. 

Because once snow is on the forest floor, it will be trampled upon. 

He gestures to his humble abode. “Does all of this answer your questions Clemensia? Satisfy your curiosity? What about you Sejanus? Do you want to dig more into my life?”

Coriolanus knows this is pointless, offensive behavior. They’re already inside his bleeding home, an open wound in Coriolanus’ pride. 

In a heated state, where he’s supposed to feel comfort and peace, Coriolanus is on edge from having something different in his familiar world. He still sees them as enemies, despite how he wants their scents to be in his space. 

“You would have never willingly told us anything.” Sejanus foresees a reality that Coriolanus longs for. “You’d rather brace everything by yourself. School, our classmates, even university.”

“That would’ve happened,” Clemensia agreed. “I know it can still happen because you’re the most clever person I know.”

“Yeah, with your stubbornness, you’d achieve everything you put your mind to.”

Coriolanus is taken aback from the compliments. Any fluster or blush is disguised under his already warm face. He expected them to be more confrontational due to his bitter nature. No, instead, they’re patient. Cautious more like it, still treating Coriolanus Snow as a wild animal.

And perhaps he is. 

Raw instincts crave a fight, the need to defend his territory. Yet there is no fight to be found. That type of realization is what ends an alpha’s ruts. 

Coriolanus isn’t an alpha, he’s an omega.

Omega’s heats don’t end so fast. 

The fire within is a prolonged suffering, an ache that needs to be soothed with the knowledge of community. Not only with blood relatives, but it includes the chosen few who are deemed worthy. 

Maybe from the first moment they were partnered for that school project, Coriolanus deemed Clemensia Dovecote as his ally.

Yet with Sejanus Plinth, Coriolanus hates to analyze the moments where he relied on the alpha. First the gifts of food, then making the bet knowing that Coriolanus can win, lastly just his presence.

Coriolanus has tracked Sejanus in his environment, believing he’s just another enemy in the grass. Yet the District boy was always a little different then the rest of the Capitol, always was. A gentleness that’s more rustic compared to the usual high status. ��

Something in his brain rooted them both as his, as people he refuses to let go. 

Yet that doesn’t mean that Clemensia and Sejanus actually know Coriolanus. 

They only think they do. 

Hostility and defensiveness melts as Coriolanus openly recalls the first real conversation he had with Clemensia. 

“You told me that scenting makes you feel like the world isn’t out to get you. I cannot experience something so…”

Tranquil.

Wonderful. 

Coriolanus finishes with, “...easy.” 

His body sways at that thought, of a dream that can effortlessly become reality if Coriolanus lets go of his paranoia, insecurities, and fear.

“I don’t have anything to protect my family except for lies. Tigris needs her job and I need the Plinth prize to afford university. We’re barely living as is.”

There are a million things that Coriolanus Snow desperately needs. In the typical sense, it’s material goods but even he has to admit that he wants the sentimental values. 

Loyalty, respect, and influence, all attainable things through having power over others. 

Yet it is the complex emotions of love and trust that makes Coriolanus believe he is undeserving of such. Wearing a mask of smiles, of perfection and power. Coriolanus knows it’s a truth that has not been realized. 

Because who would love a fragile mind, a hairpin away from cracking and becoming the embodiment of hunger. Starving for food is one issue, starving for attention and control and power is a madman’s frantic need to have some form of pleasure in all this pain. 

Coriolanus didn’t know he could have fun, making jokes with Sejanus or teasing Clemensia. It felt so normal compared to how much he has to pretend that he is as normal as the rest of them. 

But he’s not.

“I don’t have much to have in the first place,” Coriolanus laughs pitifully, “I have to hide how hungry I am every single day.” 

His body shivers at the phantom pains of his stomach. Its growl would be met with either water or sharp nails digging into the soft flesh. Anything to protect his image, anything to stall out his body slowly shutting down. 

Or maybe his body is swaying and shivering because he has no food in his system and the fever pitch is growing now that he scents nutmeg and lavenders. 

Steady hands are on his shoulders, his skin feels clammy where the pressure lays on his sweater. As hot as the heat is making Coriolanus feel, it’s a focal point of perfect warmth by having Sejanus before him, ever so slowly leaning a bit closer than Coriolanus would ever allow.

Then again, it’s not the first time today Coriolanus allowed Sejanus to be so close. 

Coriolanus almost chokes from the amount of nutmeg around. Sejanus doesn’t break eye contact. 

Just like back in the classroom, something inside registers Sejanus as an anchor. His breathing becomes calmer but the ache is still prominent. Either from food or loneliness, the answer is right in front of Coriolanus. 

“You’re unsteady, Coriolanus, please sit down?”

They move over to the only chairs in the apartment, the three wooden chairs in the kitchen. 

Coriolanus doesn’t lead them to his nest, not yet.

That and he doesn’t think he has the strength to walk over there at the moment. 

So Sejanus pulls his seat close to the point where their knees are touching, thigh pressed against thigh. Coriolanus could stomp his heel down on Sejanus’ foot if he wanted to. He doesn’t but the idea is tempting, just a little intrusive thought. 

Clemensia remains standing, taking in the state of the aged wooden cabinets, the rusted sink faucet, and the leftover bottle of lard they need for the stove. He idly wonders if Clemensia has been in her own kitchen or it’s solely for the staff. 

When she catches him watching her, Clemensia schools her expression. She’s not an expert on masks like him. Confusion to worry to now concern. He doesn’t know if he’ll recognize pity on Clemensia’s fair face, if he does it might break him. More so, Coriolanus is scared of losing Clemensia the longer she’s here. 

Before, Coriolanus would have never acknowledged how sentimental his fears are. Everything went downhill from one catalyst. 

“You just had to notice and start giving me food, Sejanus.” Coriolanus glares at the wooden floorboards because if he looks at Sejanus, he’ll just lash out again. “You just had to be the one stop Felix.”

“No one was stopping him. I had to try.”

Coriolanus drones out, “Of course you did.”

“Sejanus was right to try,” Clemensia boldly states but her voice wavers, “I didn’t… I was too shocked and… scared.” Quieter, she admits, “I was more scared for myself than for you, Coriolanus.”

If someone else made the same foolish mistakes, Coriolanus isn’t sure if he would jump in to help. “I understand.”

“No, I shouldn’t have frozen up. I should’ve done something instead of wasting time and-”

“Stop, Clemensia.”

He reaches over and she is never far, instantly by his side for Coriolanus to hold hands. He leans his head on her arm, letting his scent encompass her. Instantaneously it calms her down and at the same time, Coriolanus feels proud that it was him that helped her. 

Coriolanus isn’t used to feeling prideful for something so simple, for being an omega. Gender and dynamics weren’t much of a variable to account for. It was easier to ignore it until he needed to use it. He’d probably factor a marriage contract around those factors, if that day ever came. 

A formidable suitor would’ve been an alpha like Sejanus Plinth. 

Coriolanus hides his red face against Clemensia’s red coat sleeve. 

“I did not expect you to enter a heat right after.” 

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Are you kidding me?” Clemensia huffs, “Coriolanus, you have never been interested in scenting until Sejanus started courting you.”

“I wasn’t courting him,” Sejanus hastily corrected, “I was just giving him food.”

“Yeah,” Coriolanus ignores his beating heart at Sejanus' explanation, “because of his hero complex.”

“What? I don’t have a complex.”

Coriolanus begs to differ, just not aloud. The way he presses his lips into a thin line, unimpressed by Sejanus, tells it plainly anyway. 

“I don’t know.” Clemensia begins with a playful tone, “It looks like courting to me.” 

“We’re telling you you’re wrong.” 

Clemensia merely pats the top of his hair. “Sure, whatever you say, Coriolanus.”

Now that amount of condescending is met with Coriolanus’ raw irritation. 

“I hate you both. Invasive and believing your actions are what I need when really it has ruined me forever.” 

He levels them with the most damning glare he has. It only affects one of them. 

Sejanus rushes, “I’m sorry-”

“The last thing I want are apologies. They’re meaningless.”

“Then what do you want, Coriolanus?” 

Clemenisa does not take the bait, sees through his anger and doesn’t try to placate him like Sejanus. 

He doesn’t want to argue any more with her. If there’s one person Coriolanus can trust with both his instincts and brain, it is Clemensia Dovecote. 

Maybe the heat is oozing emotions straight out of Coriolanus’ skin because he quietly admits, “Your scents but I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The very thing he struggled to ask for spills so easily from his mouth, drunk on a need for any sign of their trust. Yet something as precious as that would need to be reciprocated. Coriolanus never needed scenting before but this heat is certainly changing parts of his philosophy. 

Give and take. 

Somewhere in his mind, Coriolanus deemed scenting as transactional. That’s a type of currency Coriolanus is severely poor in, scared of being in a debt too deep. 

“I don’t know,” he repeats, “how to deal with this heat.”

Sejanus unhelpfully said, “Well, me too.” 

It makes sense. Friendless Sejanus would never be invited to someone’s nest.

Coriolanus squirms at the fact that he is the first. 

“And that’s why I’m here,” Clemensia tells them, the perfect buffer between their awkwardness. She gently holds his chin in the palm of her hand while the other checks his forehead. “I think you cooled down a bit. Your eyes are less dazed.” 

He can’t accurately gauge his own symptoms. From what he remembers from lessons and books, omegas are supposed to be super focused on scents and who’s in the nest. Keen awareness through presence alone. 

Coriolanus feels it all too much, hyper aware of how much he enjoys leaning against Sejanus and having Clemensia rubbing small circles in the spot between his neck and shoulder. 

It feels like falling, letting go of the armor pieces. 

It’s the most vulnerable Coriolanus has ever been. 

Exhausted, Coriolanus rests his eyes for a moment. “Everything is still too warm.”

“It is called a heat.”

“Don’t try to be funny, Sejanus.”

“What, do you prefer Festus’ type of humor?”

“If you make a pun, I will kick you out.”

“Fair,” Sejanus laughs, “I wouldn’t torture you with puns though.” 

“You being here is enough punishment.” Coriolanus doesn’t know if he’s exaggerating or not. It’s a contrasting need of what’s familiar, pushing people away, and what’s not familiar, actively needing them. 

Sejanus doesn’t respond to the insult, maybe taking a page out of Clemensia’s book on recognizing Coriolanus simply being mean to be mean. 

Clemensia interrupts them, “You need food, Coriolanus. Do not argue with me.”

He can only discourage her by saying, “There’s only ingredients for cabbage soup here.”

They all know that’s not going to be enough. 

Heats consume energy, it can be dangerous. Like how alphas can become feral, a state of pure animalistic violence, omegas have their own type of heat stroke due to a fever worsening. 

It’s the downside of those instinctual dynamic cycles, too much will be too much. 

So food, the resource that Coriolanus needs but does not have the money for.

He already hates it when his friends realize what they need to do.

“You’re not buying food for me.”

“Any other day, any other moment you could boss me around about this,” Clemensia points at him, “but not when your life is at risk.”

“You’re being overly dramatic,” he says as if he’s unbothered by the constant warmth and demanding ache. 

“And you’re lying to us again,” Sejanus counters. 

“I’m not-” Coriolanus bites his tongue. 

“I’m going to buy food. You,” she glares at Sejanus, “take care of him.” Clemensia turns to Coriolanus, “And you, behave.”

“Excuse me?”

She sounds out slowly, “BE-HAVE.” 

“What are we supposed to do?” Sejanus asks, a hint of nervousness in his tone. 

“Make sure he doesn’t overheat. Oh do you have snacks on you?”

“Always.” Sejanus reaches into his bag and hands over Coriolanus a small baggie. 

“Good.” She turns to Coriolanus, “Try nesting, that’s basically all you have to do.”

Upfronted with her babysitter tone, Coriolanus tries not to sound so helpless when he complains, “You cannot be serious, Clemensia. Leaving me with him?”

“Coriolanus Snow, look me in the eye and tell me you feel unsafe.”

He does meet her eyes but no words dare pry out from his maw. 

Because as unknown as this feeling is, Coriolanus does not feel in danger next to Sejanus Plinth. 

In the end, this is Clemensia’s betrayal. Their perfect buffer leaves them with the promise of returning with food. 

“Wow,” Sejanus blinks, “Clemenisa can be scary.”

“You’ve never had to pull an all-nighter with her. Be grateful that you never will.”

Coriolanus barely survived last year’s finals week. Clemensia was an entirely different breed of academics. 

“For what it’s worth, I think Clemensia also hates me for kind of causing your heat.” 

“Do not give yourself so much credit.” 

He unhappily opens up the snack bag and eats all the sugar cookies with ravenous fever. 

All the little things make Coriolanus realize he needs him. This is what his instincts beacon through the paranoia and apathy. 

“I can’t believe I have to nest,” he bits furiously into the last cookie. The satisfying cracking noise doesn’t make him feel any better. 

“Have you never…” Sejanus stops himself at Coriolanus’ glare. The alpha politely shrugs, “Alright well, it’s not like you don’t know how to hug… Do you know-“

“Yes I know how to hug, Sejanus.” 

Sejanus nudges their shoulders together. “Are you sure?” 

Coriolanus elbows him away, “You are not goading me into hugging you.”

“I’m not trying to make you mad, Coriolanus. I just want to help.”

Those big brown eyes are too full of something unimaginably soft. Coriolanus can't look away. He wants to crush it. 

“Sejanus, your help is the chaos theory. Every moment I spend with you has spiraled my life away from everything I ever knew.”

“And what is that?” The question catches him off guard, and as Sejanus continues, Coriolanus feels too seen. “The Capitol and its control over the Districts or scent blockers and staying away from everyone including Clemensia.”

Coriolanus is stunned, the very definition of armorless. 

Sejanus forgoes his critical analysis to plead like an arrow to the heart, “Coriolanus, please don’t tell me that all you know is hunger.”

No lie is thought up. Only the first real conversation they ever had, back when Sejanus gave him muffins. 

“...Do you understand me now, Sejanus?” 

That is enough of a confirmation. 

Sejanus shifted in his chair, making them face to face. Without the curls, Sejanus doesn’t quite look like himself. It completely removes the scruffiness and adds an emphasis on his jawline. Sharp angles and a mature toughness, the typical look of an alpha. Yet those brown eyes will always remain soft. 

“Coriolanus, I… I think I do.”

Coriolanus may not feel threatened by Sejanus but there was always a dread on how well Sejanus has figured Coriolanus out. 

But right now it is not an icy weight that sinks as Sejanus thoroughly unveils Coriolanus’ mask. 

“I know you’re the smartest, so devoted to studying. Being presentable at every event we were forced to go to. I only figured out how stubborn you are when you never took crap from Arachne or stayed long hours in the library. You waited until everyone left before walking home.” 

Coriolanus briefly wonders what memories Sejanus holds of him. Because in public, all of that is performative. While Coriolanus does enjoy winning against their classmates, he needs to maintain that perfection. He can never let anyone see how the stress wears him down, how the paranoia marks everyone as enemies. The depths of his starvation was hidden for so long until now. 

Only Sejanus has seen the closest of who Coriolanus is. 

“That whole bet was just me thinking entirely of you, Coriolanus. You were at the top and everyone knew.” A prideful glint shines in those brown eyes. “That’s how you want to be seen, right?” 

A victor. 

Those words are the sweetest thing Coriolanus has ever heard. 

It is the hardest thing to digest. 

“I shouldn’t have ever let you in.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say, Coriolanus knows it but he has no other words to say to Sejanus Plinth. 

Because it is familiar to hurt Sejanus, to push people away from getting too close. This moment, heat or no heat, is an entirely new experience that Coriolanus does not know how to navigate through.

All he knows is hunger and how it can hurt. 

“Coriolanus-” 

“You never think of the consequences of your actions, of your supposed good deeds. If you get in trouble, your dad can easily write a check to fix your mess.” He balls the cookie bag up and tosses it at Sejanus. “If I step out of line, like today? Arachne will pit the whole school against me and Felix will make sure no one will ever hire me.” 

Coriolanus knows that Sejanus does not wear a mask. Sejanus Plinth is always his true, authentic self and Coriolanus hates it. 

Sejanus has money to protect his family. 

Literally everyone else is ten times more powerful simply because money matters so much in their world. 

He shakes his head, naively said, “They wouldn’t do that.”

“No one is as charitable as you, Sejanus Plinth.” Only Coriolanus would shape a compliment into a spear. “I wished you never gave me food.”

Sejanus genuinely looks hurt. 

He reaches over to hold Coriolanus’ hand, “I wouldn’t let you starve, Coriolanus.” 

To anyone else, this is a reassuring promise.

Not to Coriolanus Snow.

This is a contract. This is the start of a debt. The beginning of his doom. 

Forced to swallow down his pride to satisfy his stomach, to prolong his survival by being a weakling. It’s the opposite of everything Coriolanus grew up knowing. 

Coriolanus pulls his hand away from Sejanus. 

“I could never tell if that’s a District trait or if you’re this level of reckless bravado because I’m so desperately in need.” 

“Is this what you meant?” Sejanus furrows his eyebrows, truly failing to understand Coriolanus. “My apparent hero complex?”

“Yes! You just had to do more for me, thinking you’re actually making my life better.” He stands up and waves to the poorly aged kitchen. “You could fix my whole house and I will hate you forever. I refuse you to be responsible for the good things in my life.” 

Because Coriolanus does not have ownership of his own happiness. 

“Coriolanus,” Sejanus pleads his name so tenderly like that would stop the river of anger. 

But he keeps going, lost in the current. 

“You and Clemensia now know what I really am! I can never put that mask back on. I am on the cusp of becoming nothing and you can never unsee that.” 

Rage pushes through the heat, reborn by Sejanus senseless kindness. 

Coriolanus paces around, invoking the sharpness of his scent to start hurting his burning skin. 

“Arachne was right! I cannot offer anything to anyone. I spent so many years ignoring scents that I will never understand it. Everyone now knows how pathetic I am for a language they all speak so fluently.” 

He’ll be left behind, abandoned like how the world ignored Helena Snow’s fate. None of her friends attended her funeral and those who did came for platitude. 

“Clemensia will never see me as her equal again. Once you both realize that, you will never return. You now know me completely, Sejanus, and I will hate whatever you do with that information.”

He only stops pacing when Sejanus stands up. 

Confusion and pity is whipped clean from that handsome face. 

Sejanus’ narrowed eyes freezes Coriolanus in his place. 

“Whatever I do? Clemensia and I are only here to help you and this is how you really feel?” 

Unlike his confrontation with Felix, there are no prey instincts screaming to run away. No, instead it’s a mournful feeling of Sejanus finally seeing the mess Coriolanus is. 

Echoing that grief, Sejanus says, “Congratulations Coriolanus, your perfect mask fooled me. It fooled Clemensia. And now we know your biggest secret. You want to know what we’re going to do with it?” 

For a millisecond, Coriolanus cannot breathe. A new nightmare is dreamt up. Loneliness that can break hearts, betrayal that will tear up the newborn stars, and a cold nest that becomes a grave. 

Yet in the next nanosecond, Sejanus surprises him. 

“Nothing!” His arms are spread out wide, matching his voice, “We care too much about you to try to hurt you!”

This must be the harshest Sejanus has ever spoken yet it’s to reassure Coriolanus. It's an unimaginable reality that only exists because Sejanus is so terribly kind. 

A tightness in his lungs forces Coriolanus to inhale too fast. He coughs and exhales and inhales again too fast, faster than his heartbeat. It's been beating so fast since Sejanus denied their courtship. 

He feels too hot again, his lips fuzzy from panting and now his eyes feel hot. Wet tears are falling like heavy snow. Any shame or humiliation is devoured by the hunger beast that is hope.

Sejanus Plinth is kindness beyond his fears. 

Coriolanus barely chokes out, “You really won’t?” 

His mind can run a million nightmare scenarios but his mouth isn’t fast enough to name any of them. A bone deep trust instantly knows that Sejanus will never bring those into reality. 

Approaching carefully, Sejanus raises a hand to his cheek. The movement falters, hesitation flickering so fast on the alpha’s face. Coriolanus finishes the intent, rests his cheek against Sejanus’ hand. 

A thumb wipes away some tears but more run down. 

His breathing takes a while to even out. His blurry vision is entirely on Sejanus. 

“Coriolanus, you can’t keep thinking like this. You’ve known Clemensia for years and you believe she’ll abandon you? Has she ever hurt you?” 

He shakes his head. 

Sejanus hesitates, his lip worryingly bitten. “Then is it me? Have I hurt you, Coriolanus?”

Acts of kindness do not leave wounds, yet Coriolanus feels like his flesh is unmade by simply accepting the most gentlest of touches. 

Regaining his breath, Coriolanus admits, “Every cell in my body needs you, Sejanus but I hate every feeling of this.”

Sejanus takes a half step away but Coriolanus instantly clutches onto the labels of his uniform. 

“If you hate me so much then tell me to leave. I’ll do it. I will give you anything you want, Coriolanus.” He wipes away another tear. “Just tell me.”

The epitome of dynamics, an alpha obeying the omega. 

It’s all about shelter. 

No matter how much Coriolanus can hate Sejanus, which is a lot, there’s a growing comfort competing with that hatred. 

Beyond that, Coriolanus does not want to lose Sejanus Plinth. 

He had to perform as someone stable, someone with enough money and food, with effortless intellect and charm. 

Sejanus dealt with this angry, prideful person but remained in his life. A stubborn fool according to Coriolanus, but a part of him is stunned that Sejanus keeps offering kindness. 

“Sejanus,” he takes the alpha by the hand, “Don’t make me regret this.”

Coriolanus leads him to his room. 

The nest is messy, lumps of a few blankets that hang over. The scents linger over, nothing as strong as spearmint. Coriolanus still waits for Sejanus to bring out his own scent. 

He’s prepared to be angry at Sejanus, for taking in the details of his barren room but Sejanus never took his eyes off of Coriolanus. 

It’s getting harder to ignore his ever beating heart, too fast and too hot. He swallows down the uncomfortable air, bursts of his nervousness making the mint stale. 

Sejanus squeezes their hands together. 

Coriolanus pushes his frustrations and embarrassment and shame to the farthest edge of his consciousness and relies on his instincts, leading them to the nest. 

The bed is too small, it always is. 

A new shade of humiliation rattles Coriolanus up but he endures it. 

He arranges Sejanus to sit at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. There’s space between his legs for Coriolanus to lie in. 

For the first time in his life, Coriolanus does not argue with his instincts. 

He can’t recall if he ever balled up in someone’s lap before. Maybe Tigris when they were kids but nothing compares to this heat. 

Omegas are supposed to literally stockpile their emotions, anything to convey through their scent at how at peace they are. 

Coriolanus still struggles with that concept. 

As if reading his mind, Sejanus rubs a few circles into his shoulder before moving down to squeeze his arm. Wordlessly asking if everything is okay. Or at least that’s what Coriolanus guesses. 

He can’t vocalize his need yet he’s already emitting a sweetness in his scent. Coriolanus gives a big sigh and presses his head against Sejanus’ stomach.

Only then is when he scents the nutmeg. 

Before, Coriolanus would describe Sejanus’ faint scent like the signature at the end of a love letter. 

This here is the full missive. 

A strong sense of devotion, of loyalty unasked for. It’s all the things an alpha does for an omega but Coriolanus can’t help but feel its uniqueness. 

Sejanus gave him food, an opportunity for their classmates’ defeat, and braced some of the worst facets of Coriolanus Snow. It’s a loyalty enduring all of Coriolanus’ survival instincts to push him away. 

Yet Coriolanus craved the scent of nutmeg. 

The heat isn’t making him dizzy or weak-kneed. It’s just another blanket. The scent of nutmeg is a huge source of that feeling. In this vast sea of comfort, Coriolanus dares to break the moment. 

“Do I matter to you, Sejanus?”

“…yes.”

He can’t see his face but Coriolanus hears the unhappiness in Sejanus’ voice. 

It’s the last thing spoken as they embrace the silence. Their scents resonated with each other. 

-

Thanks for reading!

[eisthenameofme]

This blog is full of hatred. This blog can fit so much fucking hatred in it.

[versadies]

I have this idea my brains been stuck on:

So imagine the reader is Childe’s younger sibling and is that reckless teenage years ykyk and maybe while out on a mission gets really hurt and doesn’t come home kinda thing and yk how Childe I a with family... HAHA SORRY FOR ANGSTY IDEAS JSHRNR

penpal: girl don’t be sorry— im in a full committed relationship with angst so you can send as many angsty ideas as you’d like! sorry if this hc is so short wjsbdn

characters: adventurer!reckless!reader x brother!childe

warning/s: blood, not proof-read, near-death experience, angry childe, swearing, spoilers on archon quest chpt. 3-act 3 and childe’s story quest (?)

-> oh boy

-> you’ll be the death of childe from the amount of heart attacks you gave him from your recklessness.

-> man’s this close to to put you in a big bubble whenever you’re on an adventure.

-> every time there’s danger, you’d dive into it and ended up having injuries big and small. it really doesn’t help childe being comforted with the fact that you’re an adventurer too.

-> he gets even more worried when he brought you to liyue with him. he knows how dangerous liyue can be along with the commissions so he made sure that your commission isn’t related to killing one of the most dangerous bosses in the nation.

-> although you kept on being reckless, childe knows your capability of fighting bosses given that he’s the one who trained you in fighting. he knows you’ll go back home alive especially since you have a lot of knowledge on survival intacts.

-> however... he noticed how you’re taking a long time on this mission.

-> he recalled you saying you’d be back the next day— yet 2 in a half days has passed by and you still haven’t come back. even katheryne didn’t know where you were.

-> he couldn’t help but worry about his dear sibling while working. why are you not in the inn yet? are you stopping over somewhere to eat or relax? isn’t your mission just about finding a certain ore around guyun stone forest??

-> when childe comes home and you’re still not there, he’ll literally rushes out from the door and starts looking for you.

-> he first headed to the guyun stone forest and killed every single monsters around the area before he starts to find you. he started to become nervous when he couldn’t find you around the first two areas.

-> childe would’ve laughed at himself for being nervous for the first time in forever, but he was too focused on finding you and the fact that you’re nowhere to be found makes him even more anxious and worried.

-> he then went to the other area that was famous for having ruin guards around. the fact that there were no signs of any ruin guards made childe clenched his fists.

-> in the end, he still haven’t found you. just a couple of dead ruin guards along with—

-> blood?

-> childe’s heart dropped at the sight of the crimson liquid. could it be your blood? or a person who tragically came across to these ruin guards? if it was you who slained these ruin guards, where the hell are you then?

-> he noticed the blood on the sand leaving a track, causing him to follow and see where it would lead him to.

-> archons, please don’t be dead.

-> the blood ended up leading him to one of the “mountains” of the island along with two ruin guards walking around.

-> did you possibly climb up from the ruin guards?

-> childe will immediately start climbing without the ruin guards noticing— screw fighting them, he needs to know if you’re there and okay.

-> by the time he reached to the top, he first saw your bloodied hand and he nearly fell at the sight of you.

-> there you were, lying unconscious with injuries all around your body. he recognized the scarf he gave you wrapped around your waist, his heart clenched at the sight of the blood plastered in it.

-> “don’t worry, n/n... big brother will kill these monsters for you.”

-> as soon as childe looks away, his eyes will darken and immediately jump out from the mountain, landing on one of the ruin guards.

-> “come at me you bastards!”

-> by the time he finished killing the ruin guards brutally, he’ll climb back up and bring you down, making sure the scarf around your injury won’t be removed.

-> he then realized that he can’t go anywhere else— given that he just swam his way here.

-> that is, until he overheard familiar voices and sees aether, paimon, and a man with an eyepatch who goes by “kaeya” not too far from where he is— their eyes widened when they saw him and you.

-> by the time he arrived on shore thanks to aether and kaeya, he’ll immediately rushed to wangshu inn, the nearest place where he can get help in treating your major injuries.

-> by the time you get help in the inn, childe won’t leave you alone. he’ll stay beside you all the way, regretting in letting you go to a dangerous place such as the guyun stone forest.

-> when you wake up, he’ll immediately give you a big hug with a relieved look on his face.

-> expect childe to make sure you won’t go to any commissions until every single of your injuries have been healed and are no longer there. he’ll literally bring you to baizhu and make sure you’re being checked up on.

-> forgive him for everything he’s doing but he just wants to make sure his little sibling will be okay— the image of your bruised body never left his mind even during his harbringer works.

-> he’ll even start finding time to join you on commissions even if you protested that he should be working. though if he’s too busy for it, he’ll request katheyrne to send a skilled adventurer who can go with you on your adventures.

-> “don’t mind me joining on your commissions,” childe would say, giving you a cheeky smile.

-> “your brother just wants to keep you safe, that’s all!”