#I see that the world didn't end. and by and large it looks like maintaining a relationship with them will be possible

[asinglesock]

actually though, me saying that my ideal life is one in which I disappoint my parents might be progress! or might just be sad, idk

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Nanny

꧁ One Week Later ꧂

Soarynn brings her hands up to her mouth, blowing air onto them in hopes of warming them up. It snowed last night and the children have been itching to explore the fresh blanket of fallen snow since the second they woke up.

The girls giggle while they run around the snow-covered grounds, leaving behind tiny footprints. Soarynn smiles at the sight, doing her best to forget about how terrified she had been a week prior. To forget about the attack.

When they arrived at the Capitol the morning after, they moved silently. No one had been made aware of the conflict that took place in Four and Coriolanus planned on keeping it that way. They exited through the front of the train, heading down a dark maintainence tunnel where a car was waiting for them.

Very few people were told about the attack, such as Quintus Heavensbee and the family doctor who conducted several checks on Soarynn and the children once they were safely inside the President's Mansion. He told her that her nose wasn't broken, only swollen, and that the bruising around her eye would disappear. He also provided some healing salve to speed up the process.

He had offered to test for the possibility of any sexually transmitted diseases but she assured him that nothing had transpired while she was held captive. Part of her wondered if Coriolanus didn't entirely trust her, would he go to such lengths to confirm or deny her claim?

Coriolanus had locked himself away in his study the first day they got back from the trip, goodness knows how much work he would have to do. But he's been acting more...flippant. Asking her how she's doing more often, checking in on her more often, encouraging her to ask the staff for anything she might possibly need. As if she could ever need anything while living with him and his family.

He seems more caring but Soarynn wonders if it's because of the attack or what transpired after. The kiss.

Oh, that kiss has been the bane of her existence. Some of her wishes that she let it go further, that she spent the night in his embrace. But the other half of her is glad she didn't give in to her desires. Even though she really wanted to.

He had come up to her the following day with specific instructions that she could not under any circumstances leave the property with or without the children until he said so. Soarynn had been a bit put off by that order but he explained that no one could see her in this injured state, and he wasn't too keen on letting his children out of his sight at the moment. So, they stayed inside, they could go out onto the grounds so long as they didn't go beyond the fence. It's not like they could with the heightened Peacekeeper presence surrounding the Mansion.

The Snows were on high alert.

Soarynn had asked Eudora if they'd still be throwing the end-of-the-year party and Eudora confirmed that the party was still on as far as she knew. Soarynn hoped it would stay that way, the girls were so excited about it.

"Look Soarynn! I made a snow angel and I'm a Snow!"

Soarynn walks over to Ceraphina who's sitting in the snow, not a care in the world as to how cold it is outside right now. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get the girls to wear coats, hats, and gloves before they braved the cold but Soarynn insisted that they wear the gloves. Caspian had already thrown his off, he hated the things and Soarynn had given up on making him wear them about an hour ago.

"What a beautiful angel," Soarynn says, giving Ceraphina a nod of approval. Celeste runs between the two of them, her pink scarf flying behind her like a cape. Celeste had insisted on wearing her favorite pink scarf as well, claiming that it was the "perfect accessory."

"There's Daddy," she points, looking up at the large windows overlooking the grounds.

Soarynn looks up as well, her heart beats a little faster when she spots Coriolanus looking down on them. "Wave to your father Cas," Soarynn says, lifting one of Caspian's little arms. Caspian mumbles something about Lenny who was not allowed to come to play in the snow for fear of him getting dirty and buries his head in her neck. Soarynn chuckles, pressing a kiss to his head, "You'll see Lenny soon when you take your nap."

She looks back up at Coriolanus one more time, offering him a wave this time, and to her surprise, he returns it. Another man joins him after a moment, Quintus Heavensbee from the looks of it and he also waves which is a big hit with the girls who gasp and also start waving. "Daddy can see us!" Celeste says, running up to Soarynn and clinging to her leg.

Soarynn nods, tearing her gaze away from the most conflicting man she's ever met to focus on his darling daughter, "He certainly can," she agrees, "and you look so stylish in your winter coat."

Both girls wore light pink coats today to match their hats while Soarynn dressed Caspian in a dark red coat, very similar to one that his father often wears when addressing the nation outside. Soarynn went with a cream-colored coat today, a brave choice while watching three children but she felt it made her look sophisticated. She'd taken off her gloves to hold Caspian better but she was beginning to regret her decision.

If only Caspian enjoyed the snow more. He liked it for about...two minutes. Then he was tugging at her pant leg, asking to be held which she happily obliged to. "Can we go inside can we have hot chocolate?" Ceraphina's question causes Soarynn's stomach to grumble in agreement, "Yes," she answers, "hot chocolate sounds delightful." It really does and then she could put Caspian down for a nap right after.

She had worried that the attack might've had severe psychological effects on the children but they glazed right over it. After losing their mother, perhaps nothing phased them anymore.

It certainly affected her but she was doing a good job at pretending like it didn't.

And she'd keep acting that way until she forgot how it felt to be thrown around, treated like she was nothing. She knew she wasn't nothing, she was just the nanny.

꧁ ꧂

"Does it hurt when I press down?"

Soarynn looks up at the ceiling while the doctor applies a slight pressure to her nose, it doesn't hurt anymore which is a relief. She had worried that her injury might have led to something more severe like a ruptured sinus or a disfigured nose.

"No, it doesn't," she answers.

The doctor hums, pulling his hand away from her face, "Good, it's almost back to normal. By the end of the week, you'll be good as new." Soarynn forces a polite smile onto her lips, fighting the urge to ask if he can prescribe anything to fix the damage that has been done to her on the inside, not the outside.

"Now, let's check on your eye. You haven't been experiencing any vision problems since I last saw you correct?" Soarynn shakes her head while carding a hand through her hair, "No, my vision hasn't been affected by the bruising."

The doctor pulls a tool out of his bag that shines a bright light on her face, "Keep your eye open," he instructs, "I just want to make sure the cornea is still intact." Soarynn has no idea what any of that means but she does as she's told and holds still, even though she can feel her eye beginning to water from the bright light.

Finally, he pulls away from her face and she lets out a breath of relief, "All is well then?" She asks, watching him pack up his things after scribbling down some notes. She wonders if he gives these reports to Coriolanus. He probably does. Nothing happens under his roof without him knowing about it.

"Yes," he confirms with a smile, "you seem to be right on track to a healthy recovery. Just remember, if your eye begins to bother you, use a hot and cold compress and have President Snow give me a call."

"Thank you doctor."

Soarynn watches the man walk out of her bedroom, leaving the doors slightly ajar and she falls back onto her bed, sighing loudly. She's been so tired lately, she hasn't been sleeping well since they got back home. She wonders if this might be some sort of post-traumatic disorder. Maybe she should've mentioned it to the doctor, or has he already noticed and told Coriolanus?

She certainly hasn't been slacking when it comes to her job as a nanny but she knows herself well enough to know that eventually, this will all catch up to her.

Maybe she can get some sleep now that the doctor's gone. She already put the children to bed. Sleep sounds good. Her eyes slowly drift shut and she focuses on breathing in and out, in, and out, in and… "Soarynn? Coriolanus wants to speak with you dear."

Soarynn rolls over to her stomach and groans into the mattress before pushing herself back up, "I'm coming," she calls back, not wanting Eudora to come in and find her like this, sulking and moping about. She slides off the bed, hoping she doesn't look as miserable as she feels before yanking open the doors, "Did he say what he wanted to talk to me about?"

Eudora shakes her head, waving for Soarynn to follow her, "I imagine it'll have something to do with the attack," she muses, leading them to the back staircase, "he's been working on interrogating all the Rebels who took you and the children hostage. You might need to identify some of the men who escaped."

Soarynn's mind immediately goes to Marvin who managed to slip off the boat and swim away unscathed. His friends couldn't say the same. But did they catch him?

"Soarynn?"

Soarynn blinks several times, pulled from her frequent thoughts of District Four, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Eudora gives her a concerned look from over her shoulder as they make their way down the hallway, "I asked how everything went with the doctor. Did he say anything?"

Soarynn shakes her head, "No, nothing major to report. My nose and eye should be back to normal by the end of the week."

Eudora lets out a sigh of relief, "Well that's good to hear. It'd be a shame if those brutes managed to mark up your pretty face permanently." Soarynn merely hums in reply, both women coming to a stop in front of the ominous doors that lead to Coriolanus Snow's study.

"I'll be in my room should you need anything," Eudora tells her.

Soarynn nods and watches Eudora walk back down the hallway, she's been staying in her honorary bedroom since the attack, swarmed with paperwork and reports to sort through for Coriolanus.

Soarynn gently knocks on the doors, her gut feels like it's been twisted into a knot. "Come in," he calls from the other side.

Soarynn quietly opens the doors, closing them behind her. It's dark in his study, only the fireplace and a few lamps providing him with light as he works.

She slowly approaches his desk, unsure of how to conduct herself with her boss behind closed doors after the last time they were alone together. Coriolanus remains focused on his work, not even sparing her a glance when she sits down. Soarynn absentmindedly drums her fingers against the armrests of the chair, looking up at the ceiling and the carvings that look down on her.

"Your nose looks better."

Soarynn looks back down and across the desk at Coriolanus who sits back in his chair, pen in hand but his attention is now on her, "And your eye," he adds. Soarynn is now hyperaware of her appearance, she had taken off her makeup per the doctor's request and she had planned on trying to sleep right after he left which means she's barefaced once again.

"The doctor said I should be healed up by the end of the week."

"I know," he answers, his blue eyes scanning her face, "he also said that you haven't been getting enough sleep."

Soarynn tenses in her seat, "I never said I wasn't getting enough sleep."

His lips curl up into a smirk and he tilts his head, looking very handsome while doing so, "You don't need to tell him anything. He's a practiced man and he's been staring into your eye for the past few days, he can tell when someone hasn't been getting enough rest. Not to mention it's clear as day to the rest of us."

Soarynn frowns, she's been doing a good job at acting like everything is fine but maybe she hasn't been doing as good as she thought. "I'm fine," she insists, mimicking his relaxed body language, "Eudora said you might ask me about identifying our kidnappers."

Her attempt to switch topics has its intended effect and he drops his smirk and leans forward, adopting the stern persona she's more than used to dealing with by now. "Yes," he shuffles through some papers on his desk, "we apprehended everyone on the beach that wasn't shot on sight but we need you to confirm a few of these Rebels before we proceed."

He slides a file toward her and Soarynn tentatively reaches for it, opening it up to find Marvin's face staring up at her, "This is Marvin," she murmurs, flipping to the next page, finding the face of the man who was shot while trying to jump off looking up at her as well. "And this man was trying to escape," she brings her fingers up to her mouth, remembering how the blood tasted, "I...I saw him get shot. But he's dead now."

She flips through the remainder of the pages but finds no more familiar faces, "Those are the only two I came in contact with," she tells him, placing the file back on the desk, "what will happen to them?"

Coriolanus folds his hands, "I thought about turning them into Avoxes," Soarynn swallows at the casual threat, "but that was too merciful. They'll be executed along with the rest of the Rebels later this week and we'll televise the aftermath to deter any other Districts from trying anything before the year is up."

She sits back in her chair, he says it so casually as if talking about what they'll have for breakfast tomorrow.

"Do you think I should do something else to punish these men?"

Her eyes widen at his question, Soarynn could never conjure up such a punishment, her mind wouldn't allow it. "They said they wanted you to stop the Hunger Games," she recalls, watching his face carefully, "but I guess you won't be doing that."

Coriolanus shakes his head, "I won't be doing that," he confirms, "it's my job to keep the Hunger Games alive."

What a horrible job to have.

"Okay," she says softly, "I trust you to make the right decision."

They both stare at each other for a moment, blue meeting blue-gray. It's like two different oceans crashing against each other. Sometimes, she feels so close to him, other times, she wonders if they're living on the same planet. They've gotten closer but they're still so far away.

Like December and January, so close yet so far.

"How's Petunia doing?"

Soarynn didn't expect him to ask her that, but it gets her mind off of things and she appreciates that, "She's happy to be back in my presence," she says, remembering how excited Petunia had been when Sejanus dropped her off. The girls had been more excited than Soarynn, hugging and kissing Petunia.

Coriolanus hums, "That's good. The stables are done being built."

Soarynn perks up at the good news, "Oh the children will be so excited."

Soarynn had forgotten all about their little agreement to get the children a horse or two to ride and take care of but it’s sure to be a hit. She wonders if each of the children should have their own horse or if just one would be better suited for them at their age. It would certainly teach them to share better.

While Caspian doesn't mind sharing, his sisters certainly do which is rather ironic since they have everything they could possibly need.

Coriolanus studies her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her lips for far too long, "I thought we might discuss what happened on the train," he finally says. Soarynn's breath hitches in her throat, is this when he fires her again? She definitely put her own feelings before the children's. Maybe that kiss was a test and she miserably failed.

"Oh," is all she has to say, her cheeks burning with shame. Coriolanis sighs, running his fingers through his trussed curls. They always look so pristine at breakfast, perfectly styled for another day of work but by the end of the day, they look softer, he looks softer.

"I think we can both agree that emotions were running high," he says and Soarynn nods, there were a lot of emotions on that train, "and we've been dancing around the most pressing topic since we got back," he continues. Soarynn sits up straighter, preparing herself to be fired once again except this time, he has proof. He was there.

His lips on her lips.

"Are you going to fire me?"

Coriolanus looks taken aback at her question, his eyebrows furrowing, "Fire you?"

Soarynn nods, her head hanging in shame, "I crossed a line," she tells him, "the children are the most important thing to me and I let my emotions rule over my decisions."

Coriolanus looks absolutely dumbfounded, so completely and utterly lost. "Soarynn, I'm not going to fire you." She lifts her head, staring into his gorgeous eyes, he truly is a handsome man. "You're not?"

Coriolanus shakes his head and a small smile grows on his lips, "I think the girls might actually kill me if you left again. And I simply wanted to talk about the change in our dynamic." Now Soarynn is the one who looks confused.

"Our dynamic?" She repeats, puzzled by his words. Their dynamic is crystal clear to her. She's the nanny, he's the President of Panem. Simple enough.

"I haven't kissed another woman since Livia," he admits, scratching the back of his neck, "I haven't even looked at another woman since Livia, and yet the second you stepped foot into this house, I haven't been able to entirely focus on my job."

Looks like we're in the same boat, she thinks but she just nods at him to keep going. Coriolanus sighs, "These things can be tricky, I have an insurmountable amount of pressure on me to always be the perfect leader, the perfect boss, the perfect father, but being the perfect partner is something I've always failed at."

"No one is perfect," she tells him softly, "it's impossible to be perfect. Someone will always feel as though you're not doing enough."

That seems to hit him hard as he leans back in his seat, deep in thought. "I enjoyed it," he finally says, looking across at her, "I enjoyed kissing you, holding you. I enjoy being in your presence even though I can tell that you're always on edge around me." He smirks and Soarynn immediately feels flustered and called out.

"Well, well you're the President," she argues, "and my boss. It's natural for me to have a certain degree of nerves. A healthy fear if you will." His smirk drops and Soarynn's heart along with it. Did she say something wrong?

"I've always said that it's better to be feared than loved," he tells her, "when people love you and you love them, they aren't afraid to push back. If people fear you, then they won't risk any pushback. It's the things we love most that destroy us."

Soarynn knows all about that. She loved her father with all her heart and his death absolutely destroyed her. Coriolanus loves his children with all his heart and people took them away from him, used them as leverage against him. But they used her too, which leads her to wonder how he felt about that.

"I don't want you to fear me Soarynn."

Maybe this attack left scars on him too, only on the inside but scars nonetheless. And maybe she'll be allowed to see them someday.

"You want me to love you?"

A pained look crosses his face, a look she's all too familiar with, the look of remembering what once was, what he used to have with another woman that wasn't her. Livia has left scars all over his body.

"I don't think I'm capable of loving anyone outside of my children," he admits, "but, I do think I'm capable of opening up again."

Soarynn can feel her heart beating so fast. It feels so hot in this room all of a sudden. So suffocating.

"Okay," is all she says.

Coriolanus holds out his hand, beckoning her to come over to him, "Come here," he says, calmly and quietly. Soarynn is shaking as she pushes herself from her chair. This is so different from the train. Their dynamic is different. She's dressed differently.

Still, she walks around the desk.

She's never been on this side of his desk but she bets he feels so powerful sitting behind it. He looks powerful now, with his shirt slightly unbuttoned and his legs spread as he turns to face her. She places her hand in his and he wraps his fingers around it, gently pulling her towards him until she's standing in between his legs.

Coriolanus takes his other hand and rests it on her bare thigh, causing Soarynn to draw in a shaky breath. She's never done any of this. Will he teach her or will he expected her to know how things are done in the bedroom? They're not even in a bedroom right now. They're in his study like she's some sweet little secret he doesn't want to get out.

His hand slides up further and further under her nightgown and stops when he reaches her inner thigh, inches away from her covered core. He looks up at her with those blue eyes, clouded with lust and desire. He tugs her forward and she gasps, within one swift motion, she's seated in his lap, essentially straddling him.

His lips are crashing against hers within seconds.

Coriolanus slides both hands under her nightgown, grabbing her waist and he groans. Soarynn whimpers when his teeth gently tug at her bottom lip, this is all so new to her, so new and overwhelming. He is overwhelming. All she can smell is roses.

She doesn't know what to do with her hands so she rests them on his broad shoulders, he feels so strong.

One of his hands slides down her back, resting on her ass and squeezing it. Soarynn moans into the kiss, and goosebumps cover her skin. He pulls away from the kiss only to start kissing up and down her jaw, pressing kisses on her neck as well. Soarynn sighs, staring up at the ceiling again, wondering if this is how all their encounters will go from now on. Secret and rushed.

His other hand leaves her waist, sliding out from under her nightgown to grab her throat. He applies a slight pressure to the sides of her neck and Soarynn gasps, her head feels hazy, her breaths are shortened and she's panicking.

She's remembering.

Remembering what those men said about her. How good she'd feel. How she's the President's whore.

Whore. Slut. The President's little plaything.

Her vision is growing spotty and his lips are getting more aggressive. Soarynn can feel his fingers sliding under the waistband of her panties. She tries to buck his hand off but he must think that she's into this, into him.

"Good girl," he praises, sucking on the tender skin under her ear.

Soarynn squeezes her eyes shut and uses all the strength in her body to shove him back. "Stop," she gasps, opening her eyes again, "stop, please stop." His hands disappear from her body instantly but she still feels like she's being choked, being touched. Touched by them, by those men who talked about fucking her while she was tied up.

Soarynn gasps for air, tears burn in her eyes.

"Soarynn," he starts, his eyes filled with concern and confusion but she's already shaking her head, already trying to get off of his lap.

Everything is so fuzzy and she ends up falling backward onto the floor. Pain shoots through her body but the adrenaline takes over and she pushes herself onto her feet, "I'm sorry," she whispers, shame flooding her voice, "I...I can't."

She rests a hand on the edge of his desk as she walks around it, ignoring his calls for her. She stumbles towards the doors, opening them and welcoming the fresh air.

"Soarynn," he calls again.

She ignores him.

She ignores everything while walking back down the hallway, a million terrible thoughts racing through her mind. She manages to make it to the back staircase and she leans against the banister for a second, catching her breath.

She can still feel his hands on her body and she hates it.

Soarynn grabs onto the railing and pulls herself onto the stairs, making her way up them at a pathetic rate. When she reaches the top, she's out of breath. She wonders what he's thinking, if he's following her, or if he's really going to fire her now that she's truly lost it.

Tears begin to stream down Soarynn's face but she keeps walking, desperate to go to her room and sleep all of this away. She walks past Ceraphina's room and chokes back a sob, she can't believe she made such a foolish risk like that when the children are her main priority.

How could she be so stupid?

When she finally gets to her own room, she slams the doors closed behind her, sinking down onto the floor. Soarynn pulls her knees up to her chest and allows herself to properly cry. Would this all be different if her father hadn't died? If Livia hadn't died? Are they both watching her run around with the President of Panem like she's living in some delusional fairy tale?

Her entire frame trembles as she cries, her gasps echo throughout her room. She's so tired, so exhausted both mentally and physically. When does it all end? The anxiety, the unknown, the battle between her heart and her head?

A soft purring momentarily distracts her from the world falling apart and she looks up from her spot on the floor to find Petunia staring up at her, those eyes identical to her own filled with unending devotion in a world full of conditions. "Oh Petunia," she whispers, "I ruined everything." More tears threaten to spill down her cheeks but Soarynn forces them back.

Coriolanus was right about one thing.

She's not getting enough sleep and she's exhausted. She knows that the lack of sleep isn't doing her or her emotions any favors. "Let's go to bed," she mumbles, reaching out for her loyal feline. Petunia allows her to scoop her up and Soarynn slowly stands to her feet, more stable now that she's had a proper breakdown. She doesn't even get under the covers, she just flops onto the bed and finally, finally gives into sleep.

꧁ ꧂

When Soarynn wakes up she can hear birds chirping accompanied by the sound of a small person breathing beside her.

She cracks one eye open and finds Celeste watching her intently. "Good morning," she whispers causing Soarynn to smile, she probably looks rough right now but Celeste isn't one to comment on one's outward appearance. That's her sister's specialty.

"Good morning darling," she replies, reaching out to rest a loving hand on her cheek. Celeste leans into her touch and her eyes hold worry and fear, "Daddy said you were sick so you couldn't come to breakfast, are you really sick?" Soarynn swallows, she must've slept through her alarm which means Coriolanus thinks she's avoiding him.

Which she is but that's a hard thing to do in his own house.

At least he came up with a good lie to cover up her absence. She feels bad though, missing breakfast means that either Coriolanus or Eudora had to wake the children up. "I'm not feeling my best," she answers truthfully, sitting up slowly, "but I don't think I'm sick."

Celeste lets out a sigh of relief and nods, "Okay good, I don't want you to get sick like Mommy did."

Soarynn feels her heart break into a million pieces.

She can't imagine the fear and anxiety that the children must deal with whenever the adults in their lives get sick or injured. The slightest cough must send them over the edge and here she is, sleeping through breakfast because she can't handle a bit of intimacy.

Get it together, she chides herself while patting the spot on the bed next to her, "Come sit darling." Celeste smiles at the opportunity to get into someone else's bed and attempts to jump onto the bed but she's still too little so Soarynn swoops her up, making her giggle. "Who woke you up?" Soarynn asks, running a hand through Celeste's curls. She's still dressed in her pajamas which means it's still early in the morning.

Celeste cuddles against her, "Eudora did. Then Daddy let me try some of his coffee but but was so yucky Soarynn." She grins at a very true statement, Soarynn has never been too fond of coffee even though it always smells delicious. Her father would always drink it at breakfast. He'd read the paper while they spent their mornings together, Soarynn preparing for school and her father preparing for work.

She misses those moments.

"At least you tried it," Soarynn tells her, "it's important to try new things." Celeste hums, playing with the hem of Soarynn's nightgown, "Can we go to the park today?" Soarynn wishes they could, the children are beginning to grow stir crazy and she can't really blame them. "Once my eye and nose look better then we can go," she tells Celeste who looks up at her face to assess the damage. "I'm sorry we couldn't help you," she says quietly, her eyes dropping back down.

Soarynn frowns, has Celeste been carrying around this guilt the entire time? And Ceraphina for that matter? Heaven knows what Caspian has been thinking about since they got back home.

Soarynn insistently shakes her head, quick to deter any of these terrible thoughts, "You all were a great help to me, darling. You kept me calm and you helped me when I fell. And most importantly, you listened to me. You all trusted me and I...I," Soarynn feels herself getting choked up but for different reasons this time, "I love you all very much. I can't imagine a world without you children in it."

Celeste's own face reflects the same feeling of endearment, her eyes look so much like his, and yet Soarynn knows exactly where her heart lies.

Coriolanus Snow might be a mystery to her but his children never are.

꧁ ꧂

Later that day, Soarynn finds herself at the Capitol Stables.

This is the last place she expected to be but according to Eudora, Coriolanus wants Soarynn to select the perfect horse for the children. She still hasn't seen Coriolanus since last night but she's perfectly fine with that.

"Did you ever go to the races?" Sejanus Plinth's question pulls her from her faraway thoughts about Coriolanus Snow and back into the present where they're strolling through the Stables, looking at all the horses in their stalls.

"I did," she answers, "my father loved watching the races and I loved the horses." Horse racing is a well-practiced sport in the Capitol, known for its wealthy spectators and expensive bets placed on the horses. During the off-season the Stables are open for people to visit the horses and even purchase one of their own should they choose to do so.

Soarynn has been the arena where the races take place but never the Stables, not until now that is. She didn't know what to expect and since Eudora would be watching the children, she had invited Sejanus to accompany her. She felt safer with someone beside her, and Sejanus had taken such great care of Petunia while they were gone.

Sejanus nods, "They're beautiful creatures," he agrees, "how was District Four by the way?" Soarynn pales a bit at his question, but she recovers smoothly, "It was cold," she answers, "but beautiful. The ocean is a force to be reckoned with."

They stop at one of the stalls where a spotted horse sticks its head out to greet them, "Oh, aren't you a pretty thing?" Soarynn asks, reaching out to scratch its head. They both chuckle when the horse leans out further, just like Petunia asking for pets. "Is there a specific color you're after?" Sejanus asks, resting a hand on its neck. Soarynn purses her lips, she wasn't given any specific instructions as to what to look for but she can imagine that Coriolanus would want something that screams 'The Snow Family.'

"Something white," she decides, giving the horse a pat farewell, "Coriolanus would like that."

Sejanus grins, "First name basis huh?" Her cheeks burn pink as she starts walking again, "You're not funny you know," she says, quickening her pace, "and he insisted that I be on a first-name basis with him." She slows her pace when she comes across a beautiful horse, all white, "Hello there," she greets, gripping the stall door. Sejanus comes up next to her, looking the horse up and down, "I'd say he matches your description, and as for Coriolanus, I'm simply surprised that he insisted. He's been so closed off since Livia."

Soarynn hums, watching the horse slowly walk up to them, its tail flicking behind it, "I know," she murmurs, "and I barely even speak to him as it is. We're both far too busy with our jobs." Lies, lies, lies.

Sejanus looks like he doesn't believe her but she chooses to ignore it. She's been choosing to ignore a lot of things lately.

꧁ ꧂

When Soarynn comes back from the Stables, all three of the Snow children rush to greet her. She must admit, it was nice to leave for a while, see the city again. Eudora had instructed her to apply a liberal amount of makeup to cover up any bruising or swelling and since Sejanus hadn't commented on any of it, she must've done a good job.

"You're back!" Ceraphina says, throwing her arms around Soarynn's legs. Soarynn almost tumbles back but Sejanus prevents that from happening, quickly steadying her, "Where are my hugs huh?" He teases, earning him more excited gasps. The children see Soarynn every day, Sejanus is a rare treat when it comes to visitors.

While Celeste and Ceraphina flock around Sejanus asking him all sorts of questions, Caspian slowly but surely toddles over to Soarynn, holding his hands out for balance. Soarynn grins at the sweet sight, "Come here sweet boy," she croons, bending down to pick him up. She sometimes finds it hard to believe that such a sweet child can exist in a world like this, that evil men had no issue holding up a gun to his head.

It makes her feel even worse about what happened last night.

A week ago she was fearing for her life and now she's having sexual relations with their father. What the hell is wrong with her?

He's probably stressed, she tells herself while watching the girls interact with Sejanus, he just needed to blow off some steam, this'll all blow over by the end of the week.

And it will. She'll work up the courage to talk to Coriolanus about all of this, get their relationship back on a professional track, and move forward.

Simple as that.

"Are you coming to the party Sejanus?" Ceraphina's question reminds Soarynn about the party that they'll be throwing at the end of the year. She's a bit surprised that Coriolanus is still going through with it but at the same time, she understands his need for normalcy and moving forward. If you dwindle in the past for too long, you're bound to be left behind.

And Soarynn refuses to be left behind.

"I am," Sejanus confirms with a nod of his head, "I can't wait to see you two tear it up on the dance floor again." The girls giggle at the memory of the last party they had but it only brings up more sour memories for Soarynn who only remembers how the night ended for her.

She presses a kiss to Caspian's blonde hair, if he hadn't spoken up for her, she might not be in this position right now.

She just doesn't know if that's a bad thing or a good thing.

꧁ ꧂

"Coriolanus, I wanted to discuss what our professional relationship has turned into. We're both adults and I would never want to jeopardize my job for the sake of physical intimacy."

Soarynn nods at her reflection in the mirror, "Just say that and you'll be fine," she mumbles, raking her fingers through her hair. The children are finally asleep and she's getting nervous. She could just go to bed, and pretend nothing happened last night but that would be childish, not to mention highly unprofessional.

As if kissing him while straddling him isn't considered unprofessional.

Still, one must make necessary strides toward things that are important to them. And keeping her job and not abandoning her children is very important to her.

Soarynn takes a few deep breaths before she feels prepared to face him. But it’ll feel like a long walk to his study. That’s fine, she can think about her stupid mentions and their consequences on the way down the hall.

Soarynn quietly opens her doors so she doesn’t somehow wake the children and can’t hide her look of surprise when she sees an Avox waiting outside of her bedroom. The Snows only hire Avoxes to do things such as cleaning and waiting on them so that no private information can be spread.

Soarynn has often shuddered at the thought of losing her tongue. How would she sing and laugh?

She swallows, taking a step back when the placid faced Avox moves towards her, holding out something in their hand. It takes her a moment to realize that it’s a letter. A letter that looks identical to the one she had waiting for her in her closet when she first moved in.

Soarynn takes the letter.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, only getting a silent nod in reply. Well, she can’t expect much.

She closes the doors behind her, the original mission long forgotten as she tears open the letter, breaking the seal with a rose embossed on it.

Her fingers shake as she unfolds the perfectly folded paper.

Soarynn, You won’t find me in my study tonight, some work-related issues have been brought to my attention and as you know, I intend to solve every problem sent my way. As for the growing problem between us, allow me to offer my deepest apologies for any pain I might have caused you. If I moved too fast or hurt you in any way please know that was never my intention. Despite the internal struggles within our complex relationship, I still find myself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You’ll find me to be a terribly possessive man who doesn’t back down from a fight easily. Whenever you’re ready, I trust you’ll know where to find me. Until then, sleep well and look after my children for me. Yours truly, Coriolanus

Soarynn nearly crumples the letter in her hands. How is it possible for a man to make her feel so many things at once?

He knows what he’s doing, she’ll give him that. But why her? There’s a part of her that still worries this might just be a ploy to get into her pants. The other part, the optimistic part, thinks and hopes that this might be more. That Coriolanus might see her as an equal, as someone to cherish and spend time with.

She just wishes she could figure out which one she’d prefer.

But after reading that letter, it seems she has no choice but to play his little game. It’s fine, she tells herself, thinking about those men who were so easily sniped from the shore, those men whose lives were so easily discarded by Coriolanus.

There are much worse games to play.

| Part 8. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

{ Part 9. }

꧁| tag list: @lovelylove268 @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead |꧂

[kariachi]

I've said it before, I say it a lot honestly, but I love the reasonable assumptions we can make about firelizards breeding and social habits based on what we see in primarily DragonsDawn.

Like, we've got the basic 'greens Rise a lot and don't tend their nests while golds Rise more rarely and fiercely tend their nests'. That's great, we love us some behavioral morphs in species. But then you also have to consider what would lead to such a thing, namely that both of these behaviors have to be successful, and successful in comparison to each other, in order for one to not completely take over from the other. Meaning that each option has benefits over the other.

For instance, in years or seasons where there's a large predator population, gold clutches are probably the most successful as they're the best guarded. But if you're dealing with horrible weather, or gods forbid a Pass, the fact green clutches are spread out far and wide means it's more likely one or more will survive, while a gold needs just one bad storm or Fall to wipe her whole year's breeding opportunities off the map.

But like, the most obvious one is a pure numbers game. If you don't invest in your eggs post-laying, that frees you up to get back into laying condition sooner and make more eggs. For instance in emus you'll see a female lay 5+ eggs in a single nest, but then she leaves that business to the male and runs off to eat well and find another guy to foist eggs on, ending up with sometimes even five nests in a season. But if you do invest in your eggs post-laying, you get more security in-so-far as assuring your eggs hatch. In emus the males do that, they get the best of both worlds there, but even more effective is to have multiple individuals looking out for the eggs.

Which is where their eusocial-style behavior comes in! By having the rest of the group dedicated to supporting the gold as she guards and tends her nest, the cost of nest tending is spread out, reducing the load on any one member of the group. The same thing happens with youngcare, which seems to be wholly communal, again reducing the cost for any individual member of the group. But eusocial behaviors are most efficient when members of a group are related, you don't want to waste your life raising young that don't share your genes.

Then you remember that firelizards form mental bonds at birth, bonds that they can break with no issue but that they can and do maintain throughout their lives. Taking this and the last paragraph into account, most likely collections of wild firelizards are mostly formed of sibling groups. Even if your bronze brother didn't catch the gold this year, helping with the clutch improves the odds he'll catch next year, and in the meantime you have plenty of opportunity with the greens.

This also probably plays into the fact they hum for all allied births. A green's nest doesn't get tended, but the young still need feeding at hatching. If you're a male then coming when you get the psychic 'birth here now' signals is an easy choice because there's the real chance these are your brother's offspring and his reproductive success is second only to your own. If you're a female, this nest is likely a sister's, in which case same deal, their success is only second to yours. On either side, having more babies around means a higher chance of any individual baby not being eaten by a predator, increasing the survival odds of your own children.

And then all this likely plays into the various male morphs and the color and size differences between ranks. I've mentioned elsewhere- the various male morphs are likely optimized to chase different female morphs. Blues can keep up with the quicker, more agile greens, bronzes with the slower, longer flying golds, and browns are a 'jack-of-all-trades' rank that doesn't specialize but instead can successfully chase either female morph, just with lower odds than the specialized males.

As far as size differences go, it's again all on the females to start. Golds lay larger clutches and defend them from things like wherries, they need to be larger to fit more eggs, to better defend their nests, and to drive off rival golds. Bronzes have to be large to keep up with the golds when they Rise. Greens specialize in laying more clutches and so likely smaller clutches, so they don't need to get as big and can instead focus on evading predators and even being able to lure predators from a freshly laid clutch without getting snatched up, small size is useful there. Blues are also small because it allows them the speed and maneuverability to chase greens. Presumably the reason they're larger than greens are is due for some reason to their being male, likely related to the complex genetics likely tied to rank*. Browns are in the middle because it allows them enough speed and maneuverability to go for greens, but also enough stamina to try for golds.

Color, meanwhile, is likely a camouflage thing. Blues, greens, and browns are all natural colors, perfect for making it harder for predators to notice you. According to the DLG firelizards come in a variety of shades, I wouldn't be surprised if there was even a degree of midtones between the various ranks. Golds and bronzes, meanwhile, I think are more likely a matter of reflective camouflage. A gold on a nest may be hard to look at in bright light, or at a glance appear to just be a patch of wet sand. If a gold has to leave the nest, more likely the sire would be left to guard it, and similar camouflage would fill a similar role. It might even, for some bronzes, give the impression that the larger gold is still on the nest, deterring predators that don't want to tangle with one. Since the smaller ranks are far less likely to be on a nest, more matte tones to mack dirt, wood, sky, foliage would be most effective.

It's all just fascinating and not quite like anything we have on Earth, though you can make parallels between several different Earth species. Absolutely love it.

[kishibe-kisser]

hi how you doing ??? Mmmmm can i request a fic for sukuna x Ballerina reader???🥺🥺🥺🥺 i'm a Ballerina and i want really to know how would he react about that i just can't imagine it right😭😭😭

This could be very fun

Personal Jewellery Box (Sukuna)

Tags: Sukuna x ballerina reader, mentions of injury, pet names, implications of murder

There was no beauty in humanity, not to him. Sukuna had lived a long time and there was very little in the world that made him feel sympathy towards humans, they didn't care for each other. He felt no need in caring for them either.

Classical music wasn't his cup of tea either, high pitched screeching of violins doing nothing more than give him a headache. It was one of the reasons he stumbled across you in the first place, he wanted to make the music stop and if that meant putting an end to you too, it didn't matter to him. Sukuna wasn't above it in any way.

Spinning, you didn't see the man staring at you through the window of the studio. You could only feel the pain in your feet as you danced through your routine once again. The toe pads in your pointe shoes were worn through and as much as you needed new ones, the effort of breaking them in not being something you were looking forward to.

So you pushed past the pain, pirouetting through the studio before coming to a grinding halt. Your face being mere centimeters from a smirking man. Sukuna no longer wanted to put an end to the music, he wanted to see you dance just a little longer. He was mesmerized, your movements filled with grace and strength. It was new to him, someone with so much physical discipline... it was interesting. If something amused him, he was prone to keep it and it took him no 2 seconds to decide he was keeping you.

"Turn like that again." He grumbled, his hands on your waist as he spun you gently. He liked doing this, feeling your muscles contract under his hands. Watching you dance and feeling you dance were his favorite things. Your cheeks were warm, heating up with every touch of his rough hands. It was something you could never quite get used to. No one admired your dancing as much as him and that from the king of curses, it made you a better dancer.

"Beautiful." He remarked, stopping you to face mirror of the practice room. His face was next to yours as he held you in your position. His hands were large on your body, making it hard to maintain your position. A smile stretched over his face, feeling you start to shake a little. "My pretty little performer." He said softly, releasing his grip on you. It was his nonverbal way of saying you could relax.

"You, sweetheart are like my own personal jewellery box. Doing a little twirl any time I ask." He added on, urging you to sit next to him. Sukuna raised your leg over his lap and started to undo the ribbons of your pointe shoes. "I'm nervous for the show." You admitted to him, hissing as his hand massaged your bruised feet. It was amusing to you, other people in your life wouldn't take the time to do this however he didn't bat an eyelash.

"You can't be nervous. When you're on stage just imagine my hands are the one holding you in place up there." He told you, applying more pressure on your strained muscles. Using your leg, he harshly pulled you into his lap and his chest pressed into your back. He held your chin and forced you to look into the mirror again.

"Besides, anyone who makes my little dancer feel bad about her dancing will have hell to pay with me."

A/N: This is very short because I did not know what to write but I still really liked this? It's very different.

[jayden-killer]

Unforeseeable incident.

(Loki x fem!reader).

summary: you agreed with your best friend Thor to come to Asgard, expecting you could take well the interdimentional voyage. Well, you didn't. And now you're stuck in a certain prince's bed...

warnings: none. This is a LOKI AU!! This takes place in an universe where Loki was never traumatised by Odin and the events of the first Thor movie don't happen!!!

☆

Hot.

What I felt on my skin was a suffocating heat that left me no time to breathe.

I could feel the drops of sweat on my forehead, and my breathing was straining as I regained consciousness. Until I opened my eyes with a startle. As if I were drowning in the open sea my lungs filled with all the air possible; I inhaled, I exhaled. I did it a second, then a third time, until my breathing settled. My first thought, looking around the room decorated with antique ornaments, illuminated by the light fire from the fireplace, was that it was certainly not on Earth. Had I been abducted? By aliens? Perhaps I sounded tempting for dinner.

Definitely.

All the thoughts in my head distracted me from the slender figure and well dressed in green and golden armor. The raven hair was well combed backwards. And those aquamarine eyes that reminded me of the salty expanse that I loved so much. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw me awake.

"My apologies, young lady, I didn't mean to startle you" was his kind voice.

"I am.. where?" That’s all I could say in the throes of curiosity and fear. If I was kidnapped, I had to at least know the name of my kidnapper.

"I offer you my sincere apologies on behalf of Loki, God of Mischief, son of Odin, and Frigga, brother of Thor and future King of Asgard". He bent down at the bed foot, his face quite close to mine. I could see the delicate features of his face, his lips rosy and thin...

Wait a second. Asgard. Thor..

Oh.

Now my little neurons were connecting.

My hand hit my forehead hard, making the slap ring throughout the room. The raven-haired boy let out an amused laugh. "Your brother is an idiot if he thought I would survive the Bifrost trip," I said, rolling my eyes.

"My brother is many things. Among these, he do not have any sense". He smiled again. "Foolish brother..."

"Right.."

Sitting down, resting my head on the soft (royal) pillow, I still looked around the lost room. It was clear that Asgard, one of the worlds of the Nine Kingdoms, had just come out of a chapter of the ``Lord of the Rings``. Everything seemed so... medieval.

"Make me guess, Prince Loki..."

He raised a hand in dissent and laughed. "I do not approve of the use of real titles, I find them retrograde. We may also be a different people from you Midgardians, however..."

This time it was my turn to interrupt him. "Midgardians?"

"Ah, yes," he smiled. "Mortals. Humans. Earthlings. Which one do you prefer?"

"Every of them, as long as you don’t use earthlings. It looks like I'm talking to an alien." I shuddered at the idea and he couldn’t help but laugh. He moved to the edge of his large bed, standing beside me, while maintaining a distance between us. "I will never do it again, I swear to the gods."

"But you are a God," I pointed out.

"Ah, correct answer, but I am not a superior God."

My eyes shrunk into two small slits, confused. "Okay, go ahead."

"As I said, you mortals are not accustomed to the use of our means of transport. It was clear that you would not be able to pass out at the end of the journey. No wonder my bum-head brother didn’t show you the instructions".

Now I was more confused than before. "Are there any instructions on how to cross it?"

"We’re not barbarians!" he replied, offering me a mischievous smile from those who knew each other. Then he stood up, not looking away from mine. He kept his smile curved towards the corner of his cheek, turning the bed and walking towards the door. Meanwhile I remained on the bed, never breaking the visual contact between us. It was intense, a visual contact that implied that between us it would be a deep future connection.

"Your Asgardian clothes are resting on the chair at the bottom of the room," he said softly, keeping the gold-plated knob in his hand.

"I’m going to have a chat with my stupid brother. You, instead, take it easy, Midgardian."

I think he meant the change of clothes.

Before he could let me fight with my thoughts soft eyes turned towards my direction with a mixed look of curiosity and malice, saying with confidence: "I expect to see you take part in the annual welcome back ceremony of the eldest son tonight. Don’t be late, Odin doesn’t like to wait". With this, he closed the door behind him, and I swore on my life to hear him sniggering. I think it was the third or fourth time I turned to look at the room I was in, in a state of confusion. As much confusion when I wondered aloud if Thor, in another universe, had measured his boldness better.

[aethesfaelibrarae]

(holy shit was I not expecting anyone to like that previous Mouthwashing post—but thank you, genuinely for reading it and this one)

The Mouthwashing brain worms speak to me again—let's talk about hierarchy and caste and the implications in Mouthwashing one more time.

Say what you will about Jimothy's cowardly ass: he's not an idiot. The apathy of the crew is, at least, in part maintained by the top of the ladder: Curly and Pony Express.

Curly starts the game at the top of the ladder, able to help out a guy he perceives in a rough spot with a snap of his fingers, able to control how much sugar anyone got.. Able to control the food, the medicine, the weapons. Curly isn't the sort of person to abuse his power.

But he also isn't the type to use it.

Next up is Jaundice. His second in command, his (traitorous backstabber) right hand man. We'll get back to him.

No, who come next in this hierarchy can be debated—is Daisuke for his youth and potential or is it Swansea for his seniority? It could be both, depending upon the lens of examination. When the chips are down.. Or when they're still able to make a bet?

I'm going with Swansea, simply because of the fact that both Curly and Catastrophic Jameson's headass respect him. Neither of them really correct or step in to ask about his behavior with Daisuke, Jaundiced is more than happy to leave the room alone until it stands in his way and up until the chase sequence is largely unwilling to get into physical altercation.

Daisuke is next on the rung—an intern getting his due hazing. Young, plucky, clumsy, the aimless silver spooned baby of the crew. He wants to be liked by people in the higher rungs and he trusts in their authority. To his own detriment. But for the most part, he's neither too high for the responsibility or too low to really suffer in forced silence. He's protected.

Anya is not. As the sole woman of the crew, soft-spoken, heavily pregnant and forced to entertain her abuser's delusions of grandeur with the wreckage evidence of how far he's willing to go to get rid of her, rinse his mouth of her, all around them.. She starts the game on the bottom of the ladder—ignored, talked over, dismissed. People's—Curly and Catastrophe Jim—eyes skip over her without thinking. It's easy to dismiss her. Empathy is extended to her as an afterthought. Her death an inevitable tragedy. Because either way of framing it, without access to the ax or the gun, the ship was Jimothy's way of shutting her up for good and she knows it. In my previous post, I touched on the difference between the situations that Anya and Curly find themselves and in all honesty, it's defined by who finds themself at the bottom of the rung when Mr. J finds himself a way to the top.

And who else would it be but our resident golden boy himself, Captain Enablement—I mean, Curly. Now that he's completely disabled, useless and helpless.. He finds himself in a position even worse than Anya's. Both of them taking on the brunt of Jimmy's worldview—he's gotten way more than he bargained for from Anya and besides, she was a means to an end. At the moment of the assault, she was an object, the lower rung of the perceived ladder. It wasn't his fault, just look at her—And afterwards.. Well, this whole thing could also be framed as spite. Sneaking behind the golden boy's back and "stealing his girl" or whatever, maybe he knew that he'd be caught and wanted to see something other than Curly's gentle understanding. He wants more. And in direct opposite to Anya, Curly is the center of his world. The spindle upon which Jaundice's last steadily fraying thread of sanity spins. And what an awful place it is to be. He gets front row seats to hindsight truly becoming 20/20 vision when it's a barrel of shotgun—and you're jealous of the fact that it's not aimed at you. He suffers being consumed and thus consuming himself. Looking into why didn't Jimothy just cut up any of the others is a fascinating exercise. By the time he starts eating Curly, this is not the first time he's imagined Curly in the place of food—of nourishment. He imagines him in the place of cake—even the way that he cuts a part of Curly's leg is reminiscent of the way that Curly cuts into the cake. (yes, what the heck Curls but then again, gelatin probably feels weird to cut). Eating someone is often a taboo form of intimacy in media like Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain or Tokyo Ghoul..Listen. There's a reason why vore is popular.—it's the most violent type of intimacy.

It's the only type of intimacy Jimmy engages with on screen and yet—There's an equally fascinating intimacy in consuming yourself. And even that is ruined.. Being forced to eat your bile-covered offal again and again and again.. A memory that would scar on its own. But. With the implications of this being the one type of intimacy that Jimmy feels comfortable sharing combined with what the game says about rape culture have "good" men protect and enable their friends.. There's another angle of their friendship there.

Jimmy loves Curly as much as he hates him. He wants him to suffer. He wants him to live. He wants him dead. Who is saying I hope this hurts?

The hierarchy traps them in so many ways—and the first time we see it for what it is is with Curly. Not Jimmy. From Curly's perspective, we see him unfocused and exhausted and Anya offers him a helping ear and he can't accept it. He's the Captain. He can't be seen asking his subordinate for help. Jimmy was removed from the hierarchy in Curly's eyes. Maybe even at the same spot. Co-captains. Two peas in a pod—except one is a festering open wound and the other has his eyes tightly closed, quietly muttering he can fix it if he just gets a little bit more time.. Can't tell the difference between who's who?

Top or bottom of the hierarchy—awful and isolating for two men who claim to take responsibility. Both have some level of inferiority complex—a complex that I'd argue is the becoming the bread and butter of modern day society but is steadily starting to show the signs of where it's been baked into the perceptions of being a man—there is the fear of someone bigger, better and more capable of you.. But there's also that small quiet part that gets told men don't cry that desperately, desperately, wants to have no choice. Almost takes comfort in the idea of someone better than you.

And everyone in between their rungs gets crushed as collateral.

In a caste made by white supremacy, white able-bodied young men who meet societal standards for being in their prime are at the top. Old enough to know better, young enough to play stupid have potential. Just look at all our promising young rapists men with their whole lives ahead of them.

On a ship like the Tulpar, that hierarchy gets a necessary edge—the Captain is the most useful person aboard the ship, the most needed. The man of the proverbial house. The co-captain is like being called vice president—made only as important as the person in that role can make it. Otherwise it's a hollow consolation prize. And Jimothy can't work an honest day in his life. So it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Then would be the nurse but.. It's a feminine job, a pink collar job through and through. If Anya had been a man, the jokes would have been targeted at her masculinity but as she is a woman, the role and her usefulness to the crew are invisible necessities. The quiet labor and genius that keeps great men going. I think people underestimate how much work goes into even passing the N-CLEX to become an RN. Anya was trying to get into medical school—she studied the human body extensively and in all honesty, the way that I've read it is (especially with the context clues of her being overlooked continuously) she just wasn't important enough to help out. Medical textbooks are expensive on their own and tests can be upwards of 2,000 dollars (my sources: my mom had to take the N-CLEX 3 times when I was much younger and the financial strain was ridiculous especially if you want to get in on a study group).. And Anya clearly worked for that goal. You don't throw that kind of money at anything else but the goal—the one you could just swear would make it all worth it. Maybe if she was Doctor Anya, the crew would've treated her better.. Her usefulness cemented and people would question how such a nervous woman made it through medical school.. Maybe it would have made Jimmy worse. There's nothing hollow about being a doctor after all.

But Anya is Anya and so Swansea, the mechanic is useful. He keeps the ship going and Daisuke in line. Bitter Knowledge and the Dog Days of Youth.

Wasted Potential (double entendre) and Boundless, Wasting Potential.

Immediately useful and eager to be useful.

Then there's Post-Crash Curly. And I must stress, your usefulness is not your value as a person. But then again, where would ableism find its footing save for such a sad hierarchy? And let's call a spade a spade, once Curly loses his ability to interact with the world as he once did, his skin literally peeled open to expose the soft inner flesh to the cruelty of the world, his small bit of usefulness as a Captain gone.. Most people on the ship act accordingly. Daisuke and Swansea, their places on the ladder's rung unchanged fairly quickly become enured to Curly's cries of pain. Anya, the closest to the his newfound rung.. Continues to care for him, unable to free him as he was unable to free her. Jimmy is all too happy to grind his boot in Curly's face as many times as he can. Until he feels better.

But he won't. He can't.

The game touches on the haves vs the have-nots a lot as well as the creeping sense of human work becoming obsolete, that body horror in being made useless by your own complicity but where it absolutely shines in Jimmy and Swansea—especially Swansea's final speech—is the messaging about the never-ending demand for more, for greener pastures leaving you hollow and bitter. Curly seemed well-aware of Swansea's thought process and leaves him be but internally agrees and fears that ending if he stays in the Captaincy for too much longer.

And that's where I think Jimmy really thinks it was a win-win for him and Curly. He truly doesn't think of the pain that Curly must find himself in, worsened by the constant beatings and continual medical assault. He doesn't think about it as anything more than Curly being a nuisance. One more way that Curly just didn't trust him not to fuck up his eyes eternally trapped in the cold hate and fear as he watches Jimmy proceed to ruin the one thing he took pride in as the metaphorical man of the house: keeping the crew safe.

Jimmy thinks of himself as the son who stayed faithful, worked himself to the bone, only to receive scraps while his undeserving brother is celebrated and lauded.

Within the hierarchy, the system is only as "good" as who remains on top. And "good" people, blindly faithful and eternally forgiving, aren't ruthless enough to stay up there for long.

Jimmy's not a good person but he's not stupid. And he's very ruthless. While there may have been somewhat of a hierarchical situation before he joined the crew, it's clear from his conversations with Anya, Curly valued a more lateral role system as he felt trapped in Pony Express's all-consuming ladder over Jimmy's rigid rungs of better and worse.

But over and over, he isolated the crew to their sectors. Over and over, he demeaned Anya, insulted her and Curly. Leaned into the insults of Daisuke. Left Swansea alone for the most part.

Anya, as much as it pains me to admit this, could have worked with Swansea earlier. But would that have worked? What about Daisuke—the younger version of Curly's eternal optimistic "I've never seen the dead pixel" attitude? The isolation absolutely worked. There's no imagining a world in which it doesn't work unless you imagine the crew as better than they are.

And that's just one more tragedy we can't rinse out of mouths with mouthwash.

[sanrielle]

I've been thinking a lot about Katara and her feminism vs. her desire to preserve her dying culture. Like I know that the SWT probably isn't as sexist as the NWT, but there are still a lot of enduring practices that have roots in patriarchy, as demonstrated by Sokka's earlier sexism.

So I think Katara would end up with an odd mix. She's obviously a staunch feminist who thinks girls and women should follow their own paths, regardless of what society in general thinks their roles should be. But at the same time, she can't escape from some of the subtler (and possibly more insidious) traditions of 'propriety' and the role of women as the homemakers.

[Obligatory disclaimer that I don't know that much about Inuit culture when it comes to these things. I'm purely basing this off of what is shown in the cartoon itself.]

Something that kinda goes along with this is Katara's necklace. To her, it's a symbol of her grandmother's struggle for independence, as well as a memento of her mother and the sacrificial love she displayed. In the NWT, it represented (at best) a romantic commitment and (at worst) a transfer of property. I don't think she'd associate hers with either, and she'd probably be insulted if Aang tried to give her a new one when proposing.

(I maintain that the necklace she wears as an old lady is the same one she had in childhood. The fact that it looks wonky in that one screenshot is nothing more than lackluster rendering.)

Anyway, I've gone a little off topic. I just think she's a really interesting study in how someone can rail against the negative parts of their culture that don't appeal to them, while also having an internalized fondness for some of those same traditions, simply because they are familiar and nostalgic.

Take Toph for contrast. I don't think she's the butch anti-feminine person a lot of people make her out to be. She just does what she wants. She's perfectly happy to go to the spa or wear dresses and makeup, but only if it's her choice to do so. She's railing against the repressive and oppressive culture of elite EK society simply because she previously had no agency over her life.

Meanwhile, Katara takes an active role in seeing to the physical and emotional needs of her brother/friends. And even though that 'motherly' role is largely a trauma response and something she deeply resents at times, I think it's also a source of comfort to her. Something about her culture that she desperately clings to.

I think a lot about her and Aang's life post-war. They would be very focused on reconstruction for years, most likely. Katara would have her own projects with the Water Tribes, but also spend a lot of time helping Aang. Some part of her craves the validation of appearing to be 'proper' concerning her relationship with him. Maybe she's a bit hypocritical about it: unwilling to wait until they've settled down to be intimate, but also reluctant to publicly break certain social 'rules'.

She keeps telling herself there's so much to do in the world, and maybe she feels this heavy burden to do as much good as she can before allowing herself to rest and slow down and create the family she's always wanted.

But then ten(ish) years have passed and suddenly! Baby on the way! Oops! Katara knows she's a public figure and cares a lot about how she's seen. She wants the respect of the people from her own culture. And so they stop. They get married. They settle down.

Katara becomes the wife and mother, which she definitely wants while also having some lingering regrets and conflicting feelings. She still wants to be a role model for other girls and women, but she likes not being constantly on the move and fighting people and playing politics. She likes getting up in the middle of the night to sing an old Water Tribe lullaby to her baby. She likes it the most when Aang is there because he's always seen her as an equal partner, not a piece of property.

Anyway, I didn't really have a point. Just rambling about my own headcanons. I've always put a lot more thought into Toph and Sokka's characters, but I guess Kataang has been on my mind lately. And tbh I never gave Katara the attention she deserved when writing fics, which is a travesty.

[mollysunder]

Shimmer, Plants, and Firelights: Is the Firelights' Tree HQ being Sustained with Shimmer?

One of the most impressive things about Ekko's community, the Firelights, is that they were able to build a real home for one other another against the brutal struggle to survive that the Undercity has been caught in for centuries. Arcane best shows the Firelights' success in community in their ability to build and manage a green community. In the Undercity, a place of Iron and Glass, where plants and clean air are such luxuries that they count as status symbols, the Firelights are practically bathed in it in their Treehouse HQ. But then when I rewatched the series, I remembered Ekko said they FOUND this tree. The Firelights didn't grow it from seed to massive old growth themselves (especially if the timeskip was just 6-7 yrs at most), they certainly cultivated it in a way that allowed the tree to support itself and them too. After finishing Arcane it was so easy to firmly associate successful plant cultivation and the hope it brings for the Undercity with the Firelights, to where I had forgotten that the plants do grow in the Undercity.

The first time we see plant life in the Undercity is at the Crab Palace, better known as the Cannery. Through the cracks in the ground are leafy ferns (I think they're ferns) and generally very healthy looking weeds. At first I'd assumed maybe this area was in a slightly less polluted area in the Undercity, but it's literally by the place Silco was drowned. The place where the river is so toxic it eats muscle tissue. And yet, in the light of day plants grow. In fact, even underwater vegetation seems to be able to grow too. And everytime we see an instance of vegetation growing and surviving in the Undercity, there is always a source of Shimmer and/or Shimmer production nearby.

In the Cannery we can see the literal veins of Shimmer (Void Veins?), act as a medium that allows plant growth.

In the time it took for the sun to set on 2nd episode we can see that even more fern saplings are growing on and around the Void Veins.

In Singed's cave where he is cultivating Rio, the mutation related to Shimmer's production the cave is filled with bioluminescent plant life. I don't know if this a normal plant in League of Legends, but in the real world there are no naturally occurring plants that actively glow in the dark. Not only do they exist in a cave system that's fed with water visibly polluted with visible chemical runoff they manage to grow in decent looking clusters with limited light.

Later in the season, Viktor's experiments with the hexcore show that the Void is capable of stimulating the growth organic life and Shimmer may be the key to maintaining it.

By the end of the season, Shimmer production is shown in a very controlled environment like the factory where plant life would be weeded out to avoid accidents and prevent damage to machinery. When the show reaches the Firelights' HQ, audience members like myself already forgot Shimmer's association with plant life. But looking back, it seems few requirements are needed for Shimmer to make plants grow. All the plants probably needed was light, moisture, and a healthy supply of Shimmer.

It makes sense that the Firelights' treehouse was able to grow so large and grand in a place like the Undercity with the help of Shimmer. Shimmer is a literal magic wonder drug (a super steriod) for humans, and magic doesn't need to understand basics of biochemistry, it's the Void. The real question is where is the source that's feeding the tree? The easiest answer could be that Silco dumps subpar quality Shimmer around the area, maybe the batches aren't strong enough but inadvertently make good fertilizer. The more worrying answer is that the Void Veins over the years have dug deeper into the Undercity than anyone, except maybe Singed thought was possible.

No matter the answer, if it's true the tree was only able to survive before the Firelights reached it would be devastatingly ironic for Ekko and his group. Shimmer, the drug that elevated their enemy and upended their lives also made their home possible. It could be an opportunity to look once again at the nuances of Shimmer's applications once more, especially as previously the Firelights and now Piltover are hellbent on destroying it. But it also makes their home an even bigger target.

Somewhere there is a reserve of Shimmer sustaining the Firelights' tree in a time where production in its industry has been effectively shut down. They are possibly living on an extremely flammable gold mine. The gold mine may or may not be closely psychically conected to other Void-connected transmutated people like Jinx and Viktor. It also doesn't help that Piltover's quick to storm in first and ask questions later in high tension situations.

[thetokentrans]

so I have thoughts about this week's episode of 911. My partner and I ranted at one another when we watched it yesterday, and I need to put my thoughts out into the world. Spoilers under the cut. Also tagged though, just to be safe.

Alright so, I wanna say first that while I've mostly enjoyed this season, some of the arcs and basically all of the pacing has me really frustrated? And not frustrated because of cliffhangers and not frustrated because the writing wants me to be. Frustrated because the pacing has been far too quick - though, I expect the super truncated season is to be blamed for that - but also some of the writing and character arcs just..... Do not fit the vibe of the show up until this season? Plus, the lack of calls/focus on characters personal lives has also got me sad. Like, I love the characters and love seeing the peeks into their loves, but I really hope the show doesn't maintain the equation of one big emergency, a few calls sprinkled through out the season, and then mostly focused on the characters lives because *I* preferred the balance it was before. Or would have been happy with a tiny bit more focus on their personal lives, but not to the extent it is now, know?

Eddie and Kim are a great example. Especially what it culminated to in 7x09. It just makes no God damned sense and does not fit Eddie's characterization in my opinion? It came out of left field. It's a really, really weird god damned story line. I *am* glad that Buck approached Eddie about it AS SOON as he learned about the situation though. Like if it wasn't anything, Eddie... You wouldn't have hid her from Buck OR Marisol. If it wasn't anything, you wouldn't have lied and said you didn't have a gf. And it frustrates me that before this episode, he had been looking back on his relationship with Shannon with such rose colored glasses and forgetting the very large, sort of insurmountable issues that they had. Though that isn't out of character for him, I just hated it. Lol

And the stuff with the councilwoman in this episode also made me insanely angry. And went way too quick. Politicians can grease a lot of wheels but that entire situation - Maria's adoption getting stopped, AND her getting ripped out of their house because their foster license got revoked - really felt like it happened way too quick and should have raised some red flags/encountered some road blocks in the system???

Also I hate that NO ONE outside of Athena seemed to question Bobby's definitely very weird behavior. Like I feel like super anxious to every change in someone's demeanor Buck, and INSANELY perceptive Hen would have picked up that something was wrong????

Also idk man, Athena going to Amir, AND BRINGING HIM INTO HER HOUSE THAT HAS ALL OF THIS EVIDENCE OF HOW GOOD BOBBY HAS IT NOW - even if Bobby doesn't think he deserves it, even if Bobby has been stewing in his self loathing basically since childhood and his dad dying - to help with Bobby's spiralings/self destruction cycle felt a little out of characterly naive of her?

Like.. I don't think he's the one who set the house on fire at the end of the episode - I did at first, but my partner pointed out that it'd be the too obvious choice - but I just don't think either Bobby OR Amir are ready for that. And I feel like history shows, and her characterization shows, that she'd be more perceptive and realize that.

That being said, some things I *liked* about the episode:

Chim getting to clapback at racist homophobic Gerrard (spelling?) at the award ceremony

Bobby telling Buck that he knows Tommy is good for him because Buck hasn't spiraled about their relationship/ranted about it to him.

Buck telling Eddie that he's worried about him. That interaction, Buck calling Eddie out, it felt good and like the 911 I'm used to.

Athena calling Bobby out on his self destruction cycle. I do wish she would have pointed out how often she has leaned on him (as much as a chronically independent woman like her, can anyway) especially when it came to finally solving her fiancé's murder for instance.

Idk man, the show just doesn't feel the same as it has in the past and I'm really hoping it's because of the change in network and is just an adjustment period.

[oh-no-another-idea]

15 question OC interview [Fynn edition] 🕑

Tagged by all the lovelies @ghost-town-story @fanged-solace and @willtheweaver -- thanks, guys! I love writing these they're so fun :) Today we're going to interview Fynn!! I'm very excited for this as his character recently got a bit of a behind-the-scenes makeover and has some new backstory. :)

Previously on, in case anyone wants to view, are Antonio's interview, and Paris's.

"We gather here today..." Antonio intones, holding his notepad and lantern as though he is the sole survivor of a doomed expedition in the jungle. "For a bold and momentous occasion."

"Speak for yourself," Paris says, leaning against the wall behind him. "Some of us gather for the entertainment." "Being me," Fynn says dolefully, trying not the clutch the armrests of his chair so tight that he ruins the fabric.

Are you named after anyone?

Not a terrible question to start off with, all things considered. "Yes," Fynn says. "My grandfather. He died when I was only a few years old."

When was the last time you cried? And a terrible second question. Fynn eyeballs Antonio, but he just looks normal. Which is to say, like an utter loon. Behind him, Paris and Velia knock their shoulders together. Only Lewis has some measure of sympathy on his face. Probably because he knows he'll be next before too long. "I don't remember," Fynn lies. He did remember. It had been the night before he'd decided to leave the city. Antonio raises an eyebrow but scribbles the answer down.

Do you have kids? "Booo," Velia says loudly. Antonio twists around in his seat to glare at her. "My older sister has children," Fynn says before either of them can start a fight. "I've only met the oldest two. They are some of my favorite people in the world."

Do you use sarcasm?

Fynn sighs. "Alas yes."

What's the first thing you notice about people? "I don't really," Fynn apologies. He tries not to wilt under the four confused gazes suddenly latched on him. "I'd make a terrible detective." "Not at all?" "Leave him alone, Antonio," Lewis says, and what do you know, Antonio moves on.

What's your eye color? "--I don't know," Fynn says, thrown. When has he ever noticed, or cared? Lewis scurries over and kneels before him. "Gray," he says. "Like steel beams. Or coal smoke." Fynn smiles down at him. Lewis winks.

Scary or happy endings? "I don't like endings," Fynn says honestly.

Any special talents? "No," Fynn says, frowning. "But I've skills. I'm a mechanic by trade, I know my way around an engine and the tools needed to maintain her, and a fair bit of carpentry as well." "And you're good with kids," Velia adds. "That's a skill alright."

Where were you born?

Fynn can't help but grin, thinking of home. "Norway."

What are your hobbies? Fynn frowns. "I'm a working man--" "Oh shut up," Antonio whines. "Live a little, Fynn. You're here with us, aren't you?" "Then you're my hobbies," Fynn says, just to see their faces. They don't disappoint.

Have you any pets? "I can hardly feed myself on a good day," Fynn says, realizing he's calmer now than he expected to be. "Can you imagine a dog trailing after me?" "How about a rat?" Paris suggests unhelpfully. "Since they're already your roommates?" "Or a pigeon?" Velia adds. Fynn rolls his eyes. The two of them, honestly.

What sports do you play/have played? "This is ridiculous," Fynn mutters. "Yes, ridiculous," Paris says, almost like he's been waiting for it. "Quite right, Fynn." Antonio shoots him a look. "I didn't invite you, you insisted on accompanying us. At least get out and leave us be." Paris leans down, grabs the notebook and reads off the next question.

How tall are you? "Fynn," Paris finishes, laughing a little. "Have you a measuring tape in your pocket?" "Yes, actually," Fynn says sheepishly pulling it out. He hands it to Antonio when he sees how large his grin is. Paris throws his hands up. "Might as well actually measure then." "Six foot one inch!" Antonio says triumphantly. "Good lord you're tall."

Favorite subject in school? "I stopped going to school when I came to America to work," Fynn tells them. "I can't say I miss it."

Dream job? "My job now," Fynn says. "With my family nearby and well and a steady paycheck." "And a flamingo," Antonio says promptly. Fynn stares. "Just to spice your plans up a little," Antonio elaborates. "Worry not, I will supply it." "You're going to make me steal from a zoo, aren't you," Velia says grimly. Antonio smiles.

Gentle tags for anyone who made it all the way through that, and also @zmwrites @revenantlore @reneesbooks @saltysupercomputer

@pertinax--loculos @sparrow-orion-writes and @penspiration-writing <3

[lhs3020b]

Morlock Revisionism - The Time Machine, HG Wells

Yes, it's a books post. Haven't had one of these for a while, have we?

By random chance, I happened to find myself re-reading Wells's "The Time Machine" last night. I enjoyed re-visiting it. It's a story that's stood up surprisingly well, considering a) its age and b) its de facto (if not quite de jure) status as the trope-creator for the time travel story.

First off, one interesting aspect is that it does not bother with the modern trope of the time paradox, really, at all. The Time Traveller never considers whether his own actions may affect the future that he discovers in the year 802, 701 (or, indeed, the later ones that he encounters further into the narrative).

As a scientific note, it's worth commenting that the astronomy in the story is deeply dated - the story was written before the discovery of nuclear fusion, so the implicit framework is that the Sun is powered through Kelvin-Helmholtz contraction. It's not. The Sun of 30 million years hence would not display the dramatic changes that the Time Traveller observes. (Also the "large and red" Sun of 30 Million AD should have roasted the Time Traveller to death, as luminosity increases with the surface area of a star. That future shouldn't be frozen, it should be burning!)

One aspect of the narrative that stands out is that the Time Traveller - actually by his own admission! - may be an unreliable narrator. He specifically-notes that his initial theory about the world of 802,701 AD was disproven by events there, and there may be an implication that he's wrong about other conclusions too.

Could he be wrong … about the Morlocks? Are they actually the monsters the narrative paints them as? Let's have a look at what evidence we possess.

First off, most of what we know about the world of 802,701 AD is canonically-speculative in nature. Weena and the Eloi seem to know little-to-nothing about their history and origins. In his time in the deep future, the Traveller finds no interpretable written records. Even his sojourn at the museum offers only a few clues - and as we'll discuss later, some of them may actually conflict with his interpretations. (The presence of the matches and the camphor, in particular, is a bit suspect.)

The Time Traveller is a human being like the rest of us, and he comes from a particular cultural context, namely late-Victorian England. It would be naive to assume that none of this had had an effect on his world-view or how he interprets what he sees. And some of his conclusions … well, they did read to me a bit like what a very stereotypical moustache-twirling Nineteenth Century imperialist might settle on, you know?

Notably, the Traveller severely under-estimates the intelligence of the Morlocks. See the events near the end of the story, where they leave the doors to the sphinx-structure open and the Time Machine itself on display, clearly intending to bait him in. They're able to determine what he's looking for, where he will go to look for it and are able to impute his likely actions. And they're right about all of it. The only reason their plan failed was that they apparently didn't understand the Time Machine's user interface (if they'd noticed the slots for the missing levers…) The Morlocks apparently also have at least some control over the world's remaining machinery, they're presumably the source of what manufactured goods the Eloi have and it's also implied that whatever maintenance occurs aboveground is done by them.

Whatever else they may be, the Morlocks aren't idiots.

Contrast this to the Eloi, who bathe in a dangerous body of water, post no watches at night and make no effort to save one of their own (Weena) when she gets swept away by a stray current! The Eloi also apparently make no effort to maintain the "big houses" in which they reside. They seem to have no writing or material culture, and not even that much in the way of speech; the Traveller specifically-notes the limited character of their language. Their faculties clearly are the more restricted. (It's worth noting that even the Time Traveller himself concedes this point.)

Are the Morlocks the monsters that the Time Traveller sees them as? The narrative clearly wants you to follow his conclusions … but, I do find myself wondering about that. I mean, by his own admission, some of his deductions were false. Could other conclusions be false too, or incomplete?

Let's consider the evidence, or at least the evidence that we have.

First off, the proposed Eloi-phagy. Do we really see an unambiguous depiction of this in the narrative? The closest we get to it is what the Traveller thinks he sees in the Morlock tunnels … except it's only a brief glimpse, while a single match flares, seen from a distance, and even he doesn't sound absolutely-sure of what he thought he saw. He's also in a distressed, confused and distracted state of mind at the time, will not have helped with making clear and factual observations. Did he actually see a butchered Eloi, or could it have been some other animal? For all we know, he just blundered into a Morlock operating theatre while in the middle of surgery! Everything about that would be consistent with the evidence in the text!

It's also worth noting that the Traveller is openly-biased against the Morlocks. He describes them in language which, let's be blunt about it, would be considered unambiguously-racist if applied to a modern human population. He takes one look at the Morlocks and decides they just must be bad 'uns, and everything else seems to flow from that assertion.

(Also, well, "Victorians making wild accusations of cannibalism" is a thing with an extensive and dark history, you know?)

Lastly, the "Eloi as lunch, dinner and elevenses" hypothesis has a bit of an ecological issue. There are far too many Morlocks and not remotely enough Eloi. Eloi are slow to mature, small in stature and lacking in substantial muscle mass. They're just not good cattle. If Weena's accident in the stream is any guide, they're also prone to randomly-dying in very stupid accidents, which could only make farming them even harder. It just doesn't make sense for the Morlocks to be eating them, unless Eloi steak is perhaps a rare delicacy that they consume in small amounts every other year, or something.

As to the Morlock's supposed hostility, well, did they ever actually do anything that bad? They steal the Time Machine, though you could argue that perhaps its owner shouldn't have simply left it lying around. (What a litter bug!) Then the Traveller himself climbs down into their territory without seeking invitation - by our standards, he's literally a tresspasser, so it's probably no wonder the Morlocks were alarmed! And honestly, a lot of their behaviour toward him could be interpreted as more "curious" than "hostile".

Next there's his use of the matches. The Morlocks are clearly harmed by it - the light hurts their eyes, and the fire apparently scares them. (As well it should - if you live in an enclosed underground tunnel, fire is bad news!) From their point of view, he's a weird, gangling, threatening invader from the surface world who suddenly appeared one day, and whose intent is entirely unknown. He shows no concern for their territory and is cavalier in his use of fire. Viewed in that light it's unsurprising that the Morlocks would be uneasy around him!

(On a small side-note, one thing I've wondered about is whether Morlock vision is actually now in the infrared. Their tunnels appear a little too dark even for very sensitive eyes - they're not dim, they're pitch-black! - and the effects of the matches and the later wildfires seem a bit too much even for sensitive eyes. On the other hand, if the Morlocks had evolved to see heat, they wouldn't need artificial lighting - your body would be self-luminous! you are your own reading lamp! -, and it would explain why the matches were so debillitating.)

The Time Traveller also makes no attempt to communicate with the Morlocks, despite their canonically-clear higher level of intelligence. He views them as nothing except a monstrous enemy. It's a very, well, Victorian sort of attitude, isn't it? Of course there's nothing that the moustache-twirling imperialist could ever learn from the lowly and degenerate natives!

There are two further pieces of evidence for the "Morlocks are evil" hypothesis. One is the lack of sick or elderly Eloi. But here the narrative contradicts itself somewhat, as the Traveller also believes that the future world is largely free of pestilence. If dangerous microorganisms had been eradicated, then of course there are not many sick Eloi! As to the lack of elderly ones, well, Weena's river misadventure may offer some clues. The Eloi apparently have little in the way of self-preservation instincts, so one does wonder what the accidental death-rate for them is. It could be high. Perhaps he doesn't see any elderly Eloi because they don't usually make it to a recognisable senescent state, but through accident and misadventure rather than via Morlock celebrity chefs.

The other item of evidence is the Eloi's collective fear of night, and moonless nights in particular. The narrative suggests - though, never actually clearly shows us - that these are the times when Morlocks go small-game hunting. They're apparently able to get in and out of the "big houses" without ever waking up the Eloi and apparently reliably know where to find the Eloi. (Not wanting to victim-blame here, obviously, but the Eloi could consider maybe posting some sentries, and perhaps varying where they sleep … I mean, they're not short of half-abandoned buildings, right?)

But are the Morlocks necessarily the source of the Eloi's fear of the dark? Could it be something else, like perhaps their tendency to have dumb accidents, or randomly getting lost? (Case-in-point re: the latter, on the final night Weena apparently ran off on her own at some point, which is less-than-clever.) As for Weena's unease around the wells, you do have to wonder how many Eloi have managed to have a a "tripped and fell" moment while playing a bit too close to the lip of the well. Weena is actually implied to be one of the smarter Eloi - she shows some curiosity toward the Traveller, and is seemingly willing to consider visiting parts of the outside world - and even she does questionably-smart things like leaning right over the lip of the well while the Traveller climbs down. I mean, this is sounding like the opening-lines of an official report into a bad accident, isn't it?

I will allow that the Morlocks certainly should have paid more attention to health-and-safety in the design of their access-wells, which honestly do seem to basically be death-traps. However, some of this can be ascribed to negligence and laziness rather than actual malice-aforethoughht-level capital-E evil.

The Time Traveller posits that the Eloi and Morlocks emerged from a socio-economic divergence within the original human population, one that eventually became so extreme that it resulted in an actual speciation event. Essentially, the upper and lower classes ended up not merely socially-isolated from each other, but genetically-isolated too. I believe this conclusion more than I believe the Morlock cannibalism allegations, but I still have some problems with it.

1) To produce an actual speciation event, the separation of the social classes would have to persist for an enormous length of time - presumably, at least a few thousand years - and would also have to have been enforced more rigorously than even the most extreme real-world caste system. Is it really plausible that a system like this could have remained stable for the required timescales? That there were no cross-caste romances or "accidental" pregnancies, ever? That all genetic mixing across social boundaries came to a hard, permanent stop? (Contrast this with the real-world behaviour of some Victorian "gentlemen" toward their servants, and, well … yeaaaaah. Eeeek.)

2) Would the economic system implied by all of the above even have been stable in the first place? Can you really erect a non-prous, binary wall between "producers" and "consumers"? In the real world, the two groups are also made up of exactly the same people. (Consider - you have a job, but you also buy stuff. Both are you.) Were there really never any movements for social reform, no civil rights legislation, no uprisings, civil wars, general strikes or any of the other social chaos that usually overwhelm any proposed social planning? The proposed binary divergence of society implies deliberate central organisation dwarfing anything even the Soviet Union attempted, and it's notable that Soviet central planning was ultimately a failure.

The proposed social divide would have been so extreme that I can't see how it could be maintained without a deliberate and organised program of violent enforcement by a strong State, rather than the kind of emergent phenomenon that the Time Traveller seems to think it was. (The only thing the Traveller sees that might - might! - be evidence for this would be the extensive displays of weapons he found while at the ruined museum.)

3) Also, where does agriculture fit into this schema? Agricultural labour is usually considered low social status, but as plants need sunlight, by definition it has to occur aboveground. Is there an aboveground population of farmer-descended Morlocks out there somewhere? In fairness I suppose there could be - the Time Traveller only visits a small area based around what's no longer outer London, after all. (The "modern" Eloi population appears to subsist on edible plants, which are apparently abundant and near-universal in their surroundings. It's suggested that the origins of these plants were artificial, at some point in the past. While these have presumably supplanted agriculture by the year 802,701, nonetheless there must have been a time when they didn't exist, so they don't get us away from the "Morlock workers in the fields" problem.)

4) There is some implication in the text, actually, that the speciation event may have been more recent than the Time Traveller thinks. Consider all the fossil buildings he finds in the area surrounding his arrival-point. The Eloi clearly didn't build them, and given the Morlocks' troubles with daylight, it seems doubtful that they did either. However, someone must have erected these structures, and it can't have been that long ago - most of them still have their roofs! Even allowing for possible super-advanced future construction techniques, I can't see them as being more than a few thousand years old at absolute most, not hundreds of thousands of years. Honestly, they're probably even younger than that. (Significantly, when the Traveller visits the ruined museum, there seems to be an implication that it was restocked not too long ago. When he finds the camphor and the matches, even he notes the oddity that they are still usable!)

So in summary, while the Time Traveller's account of the year 802,701 is entertaining, I don't think I believe his social biology. And actually, this is one of the strengths of this novel - while it suggests a surface-level narrative, it actually is surprisingly open to alternate readings. Who knows, perhaps this was even what Wells intended (he does, after all, take some pains to remind us that the Time Traveller was not right about everything).

[ladylilithprime]

Day 10: Mushrooms

(Part of the Grand Not-Coven of Palo-Alto series.)

SAM WESSON'S GARDEN was a truly spectacular work of time, effort, engineering, and spell work. It was the first thing any visitor to his properly noticed from the street and a favored place for friends and family to gather to spend time together just chatting and enjoying each other's company. Even if you didn't have a lick of sensitivity to the supernatural and mystical energies, the Garden was a visual marvel of growth and care, at least some parts of it always in bloom no matter the season. If you were sensitive to mystical energies, it was a massive nexus of magic, from the carved stones and mosaics that marked out the footpaths and plant beds to the plants themselves. It was the focal point of the wards Sam had built around his house and extended to the house next door where Dean Smith lived, and it was where the anchor stones for the wards Sam maintained around the homes and businesses of his "network friends" and Palo Alto as a whole were kept, continually renewing and recharging with every sunrise, moonrise, and rainfall.

As a licensed herbalist and practicing witch, it was no surprise that the Garden held a lot of the plants and herbs Sam needed for various potions, tinctures, and poultices, grown fresh and harvested with care to dry and preserve. The large glass greenhouse at one end of the Garden, which connected to the main house via the Solarium, held the more "tempermental" plants in their specially warded pots and beds, the ones that Sam's FBI contacts really wanted to pretend didn't exist for one reason or another. There was even a section of the Garden devoted to growing fruits and vegetables which Sam used to cook and gave to or traded with other members of the network. Frankly, the only thing that was surprising to people who had learned the secrets of the Garden was that Sam would need to go anywhere else for some type of plant.

Specifically, mushrooms.

"It's not that there aren't mushrooms in the Garden," Sam explained as he led the way into the woods behind the house, Bones cheerfully bounding ahead before circling back to dance around her favorite human and his friends. "The act of foraging is itself a part of the ritual, much like harvesting. A reaffirmation of life and sustainability amid death and decay as part of the cycle of the natural world."

"And they're really safe to eat?" asked John Castiel Novak curiously, stepping around a fallen branch even as he split his attention between Sam and the mushroom guidebook the witch had given him.

"Some are," Sam nodded, then shrugged. "Some aren't. And some of them are only safe to eat in certain stages of their growth, so pay close attention to that guide book and if you aren't sure ask me or Bones to double check."

"Too bad we don't have a pig along for truffle hunting," Cas's twin, James Constantine Novak joked, and then yelped as the golden retriever abruptly stood up and changed into a golden-haired woman with her hands on her naked hips.

"I'd like to see a hog sniff out the good mushrooms of all types and warn you away from the bad ones even half as well as I can!" she snapped. Then her indignation melted away into a mischievous smirk as she added, "Besides, Dean said he was never doing that again after he got dirt up his nose that was still there when he changed back."

"Bones," Sam groaned as Cas and Jimmy exchanged slightly alarmed looks. To the twins, he explained, "It was a dare from Andy to see if I even could change someone who wasn't my familiar into an animal, and Jess suggested a truffle hog to see if we could find some wild growing truffles to save some money on ingredients. Dean volunteered to be the guinea pig, and, well.... actual pig."

"And it worked?" Jimmy asked with interest. "No negative side effects?"

"Dean gained a better appreciation for vegetables as a food group, so your mileage may vary," Bones snorted, then slipped back into her canine shape with a cheerful yip.

"I, on the other hand, was exhausted, which is the real reason he said never again," Sam explained, getting tandem nods. The twins were well acquainted with Dean's intense protective streak when it came to Sam. "So Bones conspired with Dean to learn the scents of every mushroom in these woods and a few that aren't so she could be my primary hunting partner."

As it should be, Bones whispered in Sam's mind, answering his small smile with a lolling canine grin. Sam may have left the world of hunting behind along with the Winchester name, but there were some aspects he just couldn't give up completely. He rather suspected that, with the way the Novak twins kept coming back with their increasingly flimsy excuses, the hunting world wasn't ready to be done with him, either.

He thought he might could live with that.

[sketching-shark]

Laios Dungeonmeshi- i mean, Laios Touden for the ask game, cuz i think you've already been asked of all of the JTTW crew alot

Thanks for the ask @seasonalsummers! And apologies to you and everyone else who's sent me asks only for me to take 5 billion years to reply (X_X)

But Laiooooosss...seems like everyone and their mother is talking about him these days, and for good reason lol. I guess for the most part I'd go with the majority of saying that he's a neat character for a number of reasons, from being a genuine freak but not a pervert to his strong desire for friendship & the way that gets messed up and repaired to the way his love of monsters is significantly defined by how alienated he feels from much of humanity. I can't remember who said it, but he kind of reminds me of this quote I stumbled across where the speaker was noting how a reason many prefer the company of animals to that of humans is the way that animals are often very direct with their intentions and desires, whereas humans have a habit of hiding who they are and what they truly want. So especially for a manga that's all about the nature of desire, the potentially cataclysmic consequences of misreading intent, but also the absolute necessity of forming bonds with living things of all kinds to survive, Laios does make for a great protagonist.

I honestly didn't really ship him with anyone on my first read-through of the manga, but after seeing some posts on how well the compliment each other Kabru x Laios is growing on me. I think it really helps that both Kabru and Laios have goals, interests, and friend groups that lie outside of each other, but that they can complement each other so well thanks to each one possessing skills that the other one lacks and both sincerely wanting to help their loved ones. I do think it helps as well that Ryōko Kui didn't feel the need to demonize or dumb either Laios or Kabru down to make their friendship work. Hell, while Laios does become king Kabru becomes his advisor, and the manga itself stands testament to why that's a partnership that's likely for the best.

AUGH it's really hard to pin down but one non-romantic OTP for Laois given how much he loves each member of his party, but I guess ultimately I'd have to say Senshi. Besides being a fun character it was thanks to this dwarf's culinary skills with monster bits that Laios and his party were able to make the attempt to get Falin back in the first place, after all! More importantly for me however is the way Senshi has a deep understanding of the cycles that need to be maintained in order for a world of eating and being eaten to continue, and his explanation of them is something that I do think helped inform Laios's decisions which ultimately resulted in him saving the world from being consumed.

I don't think that it's a deeply unpopular opinion, but I do agree with others who've said that Laios's bouts of insensitivity and even outright bigotry shouldn't be dismissed as just him being autistic. Ryōko Kui made it pretty clear that biases of all kinds have an important hand in shaping what the world of Dungeon Meshi is like, and it definitely decreases the richness of the story to pretend that the main characters, Laios included, don't have any.

I do think that Dungeon Meshi ending where it did makes a lot of sense, but tbh I wish that we had seen more about what Laios is like as a king dealing with the more mundane day-to-day tasks of ruling. I do like that he apparently spends a lot of time and energy on the production and distribution of food, but I'd be keen to see what that would actually look like in practice, especially given the state of the island and the way a lot of the fantasy races which have long histories of being hostile towards each other are living alongside each other there. Dungeon Meshi is quite clear about Laios having a lot of difficulty reading people, and it would be interesting to see how that would play out with him in a position that's largely all about telling what people want and why and responding accordingly. Of course keep in mind this is coming from someone who's list of favorite books includes Moby-Dick (which contains lengthy descriptions of what's actually involved in boiling down whales for their oil) and the obscure sci-fi Grasp the Stars (who's hero is a middle-aged woman dealing with diplomatic emergencies at a space port), so my desire for this kind of expansion of Laios lore is probably not what most people want lmao.

[beautifulsavagegarden]

Window to the Past

Cressida hadn't been able to help herself when she had seen the jewellery box, resting on the counter at the antique store. Her mother had worked at the store for years and Cressida had fond memories of coming by after school and helping her mother around the store as was needed. The owner had been particularly fond of her and so long as she was careful and considerate, he had let her into the backroom on weekends to read the books that had been donated from the families whose loved ones had died and didn't know what to do with them. Dorothea Perkins had jokingly said that every book had to be vetted by Cressida before it was worthy to be sold. Cressida remembered well the smell of the store, the fresh cut flowers on the counter mixing with the old book smell in the air. After her mother had died, Cressida had stopped coming by so often but she had still maintained the relationship to a degree. Dorothea had been overjoyed every time the bell rang and she looked up and saw that Cressida was in the doorway.

She had come to the store, carrying a box of her father's things, a few weeks after his funeral and when the bell had went, Dorothea had gasped and then rushed to Cressida as much as she was able to considering her advanced years and the damage that years of lifting heavy things had done to her book. She was a little more stooped than when Cressida had been young but age changed them all in the end. Dorothea was still lovely and her smile hadn't changed one bit.

"Cressida, you should have called ahead. I would have made some tea." Dorothea chided her just a touch as Cressida heaved the box up onto the counter.

"I'm sorry Dorothea, I didn't think. I was just in the zone you know? Anyway, I was clearing out the attic and I know that my father would want you to find new homes for a few things." She patted the box with one hand. It was then that she noticed the jewellery box and her interest in it must have caught Dorothea's attention because the next thing Cressida knew, the box was swept off the counter into Dorothea's wrinkled hands and she was presenting it to Cressida.

"I know that look when I see it; take it. As a thank you for, well, everything." Dorothea was watching Cressida with a gaze that clearly told her that there was no point in arguing, that it wouldn't accomplish anything. She wanted to ask Dorothea if she was sure but she always had been sure of herself and almost everything she did.

"I was so sad to hear of your father's passing. Arthur deserved better than that."

Cressida nodded her head, agreeing. It had been a lot, so much, too much for her and it was part of why she was considering putting the house on the market. She didn't feel like she belonged in Salem anymore. She wasn't going to tell Dorothea though, or anyone else, not until she had decided for sure what she was going to do.

She had stayed for tea, thanking Dorothea and giving the older woman a large, warm hug and then she had gone on her way home. They had recounted memories of her father but mostly of her mother and Cressida felt the weight of their losses weighing heavily on her shoulders. If she hadn't felt crushed by the grief, then perhaps she wouldn't have made the decision that she did.

Later that night, she pulled out the few pieces of her mother's jewellery that she still had and placed them in the box on her vanity. When she had opened the drawer they rested in, her fingers had brushed against the velvet of the bag that housed her angel cards. She hadn't touched them in so long, hadn't read in so long, and she felt that she needed their reassurance then more than anything else in the world. Perhaps she would get comfort from the angels.

She had lit a candle and had placed the cards next to the jewellery box that she just couldn't stop staring at. There was something about it that called to her, as though it had always been meant for her, as if it's creation was connected to something buried deep inside of her that she couldn't understand or name.

She had started to draw the cards, selecting the first for the past and that was as far as she got. There was a sudden wind, the flame of the candle guttered in the wick and the card fell from her fingers, landing on the table face down so she could not see it. It seemed that she didn't need to though because the card wasn't going to hold any answer for her. No, the answer was in the room with her, in the mirror. There was a man standing behind her and Cressida jumped, whirling round in her seat, eyes wide, hand trembling as it rose to her mouth. There was a man standing in her room.

"W-Who are you?" She asked, a tremor in her voice.

@symphonyofmalice

[supersymmetries]

a vaguely-presidential looking seal appears on your dashboard to the sound of trumpets--

and my large, sweaty face appears on your screen. even through the low resolution of the pre-recorded broadcast you can tell that the gel is melting out of my hair and my suit is ill-fitting.

hello fellow musers. 2024 is an election year for large chunks of the planet. primaries are well underway for many. we all love to vote here, and i would like to encourage those of you eligible to make sure that you participate in your country's elections this cycle!

recall the number of polls over the last year that we had no business winning because all of us came together and voted as one. even if that song or album wasn't our favorite. even when we didn't win. even when all it got us 2nd or 3rd place. i want you to bring that optimism and determination to the ballot box this year.

this doesn't apply just to presidential elections, but to any local races that may be underway as well. participation in local elections is lower, and your individual vote has greater sway in a smaller voting pool. this is truly where you have the opportunity to make outsized changes to the politics of your immediate area. these changes in local politics can and will result in greater changes further up the chain.

encourage your friends, musers or not, to go vote as well. go online to search for local resources that can ensure that your vote ends up being counted if work, disability, or other circumstances hamper you (your votes matter even more!).

i'm aware that it feels tired saying this in 2024, especially for those of us in the united states who will most likely have to choose between trump and biden once again. but i hope that i can convince you of the importance of not abandoning the most vulnerable of us in allowing greater demagogues to take power and at the very least, the ability to say that you did your part to preserve democracy in a time when the very future of voting is uncertain.

but this can't be the end of it. voting out of fear of the greater evil and pinching your nose every time cannot be what motivates us. fear is exhausting and can be exhausted in a short period of time, but the world order will not change overnight and we cannot expect it to with one election. instead, we have to let ourselves be motivated by love. dare yourself to love your fellow citizens, to want better for them and yourself, to believe that we all deserve better and that "better" is within our grasp.

feed someone. attend a protest. talk about your wages at work. question dichotomies. we maintain what we have, support one another, and grow. even a relatively small number of people can do powerful things when we all work together. i've seen it happen here, and it can happen anywhere, even on the scale of nations.

see you all at the polls!

[miya-y]

Rain Dumplings is angry - Bakugou, grateful.

A short story where Bakugou is being shunned by the media and you impulsively post something in his defense.

Black Reader x Bakugou Katsuki

English is not my first language. If something is wrong, blame the translator, please.

Fem!Reader but sometimes different pronouns appear in the translation, so forgive me (English is kind of confusing for me, really)

that's it, have fun.

I got the image from pinterest, credits to the artist <3

“Hey Dumplings, have you seen Uravity's new accessories collection yet? I bought the Saturn set and I feel like the most adorable person in the entire universe.”

The caption accompanied the photo of him with the aforementioned set of necklace and earrings, in pink, contrasting with his black skin. Your curly hair was tied up in a poorly improvised bun, but you didn't care.

You had a somewhat well-known profile. When he first came to Japan a few years ago, it was a bit difficult to get used to everything. Culture, Language, behaviors… everything was so different! The only thing you could hold onto to maintain normalcy was hero merchandise. There was some feeling of “safety” when you wore a hero-themed outfit. Just your emotion, maybe, but being connected to some hero symbol made you feel like you could take on the whole world and win.

Uravity's merchandise was special, mostly galaxy-themed, always full of planets, stars and the signature pink of the pro hero. They were cute and well, you liked cute things.

“Miya”, as your account was known, was one more escape from all the tiring routine you established after graduating. Her job was demanding and living alone was… lonely. Creating an account on a social network to share about your passion for heroes and everyday silliness was just an idea, but it ended up flowing and you enjoyed interacting with the audience 一 even if it was very small.

But well, you didn't want it to be big. You liked to give your unfiltered opinions and a large audience meant a lot of people would come to comment negative things, and negatively enough your job and your boss, you don't need that shit anymore.

After posting the photo, you started scrolling through the feed, reading a few news stories. One of them caught your eye. A company was suing Pro Hero Dynamighty for moral damages after he shouted… inappropriate things at a journalist in a live interview. You frowned, seeing the comments criticizing #2, and decided to go watch the original video before commenting anything.

Shit.

But what daughter of a…

Of course he would curse her! How dare she?!

You didn't even give much thought to your actions as you wrote a huge piece and published it furiously. Well, it was those impulsive decisions you were always grateful for not being well known for.

一 Argh! It almost ruined my appetite. No more cell phones for today, seriously. 一 You grumbled, hanging up the phone and placing it on the dresser next to the bed, before taking out Uravity's set and putting it away. 一 What do I order for dinner?

一 o0o 一

一 Dude! This is so manly! Hey Bakubro, you have to read this!

Katsuki's look was enough for Eijiro to know that if he handed over his cell phone, the blonde would blow it up in his face.

The backlash from the interview case had completely ruined Katsuki's mood. To make matters worse, the Agency decided to remove him from his activities while the matter was resolved, putting him in a damn office. Kirishima didn't blame his friend. He often commented that Bakugou could be a little more gentle in interviews, even though the blonde hates participating in them. But this time, he understood.

Mentioning the war against All For One was practically a Taboo when interviewing any of the heroes who participated in it. But that woman was insisting, even too much. No wonder Bakugou exploded with her. But unfortunately, all people were seeing was that Dynamighty was rude, boorish, and a pro hero who yelled at "innocent women" on TV.

The public was driven by the media and the media hated Katsuki. He was always rivaled with #1, Deku, and tried to make him the opposite of the One for All user. A ridiculous thing, since both were friends, but unfortunately, many people believed.

一 Eiji! I saw what you sent me! 一 Ashido burst into the office, with an excited smile 一 Finally someone with common sense! I could kiss this girl when I see her.

一 What the hell are you talking about now, Raccoon Eyes? Better get the Shit Hair and get the hell out of here!

一 Blasty, you need to read this 一 Ashido didn't have the same sense of survival as Eijirou, but to his credit, his phone didn't get blown up 一 A hero fan profile commented on his interview! And it's supporting you, Bakubaby! Also, a lot of people have shared it and now it looks like we can finally get this damn company back.

Bakugou arched an eyebrow.

一 Send me this. And get out of my office.

一 Right, right 一 Mina nodded with a smile, fiddling with her phone and then pulling a reluctant Kirishima out of the room 一 See you later, Blasty!

With the door closed, Bakugou was finally able to enjoy the silence. The last week had been hell. He wanted to blow up that damn company for screwing him over like that. Everything was so tiring in the hero's life and he still has to deal with idiotic people who try to gain profit and fame off of him.

A notification on his phone wakes him up, and on the screen, he sees a message from Ashido:

"Se você não visualizar logo, eu estarei de volta lá!"

一 Tch, that idiot.

Bakugou unlocked the phone and opened the message. There was a link and he clicked on it and was taken to his profile.

一 Rain Cookies. What a shitty name.

He looked at the profile picture. You're cute, he had to admit. The curly hair framing the round face, the wide smile and closed eyes. He swallowed the next statement, though. He wasn't thinking you were cute, shit.

“Eu estava assistindo ao vídeo da entrevista original com Dynamighty e uau! Eu queria dizer sinceramente que ele tem todo o meu apoio. Quer dizer, garota? Você nem deveria estar neste trabalho de merda. Pessoas como você deveriam estar em uma grande lixeira, isso mesmo. Qualquer um tem acesso aos vídeos de guerra All for One, caramba. Se você quer saber mais sobre isso, procure, seu idiota. Ainda não acredito que você fez uma pergunta tão estúpida como "Qual foi o seu sentimento ao acordar e saber que um herói deu a vida para salvá-lo?" ou “Como foi morrer enquanto lutava contra o maior vilão que a Era das Peculiaridades já enfrentou?”

“EI SEU ESTÚPIDO! DEIXE-ME LEMBRAR QUE ERAM APENAS CRIANÇAS! Dynamighty tinha apenas dezesseis anos quando toda essa merda aconteceu. E você quer saber qual foi o sentimento dele? Não consigo entender que tipo de pessoa pergunta sobre o sofrimento alheio só para ganhar um pouco de fama. Vou gravar a cara dele porque se eu te ver na rua eu mesmo te dou um soco. Isso vale para qualquer jornalista ou pessoa que se atreva a perguntar ou lembrar da guerra para algum dos heróis, você é um lixo, fedorento e mimado. Não humano. Eles já sofreram o suficiente e certamente carregarão cicatrizes eternas em seus corações e corpos por causa do que o All for One fez. Eles não precisam de ninguém para lembrá-los do que aconteceu."

“Incluindo sobre Dynamighty. Vocês podem reclamar da personalidade dele mas nunca tentaram entender né? Apesar de sua grosseria, ele nunca foi desrespeitoso com ninguém mais velho. Você não o verá xingando em suas entrevistas ou programas infantis, ou gritando com pessoas aleatórias. Se você quer algo macio e fofo, ótimo, concentre-se em pessoas fofas e fofas. Não tente impor aos outros a imagem que você acha ideal. Dynamighty é um incrível herói profissional que salvou inúmeras vidas e derrotou mais vilões do que qualquer outro herói. Não serão vocês, seus merdas, que irão derrotá-lo. Lutou muito para chegar até aqui. Pare de ficar no caminho dele."

Oh shit.

Bakugou didn't even realize he was holding his breath as he read the huge text the girl posted. The air left slowly when he finished reading, still processing everything. Someone understood. Someone who didn't even know him personally, who wasn't part of his friends or family, was fiercely defending him on a random social network. For the first time that week, he felt his mood improve considerably.

Looking at the likes and comments, Bakugou saw that many people were sharing. He grunted when he saw that his parent company's official profile had shared it as well. It had definitely been Mitsuki, because along with the share, there was a comment: “If I see this motherfucker on the street, I'll punch her too. Thank you for looking beyond what the damn media is saying @raincookies”

He had to remind his mother that the company profile should not be confused with her personal profile. But a slight smile sprouted on his lips as he reread the comment from the blonde who was identical to him.

Clicking on his profile again, Bakugou didn't even realize what he was doing before he actually realized what he was doing. In the private chat, not caring if it was his official account, he left a message, small and simple, but that really expressed what he was feeling at that moment.

"Thank you."