#LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS

[ohbother2]

OKAY SO-

Alastor lost his cool and flipped his shit immensely when Lucifer showed up - why would that be? and why wedge himself between Lucifer and Charlie? Why would he react so viscerally when his literal main-competitor for retaining his rank and respect is Vox, and Vox openly antagonises him first, trying to drag Alastor's reputation through the mud in his broadcasts

Alastor remains cool, calm, collected, and in doing so completely surpasses Vox's attempts

in many ways, Alastor is unflappable. Always smiling, always a step ahead, always the most powerful and domineering in a room

and then- Lucifer shows up. This short statured, rosy-cheeked, rather pathetic excuse of a man

he waltzes in to the hotel, a fumbling over-excited mess, the least threatening a person could possibly look in hell, barely reaching Alastor's waist

and yet, he outranks Alastor, he could over-power him easily, he is the predator

and Alastor simply cannot handle that

Alastor may be furious that such a week-minded, emotionally unguarded man ranks so far above him with no way for Alastor to even attempt to gain the same status

so what does Lucifer lack? what is the one thing Alastor can have that he can't?

a relationship with Charlie

his anger is calculated, he finds what hurts Lucifer, he finds his weakness, he grips onto it with both claws, and he drags it in front of him, mocking the fact that, yeah, sure Lucifer may outrank him, but in his daughters mind? one of the few things Lucifer can't control? Alastor has the power, has the lead - in all manners of 'power' and 'influence' that Lucifer cannot control, Alastor makes sure he knows he is on top - he is Charlie's favourite, he succeeds where Lucifer has failed her

regardless of his motives, he has been there for Charlie, and Lucifer hasn't, and that's all that matters

but why does he have this deep-rooted need to prove himself? why can he not accept that he is still the second most powerful in that hotel?

his need for power, for dominance, for control is shown again when Husk confronts him in the hallway

'big talk for someone who's also on a leash'

this time, Alastor doesn't even bother targeting Husker's, insecurities, his weaknesses

he drags him down the hallway chained at his neck, teeth gnashing and positively enraged

there's no typical Alastor intelligence or cunning behind this action - it is pure unadulterated rage, it's a: I can kill you, and I will

killing husk would be useless - Alastor obviously has a purpose for him, that's why he's been kept alive and the other overlords haven't, killing him would get rid of any leverage Alastor had, it would get rid of Husk full stop

Alastor has been gone for 7 years, and now he's back, supporting a cause he doesn't believe, forced to wander around the hotel halls and haunting its residents instead of freely roaming Hell

Lilith has also been gone 7 years - and she isn't yet back

Alastor just so happens to appear at the hotel mere moments after Charlie tries to talk to Lilith, marching into the foyer and wedging himself into the project with a showman's flair

he is chained, he is chained to that infernal hotel where he doesn't belong - he cannot be redeemed, he doesn't want to be redeemed

he is chained to Lilith, and by extension he is chained to Charlie

and in his eyes, he is powerless, so utterly and infuriatingly at the mercy of those above him, and that simply won't do

so what can he do? what can a man, whose greatest desire is power, who's biggest insecurity is the power and status he wields over others, do to reclaim some semblance of that power? how can he usurp Lilith? how can be make this soul-bond beneficial to him?

he can win Charlie over - he can replace her father in the process, he can mould her as he sees fit, he can play on her need to view the best in everyone, in the need to create friendships and her insatiable ability to care for those around her

he cannot get to Lilith, he cannot match Lucifer, but he can have Charlie

and he's nearly got her

and when he does? who's to say her naivety, her trust, the relationship he's intentionally crafted with her, leads her to strike a deal with him in a moment of need? when the angels attack, when the hotel begins to crumble, when heaven commands her to stop her efforts? why wouldn't she strike a deal, in her mind, he's as caring as a father figure, and a man who's been there since day one unlike either of her parents

she shakes his hand

he has her soul

he has Charlie, and he has Lilith, and he has Lucifer

there's nothing they can do, and isn't that really what power is? not raw-strength, not magic, not status, but the ability to control those who others may believe to be above your own station?

he's forced to the hotel, he's chained down and unable to grab for more power - if Lilith is preventing him from earning it himself, well, he can always just force her to give it to him

all it takes is one hand shake.

the cherry on top? he get's to show Lilith it's her own desire for him to be at the hotel that has allowed him to ensnare them all

[dazeddoodles]

Haven't drawn Raeda in a while so here's I did a ship meme with them

[samsayswhatever]

There is a theme I can't quite pin down in Dead boy detectives, that is something like "women aren't believed enough/women are seen as evil when they are in pain".

Something in how Charles called what Crystal hears from Agnes as "the wind" and how the police lady didn't believe the woman jumped off the lighthouse, and how Edwin said Shelby "felt" particularly harmed.

And how even with Crystal and David, they acted like it was a choice to let David be a demon in her for so long even though he was clearly using her, and something about how they show mentioned mermaid luring men to their deaths when it was clearly Agnes, not women in the sea.

Something in how Shelby screamed when she was hurt and brad and hunter called her a monster, and how even the woman who scream/cried when they were interviewing for cases made Charles make a face that wasn't empathy for her story, but looking put by her pain.

[moon-meteor-star-sun]

Forever plagued by the thought why did Peter betray the Marauders?

[princess-canary]

When I Die Young {drabble}

Author: princess-canary

Rating: Gen

Summary: Death shows up each time a member of the Wayne family dies

Notes: no Cass or Duke mention, but that is only because I don't currently know enough about their stories. currently in the process of catching up.

Cross-posted on AO3 - babyxan

No family has cheated death like the Wayne’s have. She has appeared to them more than any other; their names have appeared on her list consistently, continuously and multiple times each year. Every time their candles are blown, divine and inhumane intervention lights them back up again.

Sorrow shrouds them. Blankets them in darkness and misery. Grief building as the ever-cold hand of life returns. She’s tried to take them, move them on, she’s been successful even, but her efforts prove fruitless each time.

For the leader, the father, she appeared in the visage of his parents. She radiated love and warmth, told him to embrace it. That it was time to join them, that they were waiting for him. He turned his back.

For the eldest son, she chose the smell of popcorn and cotton candy. The sound of laughter, cheers and applause, an elephant trumpeting. She showed him spotlights and balloons. It wasn’t good enough.

The little brother, broken and battered. She chose his idol, his mentor, the one he loved, looked up to, dressed in black and blue. He gave words of comfort in those final seconds, drowned out the ticking, told him he did a good job and there would never be another like him. That he had never been prouder. Someone else decided that wasn’t good enough.

The false idol, in red and black. She picked the one he called friend, the one he loved so desperately, the one he lost. The one he couldn’t bring back. Hand outstretched, smelling of leather and spice, with a toothy smile, she asked him to fly away, to leave it all it behind. He chose to stay.

The one that wasn’t good enough, turned away when it mattered most. She sent warm lights, a cool breeze. A home that was comforting, a father to be proud of. Maybe it was too good to be true.

The prodigal son, who died by the blade, a life cut short. It was tricky, with kids, they were fragile. She appeared as herself, in her most human form. They sat in the cave, on the edge of the training mats and talked. He wanted another go; he wanted more time. He cried. She showed him mercy and sent him back.

She was the icy hand, the warm embrace. She was in the shadows, watching and waiting. The Wayne’s were always on the brink of death, it was only a matter of time before they greeted her again.

[iniquitousyearning]

Okay so like i’m very close to a certain follower milestone and i was thinking that maybe…perhaps…if anyone was like interested or even cared or whatever… i could possibly write that particular orgy fic that yall have been waiting for…you know to like, celebrate or something. 👀

[teddypickerry]

in honor of prom season i’m thinking about the absolute robbery it was not having lane and rory in pretty little dresses. their cute little boyfriends going with them, the perfect little y2k prom that was in every show/movie at that time (can you tell i romanticize prom in films because i was ‘too cool’ to go to any of my own? … i still don’t regret it).

i think it would’ve been nice to have one final rory and jess scene where it shows genuinely how much he cared for her. he’s doing something he’s uncomfortable with for her sake. she’s got him **kind of** slow dancing in a crowd of people he hates in a button up. ugh. prom jess please come back. but MORE importantly, i’m thinking about what rory would’ve worn duh.

haven’t duhed in awhile…. anyways. they always incorporated blue in her wardrobe for events. because of course, that perfect icy blue looks killer on the gilmore girls. even made it sookie’s bridesmaid dress colors just for that sake. so it’s safe to say that’s the color she went with.

heading to pinterest, these were some of the first blue dresses i found in style at the time. the second one isn’t exactly her favorite blue shade and both of them have beading. that trend feels a little too ‘cool’ for rory.

now, i would’ve really liked to see rory in a classic audrey hepburn style neckline. but she was a teenager going to prom, so i’m not gonna plea with her to play 60s mod girl.

skipping to dresses that i actually think she’d like:

i noticed in gg that rory never really wore tight fitting/revealing clothing (ever) until after graduation. which was pretty different than the trend at the time (and probably forever for teenagers). but as she graduated chilton, she slowly started growing out of her teen t-shirt phase (i am still in my t-shirt phase, do not think i’m hating). rory AND jess both wore purple during that scene where she’s scolding him in his cute little jean jacket. this purple dress could definitely be a nod to that. and even though it’s not her typical blue, i think it would be a really pretty change. also her long layered hair was so pretty in season 3, it would’ve looked so good with this dress.

now, out of the three blue dresses selected, i think the second one is giving stars hollow high prom. however it’s also reminding me of lorelai’s dress in season 5. do with that what you will. i think this could be a cool nod that she’s becoming more like her mom as she grows up. but it’s also her indulging in trend at the time, while remaining her authentic self. i’m totally overthinking this.

regarding lane, i’m still on the fence what she’d make possible. would she have a secret dress from mrs kim? or would she actually like what mrs kim allowed her to wear? would lorelai sew her something and hide it in the school bathroom? i don’t know yet. maybe we’ll get into that another time.

what do you think?

[yoyowrites]

my current mingjue and meng yao relationship understnding is that meng yao didn't want to like nmj. he thought he was brash and likely a hypocrite. despite himself, he grew very attached to nmj because nmj saw the biggest "flaw" of his and took him in. that "flaw" being him being a prostitute's son, (my doesn't view his being his mother's son as a flaw at all) and still took him in. at this point, my still doesn't like nmj too much. nmj is still loud and harsh but he's growing on him. then not only did he take him in, he writes a letter of recommendation for meng yao.

lesser men, would keep meng yao by their sides, in their shadows, benefitting from all of his hard work and taking all the glory. lesser men would hate their names being attached to him. yet, nmj goes and proudly states all of meng yao's strengths with no consideration for his flaws. meng yao can't help but care for him and love him.

then, meng yao gets sloppy. nmj catches him. for a second he considers that nmj will accept him, that he'll understand like he has in the past. but how could this overtly just man ever trust him again? still the fool cares about him.

i think meng yao tried really hard to get on mingjue's good side again. that only when he knew for sure that nmj would never truly trust him again that he set his plan to kill him in action. i think he really loved nmj but he couldn't risk the man spilling his true nature. i think he also hated that nmj refused to fall in line because if not he could and would have kept him alive.

i think he also absolutely loved lan xichen and appreciated that the other understood that sometimes unsavory actions had to be taken, for the greater good. still, the one thing lxc would never forgive him for is killing nmj.

[xechoecho88x]

wttt midwest nickname headcanons bc i'm bored~

Indiana: totally fine being called indy, he thinks its a cute nickname

Wisconsin: likes being called sconnie, any other nickname he finds kind of strange but will not confront you about it

Minnesota: do not call him minnie unless you're indiana or wisconsin. he's not going to say anything directly but he will be very passive-aggressive about it. fine with being called soda(sota), finds other nicknames to be silly but won't say anything about it

Missouri: hated being called misery by the other states. loves any and all other nicknames

Illinois: do not call him illy if you value your organs or are indiana. neutral about ill, and will beat you up if you pronounce the 's' in his name

Ohio: desperately wants to be called O-H, no one will call him this

Michigan: most commonly called mich, all other nicknames are uncommon but he's not really bothered by any of them

Nebraska: has a few nicknames and finds them all to be fun. (nebby, braska, etc) just likes the recognition

Kansas: avid hater of nicknames, probably because he doesn't have any good ones. will correct people if they try to use a nickname

the Dakotas: honestly impressed if you manage to find a nickname that isn't being used by another state. when its just the midwest north and south are acceptable. typically called souda or norda by other states

Iowa: anytime someone tries to give him a nickname he questions their sanity, because his name is only four letters and he finds the obsession with nicknames to be ridiculous

[hufflepuffhabs]

Hi honey! Can you do Barca players as Halloween costumes?

Babe, of course! Please keep in mind that I myself am not very much a Halloween person, so I won't know much about how to dress, but yeah, here you go...

(also the stop sign is because I don't believe that he would dress up)

[certaintylikelightning]

bad kids as entities from the magnus archives

riz: definitely the eye. saw another post on here that put it a lot better but i think the drive to solve a mystery at the cost of your own body and mind and relationships is very eye coded

adaine: the desolation!!! i know fig’s aesthetic matches it more but adaine killing her father in cold blood is so desolation coded to me. it’s about the white hot rage, the desire to take something that has hurt you and raze it all to the ground mercilessly

fig: the lonely, her love for her friends and desire for attachment but also her inability to take on that attachment as herself (at least before ayda) feels like her worst nightmare would be being abandoned by her loved ones and alone

kristen: it’s gotta be the stranger for all the nightmare king stuff AND baron who’d be right at home in the circus… but somehow i think she would be an avatar of the Vast. like she and simon fairchild should have a podcast together. something about the parallels between endless possibility of doubt and the representation of the Vast as free fall through open sky

gorgug: the slaughter… the fear of random uncontrollable violent rage lashing out and hurting the ones you love, the similarities between out of control barbarian rage and those “driven mad by slaughter”. i think tbe lack of control would be truly terrifying to a kid who has struggled with it his whole life

fabian: man. hate to repeat ones but also the lonely to me. junior year really cemented it but i think it’s always been obvious that fabians relationship with his parents (mostly his dad) has always felt like he needed to perform (“write your name on the face of the world”) to receive that validation… i think his biggest fear would be never achieving that = being left alone and unloved

[soubi122]

His Afterthought

Nothing hurts more than being his afterthought. Characters: Ran, Izana, Sanzu, Hanma, Taiju, South + your favorite assholes lol (does Dabi fit? i just started watching My Hero Academia)

Let me know who your favorites are that fit this scenario.♥️

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, they are jerks, 'friend with benefits', one sided love, no comfort.

Seeing him always made your heart flutter. The way he'd kiss you, touch you and fucked you into the mattress - it was heaven. He'd come to your door well into the night only to get what he wants. Whether he's drunk or not, he always finds a way to destroy you inside and out. Only after he's finished with you does it leave you feeling empty inside. The numbness creeped up on you by the time he shut the door behind him. 

Though he has no romantic feelings for you, he still knocked on your door, he still made you his, he made your heart ache and flutter at the same time. Outside of these 4 walls, you were merely friends and he was free to choose any other woman - but if things didn't work out, he always back tracked. 

With your face pressed against the mattress you could barely breathe as he thrusts his hips into you. A fist full of your hair was tangled between his fingers, he pressed your head harder into the sheets. He was angry and you could feel it. Those feral grunts rumbled in his chest and almost drowned out your own muffled moans. 

“Bitch couldn't even be honest with me.” He says between thrusts. Whatever little relationships he had didn't last, they broke things up when they met the rest of the gang. It was understandable, you were either going to accept him no matter what and become a target or leave it all behind - including him. The girls would opt to leave everything behind, not even giving him a chance to get comfortable. 

“She…fuck…said she didn't care as long as I… Mmh…” He trails off as he feels himself getting closer. The way you would always clench around his length when he was angry, it drove him mad. Despite having women bow at his feet, he hasn't found anyone else to replace this feeling. No one readily opened their door for him like you did, always ready for him - he didn't even need to prep you. Your body already knows what to do when it sees him. 

Your core was burning and reaching its limit. “Ngh…too much! Slow down! Please! Please!” You squeal and try to break free from his grasp. With one hard yank of your hair, he had you up on your knees and your back arching for him. His free hand grips your waist so hard that it was leaving marks, he wasn't letting you go. Tears were now running down your face as he sent you straight to your maker. Your legs were shaking and your moans were now screams of pure pleasure. “Fuck…fuck…” He moans as his pace gets sloppy and he reaches his limit. 

You're both left panting and barely able to catch your breath. Collapsing into the mattress, you take a moment to prepare yourself for what follows next - his leave. “You're such a good little slut.” He says with a smug smirk. His words hurt yet you feel satisfaction at him praising you. By the time you look over your shoulder, he was already getting dressed. “You can stay the night you know… It’s really late.” You say and sit up, using the bed sheet to cover yourself up, the sight in front of you always makes your heart break. You knew there was no point, the man is the danger that lurks in the night.

Without even acknowledging you he begins to walk out the door. “Bye!” You say with venom on your tongue and he waves you off. You throw yourself back into the mattress and clutch your chest, you were tired of this routine yet you always gave into him. You couldn't say no, he was like a drug, a neurotoxin that just numbs your body. It was getting harder to hide your feelings for him. There have been times when you've slipped and end up reprimanded or embarrassed because you didn't know your place. Maybe it was time for you to look for someone who will actually stay the night. 

Several days passed and he hadn't called, texted or even stopped by. Did he really get upset at you for asking for him to stay the night? You checked your phone every couple hours to see if he'd planned to stop by. It was just silent. 

A few days later, you're out on an errand when you run into him, however he's not alone. A woman is draped around his shoulder and a stinging sensation begins to grow in your heart. Remembering your place, you only glance at him - making brief eye contact and don't really acknowledge him. It's a moot point to even do so, the unfazed look on your face hid the cracks that were beginning to spread from your heart. Opting to turn around and avoid getting any closer, you turned on your heels and took another route home. You knew better. It’s always like this. Sleep together, satisfy his urge and he disappears.

The moment you came home, you put everything away and did the rest of the errands so that you could keep your mind busy. However, once the sun set and the light faded - you felt yourself slowly slipping. Pacing your apartment a few times until you settled on the couch, the moment you sat down you felt it. The pain in your chest was slowly getting stronger. It was always like this, the loneliness, the sadness, the ache in your heart that couldn’t be soothed away by anything or anyone. Hot tears were now streaming down your face, you hated it. You hated the pathetic feeling of jealousy and love. As much as you wanted to deny this feeling, you knew in your heart that you loved him. There have been times when you've doubted these feelings, trying to convince yourself that it's only physical, that he doesn’t see you as anything more than just a fuck buddy. A convenient pussy to use and abuse.

[0fantasma0]

Petals to Thorns

{Chapter One}

General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.

Chapter Two:

The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.

This was your routine.

Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.

The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.

Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.

Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.

Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.

They were disgusted by you.

You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.

You really should go to the market.

It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.

It had to have been Flora.

You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.

What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.

Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.

A bath and then bed.

You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.

A knock.

Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.

Another knock.

Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.

Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.

So why were you scared?

Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.

“Good morning.”

Coriolanus Snow.

He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?

“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.

“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”

No, you can’t come in.

“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.

Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.

He’s here to arrest you.

Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.

He’s alone. You could take him.

“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.

“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.

If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.

Is that what you are now? A rebel?

You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.

“Did you make these?”

You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.

Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.

“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”

Why do you care?

“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”

There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.

Especially when he’s looking at you like that.

His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”

You’re fucked.

Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.

“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”

You remain silent.

“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”

A favor? That’s brave.

“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.

Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”

Silence fills the room once more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.

“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”

“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.

“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”

He wants you to be a mouthpiece.

To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.

Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.

“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”

The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.

Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together

Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.

“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”

He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.

The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.

“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”

Of course there is.

“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.

Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.

The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.

Next time you won’t open the fucking door.

Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.

It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.

A problem for later

On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.

[uriekukistan]

now dont get me wrong i too am getting bored of the current cycle that’s been going on since jjk236 but some of yall are just. missing things i think. obviously gonna be some spoilers in this post.

1. gojo was not meant to be the one to defeat sukuna. his whole thing was about raising a new generation, and to not leave only one person to shoulder the burden of being the strongest. so it makes sense that he lost for that reason.

2. to add on to that, it’s the reason why so many people are needed to team up against sukuna to take him down, because, again the point is not to shoulder the burden of being strong on your own. everyone has to put in their piece to take down sukuna (this is also the reason i am hoping sukuna will be defeated, because he is also taking on the burden of being The Strongest).

3. the thing that makes me so frustrated above pretty much everything else, megumi is not weak for wanting to give up. i swear i will turn to physical violence to get this through the dense skulls of all megumi haters because i dare you to live just one day of his life BEFORE his body was possessed by sukuna. you would be acting the same way. not to mention what happened after. yeah.

these things aren’t the current problem with jjk. sukuna was obviously not going to go down easily, and if you thought that would be the case, i’m not sure why. there’s no inherent flaw in gojo’s demise, the amount of people it’s taking to go against sukuna, or the way megumi is feeling at this point. the issue comes from the recycled and predictable way these fights are happening, not the fact that they are happening in the first place.

[rooolt]

Crucified Gilear

[tsarjozinzbazin]

Would love to know if you have any thoughts/headcanons for if our dear surgeons actually managed to survive the carnivale 😭 poor harry left alone as the sole doctor always makes me so so sad and I think a lot about what the other docs might have been like during the walk out. Love ur art and other headcanons so much!!

I agree it is incredibly sad!

Lets say they do get out but are appropriately injured perhaps? Stanley with horrible burns, Alex with his abdominal injury and Peddie affected with burns as well (I imagine perhaps he's been crushed by a support beam in the fire and his leg has suffered substantial damage <3)

So at first Harry is taking care of them for sure, perhaps even saves them (? unsure. But I do want to point out that Book Goodsir saves Collins and another seaman from a burning ship. The balls on Booksir are insane ngl). He is the only acting surgeon for a while before Alex is well enough to help him out (this man would be constantly getting up and pulling, stitches I can already see it!)

I don't know what would happen with Stanley if he'd manage to survive with some quite bad burns because Crozier might want to court martial him for attempted genocide but shhh we don't talk about it.

I have to say I have not thought about them all surviving very much but I did a drawing where there's Peddie and Macca if they survived (Peddie requires support to walk <3)

I'm unsure what to think because I'm fairly certain that after they recovered, they'd be the main acting surgeons once again, and Goodsir would kind of become a background assistant again. But if you or anyone else have any ideas for this, let me know! Im so curious to hear!