#i have nothing respectful to say about this man and the way he and his songs make me feel

[kettlesoda]

Hades felt an electricity buzzing through his veins as the boat neared the shore. It had been centuries since he'd last anticipated an arrival this much. It had startled him the first time, when a crust off of a sandwich appeared before him, with a distant giggle of "I dedicate this to Hades." He'd received offerings from mortals before, but more often than not, they were gruesome and grotesque, as if the only thing they associated him with was death and wickedness. Or they were pomegranates, he was getting real fucking sick of pomegranates. He never bothered to greet those worshippers, they always arrived with their heavy makeup and dark clothes after "tragically" sacrificing themselves in his name. It often left Hades yearning for the early years when mortals respected him and his trade, partially of fear, but mostly because they understood the nature of their mortality, and knew that he was simply there to oversee the end of it.

But this mortal felt different in their offerings. It started off with scraps of food and the same giggled phrase as the first time. Soon it morphed into random broken items followed by a sigh and a shortened, "For Hades." He'd received glassware and cosmetics and wilted flowers; it had become the highlight of his days to discover what odd offering he would receive. His favorite offerings had ben the 10 year stretch where the majority had been various liquors followed by a cheer of "Pour one out for Hades!"

Now 70 years later he was about to meet this remarkable patron of his. He would miss the odd offerings but he looked forward to the eternity he would get to enjoy their company.

The boat came to stop at the edge of the river bank. Claire nervously wrong her hands as the cloaked giant before her slowly turned. Behind him stood a tall lean figure, with salt and pepper hair and an impeccably cut suit. Her breath hitched as she quickly smoothed her hands over skirt. She had already panicked a little over the lack of wrinkles on her hands and had spent far too long assessing her youthful reflection in the water. A passing soul had told her she appeared at the age of her soul. Apparently her soul was permanently 32.

The man in the suit stepped forward to the front of the boat and extended a hand. Claire took a defensive step back and she could have sworn his soulless eyes smiled at her.

"Hello, I am Hades." She could feel his voice on her skin as it filled the space around her. If she hadn't watched his lips move she would have thought it was in her head.

"Wait, what the fuck you're real?" she gasped.

He frowned, any joy in his eyes eradicated. "Yes? I am real? Have you not been worshipping me and leaving me offerings?"

“Oh shit that was real?”

His confusion doubled. "You do not worship me?"

“No! What the hell? Wait can I say that? Sorry, I hope I didn’t like offend you but no I don't worship you that's actually insane." Claire couldn't believe this.

"So you didn't offer scraps, or broken things, or anything like that?"

"No I did but I wasn't serious about it. I lost a bet when I was 9 and for a whole month i had to "sacrifice" my leftovers to you. It just kind of became a joke after that I didn't know it actually did something."

Hades looked deflated and guilt ran through Claire.

"But it is super cool that it did, i feel way better knowing that like i wasn't being wasteful y'know? I'm Claire." She rushed forward with out stretched hand. "But you probably know that, you probably know everything, oh shit are you here to punish me for my sins." Horror replaced her guilt. "Do you know my sins?!"

Hades lowered his head to hide his chuckle and took her hand. "No Claire, I know nothing about you other than the things you offered. And I'm not here to punish you, merely to welcome you to eternity."

"Oh, okay cool. Do I have to get on the boat? I get a little sea sick. Well I guess I used to, that probably isn't a thing anymore."

Hades shook his head trying to keep his composure. This woman was going to bring a lot of... spirit, to his domain. Persephone was sure to love her.

"Yes Claire, get on the boat. We have a lot to discuss."

As a joke you had always said "I dedicate this to Hades" as you threw away food scraps from your cooking and cleaning your plates. When you die you find yourself in front of Charon's boat with Hades sitting in it, seemingly very excited to see his most devoted follower in recent times.

[harmonysanreads]

Phainon and the artist who refuses to accept him as their muse.

You can paint the deeds of the Goldweaver on fine pottery, dress desserts in respect to the Undying Prince, weave tunes to unravel the Fool from his ineffable shell, dedicate verses to the untouchable Maiden — but you remain ever uninterested to grant the Deliverer the honor of being the reason your mind paces restless. The hero's soft spot for art, regardless of how niche, is common knowledge to any Chrysos Heir enthusiast. He just has mysterious ways of finding talent and celebrating it with his heart.

In the beginning, it was a wish he kept hidden beneath heartfelt praises and admiration. Your gaze charmed the man ; when you study any subject that you deem fit to feature in your art, you scrutinize, pick apart and reconstruct it from within before giving it new meaning. The prospect of having that gaze fixed on him alone for even a minute, studying him, had caused ripples in his daydreams. He so yearned for you to understand him, he believed you would be able to prove that he's not the titular blank canvas everyone says he is.

When his hints and nudges failed to inspire you, he opted for a formal approach. But you met him with a resolute rejection, unwilling to taint your ideals in exchange of fickle currency. That fearless response, the defiance you held so close to yourself made his heart ache. A hero's pride should've prompted him to abandon this chase for good, but he couldn't find it in himself to look away. He found himself pining for another glimpse of that light, the kernel of your soul.

“Go home, Deliverer. I've told you too many times by now, I won't accept you as my muse.”

There is that averted stare again, something in him stirs, whispering bitter revelations of how your eyes will deny him even if he cut himself to pieces and forfeited them to your feet.

He feels his fingers curl around themselves. Forcing a laugh, “And I have asked you too many times why. Even hatred can inspire people, but you... you're so utterly indifferent to me. You wound my heart. I wonder just what is my problem? Is there nothing special about me?”

You glance over your shoulder, your sudden bewilderment confuses him for a millisecond, “I don't know? Do you perhaps think there is nothing special about you?”

That stuns Phainon long enough for you to slip away.

And the question haunts him, chases him everywhere. The prophecy deems him as the perfect vessel that will save Amphoreus, but is he? Is the prophecy even true, just as how Anaxagoras has been saying? If there is indeed nothing within him worth earning him your recognition, then he should change — how will he change? What kind of person do you like? Is it the way he talks? Does he need to behave more refined? Or does he need to be cursed like Mydei and Castorice?

As he ponders about the possibilities and the ramifications of molding himself to your tastes, envy leers over him, replacing once tender affection with loathing for anything that monopolizes your interest from finding refuge in him. It wouldn't be too difficult to take upon a new identity, but what about the distractions that caused this situation to escalate in the first place? Wouldn't it be so much easier for you to... look at him, if he just makes it so that there will exist nothing else that will be capable of competing with him for your attention?

[dreadpiratesilas]

Just some observations of Gladius as characters and what I think it says about them.

When we first join the Brotherhood, we see that Rhys and Haylen have completely opposite personalities. Haylen is very kind and personable. Rhys is kind of a dick, though to be fair it was him protecting his squad. Everything he does is for the good of the Brotherhood.

As Danse's proteges, it's only natural that some of his traits would rub off on them and I think it's really telling about Danse as a person. Haylen represents some of Danse's best qualities. She's empathetic and caring, she also struggles with self doubt. Rhys seemed to take all of the wrong lessons from Danse: he's bound to his duty at the expense of everything else. In a lot of ways I'd even say Rhys and Danse share the same brand of toxic masculinity.

Both of them care deeply about their team. Rhys does it by resorting to threats to protect his team. He's rigid and reckless with his own wellbeing. There's actually a terminal entry in the jail that mentions Rhys being incarcerated for insubordination but being released for his valor. We don't get the full story behind that, but it made me think about something Haylen said about Danse during Blind Betrayal: “Danse is the most selfless person I've ever met. I've watched him risk his own life based on nothing more than principle alone.”

Once again we don't get a specific example of what this was, but leader set examples. If I were to guess what Knight Rhys did to get incarcerated, he probably disobeyed an order during a fight to put himself in danger for what he thought would best protect his people just like he'd probably seen Danse do hundreds of times.

Rhys's stance on outsiders definitely aligned with the Brotherhood's. He didn't want you there. He tolerated it because he respected Danse. Bro was also hella jelly when you got to travel around with his hero while he was stuck at the police station. I think Rhys very much looks up to Danse and wants to be like him. He just took all of the wrong lessons and missed the point of who Danse really is as a person.

Haylen was an outside recruit, same as Danse, and sees no problem with their background so long as they're a good soldier. (I get the feeling Rhys grew up in the Brotherhood) Haylen cares about people more than protocol. She's never been insubordinate, but if the rules of the Brotherhood get in the way of doing right by people she's willing to offer an alternate interpretation (including malicious compliance) to use Brotherhood resources to help someone. This would be something she'd seen Danse do when he ordered her to euthanize Knight Worwick.

He recognized what her training taught her and that it would be cruel to keep Worwick alive any longer. He also knew that as her commanding officer, his orders superseded her training and stepped in to do the right thing. He didn't break the rules in this instance, but still used his position to get around standard protocol to do the right thing. Furthermore, he claimed it in his entries I'm guessing to bear the brunt of any consequences so Haylen doesn't get punished.

I think it's a good reminder that no person is one thing to everyone. You can be something different to everyone. Danse was a well respected paladin in the Brotherhood. It seems like a lot of people look up to him. He's also just a man meaning he has flaws. Rhys and Haylen, having two different backgrounds and two different personalities, latched onto two different aspects of the same person and took two completely different lessons from him on how to be soldiers.

[thewistlingbadger]

Sevika is treated as a side/minor character throughout the entirety of arcane. She is very intriguing given her pasts with both Vander and Silco, plus her dedication to the cause. Unfortunately, she is never really explored in the canon. This is truly such a missed opportunity, especially given the set up season two was given. Season 2 was truly her opportunity to shine and instead she got stuck in the role of babysitter for two and then somehow she was crowned a councilor.

The sad part is that given season one, it actually does make sense that Sevika would have so much influence and power in zaun. In season one, it was established that sevika did most of Silco's bidding and most people were following Sevika.

"'Sevika's out on the harbor, Sevika paid the knuckle heads a visit-' you're one scary lady. People notice where you go. You run a tight ship, but it's not your ship. It's his. And Jinx's."

This quote from Finn establishes that Sevika is well respected in Zaun, despite the fact that she's a known defector. It's quite sad that season two squandered her potential by ignoring everything that's set up in s1. In s2, the moment Silco dies, everything that Sevika worked for in the past several years no longer matters. Silco's empire falls within hours of his death, despite the fact that it was well cultivated and maintained. For some reason the second he died, people who supported him for years or at the very least were loyal employees to him just dipped, leaving Sevika with no community and no social standing.

"You don't do much of anything nowadays do you magpie? A bird without wings is just a funny looking rat."

Despite the fact that her influence is established in s1, it feels super weird to see it in action in season two. It feels unrealistic that suddenly Sevika is the one that's successfully rallying Zaunites against piltover, that she somehow managed to snag the only Zaunite seat on the council. This is because there's a huge disconnect between what we were told about sevika and what we were shown. We were directly told people follow sevika, but we don't actually see anyone directly following her past act 1 s1. Sevika is a key player in Silco's empire, but she works in the background which makes her contributions and importance hard to spot.

Sevika isn't on the same narrative playing field as Jinx, Vi, Jayce, Viktor, etc because she's a side character. She's more akin to Marcus, Ekko, Cassandra Kiramman, Heimerdinger, etc. There's nothing wrong with having a side character be just a side character. Not all side characters require tons of depth. HOWEVER. It was hinted in the s1 finale that Sevika would be given a bigger role in S2. It was explicit in some of the marketing for season two that Sevika was going to be more involved this season. And those are two things that never actually happened. This is incredibly disappointing because of the implications Sevika has on the story. We may not get to see her truly shine and be given her own moment (because all of Sevika's moments are truly about other characters. Her and Finn are truly about Silco losing his power. Her fights with Vi are truly about Vi and Vander and the theme of loyalty. Even Her and Jinx tie back into Silco), but the groundwork was there. They established that Sevika had an important role in the world around her AND they established that sevika had a personal life that was worth being curious about.

"Let's just say I didn't always see eye to eye with my old man."

"And?"

"She'll come to you when she's ready."

But ultimately Season two doesn't care about Sevika. Not in a personal way, because her relationship with Jinx and Isha is never given any depth, and not in larger scope either, because the show doesn't care enough to show us Sevika's perspective and she managed to go from "funny looking rat" to a fucking councilor. And it's not that they didn't care because she was a side character and just wasn't worth the depth and extra time. They didn't care because season two doesn't care about anything season one established.

TDLR: Sevika is a very intriguing character in several ways but unfortunately the show didn't really give us enough material to actually explore her character. We want to be able to walk through the meadows like old scholars, discussing the depth of her story but there isn't enough substance there to do such. This is upsetting because Sevika has the potential to be a great character already written to her AND by killing off silco they made the space to tell her story. But ultimately her story wasn't told in exchange for all the other useless nonsense in S2. I don't blame the fandom or the fans for the lack of Sevika content and meaningful discussions of her character. I blame the show for not providing us the content to be able to talk about her at length. I blame the weak writing choices of season two for taking away from certain aspects of Arcane's story that are really cool (because sevika was not the only character or concept that got subbed in S2) just to replace them with ideas that were less impactful.

Sevika deserves better...

What saddens me about the compete lack of Sevika respect in fandom is that if Sevika were a dude, the tag would be overflowing with meta and analysis on loyalty and power dynamics and staying true to a cause.

Instead we get Silco receiving the lion's share of mature in-depth meta (this man is truly privileged to have some of the most nuanced takes in fandom, and it's a delight to witness). Meanwhile the Sevika tag is just full of raging, over-eroticized, barely checked levels of fetishization, and it feels like such a disservice given how fascinating this lady's journey throughout the series is - and how many facets of her character remain unexplored...

:(

[forsaken-headcanons]

Hi more old man yaoi (007n7/mafioso)

- in a more domestic, not forsaksn au i have, mafioso is intrigued by 007n7's ability to stay out of trouble. the way that they met was that the mafioso had to shake down someone in broad daylight and went as a mugger. 007n7 was a witness. when he blinked, 007n7 was gone, leaving only specks behind and a single sesame seed. safe to say it was love at first sight.

- the mafioso later approached him outside of his disguise, but 007n7 didn't associate the beatdown he'd witnessed with the mafioso. he also ignoring that he was part of the mafia, even though he could check what entity type he was, just because 7 wanted to 'respect his privacy.' it ends up being fine but 007n7 has had to witness so much... strangeness that he's just kind of like Yeah sure whatever .... Maybe that's just your vibe.... Avatars are getting more elaborate nowadays. ...

- they are fond of standing at the opposite sides of rooms from each other (both, i've decided, have habits of hanging around towards the edges) and giving each other looks when things happen. the debrief in the car is so long but they pretty much engage in conversation with their eyes

- ever since playing dream game im a little convinced the mafia is one massive organism that splits off parts of itself to make different little units. the mafioso occasionally refers to itself using 'we' and 007n7 will not say a damned thing about it.

- they kind of make each other better. 007n7 can teach mafioso theres a life outside of work and safety to be found somewhere, and the mafioso can help 007n7 come to terms with his crimes i think. also smooch smooch heehee smooch

- the funny part is is that the mafioso could i think bag some real baddies but he was immediately charmed by this middle aged man with the biggest most mentally exhausted bags under his eyes ever who wanted Nothing to do with him. and 007n7 at that point had just pretty much accepted his notoriety was over and he was gonna live a quiet, lonely life now

Waiter, waiter! More middle aged men yaoi please!

[negrowhat]

Nope I'm back. Because when Boss isn't kissing, licking or sucking on that man's neck, he's softly choking him. So now I'm flashing back on all those times we saw Noeul just automatically bear his neck in these love scenes. This goes back to LITA. He stays having that throat exposed.

To be clear, I'm not in the shipping business because it's categorically not my business. I'm just saying -- these kings on authentic intimacy are most def having conversations about what they like and it shows in how naturally and automatically they move with each other.

Welcome back BossNoeul Anon! Lmao! I think Noeul's neck is a hot spot and also it's one of those common areas actors like to hit in love scenes. It's an intimate place on the body that also allows an actor to hide if they're feeling a bit shy.

But also let's be real, if Noeul didn't submit then Boss would be positioning him the way he wanted. He already does that. It's not like it's difficult for Boss to push or pull Noeul into the right angle or position. You see the way Boss sorta just shoves Noeul down when he wants him to lay flat. It's def easier on the body to submit. In your last ask you said Noeul just melts into Boss's dominance and I agree.

There's no way they're not communicating on what they do during their intimate scenes. MAME always mentions that her she and her crew give minimal direction and otherwise let BossNoeul have freedom to do whatever. That's because they know what they're doing. They're comfortable with each other. And they know each other's bodies. And they respect each other.

It's not just their love scenes though, the casual intimacy between BossNoeul is very fluid and natural and you can FEEL that real life connection they have come across well on screen. Nothing is stiff or awkward between them and that's what makes us go insane. BossNoeul feel very natural and real together on screen.

[slaymitchabernathy]

First Date

| after getting a request for this, i just knew this had to get done!!! |

To walk through the front gates of the President's Mansion takes a lot of guts, which is why Ceraphina's admiration for her future boyfriend grows stronger and stronger as he climbs the steps to the front door.

Plutarch Heavensbee might just be the love of her life. He just doesn't know it yet.

But to find out, to know if he's the one, she agreed to a small date, nothing too big, too fancy. He asked her about it last week when he was walking her to class, their shoulders brushing as she brushed her hair behind her ear, nervous but excited. She's grown up with Plutarch, basically known him her whole life.

Their fathers are good friends, Quintus Heavensbee has been one of her father's most trusted advisors for decades now, the one he goes to for everything that has to do with running this country.

For everything else, he goes to mother.

But it's not mother she's worried about. No, mother is kind to everyone. Father, on the other hand, could care less who Plutarch's father is, for all he cares, he could be a District boy.

No one is ever good enough for the Snows in his eyes.

Snow lands on top after all.

Now she's hoping Heavensbee might land on top, at least land on top of the scoreboard when it comes to her father's favorite people. He doesn't like a lot of people, sometimes it feels like he barely likes her and she's his daughter. He loves mother though, she's seen how he gets around her, how he melts and softens up.

Ceraphina wonders if Plutarch might be like that around her one day, sappy and soft, wanting to do anything to make her happy.

She'll have to find out.

There's a knock at the front door and she's fast to answer it before one of the Avoxes can do it. Ceraphina takes a deep breath before yanking open the heavy mahogany door, revealing a very handsome-looking Plutarch dressed in a button-up shirt, vest, and trousers. His blonde hair is swept back and his eyes, oh his eyes.

This must be what love is.

"Too much?" He teases with that easygoing smile.

Ceraphina giggles, she can already feel herself blushing, "Not at all, you look very handsome." She steps to the side so he can step into the house and for a moment, she remembers who she is and where she lives. The look of amazement on Plutarch's face is more than enough to remind her that she's the daughter of Panem's most feared and respected man, the President.

"It's been a while since I've been here," Plutarch says, staring up at the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, "I remember we used to run to the chocolate fountain during the parties." Ceraphina laughs, remembering how she used to run around the massive parties they'd throw in their house, Celeste by her side while they basked in everyone's attention.

They still have parties, but they're much more boring now that they're expected to act like proper ladies, forced to engage in polite conversation rather than running rampant and getting away with it just because they're cute.

She misses those days. She misses her sister and she's right upstairs, holed up in her room since she prefers to be by herself rather than her family. It's not like Ceraphina can blame her, not when their family isn't the most functional. They always have breakfast together or the occasional dinner like tonight, but after that, it's time to go their separate ways.

For the children, it's off the school. For mother, it's off to be a socialite and the First Lady. For father, it's off to run the country and be somewhat of a dictator, even if he says he isn't one.

Ceraphina rarely sees her father outside of their designated breakfast time slot. But if she does, it's cold and quiet. He's distant but he's that way with all of the children now that they're old enough to form their own opinions on him and on the world around them.

No longer are they his little wide-eyed, adoring children who think the world of their father.

He hates it.

"Yes, I remember that. Seems like a lifetime ago."

Plutarch rolls his shoulders back, eyeing the servants who wait on the Snows hand and foot, "Everything seemed so much...bigger back then. We wanted to be just like the adults and now we practically are."

He's right, in one year, Ceraphina will graduate. She knows what's expected of her, to get married and have children, exactly what her mother did.

She's not going to do that.

Ceraphina has bigger plans for her future, brighter plans.

"Do you plan to follow in your father's footsteps when you graduate?" She asks, curious if he'll continue the Heavensbee legacy. Plutarch shakes his head, a smirk on his lips, "I'm going to be Head Gamemaker," he says proudly. He says it like he's already done it, he sounds a lot like father right now.

"Oh," is all she says.

A soft meow comes from the top of the grand staircase, drawing their attention to Petunia, the family cat slowly but surely padding down the steps. When Ceraphina was little, they'd chase each other around for hours, both happy to have a playmate. Now they're both older, and Petunia has slowed down significantly.

Ceraphina doesn't know what her mother will do when she goes.

"Oh, she's still alive."

It's words like that where Ceraphina realizes how much has changed, how much she’s grown. Father still treats her like a small child but in reality, she’s nearly ready to fly the nest, leave, and never come back. She’s already got a plan, she’ll go to University and live in her father’s old penthouse apartment.

Mother has told countless stories from his time living in the penthouse before father became President. It’s the Snow’s ancestral home and even after all these years, he’s never sold it.

Which is why it would be a waste to just let it sit there. Ceraphina knows that her father won’t approve of her moving out, of her leaving his watchful eye but she’s sure that with enough help from mother, he’ll let her leave.

She just has to find the courage to mention it first.

Petunia finally reaches them, curious about Plutarch who crouches down, reaching out a hand for Petunia to sniff. Ceraphina watches the sweet interaction, Petunia sniffs his hand before rubbing her head against it, not seeing this new man as a threat to those she loves most.

They’ve all witnessed Petunia attack a few people before, and most of those attacks have been directed at father who’s never seemed to fully enjoy being around the cat.

Ceraphina can’t figure out why they hate each other so much but mother says they’ve always been that way.

"She usually doesn't like new people," Ceraphina says, "she must really like you." If Petunia likes Plutarch, then that's a good sign, a good omen. It has to be.

Plutarch grins at those words, she'd like to believe that he's nervous about this too. "I have that effect on animals," he casually tells her, standing back up, "is your father home? I'd like to have a proper word with him before we depart."

Any confidence Ceraphina had about this date going well is quickly diminished. She had hoped that they'd just be on their way and not speak to father, or mother, or anyone really in this house. But of course, he'd want to say hello, it's proper etiquette to speak to the father of the girl you might be courting someday.

The idea of courting is absolutely thrilling for girls Ceraphina's age. She still asks mother about what it was like during the period when she was courting father. It's almost comical to imagine her father, President of Panem head over heels for mother, chasing her around with roses and words of praise and admiration.

That man is long gone now.

But the way mother tells it, he was so romantic.

Ceraphina might yearn for her independence, but she's no fool, she also wants to fall in love, to have someone look at her the way father looks at mother.

She just doesn't want that man to be evil.

"Oh, yes, well, he might be busy," she lies. Father's schedule is wide open today since everyone in the family knows that Plutarch is coming over to take Ceraphina out on a date. Plutarch frowns, slipping his hands into his pockets, he looks so disappointed, like he was riding on the fact that he'd get to meet the President.

Is that why he's here? Is he only taking her out on a date so he can say that he dated the President's daughter?

No, no, Plutarch would never.

"We can go check," she offers, suppressing a heavy sigh. Plutarch visibly brightens at the offer, reaching out to take her hand, "Wonderful, my father would give me a stern talking to if he found out that I didn't say a proper word to the man of the house."

All Ceraphina is focusing on right now is his hand holding her hand.

She'd agree to just about anything right now.

She's also sure that her father will be reporting back to his father, which adds another level of pressure to this date. Ceraphina makes no effort to remove his hand, guiding them through the massive hallways of the President's Mansion.

"Wow," he says when they pass by a large family portrait. None of the family pays much mind to any of the paintings on the walls but their guests always compliment them. "Mother had to bribe us with sweets to get us to hold still," she giggles, remembering how chaotic all three of the children had been during that portrait.

It's hard enough to get a child to hold still for a photograph, let alone a portrait painted in real-time. But mother has always been good at managing their family, getting everyone to behave and get along. At least long enough for a photo.

Ceraphina only sneaks a few glances at her future boyfriend while they walk up to her father's study, the doors slightly ajar. Plutarch looks so handsome, so noble. If father doesn't approve of him then she's doomed, he's from a good family, a noble name, educated, rich.

Who could be better for her?

Despite the doors already being open, Ceraphina knocks because goodness knows the lecture she'd get if she didn't. Father has always been adamant about his children having good manners. Any bad behavior is always reported back to him with swiftness, so fast that none of them can ever back-peddle.

"Come in," he calls from inside.

Ceraphina draws in a sharp breath, this will either end very well, or very badly.

When she pushes the doors open, she's surprised to see her little brother sitting across from father, looking right at home. Caspian looks over his shoulder with a mischievous grin on his face. He gets away with everything since he just cries to mother whenever he gets in trouble.

He looks just like father though, a carbon copy. Ceraphina worries he might turn out to be just like him someday, his successor, his heir. Being the firstborn means nothing to her when it comes to inheriting the power her father holds.

She's not a boy. Simple as that.

"He's got more hair than his father," is the first thing that comes out of her little brother's mouth, causing her to scowl. Ceraphina squeezes Plutarch's hand, he just got here and is already being teased. "Hopefully I'm able to keep it," Plutarch replies in jest, not letting Caspian's comment throw him off.

Caspian merely grins in response, turning back to father, "I'm glad we've come to an agreement father." He reaches out his right hand and father reaches out his hand as well, sealing whatever deal they made with a handshake.

Ceraphina immediately wants to know what they were talking about before she got here, but knowing Caspian, the little brat will keep it a secret unless she begs for it. Which she won't.

Snows don't beg for anything.

Father finally settles his gaze on Ceraphina, sharp and critical like always. His eyes don't linger long on Ceraphina, not when he sees her every day. They travel over to Plutarch, or more importantly, Plutarch's hand which is intertwined with his oldest daughter's hand.

Uh-oh.

Caspian slips out of his seat, giving father a polite nod before making his way over to the doors, brushing by Ceraphina with that smug little smirk, "Good luck," he whispers. Even though he's almost two years younger than her, Caspian has already surpassed Ceraphina when it comes to height. He'll take after father most likely, tall and strong, imposing to all he comes across.

Such a waste in good genetics.

"Thank you for allowing me to take Ceraphina on a date Mr. Snow, it's an honor to be welcomed into your beautiful home." Father remains behind his desk which leads the young couple to venture further into the study, stopping a few feet away from his desk.

Father hums, he looks so important behind his desk, like he has a million other more important things to do than to entertain Ceraphina and her silly little dates. He's always been good at making her feel small.

"I was surprised, to say the least, when my daughter brought it up," he finally says, "that Quintus Heavensbee's son asked her out on a date. It's a very bold gesture, young man."

"I feel very boldly about your daughter sir."

"You speak quite boldly as well," father replies within a second, his tongue sharp, "very different from how your father speaks to me." Ceraphina swallows, this is bad, very, very bad. She needs to divert this conversation, derail it if possible.

She needs a distraction.

"Coryo? Are you in here?"

Mother might just be her saving grace.

With the doors wide open, mother glides right into the study, immediately lifting the tension in the air with an easy, kind smile on her lips. She looks so pretty today, she always looks pretty. Ceraphina is constantly told that she looks just like her mother.

If only she could act like her.

Ceraphina knows that's what father wants, he wants his daughters to be as pliant as his wife, as forgiving and graceful. Celeste is, she rarely causes trouble, which makes her the apple of father's eye. It's Ceraphina he has problems with. Ceraphina feels that it makes it all the more harder since she's witnessed firsthand how different he is with mother, almost giving her a preview of what their relationship could be like if she just changed everything about herself.

Even now she can see it, how his eyes slightly soften when seeing his wife, like the evil almost floats out of his body.

"Oh, Plutarch, I didn't know you were already here or I would have greeted you at the door." Plutarch gives mother a more genuine smile, "It's no trouble Mrs. Snow, just being in your presence is enough for me." Ceraphina can see father rolling his eyes at the compliment but mother pays him no mind, crossing the room until she reaches the young children.

"Oh, you're such a flatterer, just like your father. And look how much you've grown! I remember when you were a little boy running around in the rosebushes in the gardens."

"Yes, Ceraphina and I were just talking about how quickly time has passed," Plutarch agrees, giving Ceraphina's hand a squeeze which causes her heart to skip a beat. Mother chuckles, eyeing the two of them with amusement in her stormy blue eyes, "You two make quite the handsome pair if I do say so myself. We were quite surprised when Ceraphina informed us about you asking her out on a date. Weren't we darling?"

They all turn back to father whose face has gone placid, probably angry that mother's attention isn't all on him. "Yes, we were certainly surprised when we heard the news. What exactly do you have planned for your little date?"

Plutarch stands tall, confident in how the day will go, "I thought we might go to the zoo." Father scoffs, shaking his head, "In this heat? You'll cause my Ceraphina to melt." Mother rests a hand on Ceraphina's shoulder, calming her so that she doesn't lunge across the table and strangle her father. "If I recall correctly, you took me to the zoo quite a few times in the springtime darling, and I never melted," she sweetly reminds him.

Ceraphina does her best not to look smug at mother coming to their defense. Father's jaw clenches and his fingers wrap tightly around the pen in his left hand, "Well that was almost twenty years ago darling, much has changed since then."

"Nonsense, the zoo will be the perfect place for a first date. I hope you don't mind Plutarch, but you'll have quite the security detail joining you two, they'll keep their distance," mother promises. Ceraphina can't go anywhere without at least three Peacekeepers so she didn't even try and fight it when father insisted on ten following her around on this date.

They'll probably be reporting every little thing back to him. "Ceraphina laughed too much sir, should we shoot the boy now or later?"

Ugh.

"It's not a problem at all Mrs. Snow," Plutarch assures her, "Ceraphina's safety is always of importance." Father rises from his seat, towering over all of them, even Plutarch who's the tallest boy in her year. "I see that there is no talking you out of this Ceraphina," father says disappointedly, "so I can only encourage you to make good decisions and make us proud. You're representing all of us when you're out there."

"I know father."

Father stops at the side of his desk and reaches out a hand toward mother. Ceraphina hopes that mother will stay by her side, but she doesn't. She smooths down Ceraphina's hair and presses a kiss to her cheek. "Have fun darling," she whispers before going to father who immediately wraps his hand around her waist. "I expect her to be home before five," he informs Plutarch, "and in one piece."

"Of course, sir, thank you for allowing me to take her out on a date."

Mother smiles sweetly at Plutarch but father does no such thing, just giving him a curt nod, a dismissive nod. Ceraphina sighs, they might as well leave now before someone says something that they'll regret later on. She tugs on Plutarch's hand, dragging him out of the study and the suffocating atmosphere.

"I didn't get to shake his hand," Plutarch whispers worriedly, glancing back over his shoulder at the open doors, "he'll be sure to tell my father about that."

"I think he's going to tell your father if you blink the wrong way," Ceraphina tells him bluntly, "he doesn't like strangers, especially boys."

Once they're out of earshot, Plutarch lets go of her hand, wrapping his arm around her waist instead which is much better in her opinion. "I'll get him to like me, just wait and see."

Ceraphina smiles up at him, she'd like to see it, to believe it but it seems impossible.

Everything with father is impossible.

꧁ ꧂

The sound of cutlery scraping across plates is mind-numbing for Ceraphina who only wants to think about her date that took place earlier today.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

Plutarch was everything she imagined him to be. he was sweet, funny, polite, and charming. All the things Caspian is not being right now as he kicks her under the table, "Stop it," she hisses, glaring daggers at her little brother. He grins at her, stabbing a piece of salmon with his fork, "You keep dazing off, father will be worse if he notices."

Caspian is, unfortunately, right. Even though father is currently talking with mother across the table, he still notices everything. Ceraphina does too. She notices how he rests his hand on top of mother's hand, how his fingers absentmindedly play with her wedding ring while he talks about something that would probably bore her to tears.

But mother listens so intently, she's so attentive to her husband. She's a good wife, a loving wife, a patient wife.

Her father does not deserve her.

"Ceraphina darling, how was the zoo?" Mother's soft voice snaps her out of another daze and this time, father is staring right at her, critical as always. "Um, it was good, very good, he's very sweet," she says dreamily, remembering the way he held her hand while they looked at the flamingos.

Father reaches for his glass of wine since he'd rather be drunk than sober if he has to listen to her talk about her first date. "He seems a bit arrogant," he notes. Ceraphina scoffs, she can't help but call him out on his behavior, "Yes, he reminds me of someone I know."

And there she's done it, everyone at the table grows silent and uncomfortable just like that. It's like she and father have a knack for lighting each other's fuses.

Mother shoots her a look, pleading and warning.

"I don't appreciate your tone, young lady," father fires back, "this type of behavior is exactly why I've decided that we will not allow you to court Plutarch Heavensbee."

Ceraphina drops her fork and her jaw, unable to mask her shock.

"What!? But that's not fair! You barely even know him! I've only gone on one date with him! Father, you're not being fa-"

Father cuts her off by raising up his hand, silencing her, "I don't need to be anything. I'm the head of this household, the President of this country, and more importantly, your father. I don't think you're old enough to court yet. My decision is final Ceraphina, do not try to change my mind."

Ceraphina can't believe this! It's like he's set on ruining her life.

She tosses her fork onto the plate, "I'm going to my room."

"No you are not, you will sit at this table and eat dinner with your family," he orders, "just because you didn't get what you wanted doesn't mean that you get to take it out on the rest of us."

"But you can? Because every time something goes wrong in your life, it's like the rest of us are walking on eggshells! I'm not going to be a child forever, I'm almost eighteen, and once I graduate, I'll go to the University."

This might have not been the best moment to bring up her big plans for after she graduates from the Academy, but she fears that it's now or never and her mouth is moving before her mind can comprehend a single thought.

She can see in mother's eyes that she's gone too far, she can also see how she's hurt her. Ceraphina has been keeping her plans a secret from everyone, including mother who she tells almost evrrything to.

"When were you going to tell us about this?" Father inquires for the both of them, "Or were you just going to go behind our backs?"

She nearly shivers at the thought of trying to sneak behind father’s back. He finds out everything. She wouldn’t get very far, unless he wanted to. Unless he wanted to see her fail just to prove a point.

But would he do that? Would he do that to his own daughter? His firstborn who he loved so much when she was a baby?

Mother says he used to wake in the middle of the night and check on Ceraphina in her nursery, terrified someone would happen to her, that she’d disappear and never come back.

Where has that man gone?

That’s when she realizes that he’s never existed. It’s all been a facade, a great big show for her, for mother, for their family.

For Panem.

Coriolanus Snow, the President of Panem, beloved by those in the Capitol who see him as a family man, a loving husband and doting father.

The worst part is that mother believes this lie. He’s gotten so good at playing this role, at convincing her that he’s a good man. If love is blind, then mother hasn’t been seeing clearly for nearly twenty years.

Even now, mother is on his side, looking at Ceraphina expectantly, waiting for her to provide an answer for her secrets and shortcomings. "I...I was going to tell you," she whispers, shrinking into herself, "I swear I wasn't going to keep it a secret. I want more than just marriage. I want to get a proper education, I want to live on my own and be my own person, I'm more than just someone's little wife."

If mother wasn't hurt before, she definitely is now. "Is that all you see me as? Someone's little wife who didn't go to school after graduating from the Academy?"

Ceraphina didn't know it was possible to feel this terrible. How this day has gone sideways is beyond her and there's no going back. "No, I just," her voice breaks, tears pool in her stormy blue eyes, "I just want more."

Father sighs, shaking his head at this whole ordeal, "You have more than you could ever need Ceraphina, don't you know how lucky you are? To never want? To never have to worry about a single thing? I've worked extremely hard to give you children the life I never had growing up and your mother recognized that, which is why she didn't pursue a further education but instead, built a family. All we've ever done has been done for you and it's so disappointing to see how ungrateful you've become."

That's it, Ceraphina Snow is a spoiled rotten, ungrateful little brat who hates her parents and her siblings. She can already see the tabloids.

"I'm going to my room," is all she whispers.

"I think that's a good idea," father answers.

No one says a word as she leaves the dining room, feeling worse than she's ever felt before.

She might be a Snow, but she has yet to land on top.

꧁ ꧂

In true dramatic teenage fashion, Ceraphina flings herself onto her bed, sobbing into her pillows.

It's good to cry, mother says that it releases different hormones and that you'll feel much better after you cry. But then again, mother never personally attacked every member of her family at dinner so maybe that's something to consider.

When Ceraphina hears a knock at her doors, she doesn't even bother answering. It's probably father coming to gloat, or Celeste who will always bring up dessert to cheer her up. There are no further knocks which means she can resume crying, but then she hears her doors open, which does not bode well for her current situation.

She feels the bed dip beside her and a gentle hand brushes through her hair.

Mother.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were alright," mother says softly, continuing to brush her fingers through Ceraphina's wavy blonde hair. She sniffles, it's almost worse that mother is the one who came to visit her. She doesn't care if she hurts father's feelings, you can't hurt any if you haven't got any. But mother has feelings, she's so kind and sweet.

"I'm fine," Ceraphina says, her voice muffled by the pillows, "I just want to go to sleep and never wake up." Mother sighs, even at forty years old, she looks thirty, forever youthful and elegant. But Ceraphina knows that she's getting older, that her tolerance for certain things is growing smaller.

Like over-dramatic teenage daughters for example.

And she has two of them.

"Darling, your father means well, he didn't mean to start a fight."

Ceraphina rolls over to her back when she hears those words. Father hates lying so it's funny how easily mother will do it for the sake of keeping the family together. She gives mother a quizzical look, "Yes he did, or he at least did it to get a reaction out of me. Why else would he want me to stop seeing Plutarch? He hates that I'm growing up and that he's losing control over me! I can't live here forever."

"Your father loves you very much, so, so, much, and he simply wants what's best for you. He wants who is best for you."

"No one will ever be good for any of us in his eyes. Not for me, Celeste, or even Caspian. He's never going to be happy with who we choose unless he gets to decide for us."

Mother frowns, even when she's sad she looks so, so beautiful. It's no wonder why father is always so proud to keep her on his arm, to show her off. Ceraphina has witnessed countless times how he's shown her off like a trophy on his arm.

Ceraphina can't let that be her future.

It's funny how much she looks like mother though, they're practically twins with the same eye and hair color. Even their complexion is the same with freckles dotted across their upturned noses.

It's like looking in a mirror.

I'm all you could be, she thinks, and you're all I could never be.

"Don't let this fight sit between you two," mother advises, resting her hand on Ceraphina's cheek, "it's not good for the family, or for your relationship with him. Your father adores you darling, when you were born he changed into a completely different person, I saw it myself. He'd give you the world if you just asked."

Ceraphina would rather die than ask father for anything, especially the world that he holds so casually in his palm.

"It's still not fair, I finally got some sense of normalcy and now he's ruined it. I don't need to apologize for that."

"We can talk about it in the morning then. I think we could all use some sleep."

Mother leans down to kiss her temple, something she's done since Ceraphina was a little girl. She'd read her a book and sing her favorite lullaby. Now it's different, Ceraphina no longer sleeps with a mountain of stuffed animals or needs a night light.

Perhaps father never noticed her growing up until it was too late.

"Goodnight darling, sweet dreams."

Ceraphina lies there, staring up at her ceiling while mother gently closes her doors, leaving her to wallow in her self-pity once again. She knows she should at least apologize to mother, who's sacrificed so much for her family. Who knows, maybe mother did want to go to University, but much like Ceraphina, she had people telling her what to do.

From what she's heard, father fell for mother first, he fell hard and fast. It's no a surprise, not when mother must've been the perfect woman in his eyes. Eighteen, a proper Capitol lady from a prominent family, willing to start one with him.

Ceraphina rolls over to the side of her bed, reaching for her nightstand drawer where she keeps all sorts of things, including the newspaper clipping from when her parents got married. Apparently, it was the largest wedding in Panem, highly anticipated by everyone in the Capitol.

Mother made a beautiful bride at twenty-two, and father was a handsome groom at twenty-seven. One year later, Ceraphina came along. She scans over the headline, 'President Snow marries his First Lady, Snow Lands on Top once again!'

Ceraphina can't imagine how overwhelming it must've been for mother, to not only get married at such a young age, but to marry the President as well. Father had been President for three years when they got married, which mother says was a testament to their relationship since she stood loyally by his side during his campaign.

It's no wonder he proposed shortly after he won. He was riding that high. He had the job and the name, all he needed was the girl.

So if that's his idea of the perfect marriage, then how will Ceraphina's future husband ever compare?

꧁ ꧂

Later that night, the guilt began to eat away at her heart. She still wasn't going to apologize to father, but she could apologize to mother.

Ceraphina quietly made her way to her parent's bedroom, stopping at the doors which were slightly open, most likely for Petunia to come and go as she pleases. Ceraphina peers into their bedroom, still a mystery to her since father doesn't allow the children to come inside.

She spots mother sitting by the fireplace, wrapped up in a silk robe, a cup of tea in her hands. Father stands at the foot of the bed, pulling off his tie. "...no such thing as 'being too hard on her' darling, if she's not corrected then she'll embarrass herself and us when she's out in the real world."

Ceraphina knows she should leave instead of eavesdropping, but if it's her that they're talking about, she deserves to hear it.

"She's still a child Coriolanus," mother reminds him, "she's trying to figure out where she fits in and your constant beratement isn't helping. You used to be so adoring towards her, don't you remember? She's sit in your lap while you were working in your study, and rush to meet you after a trip to the Districts."

Father throws his tie onto the bed, turning to face his wife from across the room, "Things are different now Soarynn, she's older now, more emotional. If you think I don't miss my sweet little girl then you're mistaken but there's no turning back time darling, we have to move forward."

Mother sips her tea, Ceraphina can see that she's taken off her makeup but she's still so beautiful. "I just think you should give Plutarch a chance, he's a good boy from a good family. If not him then who will be good enough for our Ceraphina?"

Father rubs his hand over his face, he looks exhausted from today's events. "I don't know Soarynn, but I don't intend to find out while she's still attending the Academy. And let's not forget that she was keeping her University plans a secret from both of us, she didn't even trust you with that information."

Ceraphina wants to run into the room and tell mother that he's wrong, it's not true, she does trust her. It's her husband she doesn't trust.

His words strike a nerve within mother, causing waves of doubt to flood over her face. "I don't know Coryo, maybe she's right, maybe she should live on her own for a little while, continue her education. Goodness knows I could've used a few more years to figure out who I was when I was her age."

Father strides across the room with a determined look in his eyes, stopping once he's right in front of mother. "Darling, you did everything right, don't let any of the children cause you to doubt the choices you made nearly twenty years ago. You married a good man and gave him a family, you've done nothing wrong, my love."

He leans down and tilts his face, pressing a kiss to mother's lips. It's so gentle and patient, the complete opposite of who he is in real life. Mother responds eagerly, leaning into the kiss as she sets her cup of tea down on the table next to her.

If she wasn't intruding before, she certainly is now. Ceraphina should not be watching this but she can't look away. Father's hands go to mother's shoulders, pushing her robe down, exposing her bare collar bones and mother pulls away, softly laughing. "Not tonight," she tells him, staring up with nothing but fondness in her eyes, "we need to get some sleep."

Father groans in a playful manner, this is a side of him that Ceraphina has never seen. A side that is exclusively reserved for mother. "But promise me that you'll speak to her about it," mother pushes, resting a hand on his forearm, "she won't listen to me forever, and it's better if it comes out of your mouth, not mine. I can't be the middleman forever."

Father grins down at her, the words she just spoke sliding off his back, "But you're so good at it darling," he teases. Mother rolls her eyes, pulling her robe back over her shoulders, "I'm serious Coryo, we live in strange times, I want Ceraphina to find someone who genuinely loves her for her. Not her noble birth or family name. And I know you want the same but I feel as though you approach these topics too harshly sometimes."

Instead of immediately answering like he always does, father does something that genuinely surprises Ceraphina, something she never thought was possible.

Father slowly sinks to his knees in front of the woman he loves.

The President of Panem groveling in front of a woman.

“My darling, there was a time in this world when you and I would not be allowed to marry simply because your skin is slightly darker than mine. So please, let’s not quarrel. This is her first date, her first big moment away from us and look where it’s landed her. With a broken heart and resentment towards me.”

Mother seems stunned, her fingers nervously grasping at her robe, crushing the silky fabric, “But that could never happen again, nothing could ever keep us apart,” she says quietly, Ceraphina and her problems long forgotten.

Father shakes his head, a noble look on his face like he’s a knight in shining armor, “Never my love, I’ll see to it that nothing ever keeps us apart, and when our children come of age, they won’t be kept away from their lovers either.”

That seems to settle mother’s nerves down. She lets go of her robe and finally gives in to father's wishes, crawling into his lap onto the floor with him. It’s so strange to see them act so domestic. Ceraphina feels as if she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t.

Trespassing in her own home.

“So you’ll let them marry whoever? As long as they’re from a good family?” Mother questions, resting her head on his shoulder. Father rubs his hand up and down her side, his eyes closed, “Within reason, of course. I must say that nothing says perfection like the color white.”

Ceraphina doesn’t need to hear any more of this, she’s seen enough, knows enough.

It’ll all end the same, with that stupid saying father has engrained into their minds since birth. Caspian repeats it like a mantra, words to live by for if father can succeed by them, then he can too.

Snow lands on top.

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[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 60

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Chapter 12.

*Grian's pov*

... What is Joel doing? Why did he say that? Why would he say that? Is he stupid- that smug smirk! He's not stupid, he's doing this on purpose! He knows he's putting you in trouble! He's trying to get back at you! That's-... Fair...you can't even be mad at him for it because you respect the pettyness.

You are still going to do something to get back at him for this eventually of course but still, can't help but respect it.

...The conversation eventually does get going again but Cub is clearly suspicious now and Ocean Queen looks confused as hell. Scar...well, he's smiling, he always is when in front of others, but you can tell he's both suspicious AND confused.

You'll have to do some damage control, that's not something you are used to do... You are usually the damage creator after all. "We've met before... A long time ago"

Joel just shrugs. "Well it wasn't that long ago" You are going to jump out of this hospital bed and strangle him. Does he really think he can outspite you? Ah! He really is an idiot.

"It was at least a while ago, he made a bit of a fool of himself and I happened to be nearby"

He turns to you sharply, he can't take what he deals can he? You can hear thunder from outside the window. "That's not what happened"

Really? Does this man know nothing of improv? He's supposed to be yes and-ing your story not fight against it. "Huh huh sure."

Scar looks between you two in an akward manner, like he's feeling left out...well, you can definitely include him.

"Not as bad as pouring coffee on me though."

He freezes at first but then lets out a mock offended noise as he dramatically clutches his chest.

"Oh don't you start mister! I thought we agreed it was an accident and not my fault."

You giggle, then you start loudly laughing. You must be really deprived of fun because you can't stop laughing like It's the funniest thing ever.

"You keep telling yourself that Hotguy!"

He gives you a small bonk on the head eith his cane only to be he himself hit on the back of the neck by Cub. "Don't hit the man Scar, he just woke up from a coma"

You wave your hand around a bit. "It's fine Cub, I'm doing a-ok!"

Joel clears his throat pretty loudly, can't deal with not being the center of attention can he? "Well, not to interrupt you idiots being idiots but Ocean Queen and I were in the middle of something so-"

Wait, you aren't letting him just leave like that! "Wait!"

He groans and puts his hands in his hair. "... What?"

Oh you have just the thing. "Since you two know my identity now It's time for you to reveal yours to me, It's only fair!"

You know Joel's already but you don't want to risk accidentally revealing that, this way you have reason to know it.

He doesn't look as enthused as you about this idea though. "Ah ah, no way, we never agreed to that-"

Ocean Queen takes off her mask revealing blue scales on pale skin, she offers you her hand. "Lizzie"

Joel turns his head again making a noise of protest. You both ignore him and just shake Lizzie's hand.

"Grian"

...Joel sighs and after a few akward seconds takes off his mask as well, you already know what he looks like but Scar clearly doesn't. It seems even the heroes don't know eachother, how ...interesting.

You shake his hand as well, just slightly too tight for confort. You don't feel bad though, he does the exact same.

[kradogsrats]

"Your Majesty, may I have a word?"

Ezran doesn't look up from the sketches and schematics littering the tabletop. There are dozens of them—proposals from artists and sculptors and architects on both sides of the Border, answering his call for a monument to appropriately honor a sacrifice of the magnitude the archdragons had made for the world.

"Is it about my plans for the Valley of Graves?"

Opeli moves to stand at his elbow, looking down at the mess of papers in front of him. "It is."

"Then I don't care," he says, only a bit more harshly than intended. "Whoever is complaining this time can sit down and stuff it—I won't let political squeamishness prevent us from honoring those who more than deserve it. Even archdragons. Especially archdragons."

"Even after one of them attacked Katolis?"

Ezran's throat tightens at the question. He swallows hard against a rising swell of grief, forcing his breaths to stay even.

"Sol Regem was not one of them," he says, as calmly as he can manage, "and he's not important. Domina, Rex, Avizandum and Zubeia—they gave their lives for humans and elves, alike. So all of us could live. That's what matters."

His eyes drop to the plans he'd been examining earlier—a massive wall relief, showing the archdragons arrayed around the Sunforge. Zubeia soars, her wings spread wide as if to encompass the whole world. He brushes his fingers over the drawing, feeling his mouth tremble. In some ways, she was more his mother than the one who birthed him. Now both were gone.

"No one is saying that they shouldn't be honored," Opeli says, as if to reassure him. "Zubeia is as deserving of a place in the Valley of Graves as any queen has ever been."

"What are they saying, then?" Ezran demands. He looks up at her, his eyes narrowing. "What are you saying?"

"Only that there are people closer to home who might deserve the consideration of being honored, as well."

She meets his eyes for a moment, then looks pointedly toward the charred throne at the head of the table. He follows her gaze, not comprehending.

The throne. The castle ruins. Sol Regem's attack. The pieces come together.

"Absolutely not," he says. "Never."

Opeli meets his eyes again, but says nothing.

Ezran turns away from her, leaning over the table. His hands curl into tight fists, angry tension flaring through his shoulders. "It's because of him that Aaravos is even out there. Everything we've had to go through—the fighting, the pain, the sacrifice—all of it is his fault!"

"With respect, Your Majesty—you saw the reports on the attack. We lost dozens to the flames, when it could otherwise have been hundreds."

"So? He was already responsible for hundreds more deaths, before that. He would have killed Zym. He would have killed me."

She looks down at the drawing. He can tell her eyes are on Avizandum, upright and proud. "Thunder killed hundreds at the Border, including at least one beloved queen."

"Avizandum was defending Xadia," Ezran says, his jaw tightening. "The way a king should."

Opeli doesn't reply. When he turns his head to look at her, there's a tiny furrow of disappointment between her brows—the closest she ever comes to rebuking him.

"King Ezran," she says, with a gentleness that seems almost sad. "Do you really think that Lord Viren didn't believe he was doing the same for humanity?"

He stares at her, then shoves away from the table in frustration and strides away to stand beside the throne, hands gripped tight behind his back. He wants to tell her that that Viren was wrong, and maybe Avizandum was also wrong, but not as wrong. Zym's dad was like his own, making choices driven by history—not evil, the way everyone knows Viren was. It's as simple as that.

He doesn't want to remember the wretched, broken man who had wept at his feet in the mud and rain. He doesn't want to think about what Soren was actually digging for, when he unearthed the burnt and battered throne from the rubble that had been their home.

For a moment, he wishes it really could be as simple as that.

He finally sits, leaning on the throne's charred arm and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe you, of all people, are advocating for Lord Viren," he says, more tired than accusatory.

"I advocate only for Lady Justice, as my role demands," Opeli replies, an edge of grim determination beneath the words. "He was a traitor and a snake, but if Soren is to be believed, he still chose to save lives at the cost of his own, in the end. If that's enough to absolve Avizandum..."

She trails off, waiting with her hands folded in front of her. The way she does when everything has been said, and all that's left is for him to make a decision.

Ezran sighs again. "I'll... consider it."

Viren + Ezran

Echoes Of Thunder

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[peri-peri-sauce]

[same auditory lover anon here]

hi again! 🥰

yes, i know exactly what you mean about the autiomaa mv, it's because this man is so multifaceted, and he is always so effortlessly sexy, even when the topic is heavier. especially in this mv, he is just captivating… the dim lights, his outfit/ makeup/ tan, those extreme closeups of his piercing eyes, or his lips…

now about s=m my god how i love his angry yelling growling rap style 😭 that was the one thing i was hoping we'd get in the new album

i honestly thought that nothing could ever top him growling "i'm on fucking fire" in rock rock for me (obscene behaviour btw, that's when i first knew i'm a fan). but damn… s=m really caught me off guard, both with the aggressive part's lyrics and his delivery

it's the fact that he knowingly does the daddy thing seriously, because it's a rare occasion that he uses a spot on american accent (eg compare it to how he's pronounced "sugar daddy" as a joke in the past). subconciously this tells me "hey don't get it twisted, this isn't a joke, i'm serious about it"

but what really gets me is his rhythm in this verse. his rap here is not fast at all, but it's very sharp and it builds momentum. almost like he is determined to make a clear point. idk if this is going to make any sense at all, but to me each one of these five lines feels like the equivalent of the gesture of a hard spank, not only lyrically but musically too -basically he raps and i hear spanking

hey look! turns out i had many more unhinged things to say! 🙃

Heey ☺️

I totally agree with everything you said. Him growling "Daddy" is definitely not a joke. He really believes it, he knows it, and he's making it crystal clear with that deep, intense growl so there's no mistaking it.

I totally see your point about the spanks too. It's his way of demanding attention and ensuring we're listening, showing he's not messing around but is dead serious. Every verse one impact, emphasizing his words and making sure we're catching everything he's saying. Also, at the end of each verse he repeats the last word, almost like he's drilling it into your mind 😈

I'm having so many thoughts about this and none of them are in the Bible. His deep, growling voice has me on my knees, hair pulled back in a ponytail, promising that I'll behave and be a good girl for daddy… 😇

I'm definitely adding this song to my playlist of Käärijä songs I'd fuck to

Also, thank you Anon for these asks 🥰 they're really making me listen to these songs from another perspective and think about a lot of new dirty things!

[longagoitwastuesday]

Both Nobara and the blonde witch (Momo?) make good points about the role of women in this Jujutsu society. Momo points out that power is not enough for them, that that which is good enough for men isn't for women, that they are held to higher standards, and for them scars aren't badges of honour as they are for men, but make them undesirable and damaged goods.

And then there's Nobara, pointing out those are sexist standards one doesn't have to adhere to, that it's on them for playing by the rules and having those exigences in mind. That she likes clothes and looking pretty, but for herself, she doesn't expect it from others or respect more someone who does as well if they don't want to, like she likes Maki but dislikes Mai. And she too is right! It's true that adhering to those exigences perpetuates the standards! But what she says doesn't negate what Momo says, which is the fact that, yeah, okay, it sucks, but that's how it is and not playing by the rules just makes everything harder. And harder still for someone like Mai (or Maki) to whom perfection isn't just the goal, but the very starting point being people from one of the main clans. So she can understand and defend Mai's position and approach to the problem, as Nobara understands and defends Maki's.

This all gains layers of complexity and juiciness considering Momo and Mai are Utahime's students and Todo's classmates. I am sure the manga won't go there, but wow is it intriguing how Utahime's situation may have influenced their views. What a pity the manga won't go there

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

you know if we do accept the last epilogue-esque sequence as a sort of dream/wish of ted's and therefore not necessarily canon, very funny if we then simply go "yeah, trent's book is called 'the lasso way' actually. he didn't change that. nope."

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 4 :)

[pizzazz-party]

trying to formulate my opinions on The Spot by holding my sister as a captive audience while i loudly rant around her apartment

[adriles]

I’m curious which war crimes you do and don’t approve of

i enjoy any war crime induced by rage, racking up a ton of kills, maiming every enemy combatant in sight. only shitheads kill in attempt to live up to the heroism of others