#contributing to their own self destruction

[wiitzend]

trying not to get worked up over something i saw on youtube so i'll just say this: the complete and utter lack of empathy in people is truly frightening, especially when its aimed at young children. how can you even fuction as a person with that much hate in your heart.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Claim the Heritage

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Wife

Warning: casual dominance, marital quarrels, tension, vulnerability, explicit smut, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, body worship, brat taming, self destructive tendencies

Word Count: 4364

6 of 6

Coriolanus Snow has a knack of pushing himself too far.

He expects too much from himself and does everything in his power to meet those expectations.

As a student and a starting politician, he has done great things, contributing fresh insights to Panem.  And now that he is the President, he has the power to do things with his own hands.  No longer having to need the approval of people of higher status, not when he’s the President, nobody has power greater than his.

You worry that he might be forgetting his other responsibilities.

He is after all, not just Mister President but also your husband.

You see him often in the corridors and you exchange nothing more than sultry glances.  It was fun the first time you have done it but you are left wanting now.

At night, the two of you come home late, too tired to get some action going.

You have needs that long to be fulfilled.

And your unfed desires manifested in your temper.

The men in the room are discussing the recent power outage that paralyzed Panem for a day.  A malfunction caused by severe water temperatures in the hydroelectric dam in District 5 caused a cascading error in the system.  The Capitol and a portion of District 1 and 2 were able to continue their operation due to generators but the other Districts suffered from it.  And the one day pause of labor caused a slight drop to Panem’s stock charts.

All eight of your husband’s subordinates are trying to raise their opinions about the matter, how they will conduct another investigation as they are quite convinced it was human error, and how they will punish the one responsible for it too.

Their voices are starting to irritate you, making you tap your foot under the desk.  Coriolanus seems to be ignoring them as he reads through the report.  How he can manage to focus, you have absolutely no idea.

You try to regain your composure by taking a sip of water but it does not help, not one bit.  Deep intakes of breath also seem to be not working.

Coriolanus is still reading the report, his back against his chair as one of his hands toy with his pen.  His fingers are looking rather breathtaking today.

You look away before anyone could notice your desperation.

“Frankly, you are all arguing about matters that have been resolved already.”  He murmurs and you are thankful for it as the room quiets down.

“What do you mean sir?”

You bite your cheek to stop yourself from berating the man.  But Coriolanus can see that arch in your brow any day.  You are pissed.

“You have something to say, wife?”  He smiles knowingly at you and you look at him sharply but his smile only widens more.

“Well, all of you are being foolish!”  You finally burst.  Coriolanus leans back in his chair as if he is watching a rather interesting show.  “There is a report given, and a very good one at that.  Do you all have poor reading comprehension that you cannot understand that this is not a human error!”

The room falls silent as the men stare at you with their cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

Coriolanus clears his throat and leans closer to his desk.  “I believe what the Missus wants to say is that we must be coming up with solutions to prevent this from happening again rather than point fingers.”

You glare at him again but Coriolanus is not looking at you but the men who are nodding in agreement.  You hear a chorus of apologies from the men and you can’t help your bottom lip from jutting out in irritation.

“We can strengthen the system.  A collaboration with District 3, perhaps?”  A man says nervously, eyes flitting to you for approval but you don’t acknowledge him.

The other men raise their support.  They have to stay in your good graces.  All eight of them are dispensable.  If you talk to your husband to eliminate them, there will be nothing they can do.

They are proud men, but they too are necessary associates, albeit shortsighted at times.

You lean on your chair and swivel it so you are partially facing your husband.  “Another source of power.”

He nods at you to continue.

“A solar plant.”  You say.  “It is a good back up.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin and considers it for a moment.  “Indeed.  May I ask you to write a proposal, my love?”

“Of course.”  You say and you begin tidying up your stuff.  Coriolanus picks it up and addresses the men in general.

“I appreciate your…enthusiasm in helping our great nation.  Good day, gentlemen.”

They all file out of the room, thanking the President and you.  They all seem to sweat when you dismiss them with nothing but a brief nod.

Coriolanus leaves his chair and he eyes the pout in your lips. 

“Have a great day.”  You say as you stand.

“Leaving so soon?”  He raises a brow.

You stop in your tracks to look at him weirdly.  “You asked me to write a proposal?”

He hums at this and presses a chaste kiss on your lips.  “I will be seeing you at lunch, then.”  He guides you to the door and you both exit the meeting room to go to your separate offices.

His behavior is really really starting to irk you.

You are lying if you were not hoping that he would stop you and at least help out with the tension in your body.

But you guess not, he is a busy guy after all.

Coriolanus buries himself more and more with work.

You worry that he might be close to self-destruction.

The crops in District 9 suffered from a locust infestation and it kept him up very late for a few weeks.

You started to miss him very much.  Try as you might to stay awake in your room, it is not until nearly sunrise when he joins you.

It hurts and you hate yourself for being selfish.

One morning as you share your breakfast, you notice that he is barely touching his food as he reads the report about the red tide poisoning in District 4.

“Corio, eat.”  You say before your lips wrap around a strawberry.

He only hums in response as he flips to the next page of the report.

You glance at him and see the dark circles under his eyes, his skin looking dehydrated, and it is evidenced by the cracks in his lips.

“You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You say lowly before you suck on your finger absentmindedly, your eyes now scanning your bowl for the next strawberry you’ll eat.

This caught his attention.

“What did you just say?”  There was a challenge in his voice and you hesitate for a moment, heart wanting to submit and apologize but the Swansworth blood courses through your veins and you fear you will shame the strong women before you if you fold so easily.

You look at him dead in the eye.  “You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You smile at him sweetly.  “Was that clear enough for you, or do I have to repeat myself again?”

His jaw tightens, his eyes sharp.  He does not take mentions of his death lightly.  Had you been anyone else, you would have your tongue cut off and live as an Avox.

“You really are your father’s daughter.”  He sighs, trying his best to hide the amused smile you put on his face.

You wanted to retort but your words die in your tongue.  Coriolanus glances up at you when you don’t speak.  Usually, you would have bitten another comment at him.  But you were only looking at your strawberries sadly, finger tracing the bowl that held them.

The sound of paper crinkling had you looking up.  He folded the report away, he had the necessary information he needed anyway.  Coriolanus knows you are watching him and he scoops a mouthful of truffle scrambled eggs.  You gave him the sweetest smile he had seen on your face for weeks, and it was motivation enough for him to eat the breakfast that was served to him.  Yet, he still finishes first.

You pout unknowingly when he wipes his lips with the napkin and walks over to kiss your forehead.

“I will be seeing you later for your report.”

“See you.”  You reply with less enthusiasm.

He watches how sadness swam in your eyes and he leans closer to peck your lips and he is off.

You did not have much energy for work afterwards.

The meeting was at 10 in the morning and you arrived in the meeting room at 10:02.  Coriolanus was not pleased.

He did not back you up when the other men in the room asked questions about your presentation.  It was their job to pick apart your proposal and you only show them how flawless it is.  They are finally satisfied with it after a while, your throat burning from how many questions they asked.

You are infuriated with your husband.  You feel like he is throwing you to the wolves.  Not that you can’t tame the said wolves but it made your blood boil.

“I have decided to call this solar plant, Coriolanus 9.”  You attempt a smile and they actually bite.  “In honor of our President, and us.”  You purposefully let yourself blend in with the men in this proposal.  You need to boost their morale from time to time.

All eight of them murmur their agreement, smiles wide as they feel honored just by being included in the project.

After a few more questions from them, your husband finally adjourns the meeting.

His lack of support was not appreciated and you are determined to get out of this stuffy meeting room.

“Gentlemen, that would be all.”  

What about you?

Your lips part in protest but Coriolanus raises a finger at you, making you close your mouth as you narrow your eyes at him.

After the men filed out, you got up briskly, your chair wheeling back in a great speed.

“Careful.”

“Oh, so you’re talking now?”  You snap, your hand placed on your hip.

Coriolanus only leans on his chair as he looks you in the eye, his chin tilted upwards.

“I am…”  he pauses as he scratches his chin.  “upset with you.”

You scoff.  “You are upset with me? I am upset with you!”  You point at him harshly.  “You were the one who asked me to make a proposal and present it afterwards!  But what did you do?  You did not support me or give me assurance!”

“I was confident in your proposal.”  Coriolanus stands up calmly, his hands in his pockets, his thumb jutting out.

You give him one final glare and you huff, turning your nose up as you look away.  “I am done talking to you today.”

Coriolanus grips your arm before you can walk away.

His hand is warmer than usual and you frown.

“Do you need me to put you in your place?”  

The threatening growl in his voice washed away all the fight in you.

You bite your lip nervously, the entire bottom lip disappearing behind a row of teeth.  You shake your head and you tear up from how pathetic you have become for this man.

He smooths your hair and places a warm kiss against your temple.  “Be good.”  He murmurs.

You watch him collect his things and he throws you one final warning glance and he exits the meeting room.  Your hands grip the hardwood table to steady yourself.

How dare he!

You are his wife, not some District whore that needs to be reprimanded, you will not allow such disrespect again!

Coriolanus is not surprised to see you miss lunch.  His assistant tells him that you are having luncheon with Mrs. Plinth.  And that…you canceled all your plans for the day.  And the rest of the week.

He taps a finger on his desk and wonders if he pushed you too far earlier. 

Coriolanus glances at your photo in his desk.  Your smile was brighter then.  

A slight pounding in his head makes him grimace and he groans.

There were two more bills he needed to get through before he could relax.  Coriolanus inhales sharply, forcing his eyes to read through the files.

It was night time when he came home.  He missed dinner again.

Coriolanus had an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he entered your home.  It was dark and cold.

There was enough security outside but no signs of life inside.

Your servants usually retire after dinner and come back only in the mornings to serve you your breakfast.

But where are you?

Coriolanus doubles his steps to check your bedroom, you are not there.

His heart starts pounding, cold sweat dripping from his temple as he runs around his mansion in his tight suit.  He wanted to ask the peacekeepers stationed outside if you are even in your mansion when he catches a glimpse of your sheer robe in your sunroom.  He steps closer and sees you there, asleep in your plush chair, curled up around a book.

For a moment, he just stares at you, calming himself down.  No one has taken you and you did not leave.  Coriolanus seats himself to the identical chair across you and just looks at the rise and fall of your chest.

You must have fallen asleep as you were having your afternoon read.  It appears you might have missed dinner, as none of the lights are on.  The servants must have left it off so as to not disturb your sleep.

The night deepens and he just sits there, still convincing himself that you are still with him.

Coriolanus believes he will be there until morning comes but fate has other plans and your book slips from your hold, the hardcover making a loud slamming noise against the otherwise silent evening.

You jolt awake from the noise and when you reach for it, you catch a glimpse of him and you jolt for the second time.

“Heavens!”  You clutch your chest tightly, your eyes glaring accusingly at him.  “Do not scare me like that!”

He laughs hollowly.

“Apologies.”  He mutters.

You lean back in your chair, holding your book in your lap.

“Have you eaten your dinner?”  You ask just to break the silence.

“Not yet and neither did you.”  He uncuffs his sleeves and loosens his tie.

You purse your lips.  “I had tea and cakes this afternoon.”

“When did tea and cakes pass as dinner?”  He drapes his waistcoat on the armrest together with his tie.

You choose not to answer as you have a feeling the question was rhetorical.

Coriolanus rests his arms on his thighs and clasps his hands as the silence lengthens.  Moonlight was emitting a pale glow, it reflected on your faces and everything else was still.

“My father casts a very large shadow.”  He tells you.

You nod.  You both have that in common.  But you do not want to tell him as his case was different.  You are aware of his struggle while growing up, the things he has done that could have tarnished his name, and now, he has become the President, a leader of Panem, and the footsteps that his father left for him to follow might be too large for him.

“I wanted to do everything right.  To do things how he would have done it.  Maybe even more.”

You play with the edges of your book as you listen, afraid that if you’ll talk, his walls will come building itself up again.

“He was not the best father.  Nor husband.”  He chuckles bitterly.  “I was sure, I would be just like him too.”

You bite your lip as you will yourself not to cry in front of him.

“But I enjoy your company, wife.”  Coriolanus tells you truthfully.  “I love you.”  He confesses, making your chest tighten.  “I do not wish for this marriage to fail.”

You cannot help how a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Come here.”  He commands and you throw yourself to him, sobbing to his chest.  “I am terribly sorry for being a lousy husband.”

Your tears soak his dress shirt as Coriolanus peppers kisses on your head.

“Been neglecting my wife, how awful of me.”  His hand grips on your bum possessively.  “When she should have been worshiped day by day.”  His tone changes ever so slightly into something you hear only inside your bedroom walls.

You do not protest when he lays you on the chaise lounge.  Your sobs turn to sniffles when Coriolanus parts your thighs and bunches your dress until it shows your abdomen.

“Corio.”  You whisper his name like a prayer and he mumbles yours against your skin.  You watch as he plants his lips on your scar.  A scar that you got from taking a bullet for him.

It was not the last time you whispered his name in the dead of the night.

“Your petals always have the sweetest nectar.”  He groans and you feel yourself shy away, hips hiking up and away from him but his arms tighten their hold around your thighs and he looks at you from there, his eyes giving you a silent warning.

“S-sorry-ah!”  You gasp as his tongue darts out to lick the juices off your slit.  His tongue pokes at your pearl and you break eye contact with him when he wraps his lips on your tiny nub.

Coriolanus looks at you with his eyes now lazy but his tongue, the opposite!

He kisses you and in an act of total impulsiveness, starts tracing his name on your clit.  Coriolanus Snow was owning you in every way possible.

He had you reduced to your most carnal self.  Your hands were on his platinum hair, gripping them tightly in your hold, selfishly pulling him in.  Your thighs are resting on his broad shoulders.  And your cunt, it was making a mess on your chaise lounge and on your husband’s face.

Coriolanus groans as he parts your lips so he could kiss your opening.  His thick finger, that you have been craving, sliding on your juices before he plunges it knuckle-deep.  It might have been a mistake on his part given your sensitivity after having to be forced to join him in his self-induced celibacy.  Your lewd mewl brought rouge to his cheeks.

You bring your hands to your mouth to hush yourself and Coriolanus took that as a challenge.  He sits up, sitting on his ankles to press your thigh to your chest as his finger prods at you from the inside.

You are writhing underneath him.  Telling him how good he is making you feel.  Oh, and he reveled in it.  Every sound that comes from your lips, it fueled his desire more and more.

A second finger was added and you shriek from the stretch, it has been a while, he needs to be more gentle!  But Coriolanus cannot help himself when you look so pretty.  Your cheeks wet with tears, eyelashes clumping up, as your hands formed tiny fists.  Any form of his self control has disappeared when you are gushing and pulsating around his fingers.

He knows you’re nearly there, so close!

You pant, closing your eyes as his fingers massaged your walls, coaxing you to climb higher and higher and-

“Coriolanus!”  You yell furiously when he pulls his fingers out.

Your husband grins at you as he wipes his face from your slick.

“I seem to recall that someone was not a very good girl this morning?”  His hands trailed at your hips and you almost tear up from frustration.

He was supposed to be making it up to you!  He had no reason to bring up the events this morning.

In an act of defiance, you huff and you reach your own sex to flick at your clit.  Your fingers are more delicate, making you gasp at the gentle pleasure.

Coriolanus grins as he watches you play with yourself.  Enjoying how you grow more and more frustrated as you cannot give yourself the same pleasure.  You shriek angrily as you pull your fingers away, you slam your tiny feet on the chaise and Coriolanus laughs. 

“Are you done being a brat?”

You are too stubborn to answer but you do not stop him when he maneuvers you until you are on your stomach, you groan softly in discomfort when he pulls your hips so your cunt is presented to him beautifully.

His fingers are prodding your entrance again and you mewl when he pops his tip in.   Coriolanus stays there for a moment as his hands, rough from his time as a peacekeeper, grips on your waist firmly.

“There’ll be no stopping, alright?”  He reminds you.  “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You lift your head from the plush of the chaise lounge and you give him a nod. 

“Put your head back down, my love.”

You do as he tells you and you brace yourself.

Coriolanus enters you with a sharp thrust, and your whimper is muffled by the cushions.  Your husband thrusts at a steady speed, his eyes watching the impact ripple on your body.

Your breath hitches with every kiss his tip makes on your cervix.  Every slap of his hips against you makes the crudest sound, sending a jolt of arousal through you.  President Snow is a man of the most refined of tastes, the pinnacle of order.  But when he beds you, he is just as raw, just as unrestrained.

“Don’t know why I deprived myself of your wet cunt for so long.”  And his mouth spewing the most vulgar of things.

He uses his weight to push you further in the mattress so he can fuck you deeper.  Your cunt spasms and you moan shakily, almost sobbing.

“Chase it, my love.”  He groans deeply.

And you unravel, lewd sobs spilling from your polished tongue as your back arches, cunt creaming around his cock.

Coriolanus watches you sob, your shoulders shaking as his thrusts do not relent.  His eyes flicker to where your bodies meet, your warm juices are dripping on his taut sack.

“Corio…Corio please!  I don’t think I can anymore….”

“Hm?”  He reaches to grab your chin.  “Thought I told you that we’re only done when I say so?”

You look at him with tears sliding down your cheeks.  You can’t even focus on him, body shuddering when your tummy feels another tight coil.

Coriolanus inhales sharply when he feels the familiar pulsation of your warm softness.

His tip twitches as it bumps your plump cervix.  And when you call his name with your broken voice as you cum, he shoots his seed in you.

“Hah…hah.”  

He is panting from on top of you, his hand placed against your bottom to keep himself up.

Coriolanus gently pulls himself out, watching the gossamer webbing of your arousal on his cock.  He smacks your bum and you tighten your cunt to keep his seed from spilling.  He scoots closer so he is holding you, your back against his chest as your legs tangled together.

The two of you gaze at the moon from the enormous windows of your sunroom.  It was calm again.  Nothing but your heartbeats and the gentle breathing lulling each of you closer to sleep.

“Corio.”  You call his name softly.

He hums in response as he pulls you closer, just needing to feel you against him.

“The people of Panem are not your fucking masters.”

His brows meet and he glances at you, wondering where all of this is coming from.

“They cannot have you always cleaning up their mess like you are some District servant.”

He shifts you so you are facing him now.  His stern brows meet to let you know you are on thin ice.

“You govern your people.  You don’t coddle them.  Let the District officials do their job.  They must learn to solve their own problems and the Capitol Bureaucrats must see to it that they are doing it in ways that align with your judgment.  And you lead them from the top.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You yawn like the adorable thing you are.  “So Snow lands on top.”

He clicks his tongue smoothly.  “You are only attracted to power.”

“My love.”  You say rather darkly.  “You are power.”

Coriolanus falls silent, contemplating your words, letting himself process it.

He sighs as he looks at you in endearing defeat.  “You just want a vacation, don’t you?”

You fight back a smile as you smack his chest.

“I am being serious, Coriolanus Snow.”

He pulls you closer, teeth glinting as he snickers.  “I understand that, Y/N Snow.”

“Y/N Swansworth-Snow.”  You remind him and he laughs.

“Of course, of course.”

You lean your head on his chest and your cheek soaks his warmth.

“You know, you are not your father, Corio.”

He winces.  “I know…I’m just-”

“You are better.”

That sinks deep in him.

He now understands why there was something in you that pulled him in.  No one in Panem, or in this world, could understand his soul in its most naked form.  You are his stability.  Someone whom he cannot scare away when he is darkest.

Because it seems like you might be exactly just like him.  Just as cruel, just as evil, with no regards to anyone but each other.

And he is fine with that, even if the world is burned to ash around you.

“My love for you is catastrophic.”  Coriolanus murmurs against your skin and you smile as you close your eyes.

You run your finger on his chest.  “And my love for you is all-consuming.”

Coriolanus and you are obsessive, ablazed with reckless passion, villainous in nature, but it is easy to justify when you are both equally drunk with dangerous devotion.

The people of Panem be damned.  

The odds will forever be in your favor.

Hunt for Glory

[sirenmoontarot]

Your next step 🌟

𝓟𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰

Group 1

For the people who chose this group, your most important task to embark on right now, is to follow your inner guidance, your inner emotions, the steps your inner persona is telling you to take. There is a sense of movement, a path you have to allow in your life. It is shown in the energies that some of you have lost your way, you have been confused, or even in someone else’s way, your view of truth has been clouded. You might be hiding from your own self and your own inner ‘’flow’’ —your flow of life— and you shy away from facing some situations of your life or reality overall. Because you are not living your life for yourself! I am sorry guys for the message, but it is okay. The cards indicate that you need to distance yourself from something or someone that is contributing to this situation in which you are so distant and detached from yourself, a career, a place, a friend, an ex... The journey involves having to say farewell to this situation, aspect or person. However, you are favoured by fortunate energies, and luck as well, ruled by Jupiter influences shown in this reading. The universe, God is aiding you, you are supported in your journey to find the necessary clarity and success you claim and deserve. It is a journey that requires your commitment but this task is part of your fated path here on earth to do this right now. To find the tools within yourself for your independence, to find your inner light, strength, compass and your own path. Some of you are in a self improvement, self growth journey and you are being given these tasks in order to move forward. You have to know that you are doing well, Spirit is saying and that is just part of the learning process for your ‘’independence’’ which also and very importantly doesn't mean loneliness, ❗️ we need nurturing, reciprocated connections with people. it means to be able to choose your own path and not stray from it, your path has the unique gifts and blessings you are given on this lifetime.

𓆸

Thank you so much for reading this post, wishing you many blessings and good fortune 🌟🪽

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Group 2

For the second group, the next step you are being led to take is to acknowledge the destructive aspects of yourself, your darkness, the things you are least proud of, the aspects of yourself that seem to hunt you down, these aspects need to be faced, acknowledged and integrated and they will become important parts of your psique, in a developed and integrated way making you wiser, giving you more tools and mental sharpness to go on in life. Right now in your life you are basing yourself in outdated, old ideas and patterns that need, and are doomed to die, these are antiquated, belonging to your past self, a past conception of life, something you acquired that is no longer of good use for your current and future energy. This group is very much focused on love, the energies indicate, that the way ahead involves finding the courage to be sensual again, learning to connect again with others, attaining real intimacy with others, physically, emotionally… and learning to understand your own inhibitions (or excesses) and discovering that Love has its own way to uniting the pieces and kind of making the brew taste wonderfully. This will allow in your life the growth of flourishing, nurturing and fulfilling relationships; if you have fertility problems, this indicates your situation will heal and improve and you will be able to get pregnant; and also, if you couldn't build something stable within a relationship before, in the sense of something material or some sort of goal, vision, or general growth, like owning a home; reaching common goals and plans, bettering your life situations, this reading indicates that you will be led to such accomplishments and completion of mutual goals within a relationship, or even birthing a new life, once you work on the matters described.

𓆸

Thank you so much for reading this post, wishing you many blessings and good fortune 🌟🪽

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Group 3

Hello guys, for this group, Spirit is highlighting the self-imposed bars you find yourself behind. You have an unbalanced connection and use of your own ego, thinking you are below others, or you give your power a lot to others, almost if you were always submitted to other’s emotions, opinions, wisdom. Your sense of self-esteem and self-worth lacks foundation, you are not in touch with your inner queen or king. The way to go through this is to be okay with being the traits you are so afraid of embodying, or being the ‘’bad’’ person—And I don't mean go out there and be a bad person, it is just giving yourself permission to be free. And also for some of you, to not feel guilty for who you are or what you do. Some of you need to vent, even confess, giving a voice of that persona inside of you who feels guilty. Something might have happened in the past that caused you guilt, well it is time to let it go. Letting it out, speaking your inner emotions will help you to release pressure, which is also an issue being shown in this pile. Accept that sometimes you might not be able to be perfect. Some of you might be performing for others for most time or you could be putting everyone above you, or trusting too much on others for your life choices. This has to stop and all that you have to do is to give voice and express and release all the pent-up emotions and stuff you have inside that keeps you behaving this way. Because you are in jail . As a result, relief and finally a sense of peace will come to you, opening up new and better doors for you, more calmness and inner peace in your life.

𓆸

Thank you so much for reading this post, wishing you many blessings and good fortune 🌟🪽

Support me on Ko-fi 𓇬 Psychic Readings

[tsukimefuku]

The broken idealist: Higuruma Hiromi

And how the world of JJK viciously punishes idealists.

Before we start, let’s set some premises:

This is an essay based solely on my opinions and my own knowledge of criminal justice. I’m no professional writer/essayist.

JJK is a critique on unfair systems that reward selfishness and nurture individualistic (oftentimes destructive) behaviors.

One of the main motifs in JJK is (un)fairness.

Even when rewarded by these systems, individuals usually end up alienated (Gojo being the utmost example, but so is Sukuna to some extent).

The world of JJK punishes idealists very harshly. 

I might've read waaaaay too deep into his character (apologies in advance).

I am ABSOLUTELY biased in analyzing this character because I kin Higuruma very hard and identify profoundly with many of his struggles.

[queue “Pigs” by Pink Floyd] Let's do this.

The ideal of truth and Higuruma choosing to be a criminal defense attorney

Higuruma shows up in the manga as one of the top players of the Culling Games. Throughout a few chapters, Gege introduces him to us as a former criminal defense attorney that has lost it after one of his clients gets his innocence verdict overruled and is unfairly convicted for a crime he didn't commit, triggering Higuruma's cursed technique to awake, ending up in the deaths of the Judge and Prosecutor that contributed for the wrongful conviction.

Along those chapters, we get to see two very interesting things: Firstly, the fact that Higuruma actively chose to be a lawyer, instead of pursuing a career as a judge. Second, his stance and lines about truth, especially this one: "Even if no one else does, I want to keep my eyes open."

Higuruma, for me, is a prime example of how someone moved by truth and justice can become a self-righteous, cynical individual (I'll refrain from the word "villain" because he wasn't ever an actual "villain" in the story). From the get go, when we get more information on his past, we can see his mental state slowly declining as he gets progressively more overworked fighting an unwinnable fight. 

We have some very important pieces of information from chapter 158: Japan has a 99% conviction rate. The public opinion about defendants is that they're always guilty. Higuruma earns little, works a lot and his job is usually trying for a miracle, to be that 1%. And, finally, that Higuruma chose to fight an unfair system from within. 

That not only has huge parallels with the world of cursed energy, but is one the most important messages I feel that JJK is building up to — you can't reform a broken system from within, because structurally and systematically unfair systems will always push things back into a state of unfairness / status quo. We see this when Gojo says, at the beginning of the manga, that even if he killed all the higher ups at that point in time, other assholes would just take their places. To a more fundamental level, we see it in Yuki's failed efforts to end curses from the perspective of a jujutsu sorcerer, and the way the story is progressing towards a complete rupture with the current state of cursed energy altogether to give place to something new.

The message is: To fight an unfair system from within and by its own rules is and always will be a losing game.

Now to Higuruma's fallout, we have a perfect storm for what happened to him — an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. 

I'll dive a little into criminal law (and c.l. procedure) and make many oversimplifications to get a point across, so I apologize to any other criminal lawyers out there reading this and cringing at the oversimplifications.

In theory, the Criminal Justice System should be preoccupied with the truth. Criminal Law, in essence, is attributing a penalty (prison, fine, death, etc.) to an act (to kill, to rob) described by law as a crime. In that regard, then, one could only suffer said penalty if they actually committed the act that the law described as being a crime. 

Where does truth come into place here?

To investigate if something happened in the world of facts (the real, concrete world) is essentially a search for truth, which to me is very telling of Higuruma's choice in becoming a criminal defense attorney. 

In an unfair system in which 99% of people are convicted, it'd make no sense for this man to become a prosecutor. The prosecution is already benefiting from the system, considering the way the scales are tipped. That's a given.

But regarding the judgeship, things become more interesting. In a fair criminal justice system, the judge is forbidden to engage in probationary activity (which means, basically, that the judge cannot search for evidence, investigate or look for witnesses, he can solely analyze what the defense and prosecution bring to him in order to give a verdict — the judge does not engage in the most important activity in finding the truth).

Why can't the judge do that?

Because when the presumption of innocence is in place, anyone is presumed innocent until proven guilty, ergo, if there is not enough evidence to convict, the person must be acquitted. If the judge engages in that activity, they'd be taking on the prosecution's job — to prove the occurrence of a given criminal act. We have separate places for judging and prosecuting for a reason.

The scales are already in favor of the prosecution (they literally have THE STATE’S aid ikn the form of police forces to investigate and taxpayer money to foot costs during criminal lawsuits), so anything that might end up harming or weakening the presumption of innocence is strictly forbidden, including having the judge engage in probationary activity. If the lack of evidence is enough to acquit someone, then having the judge searching for evidence automatically harms the presumption of innocence, because if there is not enough evidence to convict someone, the judge MUST acquit. 

In that scenario, then, the best place for someone who wants to search and defend the truth against unfairness is the Defense stand, clearly. 

Everything said up until now about how the criminal justice system should work is just the theory, however. The reality of it is far sinister. The criminal justice system is a machine perfectly conceived to chew out those who fight for fairness, because fairness is not one of its main goals. It's main goal is serving as an instrument of power (in the most Foucaultian sense of the word) and control over citizens and, to some degree, appease collective concerns about crime rates and violence by making examples out of people, whether they're guilty or not (I could go on a tangent here for hours about the criminal justice system, capitalism and protection of private property by the state, but let's not do that, lol). 

That's why Keita's trial is the perfect storm to break Higuruma's psyche so deeply. All the systematic unfairnesses that exist in the Japanese Criminal Justice System chomp away his ideals — one might say, what constitutes the very core of who he is — and unceremoniously spits it right back in his face. 

Independent defense lawyers are systematically in a worse position regarding resources to gather evidence in their client's favor; it's easier to convict someone who's already under the gavel than to start a new investigation on somebody else and spend even more taxpayer money; to convict a person whom the people deem as guilty soothes the public opinion regarding how well the criminal justice system actually works to "keep society safe from these foul criminals" (not human beings); the appeal is a limited resource in most criminal justice systems, so after one gets their innocence verdict overturned, to get it back is extremely hard.

Everything worked perfectly to break every inch of Higuruma's ideals. It's no use for you to be the only one willing to stare truth in its eyes if everyone else looks away because it's more convenient to let the unfair gears keep turning the way they do. You'll give yourself to unnecessary suffering meanwhile nothing ever changes. This could even help draw a parallel between Higuruma's and Geto's fallouts: to realize how broken the system is, how you can't break a wall with the toy hammer the wall builders give you, and how lonely/depressing/infuriating of an experience it is to realize all this and still know there is absolutely nothing you can do. 

The game is rigged, and if someone ever so chooses to not play by those rules, they're viciously punished.

Now that we've gotten to the breaking part, let's see how it manifests in Higuruma's own cursed technique and domain expansion.

The broken idealist and the cynicism

Someone had made an amazing post about how Higuruma's domain expansion was a perfect demonstration of his own cynicism at the moment his abilities were awakened, but I couldn't find it! So OP, if you by any chance end up reading this, HMU, because what you said will be featured here. (Edit: found it. Thanks, Eugie! The post can be accessed here, and @wolke17 made a deeper analysis after it, take a look at their profile)

In order to talk about Higuruma's cynicism stemming from his disappointment with the criminal justice system, we need to talk about his domain, so that's what we're gonna do now.

In his domain expansion, we meet his shikigami, Judgeman, who is an all-knowing creature responsible for giving off the verdict at the end of the debates between the two parties. According to Higuruma, Judgeman knows absolutely everything about someone's life the moment they enter his domain.

All is well up until now, isn't it? Hm, not so much. There are some very serious philosophical conundrums to having an all-knowing being bestowing judgment (skeptical catholics went crazy over this for many centuries). 

Think about this: in a Courtroom, we have a judge who needs to get to know the facts, and is presented with two different hypotheses about the facts (prosecution and defense), for which the evidentiary activity (collecting evidence) is needed to support one hypothesis or the other. Given that we abide by the presumption of innocence, you don’t even have to prove the defense’s hypothesis to get an acquittal, as long as the prosecution one isn’t proven beyond a reasonable doubt.

What’s the issue with having a judge that is omniscient? 

First off, why would two hypotheses need to be confronted if the judge already knows the answer — if the person did or did not commit the crime?

On another note, now going into more of a “well he’s just judging based on the allegations”, it gets deeper. We have a judge that knows what happened, but simply decides based on the parties arguments. This is a huge issue because firstly, it obliterates the value of truth in the justice system — if criminal law is attributing to a particularly reprehensible action a penalty, and judgeman knows if that action took place or not, yet doesn’t decide according to what happened, but according to who best defends their point of view, it annihilates the very own reason for collecting evidence, the reason that a judgment needs to take place and the reason for criminal law even existing.

In Higuruma's domain, then, truth becomes the least important thing. In there, who has the better argument wins the debate. The judgment that happens within Deadly Sentencing is not about truth, it’s about the game's rules (or, more specifically, his domain's rules) and who plays them better, which makes it all the more ironic that Higuruma sees so much “potential” in the Culling Games due to its rules and established mechanics.

In a courtroom setting, having an omniscient judge is always, in any scenario, a cynical game of wits, and it fits perfectly with the philosophical fallout Higuruma experienced after Keita's conviction. His perspective got switched from "who deserves to win according to the truth" to "who plays the game better". He lost faith in the criminal justice system, and to a deeper degree, he lost faith in fairness in the world as a whole.

And that's why we can arrive at the conclusion that Higuruma is, in essence, a "broken idealist" character: he's not pandering to the idea that "the winner should be the one who plays the rules better” because he truly believes it; he's doing it out of resentment, because he got time and time again punished and was subjected to a hell of a lot of suffering for upholding his own ideals of truth and fairness. He's not acting, he is reacting to being unraveled and broken the way he was.

It also shows in his discourse regarding the weak, and the way he tries to place himself above what he dubs “the ugliness of people”, as the only one who sees the truth (“darkness is only darkness / people are ugly”). It’s a mirror: he experienced his own helplessness (or weakness) with Keita’s conviction, so in an effort to try and protect whatever is left from his own psyche, he’s actively denying how helpless he really feels by putting himself above the “truly weak”. 

In the end, however, Higuruma kept his idealistic essence alive instead of giving himself over to the story that he told himself as a defense mechanism, unlike Geto, which is why it was possible to bring him back.

Even broken, he remained an idealist at heart.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[rustingways]

I’ve seen some posts suggesting Armand intentionally got Daniel addicted to his blood as a way to manipulate and tether him, and I was like “Wow, I don’t remember that vibe at all,” so I read Devil’s Minion again and a little TVA, and I’ve got to say I’m still not really feeling it.

My reading is more that Armand is recreating his experience of vampiric courtship at the hands of Marius, AND that Daniel is extremely susceptible to addiction.

Daniel was already “burning” for Armand in his absence before Armand ever shares his blood. Armand shares his blood with Daniel in an intimate moment where he verbally affirms his love for Daniel, and Daniel realizes his own love for Armand. It’s not a calculated setup to force his lover to be reliant on him down the line, it’s Armand formalizing their relationship the best way he knows how.

Armand wasn’t human long enough while drinking vampiric blood to realize it could lead to serious addiction. Daniel was getting supernaturally microdosed for MUCH longer than Armand had been.

Was Armand UNHAPPY that Daniel had developed a dependence on his blood? Only in so far as it was contributing to Daniel’s self destruction, but it probably made him feel really secure, tbh, knowing that Daniel would always come back. So many people want to view Armand as some sort of scheming, conniving mastermind, but I really feel like he’s more of a pathetic opportunist than anything.

[heartwrrm]

it's immediately clear that both the creature and victor find some of their greatest comforts in nature and that's one of the key features that connects them and proves they're not so different from each other, but i've also noticed that they tend to admire different TYPES of nature

victor tends to amaze at "the high and snowy mountains [...] immense glaciers [...] the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche [...] the supreme and magnificent mont blonc" (65), typically finding the most comfort in the "savage and enduring scenes" (64) which tend to be colder and rougher yet unchanging; while the creature found that his "chief delights were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay apparel of summer" (94). there is probably something to be said about the creature's affinity for spring and summer, the seasons of rebirth, of NATURAL and beautiful life, a direct contrast to his unnatural, coldly scientific, "wretched" rebirth that he abhors so much

i was discussing this idea with a friend, who added that victor finding solace in the frozen and dead beauty of wintery environments, a typically less-favoured season, could reflect how victor often refuses himself the typical joys of life. throughout the novel, he struggles with his self-worth because of the guilt induced by his creation of the creature and the deaths that then followed, and the only reason he even desires peace and comfort is because he knows he needs to present himself that way to his family in order for them to be happy ("i [...] wished that peace would revisit my mind only that i might afford them consolation and happiness" [62]). i built on her idea by noting how the creature acknowledged that he "required kindness and sympathy; but [he] did not believe [him]self unworthy of it" (94), a completely contrasting stance from victor, who finds himself undeserving of the many comforts offered to him by his family

furthermore, it seems that victor finds beauty in glory & majesty ("[the scenery] spoke of a power mighty as Omnipotence--and i ceased to fear, or to bend before any being less almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements" [64]), while the creature finds beauty in warmth & growth. both characters seem to find what they desire(d) in the versions of the natural world that they admire most

to reference what i said in the beginning about the connections between victor and the creature, this observation only contributes to my understanding that victor and the creature are incredibly similar, and many of their identical traits involve a rejection or a reversal of the other; they both ardently wish for each other's destruction, they both ruined each other, they're the reason that the other is simultaneously a victim and a villain in their own sense, they both hate themselves but for reversed reasons (victor hates himself for what he's done rather than what he is, while the creature hates himself for what he is more than what he's done), and now this--they both find solace in nature, just opposing kinds. like father, like son

[eroguron0nsense]

Perhaps my brain isn't braining or I'm assigning undue significance to this but I kinda feel like One Piece seemed to shift more toward exploring what real familial love means or looks like after the timeskip? We get Ace's death, the postwar arc, and Luffy coming to the conclusion that despite having lost both of his brothers, he's still got the Straw Hats and he can move forward with his ragtag crew of siblings, Team Mom and Dad, and an eccentric skeleton Uncle, and then right after that, we get several arcs defined overwhelmingly by either the destruction or salvation of various families.

One of the main inciting incidents–if not the inciting incident–of all the political intrigue inherent to the Fishman Island arc is the assassination of Otohime and its ramifications for Shirahoshi and the entire Ryugu Kingdom (not to mention Luffy trying really fucking hard to imitate Ace and be a big brother to Shirahoshi and Surume as a means of processing his own loss).

Dressrossa's where we first see a true perversion of all the lovely found family tropes that have long been established in One Piece (villains have destroyed families but few if any are depicted as having one in the same way Luffy does; pre-time skip villains are more likely to be loners or self-interested tyrants and their followers aren't really referred to as "family"), giving us self fashioned patriarch in Doffy who completed the destruction of his bio family and spent the rest of his life building a grotesque, failed imitation of it through manipulating and indoctrinating a group of followers he doesn't truly care for, only to be brought down by a combination of his brother's final actions, the little boy Cora saved and loved, the bonds of the Riku family he brutalized, the brothers of the guy whose devil fruit he acquired and tried to entrap his enemies with, and an actual Found Family Crew who genuinely love each other and are willing to sacrifice for each other in a way Doffy cannot possibly understand.

The entirety of WCI involves almost every conceivable permutation of multiple families plotting against, exploiting, abusing, and defiantly loving each other, from Judge discarding any hope he ever had of having an actual family that could love him by literally stripping away their ability to do so in the name of facism/conquest, to Chiffon betraying her abusive mom for her loving husband and in-laws, to Linlin being failed by every parental figure in her life and constructing the most bizarre, fundamentally horrifying political/military structure out of her army of bio children.

Wano's main villain is also an abusive father and tyrannical crew leader, and that does, in fact, contribute to his eventual downfall, but more to the point, the arc opens and closes with the initial destruction and eventual restoration of the Kozuki family in Momo, Hiyori, and Sukiyaki, Luffy's kinship with Momo and Tama, circling back to reminders of Ace yet again (for the third arc so far) and Hiyori literally closing out the arc mirroring her father's catchphrase/dying words (and to a lesser extent, plot fuelled by the destruction of the Kurozumi clan). By the time we end what I personally consider to be Part 2 of One Piece, Luffy's family has picked up another uncle, he's been confronted repeatedly with the spectre of his brother and come out stronger for it (also filling the big brother role for multiple characters), he's reunited with Sabo, and has confronted and defeated multiple villains who act as the antithesis to everything One Piece has told us so far about the joy and love and unity that the Straw Hats and their friends and true families exemplify. And by the time he tells everyone his real dream and shares what he'd previously only told Ace, Sabo, and Shanks, it feels like we've finally gotten some closure for Marineford

[rigginsstreet]

The thing about billy is that he was marked for death the second his mom left him with neil.

He was either gonna die by Neil’s hands or, as we saw on the show, he was gonna go down such a self destructive path it would send him into an early grave of his own making.

So him dying at 18 isn’t really shocking. The part of it that was never written in the stars for him previously is that in his final moments he got to take some of his power back. He made the choice to stand against his abuser (the mindflayer) in the name of saving someone else. He got to fight back against the thing controlling him and contribute to its demise. Something he likely would’ve never gotten a chance to do with neil.

The tragedy is that he dies anyway, and no one can even give him the courtesy of acknowledging what that tragedy is. Not the writers, not the fandom, not the characters within the show.

His death becomes Max’s tragedy, it can’t even be his own. Nobody cares what billys death means in the context of billys life. Just like how nobody cared about billy when his mom left or when his dad was getting physical with him or when he started lashing out because of the abuse.

Nobody ever cared for billy, so why was he expected to care about anyone else?

He was never treated as a person, just a presence. And an inconvenient one at that. So of course he was never gonna make it to a long fulfilling life. And nobody ever thought to step in and intervene because well, Billys a problem, right? So what does it matter if he’s gone?

And you start to realize how inherently cruel the entire stranger things narrative is because there’s a clear line of people “worth” saving and those who aren’t. And if someone’s too much trouble then well, they’re expendable.

Billy was too much trouble for his mom to make her clean escape. He was too much trouble for not fitting in to Neil’s ideals of the perfect son. He was too much trouble for max as a brother. Too much trouble with all the rage and hate he had built up for the world around him for not protecting him.

So in the end, really, what was left for him to do?

[whetstonefires]

So like, I'm pretty darn sure Mo Xuanyu did not actually make a pass at Jin Guangyao.

For several reasons, like for one thing hitting on your own actual brother who is also your boss is genuinely insane behavior, in a way nothing else we know about the guy actually matches, other than his reputation for being crazy which mostly seems to originate from the same point as the sexual harassment allegations. which tracks because even with rampant societal homophobia, that's such a crazy thing to do people would question it if it didn't come paired with the information that he's insane.

Then there's the fact that if that had actually happened, there's basically no way master spin artist jgy would have let it get out, because actually experiencing that would trigger his sense-of-uncleanliness issues so hard.

But what we see is that somehow Everyone Knows that it happened, but also that Jin Guangyao totally didn't tell anyone, because he's too merciful and kind and respectable. It just mysteriously leaked somehow that this private scandal happened.

(Also, to step up a meta level, the gay goth kid who was never quite accepted into his own family and wound up self-destructing was in fact guilty of the homophobic allegations spread by the powerful man who manipulates reputation for personal advantage? This is not the kind of story where that would be true. The thematic dissonance is too much.)

The only way it's believable that mxy made a move on jgy is if jgy spent a long time maneuvering him into it, hinting and deniably flirting and just generally being maximum skeeze, just a huge elaborate incestuous honeypot, just to bait a 'ruined reputation' trap. Which makes no sense at all.

I don't think jgy is necessarily above that kind of creepy grooming behavior but I do think he would hate it, and definitely wouldn't resort to it when sowing rumors would work just as well. and expose him to less risk.

So Mo Xuanyu didn't do it.

So what we've got is that Jin Guangyao systematically obliterated this kid's credibility.

No one would listen to anything he said after being expelled in that sort of context, especially anything against Jin Guangyao, whom he now has obvious motive to smear. This was a preemptive strike against some kind of leak.

It's exactly the kind of thing jgy would do--it targets individual vulnerability, leverages the weak points in Mo Xuanyu's reputation into gaping chasms, in a way that associates jgy with scandal but makes him personally look better. also shows signs of jgy projecting his own issues onto others. The MO fits.

And his motive is easy to construct: Mo Xuanyu had had access to his secrets, such as Wei Wuxian's manuscripts and probably a lot of the other ugly shit. And Jin Guangyao needed him silenced, due to some thing or other, but as with SiSi didn't want to have to kill him.

(A fascinating thing about jgy as a villain is the moments where he yields to sentiment pretty consistently contribute to his destruction.)

But then we come around to: so why didn't Mo Xuanyu sic Wei Wuxian on Jin Guangyao, then?

In cql wwx does have a curse cut for jgy, to keep him in the plot and create an additional open storyline to resolve, since viewers are gonna be denied romantic catharsis, but in cql the homophobia plotline isn't there because all the gay is censored, and mxy allegedly hit on qin su instead. which is less utterly unhinged to do though still big wtf.

In the book, mxy summoned the Yiling Patriarch just to kill the Mos. (Which he didn't even do lmao.)

So I've always been sort of poking at that, like if you're destroying your own soul to get revenge, why spare the person who deliberately ruined your life?

Even if he had done the thing, it was weird! Maybe even weirder; if you're in a headspace where making sexual advances anyone should be able to predict are unwelcome seems like a good idea in the first place, there's a pretty good chance getting punished for them isn't going to make you think you were in the wrong. Otoh there is a zone where he could have done it, gotten the backlash, cleared his head a bit, realized it was fucked up to do, and therefore not held a grudge in that particular direction, but it's still weird. (And also he definitely didn't do the thing.)

But if he was so angry, why was he not angry at Jin Guangyao? Who definitely kicked him out of the Sect, all else aside?

And then I looked at the passage in Jin sect where we swap to Jin Ling's pov and he tells us one of the few first-hand things we hear about Mo Xuanyu: He thought Jin Guangyao was the most amazing person in the whole world. He adored him.

And being betrayed and rejected by him didn't turn that into resentment. Even though he resented the other side of his family enough to want them gratuitously murdered.

So you know what I think happened?

I think Mo Xuanyu thinks it was an honest misunderstanding. That Jin Guangyao, his idol, falsely concluded that his gay little brother was creeping on him based on a misinterpretation of his admiring behavior, and was appropriately revolted. And that Mo Xuanyu doesn't blame him for it. He blames himself.

He went back to his mother's family to rot genuinely feeling like the ruination of his life was his own fault for being creepy. And died like that.

Because of that, to a considerable extent. How can you bend any of your will to saving yourself, to getting out of an abusive situation and seeking a better one, when you don't think you deserve to be saved?

Fucks me up.

[baka-bakeneko]

Enmesh - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x Fem Spider Scientist reader (afab biology)

a/n: venom venom venom miguel is the dirtiest and slimy but i'm loving this alot. also i ain't copin' to shit. (part two)

tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, Spiderverse hopping, scientific discovery, symbiotic relationship (kinda), references to self-harm (destruction and/or suicide), obsessive Venom, just as obsessive and possessive Miguel O'Hara, consensual non-consent, breeding kink, missionary, oral sex, tentacle (not tentacles), anal fingering, no use of lube, creampie, hint to cervix penetration

wc: 4.24 k

synopsis: Miguel asks you, fellow scientist and spider-in-training, to investigate an anomaly that popped up on the radar.

Miguel had tasked you to follow a couple of Spiders out on patrols, due to the spike in anomalies on Earth TRN688. He’d attempted to go out to that verse himself, but was called to aid Spiderwoman.

You did as ordered, keeping close remarks in the New York you appeared in. Following the Spider you were partnered with, you kept up with your own built-in web slingers and scanned over the landscape with your anomaly tracker.

Miguel followed your tracking, monitoring the spikes in the radar and mapping the New York geography. He was distracted in his own task, enough so that Jessica pocketed his personal tracker on you.

You managed to stop on the same rooftop as Reilly, catching your breath with another scan of the radar.

“What’s up?” He asked, pulling off his mask to catch his breath.

You shrugged, narrowing your eyes at the tracker as a spike rose up in the landscape. “We need to get over there.”

You pointed across Central Park, directly over the water. “There’s a spike out there.”

Reilly exhaled, returning his mask back on and kicking off of the rooftop. “Let’s go.”

You scampered after him, looking over the ledge of the rooftop to see your companion free-falling into New York traffic before catching himself on a web at the last second. You released a shaky breath, shooting out a web and jumping from the ledge, swinging after the Spider.

Upon reaching the anomaly spike, you landed roughly on the scorched grass in Central Park. You pulled yourself up and walked around the crash site of the meteorite. Reilly landed carefully behind you, watching as you slowly approached the cracked open, smoking space rock.

You leaned forward to look at the rock, plain of anything significant.

A splash of shadow lurched out at you and, in the split second of you lurching back in shock, Reilly shot a heavy web out to stop it. The captured ooze writhed on the ground before your feet, slowly soaking in Reilly’s web until you stamped a foot to cut it off.

You dug through your research bag to find a vial large enough for the thing to fit in and bent to stuff it in. You screwed on a tamper seal, holding the vial up to your face as the ooze, dark as night, began to float within the glass like a lava lamp.

Your thumb folded over the front of the glass, watching as the ooze lurched in the direction of it like it tried to attack you.

“The fuck is that?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. But it’s alive.”

“No shit. It almost ate you.” Reilly said, standing to fold his hand over the back of his neck. “O’Hara would’ve killed me if something happened to you.”

You tore your gaze away from the ooze to look at Reilly. “I appreciate you babysitting me. I’ll tell Miguel your contribution to my safety.”

Reilly dropped his arms to his side, then crossed them over his chest. “Is that all we came for?”

You pursed your lips, bringing the vial into your full hold. “I think so.”

You gave the ooze another curious look then straightened up the contents of your bag to put it in carefully.

“Let’s go show him what we found.”

-

As soon as you were back in headquarters, you bounded towards Miguel’s office. You held onto the strap of your bag carefully, slipping between the countless number of Spider-people in the direction of the epicenter.

You paused at the gate of Miguel’s office, catching your breath once again when you noticed it was occupied with a group.

“Hone— Miguel,” you corrected yourself, pushing yourself forward to Miguel’s platform.

Miguel was directed at the front of the group, looking down at them in pause of giving orders. His eyes slowly shifted over to you, noting your ragged breathing and flushed face.

“Dismissed.” He waved off the group in an instant, lowering the platform to allow you up. “What did you find? Are you okay?”

You nodded, immediately digging into your bag to retrieve the ooze vial. “Your anomaly…was a meteorite. This was found at the crash site.”

You held the vial up between the two of you, your view crossed between it and Miguel’s gaze. Your fingers held the top of the vial and the two of you watched as the ooze lashed up at where your fingers touched the glass.

“Shocking,” Miguel whispered, gripping the bottom of the vial in effort to get the ooze to react to his touch.

The ooze paused, homing itself at the top of the glass where you touched before drooping a glob down as if to test the waters at Miguel’s touch. The two of you watched as it stretched along the vial, touching both ends of the glass and thrumming slightly.

“What do you think it is?” You asked, wanting to hear another scientist’s theory.

“I’m not entirely sure. Is it dangerous?” Miguel asked, tugging the vial from your hold and rolling it in his palm.

You winced softly, watching your discovery slosh about the vial. “It lashed out at me when I arrived but Reilly caught it.”

Miguel’s brows furrowed, pulling his eyes from the ooze before meeting your gaze. “You’re okay?”

His free hand reached out, retracting his claws, and caressed your cheek. You grinned briefly, leaning into his touch.

“I’m fine. Web-slinger’s coming along great.”

Miguel hid a gulp, mirroring your grin before retreating his touch. “You did great, hermosa. I’m dismissing you.”

You nodded, your eyes cutting to the ooze vial in his palm. When you looked at it, the ooze reacted and lurched out in your direction.

“Okay. Will you be home for dinner?”

Miguel folded his lips together, looking down at the ooze vial then back at you. “I may be a bit late. Gonna see what makes this thing tick.”

While you wanted to stay to conduct research with Miguel, you knew that Lyla would be just as good as you in that aspect. You reached for your shoulder, tensing the muscle that throbbed in its place.

Raising on your toes, you leaned forward with bracing Miguel’s thick forearm. “Don’t be too late, okay? You need your sleep.”

You kissed his stubbled cheek, rested your forehead to his temple. “And I miss you.”

Miguel fought the deep exhale from his chest, turning in the direction of your mouth. He was tempted at your soft lips, his nose nudging yours. “I miss you too. I promise not to overdo it.”

“I’m holding you to that,” you whispered, pointing your pinkie finger out for Miguel to cross with his own.

He did so, noting your thumb circling the silicone band on your ring finger. “Get some rest.”

-

Miguel managed to find another container to move the ooze into. He tapped it into the jar and immediately flipped it over.

Watching the sludge dart to the bottom of the jar then below to the table. He forced his hand over the bottom of the jar to keep it from slipping free and marked its response to light.

Nothing.

Its response to water, a quick drop next to it made the ooze not react. Miguel glared at the sludge, shifting the jar back and forth for some sort of response from it.

"You're alive, I know you have a weakness."

When he spoke at it, the ooze seemed to perk up in the direction of his voice. Miguel quirked a brow, tilted his head. "You can hear."

The ooze fashioned its glob in the direction of Miguel's tilt, as if to mimic him. Miguel peeled the jar up and tentatively poked out to the ooze.

"Are you..." Miguel began, watching the ooze lash out to his finger and worm quickly up his arm.

"Whoa, slow down." He reached to stop the sludge but it disappeared under his palm.

Miguel still felt the crawl of the ooze on his body, over his skin and, then, under it. He fashioned his claws, ready to tear into his skin but took a deep breath.

"Lyla!" Miguel called out, looking around his office for his AI. "Run a diagnostic. Quickly."

Lyla blipped into being, scanning over Miguel as he took a few deep breaths in before he felt a sudden onset of heat.

"Mierde," he released in a pant, waving for Lyla to dissipate his suit for the full scan.

"What's wrong, Miguel?" Lyla asked, zipping around Miguel's head as she produced a virtual tablet. "Your temperature's raised to 125."

Miguel's stomach rumbled slightly, his throat growing dryer by the second. His mouth was drying, his tongue aching from the lack of moisture.

"What do you have so far?" Miguel asked, resting his hands on his hips and following Lyla round his head. He kept his breathing steady, blinking slowly while his heart pounded hard against his ribs.

"I-I'm checking," Lyla cut out her attitude, running through her tablet at the scrolling diagnostic. "What is this, Miguel?"

"The-the anomaly," Miguel muttered, snapping his fingers in the direction of the empty jar. "The thing understands words, cognizant of what I say."

Lyla nodded, looking up from her tablet. "I see. The thing is trying to make a nest in your chest, Miguel. It's attaching to your spinal cord."

Miguel gulped, straightening his stature. "Is it...aggressive?"

"Not as I've seen so far. The...thing is trying to inhabit your spleen and draw nutrients from it."

"No," Miguel grunted, immediately clenching his side and puncturing his skin with his claws. "Not if I have a say in it."

Hungry.

Miguel heard the word echo through his head, the word husking into his ear. He tilted his chin, raising his hand to Lyla. "It speaks."

Lyla raised her brows, scrolling through the tablet and stopping at a blip. "It appears to be receding from your spleen. Quick, say something."

Miguel deadpanned at Lyla, cocked his jaw as his body grew in chills. "What are you hungry for?"

Anything.

Miguel looked to Lyla as she turned the tablet towards him. He noted the ooze retreating back to his spinal cord, housing itself between his vertebrae.

"Do you have a name?"

We are Venom.

Miguel exhaled and Lyla resumed her final diagnostics.

"You say you eat anything, yet you garner for my spleen. Why?" Miguel asked, retracting his claws from his skin.

We eat anything. Humans are food.

"Why not eat me immediately?" Miguel asked.

You are with the woman. The scientist. We are symbiotic. We want the woman.

Miguel grit his teeth. "You can't eat her."

We do not wish to eat her. We want her to host us.

Miguel scoffed, waving for Lyla to retrieve his clothes. "Never going to happen. You want to stay with me, that's fine. But you're never getting her."

The ooze within him hummed, the noise reverberated down his spine and he tensed his top lip.

"That's the only way you'll stay. Otherwise, I will destroy you."

Not before destroying yourself first.

"So be it." Miguel cocked his jaw, unfolding his pants after they blipped into existence on his workstation. He gave a nod to Lyla. "I have nothing better to do anyways."

What about the woman?

"My woman," Miguel stressed, pulling on his pants. He reached for his shirt next, folding it over his head and pulling it over his torso.

Mi amor, you call her that. What does that mean?

Miguel scoffed, suddenly glancing to Lyla. "It tapped into my brain stem too?"

Lyla solemnly nodded. Miguel hid a roll of his eyes.

"It means 'my love'. My second language."

And hermosa?

Miguel shook his head. "'Beautiful'."

She is.

"Hey." Miguel snapped his fingers as he stared straightforward. "Venom, right? You...stay out of the way of her. If I recognize a single drop of you in her, I'll dissect myself to kill you. Do we understand each other?"

Venom laxed within Miguel, the closest form of contentedness he felt after the being melded into him.

Fine. We go home to her, though?

Miguel shut his eyes in slight disbelief. "Yes. We do. She's my fiancée."

Lucky.

-

You tried to stay up for Miguel, even after you climbed into bed. There was nothing to keep you in the meantime, after eating dinner and cleaning up the apartment, you waited.

It wasn't until your head jerked back up that you realized you had dozed off. And there was still no sign of Miguel. Shutting off your light, you returned to bed and soon fell asleep.

Miguel appeared in the bedroom when you were finally gone. He waited at the door, listening to you rustle between the sheets.

Venom demanded to be fed as soon as Miguel left headquarters. In order to keep his part of the deal, Miguel stopped at a convenience store and stocked up on roller hot dogs.

The taste of rolled-over grease settled wrong on his tongue, he gagged over not hacking the food back up.

"Why not chicken?" Miguel asked, on his way back to the apartment while suppressing a belch.

Chicken, no.

Miguel stepped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed, staring at you splayed over the mattress. He chuckled, tugging at your big toe.

She's pretty.

"She's my everything," Miguel offered, kneeling onto the bed and moving over you.

She smells delicious.

Miguel cut his face to the side, snarling at the darkness of the room. "You stay out of my mind. She's private."

Venom growled within Miguel. He felt a soft wiggle in his side, acknowledging the familiar ooze that emanated from his skin.

We feel how you do about her.

Venom's appendage caressed Miguel's chin and his nostrils flared.

"I'm not open to sharing." Miguel retorted, his top lip peeling up to reveal his fang.

Who said anything about sharing? We share your body, Miguel. Everything else is one.

Miguel leaned down and rested his forehead to your stomach, nudging his nose along your skin. You stirred, your hand tensing.

"She's mine, only mine," Miguel whispered.

You wish to impregnate her.

Miguel slammed his eyes shut, teeth grit harder as he folded his bottom lip to your skin. "I want her through and through."

Touching.

Miguel tsked, kissing up your body as he applied his weight over you. Venom's appendage slithered over the bed and ghosted over your pillow.

"You don't get to touch her," Miguel ordered softly. "Not unless it's through me."

Your rules.

Venom retracted the appendage and Miguel kissed behind your ear.

"Hermosa, I'm home." Miguel whispered. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Your tired hand reached up to comb through Miguel's hair. "You're burning up, baby."

"I know." Miguel rolled his eyes, his hands planting at your hips. "Cool off with me."

You grinned, working up to waking. "Keep moving like this, I'll break out in a sweat too."

Miguel hummed, kissing across your cheek. "I miss you."

You arched into Miguel, feeling the heat of his body all over you like a rash. His crotch was raving with heat, pressed just over your panties.

"I missed you," you hissed back, feeling your body awaken to his touch.

Her sounds, they are delicious too.

Miguel bit at your earlobe, earning your coo. He bowed his head, forcing out a remark to Venom. "Stop it."

"I can't help it," you moaned, raising your leg.

"Mi amor." Miguel returned to your mouth and kissed you, feeling the anomaly within him ebbing up his throat.

He pulled back with a harsh swallow. His jaw cocked, Miguel reversed back down your body with kisses.

In your shirt, he muttered at Venom to stay in their lane. He bit at the waistband of your panties and peeled them down, lashing his tongue out to stripe your pubic bone.

You sighed, raising your hips for Miguel to pull your panties down. He did so, grinning devilishly as he did. The heat rose under his skin, feeling a prickle at the sight of your sex.

Miguel selfishly leaned in to kiss your inside thigh, dragging his lips along your skin before descending on your pussy. He didn't waste a moment, making a meal of your clit.

You edged awake, sitting up to tighten your grip on his hair. "Baby."

Miguel moaned into you, staring across your body to meet your tired eyes. Venom rattled in Miguel's chest, the ooze ready to lash out and gain his own taste of you.

Miguel pulled away, bit his own tongue to draw back the anomaly. You groaned, shifting your hips up to gain his mouth back.

"Stay," he hissed.

We want to taste.

You purred, grinding your hips back to the mattress. "So bossy."

Miguel flashed a grin at you, bowing back to resume between your legs. "Not a chance. Live in my wake," he muttered against your lips, kissing them before parting you with his tongue.

He forced his crotch to the bed, trying to work out his own pleasure while focusing on yours.

You want her. We want her too. We can help.

"Get bent," Miguel slopped, suctioning his mouth over your clit.

You crooned, breath picking up with each soft lap to your bundle of nerves. "Miguel, please..."

She begs for us.

"Not for you," Miguel offered, popping your clit from his mouth with another heated glare at you.

He shifted, grinding his pelvis against your heat. Your face pinched, a breathy groan escaping your lips. Your hands went to Miguel's hair, combing it from his face to see the lust driven in his eyes.

Instead of crimson lashing through his irises, it was obsidian. The black that pooled his pupils flashed then receded and you swallowed.

Miguel met your lips, allowed you to taste yourself on his tongue. Venom's appendage reappeared, slipping against your thigh as Miguel shifted out of his sweats.

His mouth occupied his demand for Venom to take a backseat. While he didn't understand the anomaly's obsession with you, he knew the need.

Hissing away from your kiss, Miguel bowed his head again. "Stay out of her," he whispered to himself.

She wants you, let us help please her.

"Not a chance," Miguel whispered, angling his stiffened cock against your entrance.

He sank in an inch, allowing you to adjust to his size. You squirmed, your hips lifting to earn more of him. "Please, baby. More."

You rocked your hips in effort to gain his friction. Miguel's hands at your hips held you still, hissing at the heat in his body. Venom ran laps along Miguel's spine, snarling and biting inside for a chance.

Miguel grabbed at the stray appendage of Venom slithering towards your ass and tossed it aside. He sank another inch into, adjusting to your clenching walls.

The heat from within you and the rising temperature of Venom made Miguel sweat out of his pants.

"Miguel, you okay?" You asked, taking note of the rivulets of sweat that doused his face.

The obsidian flashed in his eyes again, making him shed his shirt before going for yours next.

"I need to feel all of you," Miguel grunted, suddenly a man possessed.

The film of sweat on him slicked over your body, his hands gripping tighter in your hips as he sank further until you tensed. It was too much too soon, his size always being something to ease into.

Miguel ducked his head to your shoulder and recanted his hips. "Forgive me, mi amor. I'm starved for you."

His voice was laced with filth, the tone of him so needy and rough. He felt his throat was dragged through desertion to end at the fountain of you.

Miguel's arms caged over you, centering you in the middle of the bed while his skin dripped over yours. So open and naked, his eyes primal while he gulped at the sight of you.

She's so ripe.

Your legs melted further apart at Miguel's hips, your knees easing up while your stomach curled at the carnal stare that bore into you. You shared a soft swallow, feeling Miguel's throbbing cock nestled in your beating walls.

Venom's appendage snaked up your inner thigh, making your walls clench tighter, until a warmth settled between your cheeks.

Your hand reached down to examine the feeling, only to be caught by Miguel's hand on your wrist. You quirked, glancing between your bodies to acknowledge the warmth as Miguel's other hand wedged under your body and traced down your back.

He rested his palm to the small of your back, angling your hips to allow him more. You panted before his lips, feeling Miguel's fingers part your cheeks with a timid grin.

"I want to make you..."

Ours.

"Mine all over," he finished, leaning into your lips to peck. "Is that okay?"

You released a shaky breath and arched into Miguel's body. "Make me yours."

She's filthy. We like her.

"Stop me if it's too much," Miguel offered, finally relenting to Venom's appendage to take lead at your tighter hole.

At the same time, Miguel began to thrust softly into you. He readily eased your mind while Venom lapped the flexible appendage against your hole, making a movement like licking.

"Miguel," you gasped as Venom pushed in softly, testing the pucker of your ass.

Miguel nodded along with you, thrusting with your breaths and intoxicating himself between the two of them. He could taste Venom's excursion on his tongue, feeling the tight muscle slowly give way to the tip and thrust in.

The three of you vibrated on a similar wavelength, Miguel snarling as he fucked into and tasted you all at once. You wiggled at the slow drag of Miguel's assumed dry fingers in your ass, the feeling giving way to your slick being used as lube.

Venom pushed in softer, wiggling in soft half-circles to caress every sensitive wall. You cried into Miguel's mouth when both his fingers and his cock collided within you and sent a shockwave of pleasure to your system.

Your knees shook at Miguel's sides; he stared down at you, drinking in your demeanor while he and Venom made work of you.

She's beautiful.

"You're so beautiful," Miguel stole his words back from the anomaly as they echoed.

You smiled, drunk from the pleasure that vibrated through you. Miguel huffed against you, kissed your lips again as he ground his pelvis against your clit.

You felt another shock to your system, your toes curling as his fingers curved up to meet the thrusts of his cock.

Give her something good.

Miguel cut his eyes behind his lids, finally ignoring the alien and picking up his thrusts to meet your level of high. He was going to take you both over, not the anomaly obsessed.

Your hands gripped at Miguel's shoulders, not able to help the desperate clawing to his massive back to gain your standing. It was a fruitless effort, finding your hips rocking as Miguel's fingers ruined your ass and his cock paved through you.

"C-cum in me," you choked out, resting your forehead to Miguel's.

Make it good. Breed her.

Miguel ignored Venom's disturbed wants, only listened to you. He ground into you again, this time earning your body trembling as an orgasm tore through you.

It made a mess of you, your stomach heaving while your knees knocked at Miguel's sides. Your palms flattened to the small of Miguel's back, forcing his hips further into you. You rocked your hips to ride out your ecstasy, attempting to drive Miguel over at the same instance.

She's a keeper, alright.

Miguel mirthlessly scoffed, following the rock of your hips until the sweat broke out in another wave. He pushed into you, to the hilt, touching the white hot soft ring inside your pussy and came.

He doused your cervix with his cum, kissing at the womb's entrance with the desire to drive deeper into you. Miguel's mind raced, thinking of spelunking further, making you a whole new his.

At the same time, Venom slinked back to its recesses. Reeling back into Miguel, sated and quiet.

Miguel caught his breath over you, losing the strength in his arms and resting his full body against you. You panted just the same, staring up at the dark ceiling while your fingers combed through the nape of his hair. Your other hand traced up and down his spine, inadvertently petting the anomaly housed inside him.

"I," you began, lining your dry throat with a new coat of saliva. "I take it research wasn't a bust."

Miguel kissed at your neck, nuzzling his face in the crevice of your shoulder. "No, it wasn't. You...you brought me a blessing."

We're a blessing?

You edged your chin in to glance down at Miguel. "Really?" You asked, incredulous.

Miguel shook his head. "No, it's an actual pain in the ass. But worth further study."

You laughed softly then, resting your head back to the mattress. "Yeah, speaking of ass..."

Miguel tensed against you, ready for you to catch onto his secret play underneath the skin.

"I liked that," you admitted, rolling your eyes at the raw feeling of your hole, your walls still throbbing around Miguel's still-hard cock.

Of course she did.

Miguel grimaced at the anomaly's cocky nature echoed through him. He pecked at your skin. "I'll never do it again unless you want."

You blushed, shutting your eyes. "As long as I'm yours."

[raayllum]

Been also thinking about the line between "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way but it's a solid reading / line of critique (with caveats)" (#1) versus "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way and doing so actively worsens the story they're trying to tell" (#2).

Going to do some TDP specific examples.

But basically: When your in-depth reading takes away from the Surface Level reading rather than providing contribution, that's usually a good sign you're going into a story with 1) an expectation or reading that was never promised or 2) are weakening the story through a typically unfounded analysis.

A TDP specific example is the relationship between Viren and Harrow. Canonically, textually, they had a brotherly relationship, both in the dialogue that Viren conveys ("I think of you as my brother" / "You're my brother") and in their persistent parallel framing with Callum and Ezran.

However, that doesn't stop many fans (myself included) from reading a romantic and sexual attraction between Viren and Harrow, especially in their youth. Not only do they just have the vibes, parallels to other couples, and subtext, Viren very much places Harrow's importance in his life in a way that's usually reserved for lovers. Viren having been in love (or ongoing) just makes sense. That doesn't mean any of us are expecting TDP to ever make it Canon — like I said, it's canonically very much Not that — but it does add a layer to Viren always wanting to 1) matter to Harrow as much as he does, and 2) his frustration and severance with Harrow because he wasn't getting the acceptance and affection that he wanted.

This is what I would consider #1 avenue: it doesn't take away from their dynamic, and to me adds a layer, but it allows the text to stand as is. Viren wants Harrow's love and attention in the gradual and then sharp deterioration of their dynamic. All I'm changing is a little bit of the why per my personal reading.

Meanwhile, if I went the route of "Yeah I know canon shows Harrow appreciating, taking Viren into account, and smiling at / loving him, but I don't think Harrow cared at all and he was just a bad friend to Viren for years" then... Yeah I could read it that way — it's not as though Harrow or Viren were hardly perfect friends to each other, and Harrow's discard of Viren is harsh (even if it was a long time coming in a lot of ways) — but what does that leave me with? Frustration, maybe; a poor view of Harrow; immense sympathy towards Viren? At best, I'd maybe resent how Viren learns the lessons Harrow was trying to teach him by paying for it with his life; at worst, I'd think the narrative was being fundamentally unfair to Viren without recognizing that his previous modes of self sacrifice were always couched in ego, shirking the immediate consequences of being saved, or that he was routinely willing to sacrifice everyone around him first, including his own children.

This is where we get into area #2, and I see it happen all the time with TDP, whether it's from the series not portraying monarchies as a bad thing or the ever persistent "issue" of dark magic. Quite frankly, it's silly to walk into TDP post-S1 expecting dark magic to be anything beyond — given all the current textual evidence — "morally complicated" magic at best. Yes it can be used for good things, but that doesn't automatically make it good, and while we could spin logistical wheels for ages, the Point the story is Making with dark magic is about power, desperation, love, self-destruction, violation, and agency, and how all those things can overlap or counteract each other. Toting out "well I think dark magic is blanket statement Okay and Good actually" misses all of that, and actively makes your reading and experience with TDP worse. The surface level reading is important to take into account when examining a piece of media, otherwise it can lead to a very warped view and effect your ability to be well founded in your reading of the text.

That doesn't mean you can't desire a more morally neutral form of dark magic — plenty of fantasy series and stories have it, and some I adore (like "the legend of Zelda" — but it does mean accepting the story is never going to broadly speaking do that, and it's Okay that it won't. I'd be silly if I walked into LOZ expecting them to get into the ethics of its form of (non) dark magic of using monsters for spell parts because it's 1) a game mechanic and 2) it's not interested in the ethics of it, and no amount of me saying "well it should be" will change that, nor is it a Story Flaw that it doesn't.

This is all to say that I think asking "Why would the writers do this?" is one of the most useful, if basic, questions to ask when it comes to analysis and when figuring out whether your viewpoint is falling into avenue #1 of being grounded, or avenue #2 of veering towards warped territory.

For example, if I take Rayla not being by Callum's side when he's struggling over the pearl reveal in 6x06 as an indicator she doesn't care about him, I'm doing a deep dive that ignores all the very Surface Level emphasized scenes of Rayla caring about and supporting Callum a whole lot. I could make the claim she doesn't care based on that scene, but it wouldn't be well founded because it's ignoring miles of other much more prevalent, consistent scenes of her being there for him; it's not a well founded claim.

For something less obvious, let's look at 5x08. While Callum could've given Finnegrin the wrong spell on purpose, as some fans have thoughtfully proposed, as a sneaky wink for die hard fans... why would the authors do that? What does the story gain from that reading or intention? Well, it makes it seem like Callum was less desperate in his dealings with Finnegrin, which makes him doing dark magic afterwards come off worse. It also lessens the battle Callum has throughout that episode for feeling in control and recognizing that he can't always be. It's a reading that, in my opinion, not only strays away from the surface level reading, but is one removes elements from the text that the text would otherwise be stronger for having. In comparison, after all, if Callum gave his version of the right spell without thinking it through, he did so entirely out of desperation, which better affirms just how desperate and worn down he had to be to do dark magic, and is another instance in the episode of him feeling very much out of control (especially since we don't see the 3rd with dark magic on screen, so otherwise, we'd only have him punching Finnegrin as an example and nothing else).

Same thing with the old (now debunked) theory of Callum's bio dad being elven in nature. It's an interesting idea, exploring the implications and backstory and how'd grapple with it, but it'd weaken what canon is actively striving for, which is that Callum's magic use is special precisely because he's an ordinary human who's gained primal magic, and having elven ancestry would counteract that. It doesn't mean that the idea isn't a Good one or that it's not fun to explore in fanon, but there's a lot of reasons the story isn't (or decided not to) have it be canon, because it was stronger for the story they Wanted to tell for it not to be.

Sometimes, as fans this means acknowledging that what we want or prefer in a story is just blatantly not what's being set up, because the story is going to do things regardless of what we want or personally like. That doesn't mean those decisions are bad, and it also doesn't mean those elements or decisions or constructions are beyond critique, but it does mean to ask yourself some key questions:

Is there anything my reading is missing? (ie. if TDP shouldn't have monarchs and that's the critical focus, we lose the messages about leadership, family, and legacy that are engaged with through the vessel of hereditary monarchy)

Why might the story or scene go in certain directions? Are there story constraints (time, tone, etc) they have to abide by?

Am I expecting the story to ascribe to my worldview or preference, and am I open to things that don't do that? If yes, why? If no, why not?

Is my in-depth takeaway aligned with a surface level reading? Are both readings working together, or are they opposed? What other surface level readings might be plausible here for a casual viewer?

Even if this is not personally compelling and/or believable to me, does my personal takeaway match up with the characters' responses to it? Why or why not? (Think every Disney movie where they fall in love in 3 days. Realistic? No. Does it matter within the context of the story? Also no)

Again, this is not to say that 1) what the casual takeaway Is is an objective singular monolith (it isn't) or 2) if the casual takeaway and your interpretation is at odds that you're wrong. But through context clues, we can usually narrow it down as to what the story intends, and that if our interpretations do veer heavily to examine why and to manage expectations accordingly.

Anyways hopefully this all made sense Viren x Harrow forever

[eponymous-rose]

I can't find it now, which probably means it was months and months ago, but someone sent me an ask about considering adopting a cat but, as a dog person, not knowing much about adoption (e.g., whether shelter cats are good for first-time owners) and the day-to-day responsibilities of cat ownership. I can answer for my own experience, although I'm sure I'll be forgetting some important aspects!

Shelter vs Purebred:

I have a little 5-year-old shelter cat, a female domestic shorthair with a tuxedo coat! That's a big difference between cats and dogs - the vast, vast, VAST majority of cats you'll ever encounter are simply categorized as domestic shorthair/medium hair/longhair, with purebred cats being rare enough that they generally are limited to breeders - when I was an adoption counselor at a shelter, I only saw a couple of potentially purebred cats some through, and both were likely mixes. A lot of the time, cats are identified by their coat colors instead (e.g., calico, tabby, orange, tuxedo, colorpoint, dilute, etc.) with much made of the personality traits associated with those coats even though there's tragically no real science to back that up. Some coat colors are much more common with particular sexes of cats - orange cats are about 80/20 male/female, while calicos are >98% female - and that may contribute to some of the kitty stereotypes (e.g., orange cats are typically male, and neutered male cats tend to be quite calm and chill).

I'd heartily recommend shelter cats to anyone, including first-time owners. A lot of purebred cats sadly come with medical conditions (e.g., scottish folds often have significant pain due to connective tissue disorders, manx cats are prone to arthritis and spinal problems, maine coons and sphynx cats have relatively high rates of congenital heart disease, persians are brachycephalic and have breathing issues) or extra-high maintenance care requirements (e.g., sphynx cats must be bathed regularly because the lack of hair means the oils on their skin stick to any and all dirt, maine coons and ragdolls and norwegian forest cats require significant daily grooming to keep their long double coats from matting, brachycephalic cats require extra baths and grooming since they're generally unable to keep their own coats as clean, and breeds like bengals are so immensely high-energy that it's nearly a full-time job keeping up with their needs for enrichment and constant activity).

Shelter cats are almost all domestic shorthair/medium hair/longhair breeds, and tend to have the longest life expectancy of all kitties - although there are no guarantees (I sadly lost a 9-month-old kitten to a congenitally damaged heart) the lifespan numbers quoted lately for indoor-only cats tend to be around 15-25 years. And, of course, most places are overrun with stray cats - adopting from a shelter often comes with a free spay/neuter and vaccines, along with the satisfaction of having rescued a little critter that had a rough start before finding a forever home. You can visit shelters and get to know the kitties there - keep in mind that most cats are dramatically more fearful and shy in cages, and that you can often ask volunteers to point you to their favorites, especially if you're looking for an extra-chill cat as a first-time owner.

Consider adopting an adult cat! Kittens are adorable, but their energy levels are absolutely through the roof... as well as their destructive potential. Picture tiny whirlwinds with knives on their feet, the ability to jump 4-5 feet from a dead stop, zero sense of self-preservation, and the ability to keep sprinting for hours at random times of day and night. If you do get a kitten, consider adopting two - they tend to be less work since they'll keep each other entertained. Adult cats, however, tend to have more chill personalities and are more likely to settle into a routine quickly. My Clara is still pretty high-energy, but at 5 years old she's happy to have a shorter session of zoomies and intense play if it means she can then just curl up on a lap or in the sun to snooze and purr. Senior kitties are also wonderful - often cats don't have a very visible decline and remain relatively high-energy and chipper until very late in life, so it's not unusual that a 13-year-old cat will still act like a kitten and have many good years ahead, just a bit more chill.

Keep in mind that a cat is a long-term commitment. I was 7 years old when my parents brought two kittens home from the shelter - they lived another 18 years, until I was well into grad school.

Common Health Problems:

Cats that were once strays are very prone to two common diseases: FIV and FeLV. FIV (feline immundeficiency virus) essentially is a disorder of the immune system: these cats may be more prone to getting ill and may get more significantly ill when they do get sick. Luckily, FIV is far from a death sentence! These cats can live a normal quantity and quality of life with proactive health monitoring and regular trips to the vet (we're talking every 6 months instead of every year). FIV is contagious to other cats, but generally is only spread via deep bite wounds, so mixing of FIV+ and FIV- cats is possible given that you know that the cats are unlikely to get into a major fracas. FeLV (feline leukemia virus), sadly, has a worse prognosis - there's a lot of variability, but generally the best-case scenario is only a handful of years before the viral load is too high to avoid dangerous symptoms.

Another kitty disease that is sadly common among younger cats in particular is FIP (feline infectious peritonitis), which is a complication from a common kitty coronavirus that can emerge at any time and often manifests in very vague symptoms and is difficult to pin down. Until very, very recently, FIP was essentially considered to be 100% fatal within a couple of months and the recommendation was euthanasia. Now there are medications that can bring that survival rate past 90% - they're in the process of going through FDA approval, although there are groups online dedicated to getting you those medications through less official channels as needed. If anyone's familiar with Drawfee, Jacob and Julia's cat Olive was diagnosed with FIP at around 1 year old and was considered to be terminal - and, thanks to one of those online groups getting them the medication, is currently a happy and healthy 6-year-old kitty.

Nearly all shelter cats I've encountered have some level of URI (upper respiratory infection) - be prepared for a little extra sneezing and potentially having to give eyedrops the first couple weeks after getting home. URIs are SO CONTAGIOUS that it's almost impossible to keep them from spreading in a shelter setting. Also common is ringworm, although most shelters will isolate any contagious kittens and keep the infection localized.

Please spay and neuter your cats! They can have kittens incredibly young and incredibly frequently - unspayed female cats are also prone to certain cancers and unneutered male cats are prone to spraying (urinating on walls and other surfaces). The surgery is incredibly routine for both males and females (Clara had complications, but that just meant she had a few extra days of confinement) and generally the hardest part is keeping them from going after their stitches. Most shelters will provide spay/neuter services for free or on the cheap. They recover quickly and completely.

Cats also do incredibly well in a lot of different situations - deaf or half-deaf cats are quite common (nearly all blue-eyed cats with white coats are deaf) and just need some extra care to ensure they feel safe; the same goes for blind or one-eyed kitties, who can still happily play and navigate a space once they're familiar with it. Routine is key! Three-legged cats do so well that the saying is that cats are all born with a spare leg they don't actually need. If this is a recent condition, or if there are big changes in the cat's life (such as moving to a new home), just make sure to give them some extra time, support, and patience while they adjust. Amputation in cats can be really rough in the first couple of weeks, but soon enough they'll be sprinting around and jumping up on improbably high shelves.

Male cats are more prone than female cats to urinary blockages, which is one reason why I think it's important to actively clean the litter box yourself rather than using a robot. Changes in urinary output/pain while urinating/urinating outside the box can give you hints about a urinary blockage (a medical emergency in cats) or longer-term issues such as kidney disease, which can be managed with medication for quite some time as long as you know they're happening.

Cats are really good at hiding pain/illness, so it's important to be aware of signs of discomfort (sitting hunched with the neck extended can indicate difficulty breathing, whiskers extended stiffly from the face can indicate a grimace of pain, disruptions to routine such as avoiding beloved people or favorite spots, eating/drinking/litter box irregularity) and to ensure that you bring them to the vet on a regular basis to catch the stuff that might not be causing symptoms yet. Clara has a benign heart murmur and a little stiffness in one ventricle that requires her to visit a vet specialist every year or two to get an echocardiogram to check for any progression into heart disease (one in seven cats wind up with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, which has a long median survival with presymptomatic treatment) - if those symptoms are ever present, we get her on medication early and it's unlikely to influence her lifespan for quite some time, whereas unmonitored and untreated, the first symptom would likely be sudden death. Knowing about this in advance also means that she has recommendations in her chart if she ever needs anesthesia for a different procedure. Having a regularly updated baseline at the vet means your cat is that much more likely to live a long, happy, healthy life.

The Day-to-Day:

Caring for cats is extremely fun, and the key is routine! Cats LOVE routine and will happily follow you around through your day-to-day. Clara is fed with an auto-feeder, which means she doesn't tend to pester me too much about food (and which means I can monitor how much she's eating and make adjustments as needed). She's prone to stress-induced stomach upset (aren't we all!) so she gets prescription food and some extra wet food with probiotics if I know something stressful is coming up soon. The auto-feeder dispenses food multiple times during the day, so she can't gorge herself and get sick.

For grooming, Clara does a pretty great job on her own, so I just have to brush her occasionally and every few weeks I will trim her claws. Do not declaw a cat! It's an amputation that is illegal in many states/countries and frequently results in chronic pain and behavioral problems such as an aversion to certain textures (a Major Problem if that texture includes litter...). If you can't trim a cat's claws on your own, try doing one or two at a time while they're sleeping - unlike with dogs, the quick is super visible on a cat's claws, so it's tough to mess up too badly. If all else fails, vets will trim claws for you, or can provide you with glue-on covers for the claws. I also brush Clara's teeth - you can get soft little toothbrushes and tasty-to-cats toothpaste, and even just them gnawing on the toothbrush can provide some benefit. Regular vet visits are also important to monitor any tooth decay that may occur. Cats can do well even with no teeth at all (the teeth are generally just for tearing pieces of prey, not chewing), but keeping those teeth healthy while they've got 'em is important, if only to avoid general anesthesia for a cleaning!

Most cats do very well without baths - so far, Clara has only needed a few little spot-cleans after minor accidents. Bathing is extremely stressful for most cats, so if necessary, I'd check out guides online to help reduce the stress levels. Many cats gradually lose the ability to keep themselves clean, so it's worth looking into, but don't expect to have to wash a cat as often as you would a dog by any means. (Unless you have a sphynx cat, of course...)

To help with scratching, provide scratchers for cats and keep them near the things you don't want the cat to scratch, as attractive alternatives (you can entice them with some catnip sprinkled on the scratchers!) - it's important to have both horizontal and vertical scratchers, since they exercise different muscles. Be aware, though, that bringing a cat into the home means that some of your furniture may be at risk. You can absolutely minimize the risk of damage, but I'd say you can almost never get rid of that risk completely.

Play is super important! I play with Clara throughout the day, but I also set aside some time every single evening to run around with her and really get her playing hard for a while (after which I clean her box, replace her water dishes, and go to bed - the importance of routine!). Cats aren't endurance hunters, but they require very little rest between bursts of energy, so hanging around for a bit with a toy even after you think they may be done is super valuable. Keep in mind that cats can get into life-threatening danger if they eat pieces of toys (strings, feathers, etc.) so it can be good to have some safe toys out all the time (e.g., foam balls) while the more dangerous ones (strings, feathers, etc.) are locked away when you're not actively playing.

Daily maintenance is pretty easy. I clean Clara's litter box at least once per day (which just involves scooping the contents into a bag that I then throw into the trash bin outside - less than 2 minutes/day) and do a deeper clean every week or two where I empty out all the litter and quickly scrub the box itself. Cats are lousy at remembering to drink, so I have three water bowls around the house - these get washed and replaced with fresh water every evening. Fountains are great for some cats (Clara had no interest) - some cats are obsessed with running water. Keeping water away from food can also help encourage cats to drink more. Apart from that, it's mostly just refilling the auto-feeder, attempting to tempt her with wet food (she's not a fan), and giving the occasional treat.

She also gets a monthly flea/tick preventative, which is just a couple drops of liquid that I apply at the base of her neck (usually while she's sleeping). She's an indoor-only cat, but bugs get inside and can transmit all sorts of bad stuff. Be warned that you should NEVER use a dog flea preventative on a cat - the dosage can be so high that it can cause a lot of harm. Make sure you have a correct dosage - ask your vet for more info.

And that's about it! In return for that minor maintenance, I get a silly little fluffy friend who follows me around and makes me laugh all day every day. She's gone from a really skittish little scaredy-cat to... well, still a skittish little scaredy-cat around most people, but around me she's affectionate and constantly looking for cuddles.

I hope this is in some way useful! I think a lot of people who don't consider themselves cat people would really enjoy having a cat - and even if you decide it's not for you, I hope you can appreciate and enjoy the other cats in your life!

[ao3cassandraic]

As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.

[deceptive-daydreams]

TW: mentions of bad mental health

im imagining eddie being absolutley taken back when he finds out how people have previously treated you resulting in hesitation when being vulnerable with him.

and he's been through some shit, he's not exactly one to be voluntarily vulnerable either but with the tables turned it's like a moment of oh. like you're hiding from him, muddling your own emotions as a means to keep the peace.

he realizes that coming in strong, asking "what's wrong?" almost too oboxiously like he's previously done, only chases you further into your mind, it only insinuates that there are consquences if you were to answer so rather than being met with honesty, it's always "nothing" followed by forced smiles and sucked back tears that he's regrettably brushed off in those moments, trying to keep you comfortable. but while his intention to ease your chaotic mind by simply moving on had no ill intent, he soon recognizes the harm its caused and the pattern he's assisted in creating.

realizes he takes it far too personal when you shut down on those particularily bad days, thinks it's cause of him, only to contribute to the self destruction taking place in your mind when he continuously begs the questions "what's wrong?" "what do you want me to do?" "what can I do?" "come on, tell me what's wrong". he never understood that he was never the issue but he quickly made himself into one by nearly berating and prodding you with his questions. and then one day he sees it. sees the way your eyes go dull when he asks.

sees the front you put on, "everything's okay" while your lip wobbles. he doesn't take it personal this time, there's nothing distracting him from the obvious signs, the symptoms of broken hearted individual struggling to keep up despite the aches and pains that linger within. its a heartbreak he's so familiar with yet seems to be so blind to in others, thinking he's the only one to experience it, not selfishly but hopefully. so he straightens up and silently tells himself to quit all of his bitching because this is bigger than him, it's not because of him. you need him and he's been too insecure to think that maybe words aren't required, not by you anyway. there is no quick fix, no remedy to just stop the pain like popping an ibprofen or slapping on a bandaid, it just is. raw pain and vulnerability that should be allowed to be felt, not cured.

so this time, he recognizes the wall you put up, just like every other time though it was previously ignored. before he can even say anything, he knows you're anticipating his bombarding questions that have no answer. sees the way you tense up, the slight panic in the way your fingers tremble at the prospect of being figured out. except this time he speaks softly, a shake in his voice because he's terrifed to scare you off once again. says "i love you" then gently wraps you up in his arms, provides a barrier between you and the world you're at war with.

holds you on the kitchen floor, face pressed to his chest with a mixture of tears and snot.

runs his fingers down your spine delicately.

whispers "it's okay" when he knows it is in fact not, only hoping you're able to decipher that he means it's okay that you're not okay, it's okay that it's 1AM and while the world is asleep you're both tangled up on top of crumbs and possible neglected coffee stains

apologizes.

because for all those times you've coaxed him through an unwarranted episode, he's been neglecting you at your worst. not on purpose but it's neglect nontheless. and he knows all about it.

sings under his breath when the sobs have stopped wreaking havoc on your body. quiet hums of a familiar song, you are my sunshine.

tucks you into bed, makes you a late night snack cause he knows your appetite fails you in times like these, kisses your forehead and threads his fingers through your hair.

he's not perfect nor has he ever desired being held to such a high standard. but for you he wants to try.

[werewolfsmile]

re: "All I’m saying is the fact that someone isn’t talking to me about Eliot Spencer every second of every day is very unfair and borderline illegal." & tags - if you want to, can you elaborate on your werewolf!eliot ideas?? i’d like to hear about it!! if not all good tho :)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Yes I would love to elaborate! (buckle up because i have Thoughts)

(wow this really got away from me so uhhh .... warning for 2k of ranting about Eliot as a werewolf?? list of headcanons under the cut)

From the moment I first met Eliot Spencer, I knew he was werewolf-coded. Aside from his insanely fantastic fighting abilities and the absurd amount of punishment he can take, there are many other factors that contribute to his werewolf status.

Eliot needs a pack Our boy is out here working on his own for years and look at all the good it did him! None! He carries severe trauma from his family life because he blames himself for how it all went down and doesn't think he'll be welcomed back. Plus something probably happened during his military days or early PMC days to put him off working with others. Could have been the pain of losing people all the time, could have been something more. Either way, Eliot working on his own is a defence mechanism - but a self-destructive one.

Wolves thrive in packs - like duh, they're pack animals. As my username suggests, I'm into werewolves and, by extension, wolves. I've done research for my own werewolf novels in the past, so I know that in an average wolf pack, each pack member will have physical contact with the other pack members on the regular. Like, several times an hour! (gosh if I can find the research paper this info came from I'll link it but honestly it's been years) That's a serious level of physical contact required to keep the emotional bonds of the pack healthy!

Flick back to Eliot. He loves to fight, he loves the violence and the pain, yes. He hates the killing and the blood on his hands. He actually tries to leave the assassin world behind after he meets Toby (which is before he meets Moreau, as per early dialogue in The French Connection Job). He bonds quickly with Toby. Show Eliot a little love and care and he's yours for life! He moves onto retrieval work, then somehow ends up working for Moreau.

Now, when we see Eliot and Moreau in The Big Bang Job, Moreau says, "You work alone." Which means that Eliot had that reputation when he came to Moreau. He probably only took contracts to start off with. But he accepted job after job from Moreau and was so good that he was highly respect and it's inferred he ended up as Moreau's top bodyguard/assassin. Why the hell would Eliot end up that close to a man who brings out all the worst in him? Because Eliot's a werewolf and no matter how toxic, Moreau fulfills the need for a pack bond that he's been missing all this time.

Fast forward to Eliot meeting the rest of the Leverage team. One job only - my ass. He saves Hardison's life after Hardison brought a gun to their little meeting - and we all know how Eliot feels about guns.

Wolves are designed to live and operate in packs. Eliot says it's one job only but is bonding with them all from the get-go. Werewolf trait confirmed.

Eliot needs physical touch Now, I know what you're thinking. Eliot canonically avoids physical contact with the team. He refuses hugs, especially from Hardison, growls at Parker poking his bruises (don't get me started on the growls), and shoves people (ahem Parker) out of his personal space. So why would he do all this if he needs physical touch??

Because he's one gigantic ball of angst and self-loathing and guilt.

Eliot doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love or family, etc. That is a whole other rant, but he denies himself the physical contact he needs with others as a way of punishing himself.

However, as the series progresses, we see him become more comfortable with physical contact! He hugs Hardison several times, he doesn't move away from Parker, etc. Why? Because he's bonded with this team (ahem pack) and there's only so much he can suppress his instincts. The more time he spends with them, the more naturally the contact flows.

Eliot needs to protect others Whenever we get a scene of the team walking as a group, where is Eliot positioned 90% of the time?? That's right, at the back of the group. He lets the others walk in pairs and falls back to bring up the rear. He's keeping them all in his line of sight and constantly scanning for threats ahead, along with protecting the team from any rear attacks. It makes sense for him to do this given his military background, but it also makes sense for a werewolf to do this.

He's the only werewolf in the team. His instincts revolve around keeping the pack safe and protected, so he does that in the best way he knows how.

Not to mention how feral gets over kids!!

Wolf life is all about the pack and the family structure. Pups are integral to the pack's survival and future. Eliot doesn't have kids of his own. But that doesn't stop his instincts from blaring every time he interacts with a kid, be it on the con or off. He takes time out every time to help that kid in an attempt to calm the raging storm of instincts inside his body.

Eliot needs to feed others It's another werewolf instinct that rears its head when they're in the safety of their headquarters (ahem den). Protecting the team/pack from physical threats is just one aspect of taking care of them. Feeding them is the other major one.

None of these idiots can cook to save their lives - except Nate, but he's also drowning his liver 90% of the time, so Eliot has to compensate for that, too. The team can't operate at full capacity if they're not consuming good nutrition. So Eliot makes sure to feed them.

His humanity recognises that these are independent people - coworkers - and he can't control every meal of every day. But he can cook for them, once a week or once a job, which is just enough to satisfy his instincts that he's doing his part to care for them. Plus they love his cooking, and the praise he gets from it is an unexpected but pleasant bonus.

Eliot and team sports/kitchens This ties in with my first point about Eliot needing a pack, but all the times we see Eliot go super hard and get absorbed in the role he's playing are when he's on a team sport or he's in the kitchen. Both of these fulfill super important instincts for him - being in a team/pack and providing food for others.

Think about The Tap-Out Job. Eliot's playing a fighter but he's not pretending to be on a team. He doesn't get over-invested in the role. But what about when he's a baseball player? A hockey player? He falls into those roles hard because he's working with another team again, and this little werewolf is built for that environment. Same in The French Connection: the kitchen becomes his den, the students are his pack mates, and he goes hard at investing in them and protecting them. Never mind the personal aspect of Toby.

Same for episodes like The Fairy Godparents Job when we get a scene of Eliot teaching a bunch of girls self-defence. Team setting + protecting kids = happy werewolf instincts.

So, werewolf headcanons? I have a lot of different origin theories but the main one I like for Eliot is:

he became a werewolf either for a covert military op, or was bitten by Moreau (choose your own angst flavour)

if it was for the military, they were trying to engineer supersoldiers and he was deemed a failure; he has werewolf instincts all the time but only has enhanced strength, healing, etc on full moons

if it was bitten by Moreau, there's a psychic-style bond linking them, which is why he was so loyal to Moreau for so long, and also why he is so reluctant to go after Moreau

(wow this is too different theories already and i said this was my 'main one' whoops)

Eliot can only shift easily on the full moon; shifting outside of a full moon can only be caused by extreme stress and is ridiculously painful

he suffers an insanely high prey drive all the time and is so strict about his control because he doesn't actually wanna rip out the throat of Random Guard #3

he used to chain himself up for full moons so he didn't hurt anyone, but since the team found out about him, Hardison and Parker have taken it upon themselves to 'puppy-sit' him every full moon

this involves no chains but an obscene amount of dog chew toys. Eliot is never impressed. He also never chases or chews the toys. The video evidence Hardison has was obviously doctored.

Hardison and Parker found out the truth when a con went sideways and Eliot was trapped in a room with them during the full moon

he was terrified he was going to kill them - or worse, bite them - but his instincts recognised them as pack so instead he just tried to wrestle with them all night

Hardison had a major freak out when he discovered Eliot was a werewolf - it's one thing to be obsessed with sci-fi/fantasy, it's another thing entirely to see your best friend transform before your eyes

Parker was not even remotely phased, being all like, "pfft of course werewolves are real, I thought you knew that Hardison, you talk about your elves and orcs all the time!"

"Woman that is completely different and you know it!"

"What else do you think is fake? The tooth fairy?? Ha!"

Eliot is Done With Their Shenanigans

Parker only ever refers to Eliot as Sparky when he's in his wolf form

Sophie didn't actually know about werewolves before the reveal but she pretends that she did

Nate knew about werewolves before Eliot, he just chooses to pretend that they're Not A Thing

werewolves generally don't make good hitters, because the constant exposure to violence ramps up their hunting instincts aka they find it hard not to kill

of course, this doesn't matter if you're someone like Moreau who specifically wants killing machines and thus turns his top hitters into werewolves, to ensure loyalty and enhance his strength

the only other werewolf hitter not under Moreau's control that Eliot knows is Quinn, who most certainly did not pull his werewolf strength punches when they tousled in The First David Job

Quinn doesn't have a pack (werewolf or otherwise) and genuinely doesn't seem phased by this, which pisses off Eliot to no end

however, after they work together in The Last Dam Job, Quinn deems himself Eliot's Best Werewolf Bud and keeps popping up randomly to hang out on full moons, etc

Parker and Hardison are a bit weirded out (and a little jealous) of Quinn's attention initially, but soon get over that when they discover that two werewolves on a full moon absolutely play for hours like 6 month old puppies - especially with the tug rope

Eliot is Extremely Susceptible to belly rubs even in his human form, which is half the reason he pushes people out of his personal space a lot - his reputation would never survive anyone finding out

of course the entire team figures it out and take to ambushing him with belly rubs whenever he's being stubborn or annoying

belly rubs are also the only way he will relax enough when he's injured so they can treat his wounds

despite the incessant dog jokes, the ever-growing pile of dog toys, and the bowls labelled with "Sparky" and cartoon bone symbols ... Eliot absolutely adores the pack he's found himself in and wouldn't change them for the world

One of these days I will sit down and write a thousand fics for werewolf!Eliot! Till then, I'll just keep churning out the headcanons ;)

[majikkulu]

━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

𓂃⋆.˚

i don’t usually do death readings, but this one feels special because one direction has always held a significant place in my heart. i’ve also been interested in conspiracy readings, so i thought i’d give it a try and see what comes thru. check out my liam's astro chart and his death analysis!

i truly hope this reading brings closure to those who need it. if you enjoyed it or have any questions, please feel free to let me know in the ask box!

it seems that liam payne was alone when this happened. he may have been isolated, keeping to himself while enjoying his success. he might have felt comfortable but still distanced from others. i get really detached energy from him. i’m unsure whether his girlfriend was with him the whole time, but i believe he was reflecting on his career and how far he’d come before his passing. despite his success, i feel he was lonely, unable to rely on others, which caused him to build walls around himself. liam likely struggled with asking for help when it was truly needed, and he may have neglected certain aspects of his life as a result. it seems that what happened was impulsive, a mistake that he didn’t fully understand the consequences of. it appears to have been a rash decision, not premeditated. i don’t think liam intended for it to end like this; rather, he may not have realized the dangers around him, leading to this tragic event. he was likely battling internal and external conflicts—possibly even arguing with someone before it happened. there was tension and conflict, both within himself and with others, which escalated leading to his final decision. it all unfolded so quickly that there was no time for him to react. i wonder if liam received some kind of message that triggered this event. something shifted suddenly, and it was out of his control. 

liam craved recognition and validation, but i feel he didn’t get the approval he desired. despite his efforts to maintain a successful and positive image, the pressure was overwhelming. this need for external validation might have contributed to his struggles. i believe liam may have been under the influence of substances at the time. while i’m not sure if he had addictions, he was likely struggling with unhealthy habits or toxic relationships. he may have been self-sabotaging and caught in a destructive mindset, feeling trapped in a cycle of poor choices and unhealthy relationships. there’s a sense of control—either from others or from his own demons—that made him feel suffocated. liam was frustrated, assessing his life and feeling dissatisfied with how slow things were progressing. he wondered if all his hard work was worth it, feeling unrewarded and underappreciated. he pushed himself too hard but gave up too soon when things didn’t pay off. it seems he received some information that shifted everything for him, playing a role in what happened. he may have learned something life-altering that caused his decision. he was obsessed with perfecting his craft and overworked himself, neglecting other parts of his life to the point of being consumed by it. he took on too much, refusing to slow down or ask for help. liam hoped for peace and healing, perhaps even looking for a way out. at some point, he became emotionally vulnerable, hoping things would change. but despite his faith, it wasn’t enough to protect him. ultimately, liam was carrying far too many burdens. he felt weighed down by responsibilities, exhausted emotionally, physically, and mentally. he was struggling to manage it all on his own, and it became too much. he felt he had no one to turn to, burdened by others’ expectations and trying to live up to an image that wasn’t truly him. ultimately, it seems he was just too mentally drained, and this was the only way out he saw.