#i think it's good. i think it's interesting. i think it's horrible in a good way that none of this had any purpose.

[namgyunation]

rewatching s2 for writing reasons and seeing all of thanos and nam-gyu's interactions again, and omggg i love how much of a loser nam-gyu is lmao.

i'm personally a tragic one-sided thangyu and/or platonic thangyu truther because it's just so much more pathetic and interesting to me to view nam-gyu's loser, kiss-ass behavior towards thanos to be out of desperation to just have a fucking friend and to be considered even the slightest bit as cool / confident as thanos just by being associated with him.

jaewon said that nam-gyu's full of anger and resentment due to being completely disrespected by people his entire life. all he wants is to be loved and recognized, for people to respect him.

he wants it so bad but can never seem to convince people to view him that way. his insecurities and fear always show through, and to me he always comes off as so awkward instead of confident and strong. so when it comes to thanos, bro latched on to him right away. he thinks thanos is cool and craves his attention and validation in what i view as a 'fanboy' kind of parasocial type of way, as he clearly idolized thanos even before the games and rushed to be in a photo with him, despite trying to play it cool at first.

it made him feel good to bond with thanos and have the shared connection of being scammed by mg coin. being close to him and earning thanos's favor made him feel validated, and he had the desire to be seen as an equal to him and better than their other teammates.

nam-gyu is sooo mean to min-su because he seems him as weak, something that he desperately doesn't want to be associated with, and it just makes him an easy target for nam-gyu to feel stronger and better about himself whenever he pushes him around. he's mean as fuck to se-mi because she provoked him. she saw right through how insecure he was when she called out how he took thanos's pill and then tried to lecture the rest of the team, as if he wasn't clearly just as scared as the rest of them. she wasn't afraid to verbalize it, and it pissed nam-gyu off to be reminded of how he comes off to other people. he doesn't hesitate to be an asshole to people.

and yet, thanos repeatedly disrespects the fuck out of nam-gyu: brushing off his ideas, cutting him off, putting him down, and even going so far as to embarrass him in front of the whole team with the noona thing as soon as he tries to assert himself over min-su. jaewon has stated repeatedly that thanos didn't respect nam-gyu and looked down on him a lot.

despite thanos's behavior and the fact that nam-gyu clearly hates people looking down on him and reminding him of his own insecurities, he never directly speaks out against thanos, not even once, despite how clearly uncomfortable it makes him and how quick he is to speak out against other people (se-mi and min-su for example. min-su, especially).

i personally like to interpret it as him being so horribly desperate for a connection, a friendship, even if the foundation of said friendship is mostly built on them being on drugs together / wanting to get back at mg coin. so desperate that he'll let thanos step on him and put him down even though he so clearly hates it and is made uncomfortable by it. because thanos is "cool". because nam-gyu would rather take shit from him over and over than be alone, because at least when he's with thanos, he gets a crumb of validation every now and then, like when he repeatedly picks him in mingle. this is just how i prefer to view them as opposed to 'nam-gyu was desperately in love with thanos and pushed everyone else around bc he was jealous and wanted to kiss on him all by himself'

likeee give me pathetic, loser nam-gyu that clearly has a history of being disrespected his whole life that's turned him into a bitter, hateful person, and yet, when even the slightest possibility of something as simple as a friendship, a genuine connection and mutual respect, recognition from someone he deems as 'cool' is dangled in front of him, he's desperate enough to just let thanos step all over him.

thanos is strong, confident, capable of commanding a room, and not afraid to say what he wants. nam-gyu feels inferior to thanos, and thanos leans into it, but even then nam-gyu is still willing to take the blatant disrespect and let himself be pushed around in exchange for anything ambiguously shaped like a friendship.

[mayasaurusss]

What could have been.

Contains: angst, self hating.

A/N: this is a rewritten blurb of the lake scene in episode three. After I made a poll, asking what you guys would have liked the most, 70% voted for a fluff blurb, while 30% for an angst one; so I decided to do both! (as the amazing person that I am).

This is the angst version. I decided to not incorporate the sucessive scene that is in the show, the classroom and Jackie's one, simply because that would be me rewriting it as it has already been filmed, and that wouldn't be interesting. In this blurb, after the lake scene, Shauna immediatley wakes up: you can choose weteher to view this as before the classroom scene or as a stand alone.

You can find the poll I made here and the fluff version here. Enjoy!

She should have never come here. That's all Shauna can think as she passes out, the oxygen in the cave replaced by something foul that slowly chokes her to death.

It was her arrogance that ultimately doomed her. Why did she feel the need to lead herself and the others down to their doom, pushing through the narrow stone walls even when their bodies weren't capable of doing so?

What use did finding Scott even have? Was she hoping to let out her anger at him, to make him see her as she tore his jugular from his throath?

What was the point of all she has done up until now; to make herself the one who would kill them?

What pushed her to do this?

She had always been a mean thing, tearing and burning everything that surrounded her, only to feel its warmth. That horrible, disgusting part of hers was what led Jackie to her death, at the hands of the elements. There's no use to it: no matter how much others have said it to her, no matter how much she rocked herself to sleep at those words, she was the reason Jackie died. Not the cold, not the ancient god bullshit that everyone professed, no. It was her.

She didn't even stop them from killing you. Really, what kind of person is she? A monster. That's all Shauna Shipman ever was, and ever will be.

Darkness lives freely inside the cave, lulling her to a gentle, deadly sleep.

She awakes in the waters, rocked by the waves. She didn't remember how good the warmth of the sun on her skin felt like.

Maybe she could stay here, submerged in the water until the end of time.

But something wakes her up: a child, crying for her name.

Nothing in the universe could describe the leap her heart took when she hears his voice. Her baby, so grown and beautiful, waving at her from the shore. He is so big, and so, so small. How much has she longed to feel him in her arms?

Next to him there's you, as beautiful as the day she met you. You are kneeling on a rock, playing with her baby, moving on an imaginary lane a makeshift car toy you yourself carved for him, when he was still growing inside of Shauna.

And when you hear him calling for her, you wave as he does, smiling and calling for her. "Shauna!" and her heart aches at your voice: she had never thought she would hear it again. "Shauna!" you call again, your voice and his smile attracting her to the shore like a siren's song.

This is all she has been dreaming of these past months. You and her, she and him, together, in the warm weather. Happiness, just a taste of it.

She waves back, her body barely afloat to allow her to do so. You are back; you and him are back, and you will live a life full of love, and you will be so happy together. She swims and swims for what feels like miles, for minutes, hours, and she's sure that she must be next to the shore now. But when Shauna looks up again, she hasn't moved from her spot in the lake.

There's something wrong.

Her legs are chained to the bed of the lake and moving is impossible. She wants to scream "Help me!" but nothing comes out, her lips stay glued to her teeth. Her eyes search for yours, but what she finds is unawareness. You don't even make an effort to move and save her. Why should you, anyways? She didn't save you. But you still love her, don't you?

He continues to wave, mechanically, and your face doesn't look quite right.

In a fraction of a second, Shauna is dragged to the bottom of the lake by something larger than her. She tries to break free, in vain: how could her body fight It anyway?

No, no, she has to go back. He's waiting for her, you are waiting for her.

Help! Please...

When she wakes up, her eyes meet the humid stone ceiling of the cave, darkened by time. The air is so little that she can only breathe a sliver of it, stealing it from her teammates.

So she's back. She would have rather stayed in that dream forever. She would have rather died.

Jackie is still dead, her bones buried in the earth. Javi is still dead, the taste of his blood still fresh on her tongue. Her baby, a victim of fate, and you, a victim of a hunger no human should experience.

They died for nothing. They died for the cruel winter, for the darkest hunger.But unlike them, today Shauna lives. Today, when she'll feel the fresh night air on her face and in her lungs, she will experience the warmth that spring brought.

But what use does spring have, if she feels so cold?

[sincerelywithheart]

I love this and wish this for Jack

Even though his goal in the movie was horrible, I think he was just misaligned in his motivations because of grief and trauma that was long term and unresolved. He just wanted to get justice in some way, but that grew to a large scale.

I believe he has a good heart apart from the grief

he's an interesting character to explore and create and see headcanons for him.

The way he turns here and you can see that his eyes are so soft, and so full of worry, physically pains me. A man who is so stoic, cold, and keeps himself to himself is nothing more than a broken shell at the end of the day, years of turmoil and pain so evident. His eyes betray who Jack so badly wants to be. And that got me thinking; what if Jack had survived TGC and, one day, let someone into his heart again...

The worry in his eyes make it seem like the world has stopped, as if he's just seen his sweetheart get hurt, or heard her call out for him - and he always listens for her voice. He always responds, because he knows what happens when he doesn't. He's already lost the love of his life once, and he'll be damned if he loses another. He can't imagine a world in which she isn't alright, the first woman he's let in for so many years. She *has to* be okay, and he makes it his mission in life to protect her at all costs. He knows if ever he were to lose her he'd never survive on his own now. She is his and he is hers.

She is eventually the reason why he leaves Statesman. Too frightened to lose her Jack, he hates the pain she goes through every time they have to part ways. Jack, of course, never listened to Champ and told her what his job was, down to every detail - even the ones he wasn't proud of. He couldn't help himself. One look into her eyes and he was a goner; he couldn't lie to her.

Above all else, he loved her too much. He fell fast, the feelings taking him by surprise at how suddenly they made themselves known. But he fought his fear, and pushed it aside for a chance at love with her.

And he never looked back. Jack lived out the rest of his life on the family ranch with his sweetheart, his old Statesman weapons stashed nearby to protect her should any unfriendly faces from his past come knocking one day. To his delight, they never do, and he gets to live out the rest of his life in tranquil peace with the woman he loves...

[radiojamming]

Hades game brain rot hell yeah!! Could you do uhhh Odysseys maybe meeting Achilles and Patroclus? Idk who would fanboy over who tbh lmao

OH BOY OH BOY I've thought about this scenario way too many times :)

AU I guess where Melinoë brings people back from the House of Hades? Or Elysium? idk but she's doing it! (And background OdyDio because if I don't put Diomedes in something like this I will just simply die.)

❧ ❧ ❧

There's a joke in the upper world that goes like: Odysseus of Ithaka walks into a taverna. He asks the taverna keeper who a seat at the best table is reserved for.

"Nobody," says the taverna keeper.

"Oh, good!" says Odysseus, and he takes a seat.

---

The night Achilles and Patroclus come to the war camp in Erebus, Odysseus tries his damnedest to find something to do, very far away. Some chart that needs updating, a contact in the Mourning Fields that just might have new information—anything to keep him out of the camp.

Of course, this is all taking place during a short period of calm. Melinoë only retrieved his old comrades because she, once more, defeated Chronos. This latest defeat caused some strange effect that no one—not even Hecate—could understand. Suddenly, those frozen figures standing at the edge of the House trembled, one of the Titan of Time's spells broke, and some of his captives were released.

On the other end, only a night before that, Melinoë sent Typhon crashing down the slopes of Olympus.

It's all to say that unfortunately, Odysseus has nothing to do. Damn it.

Fortunately, Achilles and Patroclus take up post in the taverna until they're given more permanent accommodations. Even with the small stockpile of nectar that Melinoë's given him practically singing his name like particular insistent sirens, Odysseus keeps well clear of the place. When Achilles comes up to Hecate's circle, Odysseus suddenly finds enormous interest in one of Melinoë's garlic plants.

One of the little green shades makes a noise of confusion as he approaches, and then scoots away to find refuge under Hypnos' hammock.

Odysseus can't say that this isn't like him. If there was a patron god of avoiding problems, it might as well be him. Pray to me, you great procrastinators of Greece, he thinks as he checks under the garlic plant's spindly leaves for... well, anything.

The problem is, he can't think of a way to solve this. He is good at avoiding his problems, but he's just as good at finding creative solutions. Traveling in disguise, lying, getting alarmingly naked as a distraction, more lying—he's gotten quite good at this over the years.

But it's Achilles and Patroclus. And, collectively, they are very much dead. Odysseus isn't the sort of shade that can will himself to disappear in an instant, and of the two of his comrades, one of them is the son of a goddess. If they want to hunt him down, he's sure he'll be skewered by next moonrise.

Talking himself out of it isn't likely. Ah, yes, very sorry that I personally saw to it that you two got involved in the war that would ultimately kill you. It was, as the younger shades often say, my bad.

No, that won't go well.

When he spends too much time staring at the garlic and feeling that distinct sense of eyes on the back of his neck, he switches over to take enormous interest in one of Melinoë's horrible little mandrakes. Yes, it is well worth a ponder, and he simply cannot turn around for any reason whatsoever when he hears the distinct sound of footsteps.

Light, dancer-like footsteps. There is only one man he knows capable of that kind of gait.

"Laertiades?"

Odysseus, to his credit, doesn't freeze up. He just pokes and prods the leaf of that godsawful little plant and pretends that it's the most interesting thing in the world. He will not face Achilles.

And Achilles, to his credit, is... patient. Which is certainly not a word synonymous with the Achilles he knows.

Funny word, that. Patient. Makrothumia, meaning 'long of temper'.

"Odysseus."

Ah. First names.

He stands up to his full height, turning to face Achilles with the most pleasant smile he can possibly muster. Think, Odysseus! his brain practically shouts. You're clever! You're incredibly clever! Smartest of the Achaeans!

Actually, that was probably Diomedes, but he digresses. What he needs is a plan.

And what would Diomedes do?

"Ah, hello," Odysseus says pleasantly. "To whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

Not that.

Achilles—and yes, that is most certainly him, almost the same as Odysseus remembers except with a lightness to him that he did not carry on the fields of Troy—stares at him. He opens his mouth to speak twice, but closes it both times. Although Athena was not Achilles' patron goddess, Odysseus can still see the man's mind working.

Then, carefully, "I am addressing Odysseus, son of Laertes, yes?"

"Indeed, that you do."

Green eyes narrow. A test, then. "And does Odysseus, son of Laertes, recall Achilles, son of Peleus?"

Stupidly, stupidly, Odysseus leans into the worst plot his mind has ever malfunctioned upon. "Achilles, you say?" he replies, putting great effort into tapping his chin with his forefinger, staring up at Selene—who is most certainly judging him—in deep thought. "I can't say I recall the name. Peleus, yes. He was an Argonaut, if memory serves."

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he can practically see Penelope shaking her head at him. You beautiful, stupid man, she would say.

Achilles stares a moment longer, then briefly looks disappointed. Finally, he nods once at Odysseus. "My apologies, Laertiades," he replies. He puts a hand up to his heart, an old gesture from a time Odysseus is sure both of them would rather forget.

And when in the gods' names was Achilles ever apologetic?

Before Odysseus can form another idiotic reply, Patroclus calls Achilles' name from the entrance of the taverna. Achilles turns on instinct, then briefly glances back at Odysseus.

"Another time then," he says.

And then, fleet of foot as always, he's gone.

Odysseus watches him leave, watches him embrace Patroclus with one arm. Watches them blissfully happy, the way shades aren't often allowed to be.

Mentally, Odysseus kicks himself. Then he gives himself two more kicks for good measure—once for Diomedes, and once for Penelope.

---

The denizens of the Crossroads rarely sleep—Hypnos excluded. When they do, it's done in quick cat naps. Brief meetings with short-lived dreams chased in the longer shadows of the night. Odysseus, despite having his own quarters and a bed far too comfortable for a shade to use, makes very few attempts to sleep. He doesn't technically need it, but for a shade of a mortal who spent quite a bit of his life asleep, something in him still looks for the first hook of sleep out of instinct.

Tonight, in an attempt to keep away from his old comrades, he tries to sleep.

Shades dream in strange ways. Of course they do. Rather than the twisting, abstract dreams of the living, shades dream in memory.

In this one, Odysseus is sitting in his hut at Troy, legs stretched out beside the longer legs of Diomedes.

"It was never going to work," Diomedes tells him. He taps one sandal against one of Odysseus'. "You know that."

"I know," Odysseus hears himself say. This old script.

"Yet you went, regardless."

He nods, stares down at the scar on his leg, the scars on Diomedes'. As close as the two of them are now, he still doesn't know where all of those scars came from.

"It was an attempt at peace. A stupid attempt, to be sure, but Agamemnon was insistent."

At this, Diomedes scoffs. It's a well-kept secret between the two of them—most of the Achaeans see Diomedes as a loyal attack dog. Very few know that his tolerance of Agamemnon hangs on by the merest thread. Argos and Mycenae are two angry cats waiting for an excuse to scratch each other to shreds, he once said.

In the distance, they can hear the crackling fire and the unhappy murmur of Odysseus' men. No one is pleased with the result of the offer to Achilles, least of all Odysseus.

Quietly, Odysseus says, "What do you think will happen?"

Diomedes shrugs. "If you're looking for an oracle, I think you're better off talking to Calchas."

"I'm not talking to Calchas. I'm talking to you."

Diomedes is silent for a long moment. Then, he sighs and reaches across to twist one index finger around Odysseus' finger. "There is what I guess, and what I know. I know Achilles will refuse until something terrible happens. Everyone has a breaking point, and there will come a day where he finally reaches his."

Odysseus raises his eyebrows. "And your guess?"

Silence. Long, miserable silence. Those are becoming more common in this camp by the day. Then, Diomedes squeezes his finger, and Odysseus returns the gesture without a thought.

"I think his breaking point will be Patroclus."

The moment the last syllable fills the tent, Odysseus jerks awake.

He lays there on his too-comfortable camp bed, staring at the star-flecked canvas of his tent. Outside, shades whisper, nightbirds call, branches shiver and creak in the wind.

Slowly, Odysseus lifts his hand over his head, staring at his index finger. He can still feel that phantom of pressure of Diomedes' hand on his. Experimentally, he flexes the finger out, then in. Then, he drops his whole hand to cover his eyes.

"Shit," he tells no one in particular.

---

Melinoë brings back more shades on her next attempt in Tartarus. More human-shaped Elysium types. Odysseus can see a few that appear familiar, but for the life (death?) of him, he can't put a name to a ghostly face. Few shades have the strength of character to retain their shape after death. He and his comrades are exceptions.

Achilles and Patroclus seem to take it upon themselves to train these shades to form some kind of militia. Commander Schelemeus is in charge of the more shapeless, characterless brigade. These shades, though, can actually follow orders and know how to hold a weapon for more than a few seconds.

In a perfect world where Odysseus wasn't constantly trying to jam a foot in his too-quick mouth, he'd be helping.

During one of these training sessions, he watches with thinly-veiled interest. It's just another sign of how much has changed that Achilles is actually trying to teach someone how to move as he does. He has so much more patience, a gentleness to him that he never had in life unless it was for Patroclus. His voice is lower, softer, like he's speaking to a small child.

"He's a wonder, isn't he?" says a voice that most certainly doesn't belong to Achilles.

If he was another man, Odysseus would clear jump out of his skin. Melinoë's voice isn't the sort that surprises anyone, but the suddenness of it, the presence of her where there was nothing before—by the gods, he really is losing his edge.

He clears his throat, seeing saffron-and-wheat come into his periphery. "Indeed, goddess," he says.

"He trained my brother, you know," she goes on. He turns enough to see that hazy look in her eyes, the same that always appears when she talks about her family. "My father took him on as a house servant almost as soon as he'd died. I can scarcely imagine what it would have been like to train with him."

"Mm."

"You knew him well, didn't you?"

That shade of Penelope that constantly thrives in Odysseus' mind is giving him that look. Your lie is about to implode, my love.

"As well as anyone knows any legend, I suppose," he replies, stiffer than he'd like.

There is a long, blissful moment where Odysseus can almost fool himself into thinking the conversation is over. But Melinoë—clever girl—says, "You're being unusually quiet, Od."

He's too well-trained in the deceptive arts to stiffen up or shift uncomfortably. Instead, he offers her one of his best 'trust me' smiles. Historically, it's worked on everyone except Penelope and Diomedes.

"It's nothing, goddess," he says. Puts his hand over his heart for good measure. Then, a quick lie just to put a tack in it, "Just mulling over reports of enemy forces, is all. A bit much on my mind at the moment, I'm afraid."

Another moment. For one second, Odysseus thinks she's onto him. It might be a trick of Selene's light, but her red eye seems to dilate when she regards him. Like the judgment of her father.

Then, "Reports? What kind? Should I be concerned?"

If he were less in control of himself, he'd breathe out a sigh of relief. Instead, he keeps his smile in place and gestures to his table covered in its ever-present charts. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

---

Another dream. A hazy memory stained gold in Ithakan sunlight.

Penelope's hands in his hair, combing through the strands. She's humming a song that's achingly familiar, like a lullaby she sang for Telemachus when he was still a baby. She stops for a moment, smooths a thumb over a curl of hair, and laughs. It's a low, delightfully warm sound that Odysseus will never, ever tire of.

He smiles lazily, one hand reaching over to run a finger down her perfect wrist. "What's so funny, my love?" he asks.

She leans down and kisses his forehead, and he leans up to meet her halfway. "Twenty years," she says against his skin. "Twenty years and yet you still have this cowlick exactly where I left it."

Her fingers trace the spot in question, and Odysseus preens under her touch.

In that moment—as quick, fleeting, and blinding as one of Zeus' thunderbolts—he understands why Achilles did what he did. He would die a hundred times over for Penelope; he'd destroy the whole Trojan army by himself for her. Only a week ago did the servants get the last bloodstain out of the tapestries on the walls in the megaron—the last trace of evidence of those damnable suitors. Odysseus has heard the people of Ithaka calling it a massacre.

If you had her for a wife, he thinks. You would have done the same thing.

And then he thinks, unbidden, of Achilles returning to the war camp with Hector tied to the back of his chariot. Achilles, wearing the blood of Hector like a pelt, his eyes wide and rimmed in miserable red. He didn't tremble as he stepped down off the chariot, didn't allow his servants to wash the blood off his skin. I want to remember it, Achilles had said. Let me remember that I killed that man.

Penelope kisses him again, this time between his eyes. "You're thinking too much, again," she says. "That little line is back."

"Which? I've got more than one now."

She kisses it again and again, quick little pecks that draw him out of his memories and back into her embrace. "The only one from before," she says. "I'm trying to make it go away."

He lets her keep trying.

---

Melinoë is back at his table. It must be serious, as she hasn't gone to her little garden patch yet. Her hands are on her hips, watching him as he approaches from speaking with Hecate about adjusting the parameters of the warding spells.

"Goddess," he says, hand on his heart once more. Even feeling her two-toned stare on him like a physical weight, he approaches her as easily as ever. "Reports say you thrashed Typhon properly again. Undoubtedly you have a good story to tell of it?"

"I do," she says. Her voice, though, is more steely and level than he's heard in a long while. Oh no.

He raises his eyebrows anyway. "But?"

A longer stare. She's clearly inherited a family trait for intimidation, small as she is. "You lied to Achilles," she says.

Ah.

"Pardon?" is all he can think to reply.

"I spoke to him and Patroclus in the taverna earlier. He's not at all like he was in your stories, but when I asked him about that, he said you told him you had no memory of him. I know that's not true." That glare gets a little sharper. "What were you thinking, Od? Why lie to him?"

Ah, yes. That familiar sensation of getting caught in a snare of his own making. I owe you another drachma, Diomedes, he thinks.

And he thinks a little harder. His instinct is to get out of this somehow—lie and twist words over words until the whole situation is gathered up into a nice manageable package that he can promptly throw far, far away.

But Melinoë is looking at him in a way she's never looked at him before. Ever since she was young, she's always regarded him with expressions ranging between wide-eyed awe and pure delight. He's trained her in the art of smug satisfaction and mischievous conspiracy. This look, though, makes a bitter feeling haunt the back of his tongue. This look tells him that he's well and truly done something wrong.

No. He can't lie to her.

He briefly looks away, toward the opening to the taverna where he knows his old comrades are still lingering. They have their accommodations now, suitable as any in a war camp. However, they linger there and speak to the shades that come and go, sipping at the nectar that Melinoë brings them.

Odysseus could be over there, but he isn't.

"Not here, goddess," he finally says. He offers a grin just this side of sad, a tug at the corner of his mouth that feels sharp as a fishhook. He can't say what he wants to say within earshot of Nemesis or the eavesdropping Eris. That's literally asking for trouble by name. "The baths, I think, are pleasant this time of night, aren't they?"

Melinoë nods, understanding immediately. "They are," she agrees.

---

He tells her everything. The stories he withheld when she was a child—the sort that aren't suitable for the ears of children, even if those children happen to be gods.

"I framed the man who pulled me into the war, got him caught for treason, had him executed knowing full well that he did nothing of the sort," he says. Even though he's a shade, the water of the baths seems to scald his skin. There's some purifying element, he's sure. Burning away some of those old, angry lies that have lingered inside of him like festering, gangrenous wounds. "All this I did because I loathed the man. He took me away from my wife and son, but I— I was the one who suggested the oath for Helen in the first place. What right did I have to be angry?"

Melinoë sits in thoughtful silence. She isn't look at him with judgement of any kind, but rather that open inquisitive look she takes on when she's learning from her headmistress. Honestly, he wishes she'd judge him. That would be easier.

"You had a right," she says. "I can't say for certain how mortals feel, but I'm fighting the very forces that tore my family apart."

"Indeed, goddess. But this man didn't hide my family away, or attack them. All he did was remind me of my oath, and he forced me to acknowledge my own lie that I made to get out of that oath."

Thankfully, she only nods.

He goes on, shifting his gaze from her to the surface of the water. Selene's moonlight glints on it, shimmering like a silver disc. He feels vulnerable under her light now, knowing who she is and what she's capable of.

"I was the one who did the same to Achilles and Patroclus. Patroclus took the oath as well, even though he was a child. I knew that if one of them went somewhere, the other had to follow. So I brought them into the war." More bitterly, "I was the one who led them to their destruction. If I was angry enough at Palamedes to get him killed by his own men, I can only imagine how Achilles and Patroclus feel about me."

Of all the responses he expects out of Melinoë, a hand resting on his arm isn't one of them. She's not the most tactile goddess, and her upbringing under Hecate hasn't made her particularly soft. But her grip is strong and reassuring, and her gaze is firm. "Odysseus," she says. His whole name. She never does this. Then, even more firm, the command of a goddess, "Talk to them."

Whether it's her natural abilities as a goddess or some wall inside of himself that's wanted to break down for a while, he feels beyond compelled to follow her instruction. Still, he asks, "Why? What can I possibly say to them after leading them to their deaths?"

Her hand doesn't move from his arm. "Have you changed since you died?"

"I... Yes, I suppose so?" He doesn't mean for it to come out like a question, but he wouldn't be Odysseus if he didn't secretly doubt himself as a rule.

"Then why would you think they haven't changed either?"

He doesn't reply. He can't.

Melinoë's expression softens. "Talk to them, Od," she repeats, a little quieter.

He will.

By this goddess in particular, he will.

---

Odysseus of Ithaka walks into a taverna.

He sees Achilles of Phthia and Patroclus of Opus sitting at the best table, splitting a bottle of ambrosia between the two of them and smiling warmly at each other like no time has passed.

Odysseus approaches and gestures to the open seat at their table. "Who is this reserved for?" he asks.

His two old comrades look at him, dumbfounded, and then slowly both expressions turn into something fond. Patroclus is, as always, a little more reserved. Achilles smile is open in a way it never was when he was alive.

"It's reserved for King Odysseus of Ithaka, I think," says Patroclus.

"But only if he remembers us," says Achilles, like a joke.

Why would you think they haven't changed either?

Odysseus smiles and pulls the chair out for himself. "Oh, good," he says.

And he takes a seat.

[23fallencomets]

anyway i’m going to sleep now so enjoy a sargebon scene i cut out of Apartment 232!!

Logan comes home with a few bags of embroidery string, they’re small but god, are they filled to the brim. Alex eyes them when Logan drops them on the floor by the before clambering onto Alex’s lap.

He does that now, at any given chance.

“I don’t always want to have sex,” Logan had said once with a laugh, “I love it, but sometimes I just want to sit on your lap and hear about your day.”

“Finances are hardly interesting, darling.”

Logan makes a face, “They’re not. Unfortunately, I’m horribly invested in Pierre and Esteban’s rivalry. If they ever fight, my money’s on Este.

Alex wraps an arm around Logan, head leaned far back enough to look at Logan through half-lidded eyes. Logan is just staring at him, hands gently resting on Alex’s chest, his thumb running over the blue Sarge. Logan is wearing a black sweater, Albon mirrored on the left of his chest.

“I spoke to George today,” Logan says slowly, leaning his weight back into Alex’s knees. “It was weird, like I was getting the shovel talk?”

Alex’s hands tighten on Logan’s waist, causing him to twitch a little, “I don’t think he meant anything bad, and apparently, despite being so articulate, he loses his composure when he talks about you.”

“We were best friends,” Alex says, “The breakup was a long time coming, but stuff was said.”

Logan stares at him, blue eyes unblinking as his fingers fiddle with the drawstrings, “I’m realizing that now, actually. I’m not—this is a lot harder than I thought.”

Alex can’t help the chuckle, hands sliding down to rest on Logan’s thighs. His hands are trembling and Logan reaches down to hold them. They haven’t actually talked about Alex’s breakup and his subsequent isolation from his friends. Maybe the breakup was a lot worse than Alex’s had convinced himself it was.

“I genuinely feel like he didn’t mean to come off as rude or possessive, I guess, about you, but the way he was talking to me about you felt sort of patronizing? Like if I knew how you liked your tea and coffee, your favorite restaurants, things that make you, you.” Logan trails off, “I know we’ve known each other for a few months and have been dating for almost as long as that, but it just made me feel like—” like if i’m not good enough, he wants to say.

“We’re still getting to know each other,” Alex says softly, his thumbs gently caressing the back of Logan’s hands, “Sure we might’ve jumped the gun a bit too early, but we’re in the same boat, no? There’s things we still need to mentally prepare for, things we aren’t exactly jumping in joy to talk about, like why exactly you left Florida.”

Logan’s face twitches, it’s all quick and maybe if Alex hadn’t been paying attention he would have missed it, the quick downturn of his lips and the pain that flashed across his features.

“I’m not rushing you to talk about it,” Alex reassures, “I’m not going to rush you to tell me about it, I’m sure it’s bad, but I’m not laying in bed wondering about the horrors of America.”

It’s enough to get Logan to laugh, his head thrown back and Alex’s hand gods up to cup his neck, run his finger down the length of it. Logan flushes before he melts into it, his eyes closing as Alex’s hand carefully grips his neck. He’s barely putting pressure, just letting his hand stay there.

Logan breathes in, tilts his head away, “Don’t wanna do anything right now,” He mumbles, pressing his lips to the ball of Alex’s palm, “I get all floaty afterwards.” He does nip Alex’s palm though, pulling away fully with a grin.

Alex nods, files away the information he found, “I’ll talk to George,” He says suddenly, “It’s not fair of him to seek you out or whatever when he can’t even look me in the eyes.”

His boyfriend shrugs, clearly moved on from the slightly emotional heavy conversation. He slides off Alex’s lap and sits on the cushion near his bags, the cushion Alex had bought when he realized Logan sitting on the floor next to him was going to become a normal occurrence.

“Look at all of this.” Logan says, grin wide as he pulls out bundle after bundle , “Arthur bought them for me—don’t look at me like that.”

Alex forces his expression to relax, “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

Logan rolls his eyes, twisting his body to be on his side, his chin propped on Alex’s knee. His hair is a mess, and Alex can’t help but run his hands through the blonde strands, pushing them away from the unamused stare his boyfriend is giving him. It does make laugh, the annoyance washing off of Logan.

“He found out I have an actual embroidery machine—Dalton sent it over last week—and wants me to embroider somethings.” Logan pats his calf, “Don’t overthink it too much, darlin’.”

Alex shakes his head, picking up a bundle of red, black and yellow. He helps Logan sort them by color, watching the bundles fit into their color group; blues, reds, pinks, yellows and green, the whole rainbow.

“Wait, why am I never here when he sends you things?” Alex asks, “Am I just never home?”

Logan stands up, groaning slightly as he carefully collects his things, “I gave him Oscar’s address.” He says almost cautiously, picking at the blue thread, “It was part of the arrangement.”

Alex knew there was something sketchy about Logan’s family, but since he never said anything, Alex didn’t push for answers. Instead, he stands up and motions Logan onwards.

“Let me see this machine of yours.”

[quibbs126]

You know, I really think there’s merit to be had in a TFA-style dynamic with Optimus and Megatron, with the two as strangers and Megatron being so much older and basically from a completely different Cybertron. Particularly with a corrupt Autobot government

And also if you actually explore their dynamic more, since TFA didn’t really do that

Like they start off as pure enemies, each thinking very lowly of the other, but their continuous conflicts giving them an odd sense of respect for one another, or at least Megatron for Optimus

And then there’s also the juiciness of their completely separate backstories, or more specifically Optimus learning Megatron’s. I think it’d be cool if Megatron had an absolutely horrible backstory, one so terrible it made him want to burn it all down because he saw no other way forward. In part because my faves must suffer, but also with this backstory being at the hands of Autobots or people who would become Autobots. Like maybe some of the leaders, while not directly responsible, did turn their heads in some way and deny responsibility. Like Megatron is a monster, but he is the monster created by the Autobots

And maybe over time, while he never agrees with him, Optimus starts to understand Megatron more, that he’s more than just a creature of pure evil. And maybe in a scenario where Megatron is captured like in Season 3, Optimus finds himself seeking out his advice and words, because while he’s no paragon, he’s the only person who will tell him the truth, because the Autobot command certainly won’t, and he wants to understand it all better; Megatron, the Decepticons, the Autobots, the war, all of it. Both in prison and out of it, Megatron ends up strangely becoming a sort of mentor to Optimus

I don’t think this Megatron would be one that gets a redemption arc. He’s too far gone, even if he has a tragic backstory and he’s more complex than just a cartoon villain (and also I need to remind myself that just because I feel bad for Megs doesn’t mean he should get off scott free, particularly since he was the villain originally). I also think Optimus should be the one to kill him, with Megatron maybe even being happy with this outcome, that Optimus is someone worthy of doing him the honor of death

I may have gone a bit specific, but I think this older, more experienced Megatron should be a way for Optimus to grow as a person; to learn that the world isn’t as black and white as he thought, and to learn to question the establishment he lives by, so that he can see its corruption and work to truly make it better. Because even if this Optimus isn’t the leader of the Autobots in the story, that is what he tends to ultimately become. I think it could be so good, if in the hands of writers willing, and more importantly able, to explore this as a concept more (though mandates can be a bastard, as seen in other shows)

Oh and also, nothing romantic between these two. With this scenario my brain cooked up, I just don’t see a place for it. Give Optimus his own separate love interest if you have to, just not Megatron, let them be platonic in this instance. Could you say this is because I’m not a fan of TFA megop? Sure, but I say this because I realized this is how I feel about TFA Megatron and Optimus; there’s potential I see in their dynamic, I just don’t like when it’s only for romantic reasons. There’s so much more here, that I think can stand to be more interesting than leading to them kissing. Probably true of other iterations but this is where I stand with TFA at least

[wombpala]

Please talk more about Soulless Sam. I LOVE how you think about him.

THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE.

ok so to preface I think in spn there is always an invisible scoreboard on the corner of the screen that keeps track of who is the coolest guy with the biggest dick in the room and I think that Dean can see this scoreboard and is excruciatingly aware of his position on it every single second of his life and that's why he Acts Like That. and generally Sam is only aware of this scoreboard as like a vague distant sword of damocles hanging over him and making him sweat. so usually Dean in winning (with some notable suggestions). he has sparkle he has flair he understands his own genre and he knows how to play to the camera, always. Sam doesn't.

but then in s6 Dean has lost points and is on a significantly lower rung of the cool guy ladder on account of things like being in a relationship and golfing. already quite vulnerable, narratively. and Soulless Sam just breaks the game. bc he's operating on the hardware that Dean and John instilled in him, he's a Hunter, he working with the Campbells aka supporting his Family (which is the most important thing obviously), he's a sex God incapable of emotional intimacy (male power fantasy), it's a startling power switch bc Dean just cannot be the boss here. Sam wins by not playing. In the first ep when they're reunited and Sam's like dude. were you racing me...? who has the bigger car who has the bigger dick.

there are so many amazing convos they have that season that Sam wins by just refusing to obfuscate. ex. Dean: I don't wanna give the baby to the Campbells bc I don't trust them 😡 sam: so ur saying you don't trust...our family...of hunters.

OWNED. and then how after Dean finds out he immediately casts himself as Sam's externalized conscience/teacher to try to regain some semblance of control over Other Sam.

this is so awesome . Dean's insistence that he is 'driving the bus', deciding oh Sam has forgotten how to be Sam well I will teach him how to pretend until he can be Sam again. right after this he calls Sam a puppet. Dean is his puppeteer, Dean is teaching him how to care. and Sam really does try to imitate Dean's humanity during these eps where they have this fragile truce. like, he's a good student. he's asking questions. 'so you're saying suffering... is good?' 'I'm saying it's the only game in town.' <- 1 of my fav slices of dialogue from them ever!!! I love soulless sam bc he cuts through all Dean's fluff and bravado, and bc he's a perfect reflection of the ideals of masculinity (- the charisma and pure hearted knight of the realm vibe). genuine confusion at the flowery circles that dean talks in, (I thought you wanted me to be honest!), the way dean never says exactly what he means, soulless sam strips dean of pretense just by existing, next to him all dean’s bravado and soaring bombastic overtures fall flat and sad. soulless Sam demystifies.

also I do find it so funny and interesting how Dean telling Sam he can't fuck patchouli girl while Dean is kidnapped is ultimately what makes Sam decide he's not into the whole soul thing. like ok Dean is like you can't be fucking patchouli girl bc you're supposed to be worrying abt me and Sam str8 up asks him ok sensei are you saying that soul= suffering, which is good, and Dean is like well kind of yes, and Sam is like. Oh. Well that sounds like maybe it sucks.

like if everyone was telling you we hate you the way you are so we're gonna put some horrible dirty abused thing inside you, this immaterial substance that contains the memory of your century long rape, and that will make you good again. wouldn't you be like wtf no don't do that. The language they use around returning Sam's soul is violent. In caged heat (or as I like to call it the episode that is most explicitly abt rape in a season that is already full of sexual assault) Cas describes it as "forcing that mutilated thing down his gullet"

trying to kill Bobby isn't the action of a robot or a callous hyper-practical Dexter. Sam believes he is fighting for the right to exist. but he's monstrous and he breaks the rules of the story so obviously he's got to go. and cutting off monstrous pieces of himself/ being cut up into little archetypal categories is like Sam's whole deal so soulless sam is just that theme reiterated and writ large. Sam gothic double/changelingism is a whole other post and this is getting long but suffice to say that 1 thing about Sam is that there is 2 of him.

[ilikekidsshows]

I have a horrible feeling about the upcoming episode "Lady Chaos". It could finally be that episode where Ladybug finally gets akumatized, albeit executed differently. Let's say that Adrien finally find out about the truth about the rewritten world from Ladybug, and then he becomes so distraught that he would sever ties from both Ladybug and Marinette. Ladybug becomes horrifically upset that she winds up getting finally akumatized, and Ladybug not only accepts it, but embraces it to extent of becoming a supervillain, Lady Chaos. Lady Chaos begins wreaking havoc across Paris, and it would be Adrien's fault. Bonus points if the episodes becomes yet another "what if" episode.

---

I’m not gonna lie, at this point I hope the episode will be about anything other than our Marinette getting Akumatized, because, no matter what happens that makes her so upsette she becomes Akumanette, I won’t be able to feel empathy towards her. Lady Chaos, more like Lady Victim, heyooooooo!

I have no interest in an episode where Marinette will become even worse, where she will be validated for that because she “isn’t herself”, and will instead be pitied by everyone around her. “Oh, we weren’t understanding enough. We didn’t do enough to help her when she’s always helping us!” Gag.

I’d rather we get a proper evil Alternative Marinette dropping by for a visit. I’d rather watch an admittedly evil Marinette than our resident villain protagonist we’re supposed to view as an undisputed hero. I’d point and laugh at all the ways the evil and “good” Marinette are exactly alike, even as the episode has all the characters tell Ladybug she’s totally nothing like her because she’s always thinking of others (footage not found).

[groovyfrog420]

T4T chilshi is honestly cooking because.

Chilchuck idolising "dwarves' masculinity" works even better if they're both transmasc. And I'd love to see the initial "How did you do that?? How did you get to this point so easily? How did you achieve A and B and C?" slowly transform into understanding that you can be transmasc in many ways. There's no single standard that you have to conform to, and you're just as valid and manly in any shape or size or behaviour.

[explanationpoint]

it’s a lot of posts that are thinly veiled “NEVER SUGGEST BEING TRANS TO ANYONE” and frankly i’m not gonna bother with interacting but it’s pretty funny that most of the time it’s not-trans women yelling at trans women for thinking someone might be a trans woman

[that-seems-stupid-lets-do-it]

Welcome to EMPTY SEKAI. You have been living here for as long as you can remember.

(yayyy omoei crossover woohoo !!!)

[rametarin]

They have something in common with the nationalist Russians.

Almost like the two get their marching orders from the same proxy sources.

To Russia, "The Great Patriotic War" was about the Nazis and the rest of the world beating up on poor Russia for no reeaaaaason, and they saved the world from the Nazis all by themselves. And also Western Europe was there too, they guess, kinda.

So a Nazi to them is anything that threatens Russia, or their ideal of what they see Russia could be. So, Ukrainians are "Nazis," in that they don't want to be Russian. Western Europeans are Nazis because they don't want to be Russian and want Russia to do anything but dictate its own terms to itself and others.

And in the west, mold haired Hard-Leftists see themselves as embodying THE definition of correct and good and truth for equality, therefore opposing them and how they think must make you a supporter of those horrible things. So, they accuse you. Not to make you feel bad, but to lie to you around the people around you.

At the same time as they whoop up this bogus worldview and sell them that, making it clear by telegraphing willful ignorance and unreasonability that those accused of Bad Thing will have social bridges to them burned, and anyone on the other side of those won't be listened to to apologize.

It's a psychologically manipulative technique to make you fear being othered by the tribe, while controlling narrative. They make you fear the retaliation of mob violence and proxy ignorance based on damage to your reputation, gossip and rumors. So, it's a subtle threat: "I will ruin your life if you don't operate exactly how I want you to operate, and you won't be able to put out those fires or know where I've set them in your social life."

The threat of being presented as the centerpiece of an echochamber next to the Thing said group is encouraged to hate and see as an existential threat to their existence, UNLESS you conform or overcompensate to prove YOU aren't the Bad Thing.

Make no mistake, Nazis are bad. That's what makes this work. This weaponized reputation ruining.. "cancelling," if you will. That's why they bandy the term Nazi about. It's deliberately done to cheapen the well earned animosity and cash it in for their own ideological cause.

These people are so out of touch that they'll call liberals Nazis, just for being capitalists, and reject their, "free speech is whatever I think would serve my interests" view of the world.

[vaguely-concerned]

just for fun this time during 'sea of blood' I counted out all the venatori corpses I think we can be pretty sure were lucanis' handiwork before we show up (not including the ones he kills in his initial cutscene, and with an assumption that he's been at work mainly up and down in the areas we move through until we find him, not behind the locked door -- I think that's mostly the work of rampaging undead and other venatori-hoisted-by-their-own-petard suchlikes). can thus happily inform you lucanis has killed at least 32 venatori before rook and company get there. at least one of them he's impaled on their own weird crystal spike things the venatori mages cast as an AOE attack and that they're trying to keep him contained with when we find him. so he's clearly been keeping busy lol. that's my boy dispensing poetic justice and claiming some enrichment in his enclosure while he's at it good for him!

[lord-squiggletits]

I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

[s2pdoktopus]

I gave him a girlfriend.

(this scene starts with them kissing, actually. I just didn't want to draw people kissing. Jiang Cheng pulls back because he doesn't want to ruin their friendship, nevermind that she initiated. He apologizes for how inappropriate that was. Meihua, undeterred, asks him if it's inappropriate because they aren't exactly courting each other. Jiang Cheng doesn't answer so she took that as a yes and then the comic happens.)

[sludgekludge]

What really bugs me as the sins is how they are portrayed as "Nice" and "virtuous", which not only misses the point of the being embodiments of evil, but also conflicts with the show wanting us to like them despite them perpetuating the systems of hell. Like they want to designate Asmodeus and Beelzebub as the "good, fun" sins, whilst also in the same breathe admonishing Mammon as an evil one "Because he's relatable evil as a scummy boss".

(This also regards the shows habit of wanting to portray Hell as this cool location where you can do whatever you want and not a place of suffering and evil but that's another topic.)

Thing is they could've potential had there cake and eat it too with the Sins being fun characters, whilst also beings to be feared. Just make it so that the Sins don't operate on traditional human/hellborn morality. As embodiments of evil, they operate mostly on what will spread their respective sins more; "what can I do to cause and bask in the most Greed/Sloth/ Gluttony/ Lust/ etc. at the moment". And they can be cordial and fun at times with some of the people they meet, but only under the pretense of them being currently interesting to them at the moment. Like one moment the Beelzebub is having a party with hellhounds, and the very next day she's eating one of them from the same party and never bats an eye. Make them less good or evil, and more incomprehensible, which leaves the door open to portray them as both funny and imposing at the same time.

honestly really agree with this, it reads as so...painfully childish? the way they're written now. they're so scared of you disliking vivs favourite ocs. it baffles me that there's a distinction between the 'good' sins and the 'bad' sins at all - all of them would've been much more interesting characters if they'd just been portrayed with some nuance.

all of them operating on their own 'morality' i guess that's centred entirely around indulging in their sin could've been a super interesting and fun character trait. i feel like the 7 deadly sins should be something so easy to write in a fun and unique way, and yet...

still totally baffling to me they introduce the sin of gluttony, have her sing some very on-the-nose lyrics encouraging over-indulgence, then write her hitting the 'woah bro you've had enough' in the same ep.