#this is the same person who treats me like i have AIDS (think of the pictures with nurses in essentially hazmat suits)

[readyfreddy]

I am currently functioning on 137 minutes of sleep, 2 diet cokes, and a whole lot of jelly beans

[marvelsswansong]

perfectly poisonous pair

summary: the three times Coriolanus realizes you're his perfect match, his eternal soulmate: darkness and all.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and dark soft!Corio with equally unhinged reader (an anon previously said morticia x gomez addams vibes), fluff, violence, non-canon compliant, CW for graphic descriptions of violence, kidnapping, murder, possessive/dark thoughts - please take care of yourself first!

☆ word count: 6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Marriage is, at first instance to Coriolanus, an institution and an act that he doesn't quite see the point of.

The legal and financial benefits, sure. But committing himself to one person, to be bound to them body, heart and soul for the rest of his life? That level of vulnerability and permanence feels too foreign. Too abstract, even, that thinking about it quickly makes his stomach churn with sickness.

Coriolanus spends the majority of his upbringing, consoling himself that he doesn't have the time to worry about such things as romance. After all, there was always the next bill to pay and the next threat of eviction to dread.

Not to mention, he thinks, no one will truly ever get him. Not even grandma'am or Tigris understands his inner being. The man deep within his guts, the cunning voyeur who enjoys violence and manipulation. And if they only knew, he believes, they'd be horrified.

No one really knows Coriolanus for who he is. And no one will truly be able to understand what it's like to feel and think like him.

So marriage is completely out of the question for him.

At least for a long time.

Until he meets you.

------------------------------

the beginning: "must be a coincidence."

You're the first person (other than the wide-eyed idealist, Sejanus) to treat Coriolanus with kindness at the academy.

You come in as a transfer student mid-way through the semester and he comes to notice the small ways with which you show your appreciation for him. Slyly backing up his answers in class discussions. Smiling at him in the hallways. Sticking up for him in conversations, not caring if the others give you odd looks for defending a 'clear outsider' amongst them.

"If you ever need anything, you can always count on me." you'd once told him after school, his knees barely brushing against yours in the car you've invited him into so that he wouldn't have to walk home in the freezing cold.

Suppressing the urge to interrogate the reasoning behind your kindness, his numb fingers felt sudden warmth when you delicately placed a crumbled up note into his fist with your address in it.

"Stop by whenever you need something. Don't suffer alone, okay?"

He never takes you up on your offer.

At least, not until a few months later, when he finds himself knocking on your door late at night. Three in the morning to be precise, with a busted lip and dark red stains blossoming across his white shirt.

And when you open the door, you don't react to his disheveled state in the same way he'd expect from his family. No pity and shock like grandma'am, nor is there a trace of light apprehension and fear like there would be from Tigris.

Instead, your eyes crinkle with kindness as you invite him inside your home and sit him down on a nearby chair in the living room.

"How bad is it?" you ask, cutting him off with a stern glare before he can lie. "And don't lie to me, Snow. I need to know if you're going to need a drive to the hospital instead of my attempts at first aid."

Sighing, the blonde gives in, his bones aching too much to put up a fight.

"Not that bad, I promise." he grumbles, trying to keep his breathing normal as you lean in closely to examine his injuries. At this proximity, he can see the reflection of the overhanging yellow lights in your irises, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration before you leave the room and return with a soft towel and warm bowl of water.

"Could you look up for me?" you question, your cold fingers steadying his neck to carefully crane it upwards.

The warm, wet fabric in your hands then trace the edges of his jaw, picking up the droplets of blood scattered across his face.

Keeping his eyes forward at the line of bookshelves by the fireplace, time seems to slow down. His senses are overwhelmed by your hairwash - rosemary and vanilla, he thinks - and the room is awfully quiet. All he can hear is the muted sounds of your soft breaths and the rustling of leaves outside, the pale moonlight creeping in through the gaps of the floral curtains in the dead of December.

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" you ask, now switching your attention to the trail of blood buried into the crevice of his neck. You cringe right afterwards, almost wincing at your audacity. "Sorry, you don't have to say if you don't want to."

If anything, it just makes him smile. He likes seeing you embarrassed, he thinks.

"No, it's fine. I'll say. It was just... a party gone awry. Felix managed to convince everyone to go downtown."

You frown at the mention of the downtown area - it was common knowledge that it wasn't safe to wonder the south of the Capitol this late at night, especially if you were obviously from central.

"And then?"

"Got jumped. Felix and his friends ran away quickly. Sejanus got caught up in the mix and I couldn't just... leave him."

Coriolanus hates admitting the slightest sign of weakness, that perhaps he had a friend he cares for, so he's eternally glad that you don't dwell on it. Humming in response, you squeeze the towel in your hands, the water below now a murky shade of brown.

"And how much of this blood is your own? Do I need to get the sewing needles out?"

"I-"

His response is staggered by brief flashes of the fight playing in his mind. He recalls there being a lot of heavy breathing and fast movements. A slash there. A broken nose there. His feet driving down onto the man's chest repeatedly, down, down, down - he hears bones cracking at some point and Sejanus is suddenly pulling him backwards, begging him to stop but Coriolanus can't-

"Coriolanus."

Your voice snaps him out from his dazed state. He then swallows nervously, not knowing how much is safe to disclose.

"I'm fine. Really. Just some bruises and a split lip. The blood is from dodging a few knife attacks and the criminals stabbing one another."

It's a half-truth, really. Coriolanus had dodged a few stabs his way, but only because he tripped the man charging him and grabbed the knife instead to drive it into the man's sides. Enough to severely wound, but not kill. He feels the soles of his left shoe drag on the floor, the fabric nearly coming off from the repeated force with which he'd stepped on the other accomplice's ribs. It makes his jaw clench with embarrassment.

If you notice it's a lie, you don't say anything.

You ask him if he can undress, so that you can wash his clothes for him. After all, you tease in a lighthearted manner in an attempt to lift the mood, you still have school tomorrow at eight.

"You can leave the dirty clothes hanging by the chair outside the bathroom. I think you're overdue for a long, hot shower."

All arguments die in Coriolanus' mouth when he realizes how nice this feels. The foreign comfort of being cared for by someone else, of having his guard down and following someone else's lead for once. So he wordlessly follows you to the bathroom in the back and discards of his dirtied clothes outside.

The hot water is a nice luxury, the scalding temperature starting to erase his memories of the fight. He rubs his scalp raw and watches the water beneath his feet fade into the drain, the steady dripping of water droplets calming his mind.

When the blonde finishes, he comes out and sees that you've folded a set of new, clean clothes for him by the door of the bathroom (your father's old clothes, he learns). Once changed, he wanders outside and finds you hanging the freshly washed clothes outside on your front lawn.

"You should go home, Corio." you say quietly. "Your cousin and grandmother must be worried sick." you look back at him, a reassuring smile on your face.

"How... how can I ever repay you for all this?" he finds himself asking, desperate for an answer. Surely, you'll want something back for this. Certainly, this was all to get something back from him-

You shake your head sideways, waving your hand in dismissal.

"There's no need to repay me. I like to think you help me out every day at school, so think of this as more of... a much delayed gift."

Once you're both back inside the house, no longer shivering from the cold, he finds the silence to be oddly tense. You're in your sleepwear, after all, a silky night dress stopping right above your knees with a gray knit cardigan on top.

He swallows, nervously. He hopes you can't tell how fast his heart is beating.

"Uh, thank you. Seriously. I owe you."

"You really don't."

"I really do."

You roll your eyes playfully.

"The only person who owes me anything is Felix. He shouldn't have suggested you all go to downtown when it's dangerous, and he especially shouldn't have left you and Sejanus to nearly get stabbed to death." you spit, and your angry expression makes him chuckle.

"Ah, well, but he is the president's son. What can we do." he jokes. A small grin flickers onto your lips for half a second at that comment.

"So he is. Good night, Corio. I'll see you tomorrow."

It's initially an uneventful day for Coriolanus the next morning when he walks into the academy, naturally catching your eyes from across the room. You give him a reassuring nod from behind the door of your locker, where the majority of your attention is being held up by an overeager Felix - your assigned partner for the week.

Due to his schedule, Coriolanus doesn't see you again until lunch time. By which the newest rumor sweeping the academy has been the sudden violent illness which has fallen upon the president's son.

"I heard he was puking blood." he hears Clemensia whisper to Arachne, who nods furiously.

"Sejanus had to carry him to the medic's office - Felix looked like a half-dead ghost."

He's itching to speak to you as he quickly rounds the corner and runs up the flights of stairs leading to the library, where he's shared many lunches with you before. He knows your favorite sport by heart, that being the cozy seat under the large arched windows overlooking the front lawn.

As expected, he finds you there, sitting cross legged and gazing out towards the lawn. Upon closer inspection, he sees that you're watching Felix get escorted into a dark vehicle, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Have you heard that Felix is sick?" Coriolanus carefully asks, sitting down from across from you. You turn to him, your face scrunching up in sadness.

"Yes I have. Terrible news, really. Something about nasty nausea and uncontrollable vomiting."

Your tone is sympathetic and your face has all the features of genuine worry, but there's a small twinkle in your eyes that indicates a secret.

It makes Coriolanus delirious with want.

"And would his illness have anything to do with you being close to him as his project partner?" he questions, sliding in closer towards you to keep his voice down.

He looks down at your lips then back up at you, smirking.

"Just seems strange, don't you think? Given that he seemed just fine last night?"

A half-second smile, you shrug.

"Must be a coincidence."

He kisses you right then and there.

---------------------------------------

the point of no return: "you're quite a messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Finding you is a miracle to him.

And now that you two are officially dating, he sees the glimmer of hope for something permanent like marriage in the future.

But Coriolanus is still unsure of the publicity of that kind of arrangement, which leads him to request that you two keep the relationship under wraps. At least until graduation, he justifies, to keep the romance hidden away from the judging eyes of the faculty and fellow classmates.

You don't seem the least bit bothered by the news, your lips only quirking up into a warning smile as you tease that you may then have to bring other men as dates to public events to save face.

At the time, he'd just shrugged at that, playing it cool. "I don't get jealous easily." he'd said confidently.

Oh, how he was wrong.

It's only after he becomes your boyfriend that he becomes acutely aware of and sensitive to how desirable you are to others. Visitors to the academy flirt with you openly, not knowing that Coriolanus is watching from the background, fuming with anger. Your male classmates are too eager to carry your books for you, their body leaning ever too close towards yours when you ask them to pass on the papers in class.

But this, right now, seeing you with another man at the spring gala... It feels different.

Those people, the strangers and classmates, you let down firmly but gently. Those people, you wouldn't even let their hands hover above your skin, always placing a firm distance between you and them. Those people-

Fuck.

You didn't smile at those people like you're smiling at this date of yours. The tall, dark haired man's arm is lingering just above your waist, too close for Coriolanus' comfort, and his thoughts turn lethal when the man leans down to whisper something in your ear that seemingly makes you laugh.

It takes everything within him to not lose control then, when Sejanus speaks up.

"You alright?"

His friend's voice cuts into the tirade of violent thoughts playing in Coriolanus' mind, the whiskey starting to taste sour in his mouth. Forcing another sip of alcohol, he meticulously coaches himself to nod along, feigning disinterest in you and the mystery man.

"Just fine, Plinth." he grits out, but with his steely blue orbs not deviating from where you and your date are standing, it's obvious to any bystander that he's lying. So Sejanus chuckles, nudging the blonde playfully.

"Yeah right. Though, I'm not surprised that (Y/n) brought him along." Sejanus takes a sip of his wine, before pausing at seeing the blonde's expression remain hardened. "You do know who he is, right?"

"Am I supposed to?" Coriolanus scowls.

"That's Harrison Bramford. His grandfather was one of the main generals back in the days of the war and his family single-handedly leads the weapons manufacturing industry in Panem."

"Hm." is all Coriolanus says in response, the revelation doing little to appease his anger. His left arm rises in a reflex to force more alcohol down his throat, only to find the glass half empty.

"I need another drink." he announces, not caring to hear his friend's response.

Sliding into the bar, he hears your soft laugh and whisper before you disappear into a nearby hallway, leaving your 'date' alone. Out of the corner of Coriolanus' eyes, whilst he leans forwards and pretends to watch the bartender grabbing him another glass of whiskey, he sees the tall dark haired man also beelining towards the bar.

"Vodka on the rocks." Harrison growls, nearly slamming his glass down onto the counter. It's only then that Coriolanus lets himself look into the man's light green eyes, taking care to keep his expression fairly neutral and his voice calm.

"Rough night?" Coriolanus asks, deciding to play the unassuming role of a concerned stranger. Harrison chuckles, wiping his hands on his thighs whilst shaking his head.

"You have no fucking idea. Women are such pieces of work."

The blonde tastes blood with how hard he bites his cheek in an effort to stay silent.

"Your whiskey, sir."

He's grateful for the interruption of the bartender sliding his drink down towards him, as with every word leaving your date's mouth, Coriolanus is feeling his rage boiling and threatening to spill over like toxic waste.

"This chick asked me to come here tonight, you know? Me. A Bramford. I put up with her annoying stories and stupid questions all night, I even held her fucking bag for her to go to the bathroom." the man rants, his skin starting to twinge red with how fast he was speaking. "But will she even let me kiss her? Nooooo. Apparently it's too quick. Wouldn't even let me grab her ass."

It's then that your boyfriend finally loses it, and there's a muted sound of something shattering and the feeling of something sticky and hot running down his right hand. There's a few gasps of shock, the bartender hurrying over with a spare napkin as Coriolanus' blue eyes adjust to the blurry scene in front of him.

He's shattered the glass in his hand.

"Shit, you alright?" Harrison asks, leaning over to see and then pulling back with a disgusted expression after seeing the bloody sight. Remaining calm whilst pulling out the chunks of glass, Coriolanus chooses to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yep. Sorry, not used to..." he pauses, trying to find the right excuse. Instead, he finds a brilliant plan. "Not used to going so long without smoking."

The dark haired man nods in agreement, seemingly sympathizing.

"Ah, I get you. Nasty withdrawal symptoms, huh? Seen a lot of my buddies get them whenever they try to quit smoking."

Securing the makeshift tablecloth wrap around his injured hand, Coriolanus pushes his chair in with his legs, his uninjured hand strategically reaching into his pockets.

"I think I need a cigarette. Care to join?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the overwhelming scent of cigarettes spayed over the man's clothes.

"Why not."

Suppressing a smile, the blonde leads the drunken man out the door and far away from the venue, down a few shady alleyways and into narrow dirty streets crowded by graffiti and trash bags.

"Uh... you sure this is the right way?" the man behind nervously asks, and Coriolanus almost wants to roll his eyes at how pathetic he finds the man's fear.

"Don't worry, Bramford. Just avoiding the 'no smoking' signs and security guards by the venue."

Once the blonde is sure that they're both sufficiently far away from the venue, at a dead end alleyway sandwiched between a run down bike shed and abandoned dumpsters, he stops in his tracks. Coriolanus then uses the split second of confusion felt by the other man to strike him directly in the chest, forcing the taller man's entire body down.

Grabbing the nearest object next to him - a wooden crate- Coriolanus smashes it into bits on the man's head, whose face is now pressed up against the dirty cement.

"You absolute piece of shit." Coriolanus swears, adrenaline pumping through his veins in irregular rhythm as his boot kicks into the pained man's ribs repeatedly. "You disgusting, vile, privileged piece of shit."

Each insult is compounded by a stronger kick, the three glasses of whiskey and pure rage emboldening his thoughts and strengthening his attacks. Coriolanus thinks he may have heard a bone or two cracking, but he isn't sure. He can't even bring himself to care, not when his mind's fixation switches to the enticing sight of a broken glass bottle laying to his right, the jagged scars glistening under the moonlight. Coriolanus snatches it up in half a second, before pressing the edges of the makeshift blade against the whimpering man's throat.

"W-why are you doing this?" Harrison barely gets out, mouth already filled with blood, his gasps stuttered in pain.

The blonde only chuckles, his left knee coming down to press the man further into the ground, right hand beginning to trace the edge of the glass down the man's neck.

"Because, Bramford. You denigrated the love of my life. You dare try and place your filthy hands on her. Hell, for the crimes of your family and your disgusting behavior tonight, I should do the Capitol a favor and ki-"

"That's enough, Corio."

Your boyfriend nearly drops the bottle in his hand out of shock at hearing your voice ring out from behind him, the development so unexpected that for a second he almost wonders if he's hallucinating. But no, when he tilts his head backwards, he sees as clear as day you standing there with an amused grin on your face.

"Darling, I-" Coriolanus begins, stepping back up carefully and setting the glass bottle aside (but far away from Harrison's reach).

You just shush him, that ever-so-understanding twinkle in your eyes, your heels clicking on the uneven cobblestone as you stand with your body right up against his.

"I warned you about this, you know." you sigh. Coriolanus frowns, confused.

"What?"

"That you'd be jealous. He's just a toy, love. Nothing happened nor was ever going to happen tonight." you assure him, taking his uninjured hand in yours and squeezing it in comfort. You frown at the sight of his other bloodied hand, but he waves it off as an explanation for a later time.

"It's not that I don't trust you, petal. It was just... this scumbag was speaking about you in a revolting manner. I just couldn't contain myself." he slowly explains, a mix of guilt for being caught and anger for not being able to finish his actions creeping in. "He deserved it."

"Not denying that, love." you assure him again, smiling. "But goodness... What a mess you've made. You're quite the messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Coriolanus then can only watch, mesmerized, as you walk up next to Harrison's squirming body on the floor. Crouching down next to the man, you tut, as if you're saddened by the sight in front of you.

"Here's what's going to happen. We'll do you the favor of making it looking like you had too many drinks and got robbed. We'll take your wallet and expensive jacket. You'll survive, only a few major injuries but nothing life-threatening, and that's the story you'll tell your father and his friends." you pause, letting out another sigh, as if explaining this whole ordeal is tiring you. "In return, I will keep quiet about your nasty drug addiction to your father. One more strike and you're out, as your daddy said, so let's not aggravate him further. Deal?" you ask, smiling sweetly.

When the man stays silent, only letting out pained breaths in response, your right hand snaps out to press his face further into the concrete.

"I said, do we have a fucking deal, Bramford?"

Coriolanus finds himself completely transfixed by the attractive sight playing out in front of him: your pretty face scrunched up in fury, your delicate fingers dipped in blood as the man beneath you pathetically sobs and agrees. You then smirk, harshly dropping the man's head back down. Your boyfriend is by your side immediately, taking off the man's jacket as you pocket the wallet, your eyes finding Coriolanus' once more.

"I think I'm in love with you." the blonde confesses, the words coming out faster than he'd anticipated. It's a mix of things that causes the sudden confession, the adrenaline from having beaten a man nearly to death, the way your hair is being caressed by the harsh winds, the smell of your sweet perfume mixing with the harsh stench of copper in the air...

It's all making him dizzy and lovesick.

But all you do is roll your shoulders back and chuckle, kissing him quickly on the lips.

"I know."

But, Coriolanus thinks, you can't know - the real depths of his love, the unbridled fire now lapping at his skin, the overwhelming desire to claim you as only his.

And when he finally comes back home, he digs through his cabinets and finds the family ring. Swallowing thickly, he stores it in a small jewelry box and tucks it right underneath his bedroom's windowsill.

One day, he knows. He'll marry you.

----------------------------------------

the final act: "sorry for worrying you."

He'd meant to propose sooner.

He really did.

But then the games happened, his victory came with the assistant position to Dr Gaul and a full ride scholarship to university from the Plinths, and you'd be called away to District 2 to assist on your family's business operations.

Coriolanus missed you, fiercely. No amount of blurry phone calls and monthly visits lasting no more than the short weekend could satisfy his ache for you. Your melodic laugh. Your soft touch. Your witty observations and jokes, your soft breathing on his chest when he'd hold you at night.

But it's necessary, you'd remind him, lips trailing across his cold skin. It was how you and him were going to conquer the Capitol. Together.

On an assuming Tuesday in April, on the day you were due to arrive in time for Tigris' birthday, the phone rang in the mansion. The housekeeper, mid-way through dusting the library in preparation for your arrival, had come running into Coriolanus' room without even knocking. He'd woken up bleary eyed, a few swear words of annoyance on the tip of his tongue, all of which dissipated upon seeing the alarmed look on the housekeeper's face.

"It's for you, sir. Says it's urgent."

Brows furrowing, but not thinking anything much, Coriolanus answers the phone.

"Coriolanus Snow speaking." he mutters into the receiver, eyes still foggy from the remnants of sleep. The voice on the other end chuckles, a dark and pompous sound which makes him scowl in annoyance.

"Mr.Snow... when was Miss (L/n) set to arrive in the Capitol?"

The sinister question jolts the blonde awake immediately, a quick glance at the clock hanging by the door confirming his worst fears. It was four am, at least three hours past the time you were set to arrive.

"Is this a ransom call?" Coriolanus growls into the phone, his fingers clutching the receiver so tight his knuckles were beginning to redden. Teeth aching with how tensely he's clenching his law, his frantic eyes find the housekeeper's worried ones, before he urgently signals for the older woman to fetch the guards roaming the front of the property.

The stranger on the other side only chuckles in response, clearly gleeful at the distressed sound of Coriolanus' voice.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Snow. Would you like to perhaps ask her instead?"

The string of curses and violent threats bubbling under his throat never get spoken when he hears the sudden shuffling of feet and muffled arguing on the other side of the phone, before your voice fills his anxious ears.

"Hi, Corio."

Huh.

You seem awfully relaxed for someone taken as hostage.

Yes, he recalled having numerous discussions with you about such a scenario occurring once Coriolanus' status was elevated in the Capitol and you'd agreed to take on some share of the family business. And your boyfriend also knew that you'd grown up training in archery and fencing, so it wasn't as if you were wholly unprepared to defend yourself.

But still, it shocks him how your voice is completely aloof and calm, with even a hint of a smile at the end of your sentences.

"Hi, darling. Are you alright?" he carefully responds, pondering if you are perhaps being held at gunpoint and forced to speak in an unnatural manner. But you just hum in response, the same noise you'd make if he'd asked you something simple like what you wanted on your toast, nonchalant as ever.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Just don't forget to water the lilies, they get very temperamental this time of the year. Wouldn't want a repeat of last April, now would we?" you joke, and Coriolanus feels himself slightly relaxing into the conversation.

"Of course not."

"And don't forget you promised me pancakes the moment I came back to the house. I've been missing your banana pancakes dearly."

He can almost picture your smile at that comment.

"Well then... you should hurry back soon." he calmly responds, only for the phone to then be ripped away from you and the stranger's voice returns - grating and aggravated. Coriolanus can tell that your kidnapper is frustrated and dumbfounded by your seemingly calm disposition and mundane conversation with your boyfriend, a revelation which fills him with great satisfaction.

"If you still want her alive, leave a suitcase of $20,000 by the coordinates sent to you. You have two hours."

As if on cue, the housekeeper rushes back in with a note - tied to a bird sent over to the house, she says - and the security team behind. Unravelling the coordinates written onto the piece of paper, and looking back at the clock, Coriolanus' mind whirls with endless possibilities.

Explaining the situation in brief, he directs three of the guards to go out into the location with a briefcase loaded with fake cash - one to drop off the bag, the other two to keep extensive watch to see who picks it up. The other two, he commands to stay by watch at the house.

Sitting in an unmarked van whilst staring at the spot where his security guard had placed the suitcase, Coriolanus' leg won't stop bouncing up and down.

He's riddled with anxiety and doubt, hating himself for being unable to protect you, worrying about your whereabouts. As even if you sounded awfully calm and capable on the phone, a part of him can't help but wonder if that was all for show, to prevent him from worrying too much.

A torturous hour passes before Coriolanus gets a call from the housekeeper.

"Sir, she's home."

He nearly drops the phone.

"What?"

"Miss (Y/n) is home. She is sitting in the kitchen, having a cup of tea as we speak."

It's a blur as Coriolanus commands the car to race back towards the house, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he bursts through the doors of the main hallway.

And there, calm as ever with a light grin on your face, is you.

You're sitting in his favorite velvet cushioned chair by the dining table. Your face smeared with blood, your clothes are torn and hanging in loose threads, and your hair is wet, red crimson droplets falling onto the floor in steady drips. And as the sun rises over the estate, the golden light illuminates your hairline and Coriolanus swears he sees a halo above your bloodied form.

"Hi, love. Sorry for worrying you."

Without a single word, he rushes over to you and nearly yanks you up to a standing position, backing you up against the wall to kiss you fiercely. Your knees almost buckle from the force with which he grabs your neck, his shaky breaths so desperate, his hooded eyes still looking into yours as his left hand suddenly shows a ring box in his hand.

"Marry me, darling."

You blink twice, surprised at the sudden action, as he chuckles and laces his fingers with yours - blood on blood.

"We're perfect for each other. You are my soulmate, my perfect pair: body, heart and soul. Truthfully, I've had the ring with me for almost two years now, but it never felt... quite right." he pauses, taking in your shaky, happy smile. Your cold hands warming in his embrace. "Not until now. You're the one for me."

"Even if I bleed all over your kitchen?" you croak, as he slides the cool metal onto your ring finger, before kissing your bruised knuckles.

"Especially if you bleed over my kitchen. As long as it's not your own blood, of course."

It's you who closes the gap this time, nearly tackling him with the force with which you kiss him, arms encircling around his back. Smiling into the kiss, he tastes the mix of your strawberry lipgloss and the metallic hint of blood on your lips, an intoxicating combination.

When you two finally part for air, the silver band now glistening on your ring finger, Coriolanus chuckles.

"Now, would you like those banana pancakes?"

------------------------------------------

epilogue: "nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

"I think I'm starting to see a gray hair. on you, Corio."

Your husband scowls at the playful joke in the bedroom mirror, standing up to straighten his tie as you get changed in the walk-in closet.

"Please, I'm barely 30. Are you sure you're not hallucinating, darling?" he fights back, and you peek out half-dressed from the closet, pouting.

"You're questioning my eyesight now? How could you be so cruel."

Your faux sour expression is quickly kissed away by two cold hands cupping your cheeks, and you would've lost the balance in your heels had he not steadied you immediately, his hands dropping to your waist.

"Aw, I'm sorry, petal. Will you ever forgive me?"

You pretend to think about it, cocking your head sideways.

"That would depend."

"On what?"

"Mom! Dad!"

Your snarky response is cut off by the sound of small feet pattering on the marble floor, the front doors swinging open as a small figure runs straight to you and crashes into your legs. A spitting image of you and Coriolanus, your daughter, looks up from your knees before grasping onto her father's hand.

"Up, please."

Clearly amused by the sudden burst of energy in the room and his daughter's politeness even in moments of silliness, he crouches down and picks up the squealing child who comfortably settles into his arms.

"Guess what."

"What is it, honey?" you ask, brushing the stray hair out of her eyes.

"I got the highest score in my entire class on my math test."

"Wow, that's incredible, sweetheart." Coriolanus practically melts on the spot, bouncing the child up and down as she giggles into his neck. "You are the smartest person ever, Belle."

"Not as smart as mommy." she sasses in response, looking up at you for approval. You coo, ruffling her hair affectionately before looking up at your husband with raised eyebrows.

"See, Corio? Even our daughter is kinder to me than you are."

He rolls his eyes in response, left hand sneaking out to pull you in close as his lips kiss the top of your head.

"Nonsense. I love both my girls equally." he says, only for the picture perfect moment to be interrupted by another figure rushing into the room.

"Mrs Snow, the car's just arrived for you by the fr-" the intern freezes in his steps, having clearly caught the Snow family at a private time. You of course don't mind, just being amused by the situation, and your daughter is just curious at the new person who just walked in. All the while, Coriolanus' reaction couldn't be more different, his glare sharp and mean.

"I thought I made it clear, I don't want to ever be disturbed when I'm with my family. Unless it's an absolute emergency." Coriolanus states, his tone icy and unforgiving.

By the furrowing of his eyebrows and the cold stare in his eyes, you can already anticipate the flurry of murderous thoughts filling his head before you cut in. After all, the interrupting intern, a 17 year old boy by the name of Elijah, is only trying his best. And you find him oddly endearing and sweet, particularly with how badly he tries to impress your husband.

"It's fine, Elijah. Please ignore my husband's rude comment. I'll be right out."

Setting your daughter down, Coriolanus leans forward and growls into your ear, watching the young boy scatter away quickly.

"You're too nice to him, darling. Don't you think we should dispose of him and get a new intern...."

You slap his shoulder.

"What do I always tell you? No need to create unnecessary messes. Besides, he's really good with Belle and easy to control."

He smirks at that, irises filled pink.

"You're probably right. Can't have another bloody mess on your hands to clean up."

"Or vice versa."

He leans in close, cold lips touching your forehead.

"Nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

And he truly means it.

a/n: andddd that's another major Corio fic down! thank you to everyone who showed me love on my last Corio oneshot ("melting snow") and for those who answered my poll - dark soft! and possessive Corio won out but girldad!Corio also got a TON of love so I included it a bit here and will probably write a whole standalone fic with girldad!Corio as the concept. thank you again to everyone for remaining patient, I had writer's block for a bit and I've just had the most awful few weeks ever (mental health wise and life wise) so it was difficult to find moments to write.

as always, please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you enjoyed. the interactions is what motivates me to write! I hope you liked it hehe x

[hotyanderedaddies]

Spending the Night with Your Yandere Vampire Boyfriend

[Yandere! Vampire x Human! GN Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You've been with your new boyfriend for a few weeks by now, and things were developing really quickly. Much faster than any of your previous relationships.

Your new boyfriend, whom you playfully call Daddy, recently revealed to you that he's a vampire which was a total shock to you.

Well, maybe you should've caught on when he'd only come around at night when the sun was down, you never saw him eat any food, he seemed to avoid garlic at all costs, and he was super pale... and he had vampire fangs.

A total surprise.

Either way, you weren't too scared when Daddy revealed his "secret" to you.

Daddy is perfect boyfriend, honestly.

Daddy knows all of your likes and dislikes, and even loves all of your hobbies. The two of you share the same interests in books, movies, video games-- everything!

And you better since he spent such a long time following you around, studying your every move. Watching. Waiting.

Daddy is a pure gentleman, always treating you with the upmost respect. He virtually worships the ground you walk on, treating you like you're his precious treasure.

Because you are his. All his. And only his.

Daddy really seemed to walk straight out of a daydream, rescuing you from such a dreary life of working retail and attending boring college classes. He really helped to lift you up, especially after so many of your personal relationships seemed to have tapered off once you'd started college.

He only got rid of those who would try to take you away from him. Honest. He did it all for your relationship.

So when the two of you were on one of your dates at Daddy's house, he suggested that you stay the night (well, the morning). He had some sleep aid that he could give you to help you fall asleep during the day; although, dating a vampire was kind of throwing your sleep schedule out of whack.

At first, you were a little nervous since the two of you hadn't done anything past making out, but with one look at the eager face Daddy had, you melted.

"Sure, Daddy," you smiled.

Daddy's smile stretched out his handsome face, and his vampire fangs even poked out.

He grabbed you by the hand, his cool fingers interlocking with yours, as he led you up the stairs to the bedroom. You've never been up to his bedroom since the two of you almost never made it past the couch, so you were a little excited--

The bedroom door swung open and in the middle of the room was the "bed".

"A c-coffin?" you stuttered, your stomach falling to the floor.

"Of course, Darling," Daddy chuckled, dragging you closer to the coffin. "I'm a vampire after all. What did you think I slept in?"

"A bed...?"

"But then how would I keep the sunlight off me?"

...oh.

The coffin seemed to be standard-sized (you've been to one or two funerals, so they weren't completely unfamiliar to you), and it was lined with a clean, white satin that looked incredibly soft to the touch.

But it was a coffin!

And your frantic human brain couldn't help but associate it with death! Hell no, you weren't getting in that thing!

"Um, Daddy?" you mumbled, uncertainty drenching your small voice. "M-maybe we could rush to my apartment to use my bed and I'll put up some curtains?"

Daddy's smile disappeared, quickly being replaced with a deep frown. He narrowed his red eyes in your direction, tightening the grip he had on your hand.

"We won't make it before the sun rises," he growled, his voice deep and curt. "Now, get in our coffin."

When you hesitated, Daddy lost his patience, wrapping both of his steel arms around you. The vampire was much stronger than you are, so he had absolutely no problem forcing you into the tight confines of the small coffin.

Daddy crawled inside right after you, grabbing the lid and slamming it down with a bang. An audible click sounded out, and you were trapped in the dark coffin.

You couldn't see a thing thanks to how dark it was.

The coffin was so compact that you could feel multiple sides-- the back pressed against you and was rather soft, but you could also feel the one of the sides and the top touching you. It was enclosed all around you, trapping you, leaving almost no room for you to even move or wiggle around.

You could barely move.

You could barely breathe.

But there was a cold, hard feature inside the coffin with you, and it snaked both of its large arms around you and roughly yanked you into it.

Daddy buried his nose in your air and moaned loudly as he inhaled your scent.

"Calm down, Darling," he cooed. "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you."

Your heart raced in your chest and you felt dizzy from your panicked hyperventilating.

"It's okay, my sweet darling," Daddy continued to whisper into your ear, keeping you trapped against him. "I know it's a bit of an adjustment, but it'll be worth it, I promise."

He pressed his cool lips against your forehead.

You tried to squirm away, but he was tight against your front and the side of the coffin was tight against your back.

There was no room to move away.

At all.

You're trapped.

"Get some sleep, Darling," Daddy yawned. "I love you."

[athena5898]

I often think when people hear "infantilizing a group of people", they think of it literarily that we are actively being made a infant. While this is a part of it, I think people miss the subtle things that end up causing chasms in their relationships with that group of people.

It's actually hard to pinpoint because it's never a singular event, it's many tiny things but the end result is always "I am the authority, I will always know more then you, I will never take your advice, I will never be honest with you (you know to spare *your* feelings), any disagreement is your fault, any problem in your life is my cross to bear and you must follow how I tell you to fix it, I will never stoop myself to understanding what your needs are as X group and will view everything from my own lens and judge you accordingly, we are not equals, and we never will be. (This is not a exhausted list, nor will everyone have all the same traits)

It is very hard to connect with someone who just automatically assumes a higher status to you just because of something you can't change. All the while the offender thinks what they are doing is actually a good thing. They are somehow helping you by just assuming they are better then you (which in the end, that's kinda what this is).

I have a few people in my life that I care for a lot, but they are not that much older then me yet they act like I can't possibly understand them and automatically shove this "child" label on my forhead.

And here is the thing, they will voluntarily bring up why they think this if you pay attention. It might be trauma they've dealt with, it might be that they have kids and you don't, age, or anything else like this. However I think it's important to note that I have friends who do not talk down to me and respect me as my own person with autonomy and also have these things going on in their life. So it's not like it's impossible to treat someone with respect and have these differences.

Now what do some of these subtle differences look like? There are many ways they can materialize but to name a few.

- Demanding the person solves a problem their way despite the person telling them why their circumstances do not allow that.

- assuming...well anything and all the time. These people have a tendency to think they know exactly what you are feeling and other such things and if you try to correct them then they will actually get upset at you or show some type of passive aggressiveness.

-Speaking on your behalf without asking permission

-never valuing your expertise on any subject. They are older/more mature then you, therefore to them they know more about everything. What's really fun (/s) about this is when they will explain to you, why you are wrong, by repeating what you said back at you.

- any reason why you can't do a thing, or why you need an aide is an excuse. You could do it if you *really* wanted to, but you are just being lazy. Now the real adult has to take up your burden.

- they do not/cannot listen to you. No matter what you say or how you say it, or if they even confirm what you say, there is always a part of them that is not listening. Or hell, they could of listened to you, but since what you say isn't important to them, they will quickly forget it and may even try and claim you never said anything to them.

- I'm not sure if this counts as infantilizing, but I notice that it happens a lot in tandem. While they think less of you and treat you like a child whose facts and opinions don't matter, all of this will change at a moment's notice when they need something from you...oddly enough something they probably normally do not take seriously from you on a normal day. Suddenly thrusting you with this burden of taking care of them even though they are never there for you in any meaningful actually helpful way most of the time. Like you will literally be demanded to stop what you are doing, and get over whatever you are going through to help them and their problem. I cannot explain how frustrating it is to be demanded to be the mature one while most of the time being denied respect.

I could go on, but honestly if I sat here and thought of every single tiny thing they do to make sure there is distance between you and them up on their self made pedestals, I'd be here all day.

The worst part on all of this is that I have no idea how to resolve it. People who do this are not inherently bad people, hell they might not even realize they do it. But this can actually make it more difficult to bring to their attention. I have tried many ways and many different times to resolve this, but I haven't been successful yet. Anyone who has corrected themselves were people who just had a little mess up but still obviously viewed me as a person from the start.

These subtle ways someone can dehumanize you, it can cause terrible rifts and of course the other person never understands why (see point above about not listening)

I am writing this as a autistic person, but I know there are others who go through this. Please check the ways you create artificial authority over someone.

Edit: someone reblogged this with hashtags about how we shouldn't do this to children either and I completely agree, I was using the term because it's the one often used to explain these things. Adding the edit cause I have no idea how to respond to the hashtag thing and I think it's a important thing to note.

[hellenhighwater]

Hi Hell, I wanted to get your thoughts on something. My friend who has been vegetarian for close to 30 years is thinking about becoming vegan. His main reason is that the pain and suffering of an animal in the large majority of the animal product industry is not worth the enjoyment he gets from cheese, milk, etc. He hypothesizes that most people are not vegan due to lack of education about the industry’s methods, and because eating meat is so normalized. I mostly agree, but something about what he’s saying makes me feel bad. Maybe because I don’t see myself ever becoming vegan, due to how much I love certain foods, but I like to think of myself as an empathetic and moral person. So I think I just feel quite selfish.

He is a very analytical and logical thinker, and says he wants to find more anti-vegan arguments before deciding for sure, but can’t seem to find many. What do you (and your followers) think? I was thinking you aren’t vegan, but I don’t actually know.

This is very much not my lane, but if you want my two cents then for me it comes down to a few things.

One: there is a basic mass of food that any human needs to consume in order to stay alive. That can be plants, it can be animals, it can be animal byproducts. For the a significant proportion of commercially produced food, there is a negative impact. It's hard to quantify; in some cases it is certainly direct, quality of life issues for animals. In other cases it's more broad environmental impact from commercial farming, or quality of life for the human laborers involved in harvesting etc. It's hard to come up with any objective measurement for harm when comparing individual animal suffering vs human quality of life vs large scale environmental issues. There's plenty of information out there on some of the vegan diet staples and how increases in farming things like quinoa have enormously detrimental effects on their native communities, if that's something your friend is not already aware.

Two: There is a degree of this that is just...unavoidable. Things eating other things is the way living creatures survive, and on a systematic level there's not a ton we individually can do to change things--and on a practical level, there's only so much you can afford to spend on food, and organic, cruelty free stuff is more expensive. There is a level of privilege in being able to choose to spend your money in that way that is not always an option for everyone.

I'm not vegan. I'm not vegetarian. I care deeply about animals, and I'm aware of what commercial husbandry looks like--it's pretty terrible. I still eat meat. I try to do so as ethically as I reasonably can.

I don't have an issue with eating other animals. It's a part of nature. To me, I see the obligation more to do our best to try to get meat (or byproducts) that have been raised as well as we can manage. Free range eggs are pretty easy to come by, if you live in the country. Same with locally made cheeses and butters, even farm fresh milk--some places have self-serve milking that allows cows to roam in pastures and then be milked at will. Price and availability will vary by where you are, but it's more and more common; as more and more people start to care about how the people and animals involved in making our food are treated, better options become more available.

It also should be noted that the animals involved in farming are almost universally completely domesticated. There's no alternative for these animals and their progeny except for life in human care. These breeds require human aid for their own health and safety, because we have been breeding them for (in many cases) thousands of years to rely on us and to develop traits that will not aid them in the wild. If everyone decided, tomorrow, to become vegan, then these animals would need to remain in human care for however many thousands of generations it would take to breed them back to the ability to survive without us, or we would have to sterilize them en mass and terminate these breeds through lack of reproduction. It is not an option to just release these farm animals into the wild. Domesticated animals require human care. Some of them, like pigeons, have gone feral when we abandoned them, but they are not like their wild cousins, and it shows.

Because of the selective breeding involved in domestion, most of these animals are producing byproducts--eggs, milk, honey, wool, etc--in quantities that they do not need. While some species have been bred to do that to their own detriment, most heritage breeds are fully capable of producing more than they need of these things, and there can be true symbiosis between these animals and their human caretakers. Some of these things they need to have removed for their own health. It's an ancient bargain--we keep them safe, and warm, and healthy, and protected, and they give us that which they have in abundance. The problem isn't the animal product, it's how it's produced commercially.

So yeah--veganism is one option, but it is, in my opinion, a narrow scope at an issue that is far more nuanced. I think it's equally ethical to aim for a diet that focuses on local, ethical farming practices--for growing crops, for caring for meat animals, for beekeeping, for chickens and sheep and whatever else we need. We've spent longer than any of us will live making these animals part of our world--discarding them and what they can give us is not going to benefit them. We just have to learn how to treat them respectfully.

[thestobingirlie]

conformity in stranger things

(as we see it through the characters of steve, dustin and eddie)

dustin meets steve while steve is already heading down his own path — he’s leaving behind ideas about high school and relationships, and figuring out who he is without them.

steve, by season two, had already become disillusioned with the idea of high school, and power struggles, and being the most popular guy in school. which is why he doesn’t react to billy’s taunts.

despite what the fandom may have you believe, steve’s seasons long arc about his struggle with conforming to the person people expect him to be is done.

don’t get me wrong, steve is still hanging onto some ideas in s2, like pretending you don’t care to get girls, and seeing nancy as different to all his other girlfriends (though i personally think that speaks more to steve’s prior relationships than the way he views woman).

and so, dustin and their friendship play a major role in steve fully moving on from the concept of ‘conforming’. steve doesn’t want to change who he is to get people to like him, or love him!

and with dustin, he doesn’t!!!

they make up dorky handshakes, and give each other advice. they talk about girls and steve teaches him how to achieve his signature hairstyle.

their relationship impacts both boys, but neither of them are conforming. it’s pretty much the exact opposite!!! despite what some fans would have you believe steve and dustin have a positive impact on each other!!!

dustin doesn’t change who he is to impress steve! he’s just as dorky as before, and in fact imparts some of that dorkiness onto steve!! steve and dustin help each other to find who they are, and figure themselves out.

on the other hand.

eddie had a negative impact on dustin.

dustin in s3 is dorky. he likes science, and school, and building great big radio towers up hills.

dustin in s4 is failing classes, treating friends like shit, his hubris is at an all time high; all aided by eddie’s high opinion of himself and ideas about conforming.

see. when eddie talks about conforming, he doesn’t really understand what he’s talking about (which is why his fans don’t either).

when he criticised people for ‘conforming’, all he’s really talking about is people being interested in things he doesn’t like. parties. band. science. basketball. he looks down on them all.

he makes snap judgments, and reduces them down to stereotypes. we literally watch him learn this on screen!!!

we literally watch as he verbally recognises that he knew nothing about steve, and yet reduced him down to his interest in basketball.

and here’s where the irony comes in. eddie is literally leading the club on conformity.

everyone in hellfire wears the exact same thing, and he makes fun of the clothes they used to wear. he seats himself on a thrown, and judges anyone that wishes to come before him before he deems them worthy to play a game. he’s not accepting all losers. he’s literally telling them they’re lesser than as he stands on tables in the cafeteria, and then fights against erica playing with them… just because he thinks she has to prove herself to him first.

that’s the point of eddie’s character!! that his whole big speech at the beginning of the season is wrong. and we literally see how he’s wrong scenes later when eddie interacts with chrissy.

people watch eddie learn and grow as a person, and then reduce his character right back down to who he was when he was first introduced.

tl;dr — if one of dustin’s relationships is about conformity, it’s his friendship with eddie, not steve. his brother dynamic with steve is about the complete opposite. about reaching across dumb nerd v jock social divides and finding a family.

in looking up to eddie, dustin has let his other interests fall to the wayside. he’s snarkier, makes fun of steve more (just like he’s been watching eddie mock jocks for months), his friendships with the rest of the party are at an all time low.

and yet. some people would have me believe this is dustin’s truest self? who gets his mormon girlfriend to hack into his school because he’s failing latin. who mocks steve for ‘wanting to be a hero’ when just the season before he was prepared to die by steve’s side.

[windvexer]

On what I'm going to call "peer positioning" in witchcraft, and the scary empowerment it can bring you

I think a lot of people who get into witchcraft have a problem with being able to see themselves as peers & equals to the powers they cultivate around them.

I see this most often discussed when it comes to gods. "Just because your god asks you for something doesn't mean you need to do it!" Etc. I think we've all heard that.

But today my thoughts are on the tarot, and how some people seem to treat tarot readings as "the truth" or "the answer" that then must be followed, even if they (the living, breathing, human practitioner) don't really agree or don't really want to do that.

I'm really big on the analogy of a witch as a monarch, and the concept of various powers (like gods, spirits, tools, and spells) being counselors in the throne room.

In this context, it's easier to adopt the mindset that all of these powers have their own personalities, abilities, and goals - and that they can & will provide conflicting information when you ask for advice. (Especially ancestors - so opinionated!)

Imagine Captain Picard sitting in the meeting room with Geordi, Riker, and the rest of the space nerds.

Captain Picard is like, "the power core is failing and the away team is stranded on the planet. I think we should use the nebula to hide until the Gromflomites stop searching for us." And then Geordi is like, "but Captain, the engines would never make it! We have to go rescue the away team immediately!" And Captain Picard is like, "damn... Wow. I really wanted to go to the nebula, I thought it was the best choice :/ but if you're saying we literally don't have to worry about the Gromflomites..." Then Riker is like, "Captain, no. Geordi isn't saying the Gromflomites aren't a problem, he's just expressing his top concerns as Chief Engineer." And then Picard is all, "oh, so... this is conflicting information? Did that mean I did a bad reading on Geordi, or that negative spirits are stopping me from being able to communicate? Is Riker possibly a trickster?"

If you're captain of the ship, monarch of the kingdom, (etc.), then it might be important to ask yourself:

Am asking for input from my counsel of allied powers, and then making choices for myself?

Or, have I inadvertently signed over my decision-making process to these powers?

And I think it all kind of comes back to "peer positioning," or, witches being able to develop a spiritual framework within which they are equals to the powers around them.

Since beginning practicing witchcraft in earnest, I have often demanded a course of direction. Instead of asking, "how do I accomplish this?" I would ask, "what do I do?"

And the answer was the same every time, deeply infuriating, but also very scary: "Do whatever you think is best."

I think that's the problem of being the captain of the ship. Once your counselors are done giving their input, you are the one who has to make the final call.

Lately I've really been on a kick about witchcraft as a path of empowerment, and I think that viewing spiritual input as just that - input - is a vital part of the process.

Even if you are a true-blue believer in the magical power of tarot, tarot is still just one counselor sitting in your throne room.

Even if you have tutelary spirits, guardians and guides, gods and angels, providing blessings and support - they are not sitting at the head of the table.

You are.

I think that a framework of allied powers as peers and equals is relatively basic, and does have its flaws. But I also think it can be helpful in a variety of ways:

It can provide a system of understanding why allied powers can give conflicting advice, or even seemingly bad advice that doesn't align with our personal desires.

It can provide a tool for processing spiritual input.

It helps restore a sense of personal authority to a practitioner.

It can help a practitioner reclaim control of a path that's grown a mind of its own.

It aids in practicing that most oppressive of skills - liberated autonomy.

I just think it's something to consider. At the end of the day, most of us have probably got to make our own calls.

[I'm making this post because in the past few months I've been helping witches consult the tarot, and they've been giving feedback like, "so this is what I should do, right?" or, "what is it telling me to do?"

I can basically see the huge reblogs where people are explaining that a period of time where they signed complete personal autonomy over to their god was the most empowering and spiritually electric time in their lives,

and I want you to know, I'm not speaking about vows and oaths made to entities that gives them control over your life. I'm talking about situations where witches put down their autonomy so they can have both hands free to shuffle tarot.]

[comradekatara]

nothing too insightful to say just !!! toph is the disabled character of all time and it means so much to me, personally. thinking specifically about what you mentioned on the last post about how she learns to let herself be loved; it is often such a fundamental aspect of growing up with a disability that “love” is the guise that adults stripping you of agency wear.

it’s not just being helped in a way that harms and deemed incompetent. it’s being perceived as incompetent, receiving help for your disability that strips you of autonomy, being vulnerable to the abuse and unable to speak for yourself in response to it because you are too frail, helpless, all under the premise of “love.” when disabled love becomes the equivalent of burdening another and being taken from yourself, toph is kind of incredible because it took me nearly twenty years to even begin to unlearn all of that, but she managed to open herself up to others within a few months (to varying degrees, it’s also interesting she seems to trust sokka the quickest, maybe i will send another ask after breakfast rambling about that).

but toph’s ability to adjust her concept of what love is and open herself to it, is genuinely one of the most powerful disability arcs i have ever seen. she becomes able to accept help and not have that feel like embodying weakness, which feels dangerous when disabled because your perceived social weakness is why you have been stripped of all agency and dehumanized, esp. as a disabled child. toph is incredibly strong in regards to earth bending, but truthfully it is this ability to listen, observe and adapt that is her greatest strength. her character is soooo good and her arc is so fucking beautiful

YES 💗 i don’t talk about toph’s disability enough because i don’t like getting too personal on here but you really do articulate that struggle perfectly and i agree so much with what you said.

toph’s foundational trauma is tied not to her experience being blind, but rather the abuse she received due to her blindness. the struggle of being disabled is always twofold: firstly, and i hate when people sugarcoat or ignore this, having a physical disability does make life more difficult. we see toph struggle when she’s not in a position to use her earthbending as a mobility aid; there are aspects of life that are difficult or genuinely impossible for her to participate in due to her limitations. she can and does often compensate by being a brilliant earthbender, but there are still some things she simply cannot do.

but what’s more important to toph’s experience with disability is the way she is treated by those around her, especially her parents. toph simultaneously struggles with being coddled and smothered due to her unique needs, denied agency due to the assumption that she is somehow less able to dictate her own choices, and treated like a shameful burden due to her disability. so by the time toph joins the gaang, she is very afraid of being seen as a burden, but she also doesn’t want anyone helping her with anything or telling her what to do, because she associates that with her parents’ abuse.

she bristles when katara tries to get her to help out, because she wants to be the kind of person who respects everyone else’s space and lets everyone be capable of “carrying their own weight,” just as she wants to be allowed to be left to her own devices. she doesn’t yet understand that a community or support network is not the same thing as a denial of agency, and so she assumes that katara is overbearing and motherly instead of a kid who comes from a place where everyone does an equal share of labor and expects everyone else to do the same.

that’s why i think a lot of people who have never experienced any kind of major disability firsthand don’t really understand toph, and just assume she’s spoiled and brash due to being rich and entitled. but that’s not the case at all. she’s spent her whole life being treated like a fragile doll instead of a person, and it’s dehumanizing and isolating. she doesn’t understand the value of a community because she’s sick of people trying to help her, and due to her own experiences being “helped,” assumes that help is necessarily negative and a denial of one’s agency.

the last thing she wants in that situation is to be overbearing, to be the one telling other people what to do and how to live their lives (yet another reason why she would never become a cop). of course, she signed on to be aang’s teacher, so pretty quickly she does have to get over herself and actually instruct, and she’s not a gentle pedagogue either. but she also knows that she is supremely qualified to teach earthbending, and so it’s easier for her to tell others what to do when she knows that her wisdom counts for something and she isn’t just imposing her will onto someone else for the hell of it, or because she doesn’t respect them.

she also definitely takes iroh’s advice to heart, because unlike a certain incorrigible nephew, she’s really wise and emotionally mature, able to respond to measured advice and actually internalize what iroh is saying. so it doesn’t take long for her to develop a bond with sokka where she doesn’t feel afraid to rely on him. and it’s funny, because she accuses katara of being overbearing and motherly, but she does actually listen to sokka and follow his every command, despite her supposed disdain for authority. and i think it’s the fact that even though sokka does sometimes forget that she’s blind, he’s never purposely insensitive, and he never bosses her around for the hell of it.

unlike katara, who is genuinely unkind to toph in “the chase,” sokka never disrespects toph, and he certainly never disrespects her disability. he’ll banter with her about it, like when he says “well you’ve never not seen anything like this” in “sokka’s master,” but the joke isn’t at her expense, unlike “the stars sure are beautiful tonight,” which is straight up cruel and lowkey unforgivable (sidenote: as someone who has been bullied for being disabled, i do think that this is hands down the worst thing katara ever says in the show, and i understand why toph would continue to hold a grudge against her for that for a long time). whereas sokka always treats toph like a person, and toph recognizes that, so she thus not only accepts his help, but actively asks for it and enjoys receiving it.

toph does grow and accept her own vulnerability remarkably fast, but to the gaang’s credit, they are great friends, and they all treat her like a person instead of a burden or a doll (including katara). having people who love you and understand you, both in terms of your strengths and your limitations, is really necessary, for anyone, but especially for disabled people. i’m really lucky to have people in my life who love me like that, and toph’s arc is so beautiful specifically because she is given that love and care and never takes it for granted. i definitely think that toph is one of the greatest disabled characters of all time, and it’s because her disability isn’t simply incidental to her character, but rather the central pillar of her arc that informs all her motivations at all times. she learns to ask for help, and accept help when it’s offered. she finds a community.

[ranchstoryblog]

Ranch Story Community Q&A Volume 3: Igusa Matsuyama Returns!

Igusa Matsuyama, the legendary artist behind the Story of Seasons series since the original 1996 game has once again agreed to a Q&A featuring questions from fans from around the world! A big thank you to all the members of the community who helped make this possible.

Some aspects of the text have been altered to match localization people are familiar with. (Japanese names to English names, for example: Bokujou Monogatari (牧場物語) was formerly localized as Harvest Moon and is now localized as Story of Seasons, etc). Images were not part of the original text and have been added as a visual aid. Though we translated as many questions as we could, we did not include questions involving personal information or regarding unannounced releases. Please understand.

If you would like to read our original correspondence (in Japanese), that will be provided in a separate post.

Additional cosplay photo provided by Foxface from our community Discord.

Translations: @artycharmy (correspondence, outline) Editing and Clean-up: Jerome, @artycharmy, and @regularcelery

——— Anonymous asks: What is the relationship between Jamie and the Harvest Goddess?

Igusa Matsuyama: Jamie was treated as a fairy or spirit. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if there's any points that link them and the Goddess.

Editor's note: the term Matsuyama uses is "妖精."

Tomato asks: I would like to ask about what their inspiration was for the outfits designs in the original release of harvest moon another wonderful life. Since I got reminded of the girl clothing brand Mezzo Piano when looking at the I love Kuma/I love bears outfit.

Igusa Matsuyama: I remember the only thing I thought of was using Spring-like colours! (All designs were made with seasonal colours In mind) When I knew that Daachan, who was planned to be used in a lot of events, wouldn't actually play a big role in the game, I put him on the T-Shirt so he could at least get some attention as a mascot-like existence.

Pansy asks: If you were able to create your own game for the Story of Seasons franchise, with no rules or limitations whatsoever, what do you think it might look like?

Igusa Mastuyama: Since I love dogs, I'd like to try making a Story of Seasons that's set in a world just full of dogs. Though that dream of mine probably won't come true.

Anonymous asks: The look of Story of Seasons has changed a lot over the years! What would you say is more challenging to create - simple designs, where you have to work with very little space, or complicated designs, where you have to consider many little details?

Igusa Matsuyama: A long time ago there were a lot of things you weren't able to replicate in video games. There were constraints for things like the number of colours and patterns for hair styles and clothes. It was difficult to work around those constraints, but at the same time a lot of fun. Nowadays, it's the complete opposite. Now we can design anything with hardly any constraints. And unlike a long time ago, now I'm asked to make more complicated designs, like patterns and decorations. However, if it's a big request, sometimes I run into quite a lot of trouble when designing. They each have had their own difficulties.

Anonymous asks: Hello, Matsuyama! Thank you for bringing the worlds of Bokujou Monogatari to life for many years. Your art has had a huge influence on me!

One of my favorite candidates is “Rock” from “A Wonderful Life.” I’d love to know any particular influences for his character design from 21 years ago, and his new design for the remake.

Igusa Matsuyama: I was told that he was a young, wannabe playboy, so I somehow ended up with that sort of design. For the remake, I made his clothes a little looser without changing his design, so he'd look even more playful. I, too, wanted to avoid changing him as much as I could as there are other people among the staff that also like the original for his “Rockness”. So, he got that makeover after everybody shared and checked their opinions with each other.

Jerome asks: On page 130 of the "Special Comic" manga there's artwork of Super Famicom characters that have never been printed anywhere else. Do you or Marvelous still have these? It would be great to see them in more detail in the future some time.

Igusa Matsuyama: They're all characters that appeared in the SNES version of "Harvest Moon." Nina's parents, Ellen's mother, Ann's father, Maria's parents (The mayor couple). I'm sorry. My SNES illustrations have gone missing...

Raven Bloom, Ryan, and Moth ask: How did you feel when your designs for the men in A Wonderful Life were repurposed to be bachelors? What do you think of the changes made to the bachelors in the remake of A Wonderful Life? I miss the “Bruce Campbell” look Matthew used to have.

Igusa Matsuyama: Matthew (マシュー) is Masshu (マッシュ) in the Japanese A Wonderful Life (Editors note: Charmy made a careless mistake when translating the questions, sorry Matsuyama san 🫣) When I first heard this name, the first thing that came to mind was Evil Dead's protagonist, Ash. You're right. I designed him after Bruce Campbell. I still love Bruce Campbell today. When Wonderful Life was under production, I had heard they weren't going to make a girl version, so I designed him not as a love interest, but as a quirky character. Knowing that he'd appear in the remake as a marriage candidate, I redesigned him as a character that would be liked by many. I hope you can enjoy the game for its nostalgia, as well as for being a shiny, brand new release.

Salmon Axe and Anonymous ask: I personally adore Doraemon x SOS game. Are you interested in working directly with or collaborating with other franchises in the future? And is there a series outside Story of Seasons you would like to work with now as a guest artist? (Could it be Pokemon?)

Igusa Matsuyama: I've loved Doraemon manga since I was a kid! Working as a guest artist? Hmm, I'm happier being the main illustrator, so nothing in particular comes to mind. I enjoy a lot of games in my free time, such as Fallout, Far Cry and Border Lands.

Anonymous asks: Even though we never see his face, was there ever a concept of how Woofio would look without his costume?

Igusa Matsuyama: I designed Woofio as the being that is Woofio, so there's no design of him without his costume.

Idris asks: Your style has upgraded a lot over the time to match the trends. Do you think you will ever go for an old school look (early HM) for a SoS game again? What do you think is the secret to your art’s charm?

Igusa Matsuyama: What I'm particular about when designing for Story of Seasons is making characters with head/body proportions and an atmosphere that go well with that release. First, I listen to the client's request then think of a design according to that. These days, game visuals have gotten fancier and fancier, so there's not many opportunities for characters with short proportions to make an appearance. To me, what's important when designing is "playfulness." More so than "pretty" or "cool" and such, I get attached to the character, have fun making the character. I find joy in character creation itself.

MacGyver asks: Yasuhiro Wada has shared some interesting stories about how chaotic the original game's development was. Is there anything interesting you remember from around that time? 

Igusa Matsuyama: Now it's a memory I can look back on and laugh about, but I'm not sure how much I can talk about it so please forgive me. If Wada hadn't been there back then, then "Harvest Moon" wouldn't have become a thing.

Toyberb and Anonymous ask: There’s a lot of different cow designs now, which is your favorite to draw?

Igusa Matsuyama: I've loved drawing animals since I was a kid, so I love all of the cows. Although the easiest one to draw is the cow with the big nose.

Anonymous asks: Were there any games where you made designs for protagonists of genders that did not end up available to play as? (Like a girl protagonist for Save the Homeland/Hero of Leaf Valley or a nonbinary protagonist for any game before A Wonderful Life)

Igusa Matsuyama: There's so many designs that got scrapped, but as far as I recall, there's not really many where that character's setting itself was scrapped. (Excluding Thumbelina, mentioned below)

Koharu asks: Were there ever any character designs made for other older SNES characters like Ellen for 64? Some magazines had Marie with blue hair, like the SNES character, so it made me wonder if she (SNES Maria) was meant to also be there at some point.

Igusa Matsuyama: I'm not in the position to make settings or scenarios where characters from other games appear, so I can't say, but I like the idea of older characters making an appearance!

Amina/k0iisu asks: Hello! I really love Hiro’s design specifically. Could you tell me a few facts about him/his design that might not be well known information? Thank you so much! I love your art :D

Igusa Matsuyama: Thank you very much! Hiro is a future doctor, so I tried to make them look as much like a doctor as I could. Also, to make him look friendlier, I designed him as your average everyday boy you'd see in the neighbourhood. He doesn't have a flashy face or hairstyle, but he's one of my favourite designs, too. I wrote this in the guidebook too, but what I like about him is the Asian flair I added to his clothes and the spot of colour around his feet.

Bunbun asks: I'm excited for the Nendoroid that was announced of Claire! I hope there will be ones of HM64 designs too. Since you have a lot of figures on your blog, how does it feel to be able to add one of your own characters to your collection? Are there any of your other characters you hope will get figures of?

Igusa Matsuyama: A nendoroid of Claire! I'm looking forward to it too, but when is it going to be released? If it's possible, I'd like one of Woofio.

Editor's note: Preorders are open for Nendoroid Claire now!

Chickee asks: A purple-haired princess character was rumored to have existed in Harvest Moon 64, but she didn't make it to the published game. Did you create a design for this character?

Igusa Matsuyama: That's probably Princess Thumbelina. Wasn't she Incredibly small? What I designed didn't end up being used. Speaking of HM64 characters, I pushed for them to include a pet turtle, but in the end it only appeared as an ornament. For A Wonderful Life, I asked for a turtle to be included again and designed a tortoise with a scarf, but it didn't make it as a pet and appeared only as a wild turtle that walks around the pond. I'm waiting for the day they finally include a pet turtle in the game.

emery flower147 asks: omg  I saw the pics where the AWL girls are in a team and Muffy has a shotgun and stuff? Do you think any other characters would work in a cool team like that?

Igusa Matsuyama: For the Friends of Mineral Town guide book, I had the five girls, Popuri, Marie, Ran, Elly and Karen work hard as Harvest Sprites. Also, for the guide books, I drew Pete (The old male protagonist), Sarah (The GB version female protagonist), and Claire doing whatever I wanted them to. I don't know if you can call it cool or not, but it was fun being in charge of that.

Ixur asks: A lot of the PoOT character designs for the regular villagers seem more popular than the marriage candidates in my region. Is that something that's been noticed by you/Marvelous in Japan? Lars, Clemens, Beth, and Misaki for example.

Igusa Matsuyama: Marvelous doesn't really talk about that sort of thing so I'm not sure if they're aware of it or not. I don't do social media so I'm also not sure which characters are popular. I'm happy as long as the characters are liked. The design on Lars’s shirt is modeled after my beloved dog, so I’d be especially happy if you like his shirt too.

Anonymous asks: What do you think about people cosplaying your designs?

Igusa Matsuyama: It makes me very happy! I'm no good at sewing, so I really admire people who can make their own clothes. It's an honour having the designs I made be made into real clothes, and I think it's great to have fun acting out the characters.

Afro Fae asks: When creating designs for characters, how do you settle on a specific color palette? Do you take color meanings into account with a character's personality or do you go purely off of feeling?

Igusa Matsuyama: I keep in mind the overall colours the client asked for while designing. Sometimes I propose a new colour when I think there's one that fits better. I'm also careful when choosing colours and everyone's traits to make sure it's easy to tell which character is which when seen from a distance. However, in the cases of families and such, I do the opposite and give them all a common colour to give them a sense of kinship.

———

From all of us at Ranch Story, we'd like to thank Matsuyama from the bottom of our hearts for answering our questions again! Whether a fan has only just discovered the series or has grown up alongside it, so many people have loved these characters and worlds that Igusa Matsuyama brings to life, so it feels truly special to be able to have this opportunity. We'll end this article with Matsuyama's own words, as well as a parting gift.

Igusa Matsuyama: I'm so glad I could answer your questions again. I'm the one that should be saying thank you. It means the world to me knowing that everyone enjoys my illustrations! I added an illustration as thanks. I'll keep up the hard work!

[lilhub]

So. What's up with the duplicate statues in Eden?

If you've played Sky: Children of the Light and gone through The Ascent, you may have noticed these statues:

And you'll know that the Vault has the same exact statues:

Now the question we're asking here is why.

Of course, I have a theory in regards to it that ties into a couple of other theories, but it's gonna be long and probably a little complicated, so buckle up.

TL;DR will be at the bottom of the post for a simpler(and less all over the place) explanation!

Now, I'm going to start at the beginning with something that may seem completely unrelated:

Take a look at the top of this broken building in the Battlefield.

Does it look familiar? It should.

It looks like the vault masks.

That's odd though, isn't it? The Vault Elder is, well, the Vault Elder. They belong in the Vault.

To that I say: what if they weren't always there?

What if that building used to be their temple?

Almost every other Elder has their own building that serves as their temple and little else; why would the Vault Elder be any different? They're certainly just as important as every other Elder, so why would they be singled out?

Some more evidence for the broken building being an Elder's temple?

Look here, in The Seed's spirit memory:

The spirit was a medic that treated and aided soldiers on the battlefield, and this displays them in a Medic's tent. Where? In the broken building.

Other than it being the arguably safest structure aside from the Vault, there's...no real reason for it to be here of all places. They could have had it anywhere else; this is in the thick of the fighting, after all, the entire map is called the Battlefield for a reason. But there's a reason it was here.

Why?

Well, the Elder's temples are sacred. They're holy places, not to be trifled with, even in the midst of a war, they're like churches. And what was guaranteed if you took shelter in a church?

Sanctuary.

Unfortunately, this doesn't guarantee its outside will be particularly safe from conflict, especially toward the end of the war. Survival began to matter more than walls, I suspect, and it's clear from the Lookout Scout's memory sequence that even then, this place was broken down; potentially from Dark Dragons, potentially from the Ancestors. Unfortunately, we currently have no way of knowing for sure.

On the topic of placements and symbolism in the Battlefield map, though: there's also all of this imagery of the King leading up to the Wasteland Elder's temple.

Let me suggest to you the following as an answer to why:

Eden was not always the primary residence of the King.

Before you grab your torches and pitchforks, hear me out. The Eden Castle was not always there, and this is explicitly shown in the Aurora concert during Warrior, but also the fourth quest in Season of Passage:

No castle.

Now, what does this mean for the King? Well, logically they should have them residing in the otherwise safest place in the Kingdom—like, perhaps, a Vault.

Now we're getting somewhere.

Let's go back to the statues.

Many theorize that they're graves, due to the fact that there's one in each temple and when you sit, you're taken to the respective cutscenes that feature the Elders in their limbos. I disagree.

I think they were communication lines. Every Elder will need to contact one another at some point, and other than the Windpaths, there's really no shortcuts through the realms; thus, the statues function as telephones in a home network, if you will. If one person picks up the line while others are having a conversation, they can listen in as well.

Who needs to have a way to contact every single Elder?

The King.

A ruler needs to be able to conveniently contact the others that help them run a kingdom, especially at a moment's notice, and phones don't exactly exist in the Kingdom. Thusly following the path of logic here, wherever the King is, there should be each statue for each corresponding Elder.

Once the castle became the primary residence of the King, now that the Vault Elder was no longer close by, there was a statue added to the arrangement; this also explains why it's just sat in the middle of them instead of up with the rest.

There is one other thing, though.

What's up with the Wasteland Elder?

After all, if the Vault was the primary residence of the King, and the statues support that, then why and how does the Wasteland Elder come to inhabit that building?

I have a few thoughts on that too.

Let's take a look at the Wasteland Elder, for starters.

They look like a soldier. Which is no surprise, really, seeing as they were in charge of what is now the Wasteland, and the war that seems to have primarily taken place there.

I have another thought though.

The King needs a guard, or more accurately, the Prince does. Sure, there is plenty of power when you are the King, but before that they was a Prince, and there are always precautions that should be taken with the future ruler of your Kingdom.

From what little we see of their character, the Wasteland Elder is protective. Defensive. Willing to do anything to safeguard what lay beyond that gate. They had to learn from somewhere. That instinct has to come from somewhere, because they clearly have worked themselves to the point of absolute exhaustion in their efforts to safeguard that gate.

To this, I ask you: what better protection is there for a Prince than a Star?

Of course, once the Prince becomes a King, and Eden is more than adequate as a safe spot for them, this Star needs to be put somewhere else.

And the Wasteland still needs a protector. After all, the Dark Dragons at this point must be becoming a problem, and Darkstone production is likely growing larger and larger by the day; the people need someone to keep them safe and reassure them that all will be okay.

Who better than a Star that already knows everything about protection and defense? Who has the necessary experience? Who has likely had to manage other guards that helped protect the Prince?

TL;DR: Before the fall of the kingdom, while the King was still a Prince, before the Castle was built the Prince resided in the Vault. And before the conflict in the Wasteland, the Vault Elder's temple was the broken building we now see in the Battlefield. This explains both the King imagery leading up to (what is now)the Wasteland Temple(which also doubles as the entrance to the Vault) and the symbol atop the broken building that resembles the Vault masks.

During the period of time before the Prince became the King, the Wasteland Elder was assigned as their protector, explaining their intense need to defend the Vault 'til their last breath. Afterward, once the Prince becomes King, they are reassigned as the Guardian of the Wasteland, charged with overseeing its people and the Darkstone production taking place there.

Because of the fact that the King resided in the Vault and the Eden Castle, there are versions of each Elder's statue in both places due to them potentially being communication lines instead of graves. Or, at least, they used to be communication lines and were turned into graves for the Fallen Stars after the Fall of the Kingdom. This also explains why each statue takes us to that specific Elder's limbo space; they still, technically, function for their intended purpose.

Of course, this is all just one huge theory made up of a bunch of smaller theories and doesn't have the greatest evidence but. Alas! I am prone to overthinking details in the Funny Light Game.

[drdemonprince]

also a good-faith question: what do i tell some of my friends who are terrified of the collapse of the current system for like, survival reasons? like in ways that mutual aid and community support can't really help.

i was trying to explain all this stuff to my friend the other day who is on government support and needs a lot of intensive, expensive medical intervention to live, and she accused me of being willing to sacrifice disabled people for the sake of ideological purity but like, i wasn't saying she doesn't deserve to live, but that she doesn't deserve to live more than palestinians do? and that she also doesn't deserve to specifically live on stolen land. and like, there are palestinians who also could really use those medical treatments that she has the privilege of accessing, why does she deserve them more?

she said she can't afford to not care about the election results because if anything happens to the aca or medicaid, or if anything happens to the medical supply chains, then she's fucked. like, yeah, but same goes for all these people our country is oppressing??

i feel like i just didn't explain this well and i want to give her some other stuff to read.

Great question! I think when people believe that all social care systems will collapse without the government, they are buying into a very colonialist idea that human beings are at their most basic level selfish and irresponsible and won't care for their communities. This is not the case! Thousands of years of human history prove this not to be the case, and so do the behaviors of humans right now during moments of crisis.

Look to the people of Gaza -- they are not leaving their disabled behind. People are sacrificing all that they have to care for their elderly relatives, neighbors, and friends. The only reason that disabled people in Gaza are dying is because the region is being deliberately deprived of resources by Israel. If aid were let in and the Palestinian people were free, they would feed their hungry, treat their sick, supply insulin, teach children, and perform everything that we currently in the US rely upon the government to supply.

Another example of this can be found in how humans respond to natural disasters. Rebecca Solnit's book A Paradise Built in Hell is a beautiful read on this, following numerous real-life disasters across the globe. In every case, people did not riot and pillage or dissolve into violence--- they formed stable encampments, doctors and pharmacists worked their jobs without pay, cooks made food without expecting a wage, everyone pooled their resources and looked after one another.

We also see examples of this when other governments have fallen -- and all governments eventually do! When a nation-state ends, life doesn't end. People keep going to work to make the medicine and put on the leg casts and wash physically disabled people's bodies and make the food. People WANT to feel useful, helpful, included, and looked after, and they will do these things without being forced to by an authoritarian power structure. We see this in the campus encampments and the incredible outpouring of generosity they are experiencing too.

It is quite common for a person to mistakenly believe that the government is all that is keeping our social order working, and that we are all just one moment away from violent chaos and deprivation without it. But that really isn't true. Even without the government, we will still have the *people* who understand how food production and logistics work, the *people* who research and test the drugs, the *people* who watch the children and nurse the elders and fix the roads and butcher chickens.

Without the alienating, exploitative economic structure we currently have, it would actually be EASIER and more efficient for us to take care of one another with these skills, because our time wouldnt be wasted on bullshit jobs that don't contribute to society.

There are lots of great readings about all of this on the Anarchist Library, but I recommend starting with David Graeber's books! Bullshit Jobs, then Debt the first 5000 Years, then Utopia of Rules, then Dawn of Everything. Bullshit Jobs is the easiest read.

[magicalrocketships]

Hello! I hope you are most well. I just got to share your baby Daniel in the going -Small verse with a friend, special place in my heart for him. Then I thought about it for two long and my thoughts wandered off rabbit-hole style. Do you have any thoughts on how adult Max might react if he'd met baby Daniel after his embarassment about going small and living with Daniel for three months? Baby Daniel doesn't know that! He just wants to love on Max.

Sending love, hugs, and cheesy garlic bread <3

Oh I HAVE thought about this a lot. Unfortunately my eyes are pretty blurry today (love you chronic illness, kiss kiss) so let's have some brief thoughts at 175% zoom and I'll come back to it another time

Max IS going to meet baby Daniel again. He's also going to meet baby Daniel when he's baby Max as well (and Daniel's mum and dad look after them). 

Max when he Goes Small doesn't have his competitiveness; he doesn't want to fight, he doesn't want to race, he doesn't want to come first. And a Max who isn't competitive and therefore also doesn't have to push through fear and never show it gets to… explore things differently this time around. And it's not just Max that learns that, it's Daniel too, looking after him. But it's Max who's ashamed of this little baby Max and doesn't want to be connected to him, wants to run away from him when he's big again. 

When Daniel Goes Small he doesn't feel fear, really (except if there's a dog, and he hides behind Max) - or rather; he does feel fear but he often doesn't know he should be scared. He wants to climb on the balcony wall to look over the side and see how far down it is (he's not huge on heights when he sees). He wants to ride his bike really fast and jump in the pool and make a big splash and he's not cold (he's really cold) and go in the fast car and can Max go faster please (holds on very tight to the seat but says wow extremely reverentially afterwards). He'll climb on things he shouldn't climb on, and open things he shouldn't open, and trusts everybody, and hates bedtime so Max has to carry a passed out Daniel to bed every night because he does not know how to get him to go to bed, and Max spends three days looking after him and at the end of it he's exhausted. 

But Max doesn't once think that Daniel should be embarrassed about baby Daniel when he Goes Big again. Not even when Daniel skids off his bike on the second day and takes all the skin off his knees and his elbow, and he cries loud and hard because there's blood and it's run down his knee and hit his sock, and Max ends up using half of some other mum's first aid kit to wipe the dirt out of Daniel's grazes and get antiseptic on them and plasters. Daniel gets to have chicken nuggets afterwards as a treat, and there's a little bit of Max that knows, when he was a kid, crying wasn't something he could do to get a hug and some chicken nuggets. And Daniel had instinctively cried out Max's name, but Max had already been running across the bike track to make sure he was okay. 

When Daniel Goes Big, he says thanks for looking after me, like he and little Daniel are the same person, like he's okay being a curly haired kid with poor judgment. Max says, "You will have to keep looking after your knees, the grazes are quite bad." Daniel looks down at the Pokemon plasters peeking out from underneath his shorts and shrugs. When I was a kid I was always doing shit like that. Thanks, Max. 

Afterwards, Max misses the noise. He misses the constant questions, the what's in there, how fast do lions go, why can't I, and the way he'd fall asleep passed out in Max's lap, still protesting he wasn't tired, protesting he can eat what he wants, asking how fast he was when he ran around Max's flat twelve times to get rid of some energy. 

Max doesn't think: you should be ashamed. 

He thinks: I wish I wasn't. 

(All actual parts can be found either in this masterpost or on AO3 here.)

[gougarfem]

i know this is cliché and there are a million posts like this but i'm getting so tired of the pointless infighting on here. and before you accuse me of anything, i'm a lesbian who practices complete female seperatism with the exception of having to interact with male healthcare staff. yes, i'm far from a perfect radfem, and yes, we should all try but I don't think anyone on here meets that ideal. seeing misogynistic slurs and insults thrown at women who are bisexual, het-partnered, or god forbid need a fucking abortion is so saddening when tumblr is one of the only places i feel a sense of community with other feminists. most people on here have at some point been isolated and ostracized for our politics. we're lucky to have a space on a site like this where we can express our beliefs and form a community and have nuanced discussions (look at what's happening to other apps! look how quickly radfem pages are termed on instagram and tiktok!) and instead of using this platform for constructive discussion some of you are spending 4+ hours a day in petty arguments over semantics, attacking vulnerable women for needing medical procedures and cyberbullying anyone who happens to feel attraction to men. we are not going to form a movement like this. no progress will come from this! outsiders see us picking each other apart and are discouraged from radical feminism, men use the holes in our community to tear us apart and make us look like a joke. people go back to liberal circles because their first day on radblr gets them an inbox full of insults and slurs and they quickly see how other women are treated on here.

i can't believe this needs saying but spending your day online calling osa women traitors/c*nts/c*cksuckers/brainwashed, telling detrans women we're deformed and damaged goods and throwing around the r slur is not activism nor is it feminist. some of you need to watch a primary school cyberbullying powerpoint about how there's another person at the end of the screen because i know no one on here would say those things to a woman's face. radical feminism fights for the liberation of EVERY woman, no matter if you personally dislike them or disagree with their choices - and even so, it's common sense that people will be more open to conversation and willing to change if you treat them with kindness, instead of denouncing and dogpiling everyone who doesn't meet your standards. i'm a radfem because so many women aren't. i'm a radfem for the women who wear makeup and insist it's for themselves. i'm a radfem for women who have been "happily married" 10 years and still do 100% of the housework. is that you? are you fighting for these women? or are you on here to boost your superiority complex and put others down? because if that's the case our movement doesn't fucking need you.

i hope some of you think about why you're on tumblr and how exactly you're aiding female liberation or even helping women to begin with. where the majority of other communities are toxic echo chambers, we need to be able to accept differences of opinion and fight for the bigger cause. anything else will alienate the same women we claim to be fighting for.

[mouschiwrites]

HEYY POOKIEE!!!! I had an idea from the movie, so basically the reader being the ninja's little sibling who don't get along at all. They fight over the smallest things at school and at home. That's until one day while Garmadon attacks the reader gets captured and the ninja has to save the reader, which accidentally causes the ninja to reveal their identity and the reader just gives their sibling a big hug and apologizes for everything they've said in the past and they up!!!

Okay that's it TYSM HAVE A NICE DAY OR NIGHT AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF POOKIEE💛💛💛🤍🤍🤍

Yes of course!! <33

Ninjago - Ninjas When You (Their Little Sibling) Are Taken

Kai

Kai pretended like he didn’t care when he first saw you were taken

But he was determined to get you back; in reality, he did indeed care

He was ready to do whatever it took to get you back

He fell blindly into a trap, finding himself restrained by one of Garmadon’s goons

They pulled off his mask, but his face remained hardened

He snapped at his captor, taking advantage of their brief moment of shock at seeing his face

He left his mask forgotten on the ground, rushing to your aid

He lifted you in his arms and booked it to safety

He paused on a rooftop to catch his breath

You decided to take the opportunity to apologize

The words didn’t come easy, but you finally found them

“Kai… I’m sorry. For everything. For the mask, for everything I’ve said—”

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

After that day you made an effort to be nicer to him, difficult as it was

He tried to keep his temper in check too

You silently appreciated each others’ efforts, but the fruits were even more precious

Your relationship started to shift ever so subtly, but it was doubtlessly improving

Jay

Jay was terrified when you got involved

It was like he forgot your terrible relationship entirely

He clumsily rushed to your aid, his skills crumbling under the weight of his anxiety

He ended up pinned down, and his assailant roughly pulled off his mask

His face turned bright red as he was exposed, and in a sudden burst of panicked energy he was able to push them off

He nabbed his mask quickly before remembering his original mission

Then he jumped back into action, managing to retrieve you and find a safe place to hide

He grabbed you by the shoulders, turning you from side to side to check for injuries

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Jay, I’m so sorry! I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? Oh, I’ve been so horrible…”

He couldn’t deny that you had been pretty bad

But he also admitted that he was no better

You shared a hug

In that moment, you formed a new bond

You both started to act nicer from then on

That hug established a new norm of tenderness between you two :)

Lloyd

He was mostly miffed when you were taken

He directed his anger at his father for getting you involved

So he went into battle with a fury he often felt when facing Garmadon

But this time it was extra personal

He confronted Garmadon directly, making a snide comment about treating his children like chess pieces

He pulled off his mask to prove the point, too angry to think clearly

Garmadon was so shocked that Lloyd was pretty much able to walk away with you

He marched away angrily, dragging you behind

He started to vent about Garmadon

After you got over your shock, you started agreeing with him, even adding your own complaints

When he was done he just huffed, burying his face in his palm

You saw that tears were dribbling onto his glove

“Um, Lloyd? I just wanted to say sorry… we don’t really have the best family dynamic, and I… I don’t want our relationship to be like the one we have with our dad.”

“Me neither. I really do love you, you know.”

“Same here.”

You embraced, vowing to be better

And you both made a valiant effort, using your father as a sort of anti-example

As it turned out, he was a strong motivator; your relationship improved quite steadily from then on

Cole

As much as he might’ve disliked you, he knew he had to save you

He couldn’t live with himself otherwise

So he hurried into the thick of the battle, his eyes locked on you all the while

He was secretly worried they’d hurt you, though he’d hesitate to admit it

He was distracted; it wasn’t long until an opponent grabbed a sudden hold of his mask

He whipped around, downing the assailant in a single blow and grabbing his mask

But he didn’t take the time to put it on, simply tucking it into his belt while he ran to your aid

The hardened look in his eyes made you feel especially guilty

You could only imagine how angry he was, having to save you and then having his identity revealed in the process

But when you were alone, he asked with surprising softness if you were okay

The look on his face had softened, too

Still, you felt guilty

“I’m fine. Um… I’m really sorry, Cole. This was all my fault..!”

“What? No, it was Garmadon’s doing. I’m not mad at you, Y/n. You’re my family. I love you, little rascal that you are.”

He ruffled your hair roughly, making you giggle

You wrapped your arms around him suddenly

He slowly hugged you back

In that moment you shared a silent agreement to be better

It might not have been spoken, but you both held fast to that agreement, and slowly your relationship did improve :)

Zane

The second you got involved, Zane’s objective was to save you

You were more important to him than anything: his pride, the mission, anything

He forgot everything else, abandoning his current task to rush over to you

In his haste, the opponent he was running from managed to catch his mask

He ran without realizing that the mask had come off

Even your flabbergasted gaze didn’t clue him in

The stares he was getting didn’t even register as he carried you away from danger

When you were alone, he mechanically asked if you were okay

You just stared at him, the image of a thousand eyes on you as you ran stuck in your mind

“Zane, your identity… I’m so sorry, if I had never been taken..!”

“Why are you apologizing? It was not your fault. I’m just glad that you’re safe. You’re my family, and I care for you greatly.”

You blinked at him, cursing the tears that came to your eyes

He hugged you, and through your tears you told him that you loved him too

After that, you decided to try and be nicer to him

He matched your efforts as soon as he noticed them; he was more than ready to fix your relationship

After all, you were his top priority ;)

Nya

She was incredulous when you were captured

She took it sort of personally

This fueled her rage, and she went on a war path to save you

She threw you over her shoulder; saving you was how she was measuring her victory

With you in her arms, she was satisfied

In her mind, she’d already won

Which made her getaway a little sloppy, and she ended up losing her mask to an especially quick assailant

She was frozen in shock and horror for a moment

Then she ran, faster than ever before

She practically collapsed as she set you down, chest heaving from the exertion as much as the panic

But she calmed herself, reminding herself that she saved you

Exhaling slowly, she straightened and put a hand on your shoulder

“Nya, I’m sorry! I never meant for any of this to happen! I love you too much… even though I don’t act like it…”

“All that matters is that you’re safe. And, for the record, I love you too.”

You shared a little smirk, a secret understanding established between you two

Knowing that you really did love each other seemed to soften the tension between you two

Teasing turned into jokes as your relationship gradually mended :)

Thanks for this request!! And thanks for reading, take care honey bears <33

(divider by saradika)

[flutteringdreams-matw]

The Insomniac's Diner

Happy Truce @half-deadmagicperson! I've been working on this for a little bit - honestly my ideas started to get so big that I might even make it longer. Just wanted to give you this chapter and wishing you the best! Hope you like it.

The prompt I chose was: Mr. Lancer discovers Danny’s identity in the most random way.

When battling insomnia, the last thing he expected was to be sitting at his favourite grungy diner on the outskirts of Amity, drinking what he presumed was coffee.

William Lancer sighed, clicking his pen absently as he reread his manuscript for the third time that night. Green eyes swept the page, hoping for a spark of inspiration to send his whirling mind into a buzz, spilling the story onto the page. He took another sip, scrunching his nose in disgust at the burnt taste.

“Fresh Cup there Lance?”

He choked, coughing into the cup in surprise. The diner owner stood over him, a smirk across her round face as she waited for an answer. “No, probably for the best Gloria. It’s a school night after all.”

Gloria tutted, settling in across the man in his booth. “This is the third night this week dearie – anything the matter?”

Lancer sighed again. “Not sure – you know I’ve been dealing with this for years.”

“Well, yes, but it seems like it might be a little more regular now,” Gloria replied, humming slightly. “In all the years I’ve seen you William, this ranks top three. Is it the book again? The teens at the school? Don’t tell me it’s the g-“

“Shh!”

Gloria and Lancer turned to the wide-eyed cook behind the counter. “Don’t jinx it Gloria. He might show up again?”

Curiosity bubbled through Lancer. “He?” He queried.

Gloria shrugged. “It’s been a week, I doubt he’ll show up again. Besides, all he does is show the card anyway.”

Lancer frowned. “The card?”

Gloria pointed to the wall of frayed photos under a large sign labelled Friends of Dale. “The All-You-Can-Eat one. It’s the card where that person and anyone in their family can eat for free after completing the Dale’s challenge in one sitting.”

 “The one that’s everything on the menu topped with a fudge sundae?”

“That’s the one! It’s been 6 years since anyone even tried.” Gloria fidgeted with the menu on the table. ‘Anyway, this kid keeps showing up here at random hours of the morning and asks for the same thing: Three pancakes topped with whipped cream and a coffee with an expresso shot and 7 sugars.”

Lancer gagged. “7 sugars? At that point why drink coffee?”

“You’re missing the point Lance,” Gloria tapped the menu card, attempting to gain his attention. “This kid, he’s like…. I don’t know. But he’s high school aged.”

Lancer bristled. “One of my students?”

Gloria shook her head. “Don’t think so – unless you have a student with white hair who can fly.”

The pen dropped from Lancer’s hand as the man’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Gloria smiled mischievously. “You heard me.”

Lancer grabbed his pen, clicked it a few times then set it on the table. “How long does he stay?”

Gloria stood up, smoothing out the front of her uniform while she eyed the rest of the diner. “Depends on the day. Often, I hear him muttering about a curfew. If our parents made our curfew after 2am on a school night I’d question their sanity.” She frowned, nodding her head to the left. “Gotta jet. But you’re in for a treat.”

Puzzled, Lancer traced Gloria’s steps across the checkered floor.

“The usual?” Gloria asked warmly as she approached the booth furthest from the door.  

“Yeah – and if you have ice and a first aid kit, I’d appreciate it.”

Lancer’s blood ran cold as Phantom’s voice softly echoed through the diner. He peered subtly over his booth, barely making out the gray hoodie with a tuft of snow white hair poking out of it. Vaguely, he heard Gloria tell him she couldn’t fork over the first aid kit but took his order down. She walked back towards the counter, locking eyes with the teacher and mouthed what suspiciously looked like Told you in his direction.

Lancer stared back at his manuscript, mind reeling at this new development. Phantom here. How long? Have they every been here at the same time? Why?

“You look confused.”

Startled, Lancer jumped out of his seat, spilling coffee over the first page as the young ghost materialized across from him.

Danny Phantom winced, frowning at the mess. “Shoot, sorry.” The boy grabbed papers and suddenly the coffee fell through the table and onto the floor. Once the table was solid again, he picked up the manuscript, made them into a neat pile and handed them back to the man. “I should know better.”

Lancer stood, gaping at the boy now joining him at the booth. “It’s… alright…” He sat back down gingerly, eyeing him warily. The gray hoodie, he realized, was from an old spirit wear campaign from Casper High that was discontinued in the 80s; Lancer swore he saw them in a stock room in the basement a couple weeks back. Phantom’s gloved hands were in his sleeves, the left pressed down on his right. Green eyes stared back, confusion and a bit of concern shining back at him. “Long night?”

The spell was broken; the teen groaned loudly, shrinking into his seat. “It always is. Seriously, I thought I’d never get away from Technus’ babble. He’s almost as bad as T-a friend of mine.” Gloria came over, giving the boy his food, a bowl of ice and coffee and left the pair with a hint of smile. “What about you? Didn’t think teachers stayed up until 2am on a school night.”

 Lancer laughed. “Try being a teacher in America. Trust me, I’m not up because I want to.” He watched the boy take a piece of ice, wrapped it in a napkin before pressing down on his arm. Ignoring the action and the wince that followed, Lancer continued. “I’ve struggled with insomnia over the last 10 years, sometimes I can get through it, sometimes… I embrace it.”

“Some would say neglecting sleep is bad for you,” the boy quipped.

“Some haven’t had the nights I’ve had,” he retorted.

Phantom hummed, taking a bite out of the first pancake with his left hand. “Not like I can’t relate,” he muttered. The ghost’s eyes flickered to the stack of papers. “What’s that?”

A soft smile graced his lips. “Just a little bit of writing.”

Phantom hummed again, this time bringing his head to his hand thoughtfully. “Like a book?”

“Exactly that. I figured if I couldn’t sleep, I’d at least work on it a bit.”

“Did it help?”

Lancer laughed sardonically. “Nope.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “And I have to cover at least one extra period tomorrow. Any chance your escapades destroyed part of the school tonight?”

The boy flushed green. “Hey! I don’t intentionally destroy buildings! I can’t pick where I’m thrown!”

Lancer chuckled. “I was joking.” The pair sat in silence, Phantom continuing his meal while Lancer drank the rest of his burnt coffee. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. “How long have you been coming here?”

Phantom shrugged. “Apparently this place has a bunch of …. What did Frostbite call them…. Essentially faultlines,” He made a face. “Not quite that. Anyway, a bunch of these faultlines the run under this diner that deter ghosts from coming here. It’s like a ghost truce space – some of our powers don’t work. We’re hardwired to avoid it.”

Lancer’s face twitched. “So… like it’s haunted.”

Phantom smiled mischievously. “You get it.” He stretched, taking a sip of coffee before settling in again. “Anyway, found that out a couple months back and remembered that I had the card so I’ve been coming here when I need to fuel up.”

Lancer nodded, making a mental note to ask about it later. One never got this close to the ghost hero without a ghost fight, let alone know a bit about him. His curiosity was peaked, brimming with wanting to learn everything he could about the visitor. All the questions suddenly left him as he saw Phantom add more sugar to his coffee. “Eventually, that’ll stop being coffee.”

Phantom chuckled. “Good. It’s gross – I only use it for the caffeine anyway. I still have at least another hour to go before I can actually go home.”

Lancer glanced at his watch; 2:30am. “I don’t envy you,” he said softly.

The boy’s eyebrow quirked upward. “Who would?” he asked honestly.

Lancer frowned at the response but before he was able to think hard about it, a new bulletin flashed across the TV, completely stealing the boy’s attention to the conversation at hand.

“Shoot,” he said with a frown. He downed the coffee in one go and floated into the air. “Gotta run – maybe I’ll see you around sometime Mr. Lancer.” He flew up through the ceiling and then the diner was silent again.

Lancer barely managed to wave, frowning at the bizarre conversation.

“Harmless right?”

Lancer jumped out of his skin as Gloria snuck up behind him. “Hell House Gloria, anyone ever suggest you might be a ghost?”

Gloria chuckled, giving him the bill. “You know you love it.” She started to clean the table, frowning slightly. “Huh, poor thing must have been in a rush.”

“Seemed so – why?”

Gloria flashed the membership card his way. “He left this behind. I’ll just keep it until he shows up next.”

Lancer grew pale. “Gloria – are you sure that’s his card?”

Gloria’s eyes sparkled. “Yes – why?”

“Because I recognize that name,” he said softly.

Gloria smiled in understanding. “You teach those kids right? Little one should be high school bound by now.”

He nodded.

“Well it’s his card – no doubt about it. Not stolen either, I did the test and all. It’s him.” She shrugged, turning her back as she pocketed the evidence. “Don’t think too hard about it – it’ll keep you up at night.”

Lancer sat frozen, his curiosity wrapping around such an absurd theory that he couldn’t shake. There was no way. No possible way this could be true and yet –

The card said Fenton.

[vendettasfanfictioning]

"ENGAGEMENT RING" WAS NOT SOME WAYWARD TRANSLATION BUT AN ACTUAL LINE IN THE JP MANGA?????? I always thought the reason some translations said, "engagement (ring)," where others used, "prenup," for Illumi and Hisoka's contract was because it was one translator's whim to cause chaos???? Like. It could be read as either of those, but was not necessarily the whole definition.

(x)

But no, I've input the kanji into every translator I could find and they all said roughly the same thing—prenuptial contract. Meanwhile, the furigana (AKA the reading aid consisting of smaller kana printed either above or next to kanji or other characters to indicate their pronunciation), spelled out engagement ring.

I know this might be old news to some but I was today years old when I found out it was so literal????? Togashi really spelled it out in a way ensures we can't misunderstand yet somehow the implications still fly over a few people's heads???????

Idk about y'all but if I was an assassin born and raised on the ideology that an assassin does not need friends and some powerful magician mf just dallies around, telling every person he fights that he's my friend—I'd have killed him by now. I wouldn't trust him with my family secrets. I wouldn't do him any favors.

Or if I was a power-hungry fighter always striving to grow stronger, who grew up in the literal slums and betrays people left and right, I wouldn't put my trust on this pretty assassin either. Even if it's all just manipulations in the end, I wouldn't have any reason to call him, and only him, a friend. I wouldn't give him many, if not all, of my earthly possessions if I were to pass away—even if he isn't the one to kill me.

That's the thing about the contract too, Illumi gets his, "engagement ring," regardless of who kills Hisoka. Illumi's insured, whatever the outcome of this fight may be, so long as Hisoka dies. The funny thing about prenups is it could also be treated as a will of sorts—should one person die, I think it's more commonplace for prenups to include that all valuable assets be given to the widow by default??

Hisoka really did not need to do that, in order to hire Illumi???? Does this mean Hisoka knows and accepts the inevitability of his death on the Black Whale??? Or did his touch with death after fighting Chrollo open his eyes to the fact that he still needed a beneficiary, someone to take his belongings when he dies???? Either way, it's telling that he chose Illumi, of all people, to uphold this extremely important contract...

Anyways. Whether you wanna acknowledge it or not, Hisoka and Illumi have grown to become a pair in the Hunter X Hunter universe, have become the most unlikely, if not terrifying, friends and while the, "engagement ring," or the, "prenup," may not be explicitly romantic, the connotations and the possibilities are still there.

In conclusion, these insane mfs are gay and married, good for them!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈