#which only makes me feel more evil about it all.

[destielnoirbang]

Who Framed Sam Winchester?

By queerwerewolf | @queerwolf79 Art by anyrei | @anyreiart

Coming to Ao3 on 12/27/2024

Rated Explicit | 29,180 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Down-on-his-luck private eye Cas Novak gets hired by Angelic Studios president, Nick Vaught, to investigate a scandal involving an infamous literary character (Lit), Dean Winchester, and Vaught’s primary nemesis, Fergus Crowley. A devilish producer and prop designer who has his hands in every movie studio in Los Angeles. Crowley’s prop factory shares a wall with Lit Town, and worse yet, he owns the contract for every Lit. Every contract, that is, except for brothers Sam and Dean Winchester from the Supernatural book series. When Crowley is found murdered, Sam Winchester becomes the primary suspect and goes on the run. The villainous Judge Edlund vows to catch and destroy Sam, having discovered a means of killing Lits with a substance known only as “Pulp”. Desperate to prove his brother’s innocence, Dean demands Cas help him find his brother before the Judge does. Despite vowing to never work with another Lit after his twin brother's murder, Cas agrees. With a contentious start to their working relationship, Dean Winchester and Cas Novak begin to uncover an ever growing nefarious plot. Can Cas and Dean put a stop to this evil ploy? And more importantly, will their attraction to each other get in the way of saving the day?

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

“Cigars? Cigarettes?”

When I turned, it was to come face to face with Dorian Gray. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t aged a day in about a decade or so. Now whether that was because he was a Lit, or that damned portrait… His cobalt blue eyes rivaled my own, although, if I’m honest, his were always prettier. His curly blonde hair was coifed in a pompadour and his scarlet lips were curled in a hungry smile. He was dressed in a form-fitting pair of charcoal pants and an even tighter black t-shirt that left little to the queer imagination, carrying a tray of different smokes.

“Dorian, what are you doing here?”

With a wistful, overly dramatic sigh, Dorian pouted his plush lips and said, “Work’s been slow for those of us with a little more… culture.” Which meant with how many contemporary novels were capturing the attention of audiences, any Lits from the 19th century or earlier had to get creative to make a living. This suited Dorian, considering his nature. “But I’m still exquisitely tragic.”

With a soft laugh, I nodded, reveling in his beauty for a moment, although I was far too old for him now. “Yeah, you are.”

The lights started to dim and a spotlight shined on the closed curtains. I caught Crowley in my peripheral vision, straightening his tie and sitting upright. He even pulled out a small bottle of cologne, spraying it against his neck. It reeked of licorice and cloves, the breath of a child that got into his father’s cigarette case.

I turned to Dorian with a bemused expression. “What’s with him?”

Dorian smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle on his pants with a shrug. “Oh, Mr. Crowley never misses a night when Dean performs.”

“Got a thing for Lits, huh?”

At that, Dorian gave me a pointed look. “If I recall, you did as well at one point.”

I cleared my throat and grabbed my drink, gulping down half of it at the implication, feeling a warmth at the memories that comment conjured. The crowd grew silent and the band could be heard from the pit, warming up their instruments. Then a familiar intro began, an infamously upbeat Cole Porter song that had been slowed down from a jazzy little jaunt to something sedated, steady, and sentimental. Just as a soft beat began, the curtains jostled and a leg popped out, bent at the knee in skin tight purple pants.

“We’re all alone… No chaperone… Can get our number… the world’s in slumber… ” A sultry, deep voice sang in a pleasant register, masterfully turning jazz to a ballad. The curtains parted and revealed one of the most breathtaking creatures I had ever seen in my life.

“Let’s misbehave…”

[mythalism]

I love everything that you write and I wanted to bring this up with you. I feel like if we had seen the actual moment (at least in one of the regrets) of Mythal’s death, it would have been so impactful. It’s something that Solas talks about constantly and that he feels responsible for and I feel like it would have been a huge moment for the player to see in the story. I dunno. Just ranting. Thoughts?

thank you anon 🥺 i would love to yap about this with you… i think you are totally right that seeing mythal’s death would have been really powerful. i COULD be amenable to an argument that keeping it off screen adds to the drama and tension and the way mythal haunts the narrative…. IF that was their intention… but i don’t think it was lol i think it was probably another victim of the messy development.

mythal so thoroughly haunts the narrative and the lighthouse itself… i think if they leaned into that and we ONLY saw her through solas’s pov in murals, keeping the mystery of her murder off-screen would make sense. but considering we literally get to talk to her, she has enough of an on-screen presence that maintaining that sense of separation is already a lost cause. we also know mythal on some level through flemeth, who has literally ranted about mythal’s death!!! “she was betrayed as i was betrayed”!!!! i think it would have been a nice climax of flemethyal’s arc to see that betrayal or at least hear about it.

i totally agree that it would have humanized solas further and i think that would’ve been nice to see, especially how his complicated grief for her was the catalyst/final straw against the evanuris of the veil going up. he also does actually talk about her murder several times, and we know it happens with THE DAGGER so it feels like it would’ve made sense to elaborate on how it happened more, and the fact that it’s his dagger, that she told him to make, that he used to tranquilize the titans, that he carries with him still, that he is so attached to and obsessed with, THAT DAGGER that did it!? it would have served as a really nice metaphor for his attachment to his grief and regret and the precious world, manifested physically in this dagger that also KILLED MYTHAL (and Varric now too!!)

he actually brings up what im assuming is her death when you ask him about blood magic (lol a lot to unpack here but that’s for another time) and honestly idk what to make of his convo because the way he speaks about it is very detached which i find interesting. obviously this might not be about Mythal but the implication that the dagger used was made via blood magic and sacrifice and “I suppose it depends upon the dagger" is suspicious to me….

anyway, i think who would’ve really benefitted most from us seeing mythal’s murder is ELGAR’NAN!!!!!! HELLO!?!?!? HE MURDERED HIS WIFE AND ITS ONLY MENTIONED ONCE WHEN HE AND SOLAS ARGUE!?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK????? the fact that mythal and elgar’nans relationship is nearly nonexistent is one of veilguard’s biggest sins to me. it should have been a huge part of the main story. they are literally THE SUN AND THE MOON. THEY ARE THE ALL MOTHER AND ALL FATHER OF ALL ELVES?????????? and he betrays and murders her and stabs her in the stomach. and literally no one talks about it ever it just doesn’t come up except for like 2 lines. elgarnan was such a one dimensional villain with no motivations (being a naturally evil spirit of tyranny doesn’t count and it’s boring) and no attachments and he feels completely inhuman as a result. like literally he’s just evil and that’s it and it’s so boring. we could have had such an interesting exploration of love and betrayal and how power corrupts and what it must’ve been like to be basically Elven Adam and Eve and a jealous man’s resentment culminating in violence and how mythal’s closeness to solas impacted her relationship with elgarnan like it could have been SO INTERESTING. and yeah. seeing her murder would’ve been a logical conclusion to a lot of build up. put it on the list of things we lost i guess 😔

[religious-extremist]

I need guidance on something. I find myself committing sin (lying, anger) often - and I want to repent but I feel like it would be a lie to God because I know I will sin again, because I have fallen into these habits. I want to get better and seek God's forgiveness but I absolutely do not want to make false promises to God. I have asked other Christians about this but they all give me similar responses - "Just repent anyway, it's okay if you sin again," or "These sins are so minor, God doesn't care," or other things like this and it feels like being led astray to even consider these possibilities. I am asking you because I feel like an Orthodox Christian sticks more firmly to the Bible and not to modern interpretations of it.

Eagerly awaiting your response, and please pray for me. :)

St. Porphyrios used to say, “Do not fight to expel the darkness from the chamber of your soul. Open a tiny aperture for light to enter, and the darkness will disappear.”

All habitual sins are rooted in the passions: lying and anger are the fruits of pride, which is the seed of corruption. It is necessary to struggle against them and not despair of our salvation. We cannot give up the fight against the desires of the flesh; it is impossible to be a Christian while indulging in the pleasures of sin.

God gives us the weapons we need to fight the passions through the Church; through frequent confession and communion; through prayer and fasting. I recommend you talk to an Orthodox spiritual father, as I am only a layperson, and a terribly sinful and foolish one at that!

The only way to avoid sin is to have perfect prayer, to have perfect stillness of the heart, to hold fast to Christ and keep Him in the center of your thoughts at all times. Have you ever heard of the Jesus prayer and the hesychastic way of life?

St. Macarius of Optina said, “Pray simply. Do not expect to find in your heart any remarkable gift of prayer. Consider yourself unworthy of it. Then you will find peace. Use the empty cold dryness of your prayer as food for your humility.”

I wish to say, his advice can be used to advance in all of the other virtues aside from prayer. Pray for God to keep you from sin, and if you find yourself falling into sin, use the shame of sin as food for your humility.

St. Isaac the Syrian also said, “As salt is needed for all kinds of food, so humility is needed for all kinds of virtues.”

While Elder Ephraim said, “Grass does not sprout in trampled ground; likewise, passions and wickedness do not sprout in a humble soul. As long as we lack humility, God will not stop humbling us through trials until we learn this important and most salvific lesson.”

So you might wonder, how can I gain humility? When you find yourself angry, look inwards and remember your sin against God. Remember the unmerciful servant, the fool who received forgiveness for his debt from the King and then assailed a fellow servant for owing him much less than what he, himself, owed the King. Pray for those who sin against you, and thank God for the persecution you face, because He allows you to face temptations in order to heal your soul of its passions.

“In order to abide in the love of God it is essential for anger and 'hate' to attain their maximum intensity but be directed against the sin that lives in me, against the evil active in me - in me, not in my brother.” St. Silouan exhorted.

Most importantly, no one can attain these virtues unless they are in obedience to a spiritual father. People fall into delusion thinking they can live a spiritual life outside of the Church, but in doing so, they follow the whims of their heart and nourish not their souls but feed the evil passion of pride in their hearts. Disobedience was the first sin committed by man in Paradise, and it is by obedience to a spiritual father that we free ourselves from the harsh judgment of God.

Please forgive me and pray for me, inadequate and late in my answer. You are welcome to send me a message if you wish to speak. It is hard for me to answer these questions adequately without conversation, the answer is so vast and encompasses so many facets of the spiritual life that cannot be explained in a short paragraph by a stupid person like me, so I recall instead what the saints have said.

The spiritual life is mystical, you must participate in the prayers, services, fasts, and sacraments of the Church in order to find answers; it is not something I can give to you with words, but it is an experience of God. “God is the Lord and has revealed Himself to us!” The only way to know God is by divine revelation, not by mere will, and we find God revealed to us through His Church! “Taste and see that the Lord is good!” Indeed, He knocks at your door, only you must answer and meet the Bridegroom yourself.

I am praying for you. May the Panagia be with you! May God have mercy on us, my dear friend,

Prayer for the Granting of all Virtues by Saint Ephraim the Syrian

Grant me, O Son of the Good One, that for which my mind yearns, and join to it that which is pleasing to Thy will.

Grant that I may choose to do good and in no way deviate from Thy will.

Do not permit me to be a wicked and hypocritical disciple who violates Thy commandments.

Protect me from thinking that I can walk along Thy path merely for the sake of appearance and thus by my hypocrisy deceive those who see me, inciting them to proclaim me blessed.

Grant that my heart might please Thy greatness in secret, and that my just life might glorify Thee publicly.

May truth be a mistress to guide Thy worshipper; may it preserve me in chastity both near and far.

Deliver me from the misfortune of knowing Thy law, yet lacking the desire to please Thee.

Vouchsafe me the company of people who are simple, but experienced and wise in the performance of virtues.

My flesh is weak. Fortify it with Thy strength. Help me, break the arrows of the cunning enemy, and number me among the hosts of Thine heirs.

Grant me, O Lord, ever to be among Thy dominion and to do what is pleasing to Thee. And whenever I begin something good, do Thou, O Lord, give me strength to complete it.

I know, O Lord, that I have sinned against Thy will. Clearly do I see that I have transgressed Thy commands. But do Thou, who makest Thy sun to shine on the bad and the good, deign also to shine Thy light in my clouded mind. And sins — those murderers and robbers who have taken up residence inside of me — will be driven out by this Thy light.

The Evil One sees in me no wickedness that did not come from him, for it is because of him that I have become wicked. I am, however, conquered by him through my own free will. The Evil One has entangled me because I myself instructed him to do so.

The slothful and the timid run from Thy yoke; Thy love shames the negligent.

Praise be to Thy goodness, to that mother of all teachers. The blows that they deliver to bring the stubborn to their senses are perhaps quite painful, yet sympathetically do they offer healing to the penitent.

Worthy of veneration are Thy Father and Thy Holy Spirit, Who rejoices at our return!

[tanoraqui]

now that this fic is all published, I can ramble about the things that happen afterward in the timeline! Feel SO free to ask about anything you want more details of.

First off, all three posts about Dave the Balrog are 100% canon to this au, except for where they sometimes contradict the fic's worldbuilding or plot bc I hadn't settled on every detail yet. Also, Dave’s name is probably more like “Drav”, from the Sindarin “drava-”, “to hew.”

That happens much later, though - about 1980 TA. FIRST, immediately, as Celebrimbor says: it's time to save the orcs!

That is, wildly self-indulgent crossover with @ceescedasticity's fic(verse) elves, once, which isn't 100% my headcanon for orcs but it's essentially canon for this au because it makes everything VERY FUNNY in a tragic irony way. I've thought about this so much that it really deserves its own bullet-point post, but highlights include:

- Annatar attempts to conceal the fact that Curufin and Celegorm are orcs, and, y'know, have been since they died. This works until Celebrimbor identifies a bunch of the orc army's weapons as made by his father, even if the style is strange and fell, and the two of the have a HUGE fight in front of representatives of every Elvish kingdom in Middle Earth and most of an army of orcs.

- Bellow/Turgon is having the single strangest, most uncomfortable road trip of his life, and he counts the crossing of the Helcaraxë in that total.

- Turgon tries to convince Galadriel to take Celebrían and Elrond and get out of here, because inevitably this must be a cruel trick and all the orcs will be forced to turn on all the Elves. Galadriel is like, "Honestly, I've been watching Celebrimbor's slow corruption and Sauron's slower un-corruption for about 2,000 years now, and I think we actually have a shot at this. Also, bold of you to assume you can beat me in a fight."

- Curufin and Celegorm had BOOKED IT when Annatar's summoning-compulsion snapped, on the reasonable assumption that any plan the Dark Lord had for them + Celebrimbor could only be cruel to the extreme...so Celebrimbor and Annatar go on a bonus road trip to retrieve them.

- Everyone meets up by the Sea again, but instead of taking (or, obeying) the offer of escape into Ulmo's hands, Turgon and probably a bunch of other orcs volunteer to come help break the Crucible. They Deserve This.

- In the end, as usual, the day is ultimately saved - as are the souls of thousands of trapped elves - by the power of love and overwhelming violence.

AND THEN...

Celebrimbor & Annatar don't actually rebuild Ost-in-Edhil and Eregion as they were. Those days are over, and also the surviving Númenoreans kinda...regard Annatar as Absolute Evil, for some mysterious reason. And those who knew about the whole or even partial conspiracy - namely Tar-Miriel herself - aren't too keen on Celebrimbor, either.

They leave whoever wants to stay and rebuild in Eregion, leadership tbd based on the traditional system of craft-based meritocracy, and take a few decades off to lay low from geopolitics, work on their marriage, and for Celebrimbor to learn a little bit of necromancy so he can manipulate his own fëa and hröa, thank you very much.

They stay with the Witch-Queen of Calador for a while, discreetly because officially that kingdom is also not on good terms with its “former” evil-ish overlord. (The Witch-Queen of Calador and her not really sane, almost certainly unsafe, but arguably consensual relationship with Annatar really deserves her own post, too. She’s my favorite OC of this au. She really loves bats.)

Elrond & Celebrían get married! Elrond always knew his wedding would have to involve stopping drunken brawls from erupting between people who love him but hate each other, but he’d assumed it’d be Iathrim and Fëanorians, not an elderly Queen Miriel going for Annatar’s eyes with a butter knife.

Annatar regards the birth of Elrohir and Elladan with some concern, this alarming lineage now augmented by the blood of Arafinwë (cut off Melkor’s foot) and Galadriel (Melian’s pupil, hates him). But that’s nothing to how freaked out he is by Arwen, who is such an obvious Reprise of Lúthien that it’s now CLEAR that this was all a Melian scheme to assault him, personally.

He can’t just kill her now—Elrond and Galadriel and both right here, not to mention Celebrimbor. And then she’d absolutely be his enemy when she Returned… No, the only solution is to stay in Imladris for a while and become her most beloved uncle whom she would not dream of assaulting, whom she could not bring herself to injure even if circumstance and conscience forced her hand. Love has ever been the undoing of Melian’s line. The Reprise is obvious, but not so established that he cannot twist it into irony, Lúthien’s heir as his devoted student and companion rather than foe.

[smash cut to late 3rd Age Annatar watching the Music settle into place as Arwen interacts with the newest, currently toddling scion of the House of Elendil and nearly killing the child right then because no, no, thats not how this was supposed to Reprise—that’s his jewel of an elf-queen, Singer and trade-manipulator and niece, and he’s going to lose her forever? Killing the brat won’t even work, that would only make her follow him sooner, one way or another—]

Celebrimbor doesn’t want to build a city (and have his heart broken by the loss of the city) again, but he very much does want to ImproveThe World, and also to Make Things With His Hands. So he and Annatar, and whoever of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain wish to join them, set about… “Traveling” is too loose a term; just because they’re not city-building doesn’t mean anyone here wants to live on the road. They need workshops, forges, and ideally a maia-sized cat tree tall tower from which to survey their domain. They are a highly skilled work crew/technical, artistic & management consultants who change cities every 5-200 years, throughout Middle Earth and perhaps even other continents.

This what Celebrimbor and Annatar do, for most of the rest of their time in Middle Earth. A few of the Mírdain travel with them all the time. Others strike out on their own, or in similar small groups. Others stay in rebuilt Ost-in-Edhil, or Rivendell or the Havens or another Elvish kingdom, and come lend a hand when their particular talents are called for. Everyone who “died” in Númenor and was “resuscitated” by Annatar walked away with a strengthened, basically permanent osanwë connection to the simulated workshop group chat, which they’re aware of, and a location tracker and fëa-stamp saying “PROPERTY OF MAIRON, FUCK AROUND AND YOU WILL FIND OUT” which only an Ainu could detect.

They're the mysterious stranger(s) who accept an offer of hospitality on a stormy night and reward you with a magic ring that blesses your farm with fecundity. They arrive in a city in the middle of a cholera outbreak and inform the local rulers that they're here to overhaul the whole wells & sewers system in exchange for room and board; no, the local rulers do not get a choice in this. One time they do oust an evil ruling dynasty and just kinda take over the kingdom for a few centuries, but then Celebrimbor starts to get paranoid of his own growing attachment so Annatar reluctantly agrees to find and raise some honorable candidate for kingship [gender-neutral]. One of the Mírdain with them says, what about the choice of the people? And then after a lot of discussion, partly in collaboration with their local Men, they write up and seal with Power a Constitution that establishes an oversight body of political, economic, craft and etc. experts to oversee and have veto power over popular elections to kingship from a slate of candidates chosen by the current/soon-to-be previous king, on a strict thirty-year schedule. There, that should stabilize the whole messy business of mortal succession!

Also, 1300 years or so into the Third Age when this version of Gondor hits its equivalent of the Kin-Strife, Annatar takes advantage of its weakness to initiate a plan he's been contemplating for a while, especially while gaining local insight into a variety of nation-states and their management, and returns to Oroduin to forge what may he his last Great Work...a new standard of currency.

It’s called, in the common tongue developing from Adúnaic and Sindarin, the “mira”, pl. “miran”, from Quenya “mírë” (“jewel, precious thing). Where pettier currencies are based in gold or silver or the might of some particular empire, these hold value Because a Great Maia Said So—indeed, Sang So, Sang a new line into the Great Music that these coins would always have a value of…whatever he said so, if he updated a petty lyric or two of their Song. Those who use the coins don’t need to know this; they simply intuit, with coins in hand, what they are worth.

(You can lead even the mightiest empire by the nose if you control the price of grain alone, much less other commodities, or one currency relative to another. Each minute adjustment takes Power, especially to shift the natural balance of multiple interlocking goods…but Annatar is a master of the perfectly placed lever with which to shift the world.)

Maybe at some point the Valar are like, “okay, I think they don’t irrationally hate us anymore, I think this could work” and send a small group of Maiar to openly, humbly approach Annatar and Celebrimbor and ask if they might be apprentices in the craft of…whatever the fuck is happening here. Or maybe something adjacent, because Pallandro and Alatar would really like to fuck off into those excellent looking woods and hunt the remnants of Ungoliant’s spawn, and Radagast actually wandered away 5 minutes ago to talk to a bird. He’s gonna be a while. But Curumo and Olórin are listening politely!

…Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just the Jewelsmiths, slowly becoming folklore, bettering the world (and manipulating wide-scale economics) one stone at a time. (They’d still be the “Jewelsmiths” anyway, even if they included those who, in another universe, were called “The Wise.”)

As stated in the third Dave the Balrog post, they do Sail eventually, several centuries after Arwen’s death. Celebrimbor just gets tired, and Annatar can’t fix it. Ossë spends the whole voyage backstroking next to their ship and sarcastically quoting Annatar back at himself, Years of the Trees insults about being made weak and pathetic by love, until Annatar nearly lunges over the side as a wolf to tear his throat out.

[zombieskullxz]

She's Evil, Most Definitely

Ghost stood in his room, staring at the wall. he hates to admit it but he's missing your touch, your balance of the bed and the constant nightmares. as nice as it was being home, the guilt he felt about double crossing you was eating away at him. he was told to stay away from the cells where they were keeping you, price told him it was for his own good but all it did was make him feel like shit. so, against his captain's orders, here he was, walking down the stairs and across the hallways of rowdy men and women shouting and cursing. until, at the end, he stood in front of your small accommodation. you sat there in the chair that you managed to drag into the middle of the room, hair sprawled out as you lean forward head down. the sound of footsteps stooping causes you to raise your head slowly, smirking.

it wasn't the beauty that caught simons eye the day he went undercover as a rogue member of a made up force. he'd seen plenty of pretty women in his time. it wasn't the sense of danger either. it was your eyes, constant pools of secrets and knowledge that made you seem like this higher being. he knew you were brilliant, your mind surpassed most in the team with your expertise in weapons and latest technology. you had kept up with his sarcasm and dark humour and he had kept up with your ideas and darkness. when he took you into his bed, this game started as a way to feel comfort and company turned into a spill of truths. he saw the side to you that aspired for change, a better ending. he knew you had your own agenda, that's why he felt you could be an asset for intel and support. he didn't expect to regret the choice after seeing you taken away, even though he knew what the outcome would be.

right now that soft side was gone, nowhere to be seen. that part of you that tore people's souls with your gaze was attempting to do the same to simon. it wasn't hard considering his layers had slowly dissolved around you. all you had to do was ask him and he knew there would be a high chance he'd give you anything.

"come to gloat?" you finally spoke up. simon allowed his body to relax onto the wall next to him. "just checking in on your willingness to provide information". you scoff, reading him like your favorite book. he gulped, louder than he expected which only increased your amusement. your head tilts as you study him. "c'mon lieutenant, we both know there's more to the story, let's play a game hm? I'll show you mine if you show me yours" you lay the card on the table and ghost tenses. he weighs up the pros and cons of lowering his guard even further. eventually he grabs a stool and sits down.

"alright, i'll start, where's your brother headin'?"

you look at him with a satisfied smirk, dragging your chair closer to the bars separating you both. "we have about 5 safehouses in a 10 mile radius from the base you infiltrated. hes low on weapons so that's what he'll look for first. there's an old warehouse 6 miles south from where we were. looks like a nuclear evacuation site left to rot. it's completely safe" you reveal all watching ghosts eyebrows furrow as he processes the information. you lean forward until your face is inches from the bar, "my turn, how many people have actually seen your face?" you stare, as if waiting for your eyes to turn into x rays that allow you to see under that layer of the ghost you had yet to peel off. he looks at you, leaning back slightly at the question, like hes worried you'd rip off the mask somehow from behind the bars. "more than enough" he grunts, although the truth is, from the beginning of the ghost, the only people still alive granted with the sight of his face was his brother and price. you shake your head and lean back. ghost crossed his arms and relaxes slightly at your accepting glance. "what does he have planned? what's the emergency process?", you hesitate at his question, one of the rare moments your cocky attitude falters. "everyone is set their own tasks, some are sent to our allies to provide friendly reminders we are still trustworthy and reliable, some look for assets to replace damages and losses, others are working on the revenge plan. you know your role as soon as the process is triggered. the inner circle knows, whether there's an emergency or not." you explain, ghost can tell there's something you're hiding and leans forward. "what's your role then?" he presses. your face returns to its usual smirk, "that's two questions" you stand up and walk over to the makeshift, barred window, "ill help you find him and the rest of 'em, ill even help you deal with a few other underground forces, but i need something in return-" ghost stands up as well, interrupting you "they wont give you immunity", you smile and turn to face him, "i don't want immunity anymore, i've had better idea..." your met with ghosts raised eyebrow so you walk towards the bars and lean against them, " i think we make a good team and this predicament raises an opportunity....i wanna be brought on as an informant, an asset. let me work with you and i'll provide the holy book of intel. all you have to do is let me do things my way"

yeah ghost forgot one thing to mention about you,

dog shit mad

[anonymousgayrobot]

bestie you're the only person i agree with about the finale of the penguin

everyone seems so surprised that os is a villain and im ????? did everyone miss that time he set a guy on fire in front of his mother??????? did everyone miss him leaving sofia for dead after she found out he was manipulating her????? he's been a monster all along, that doesn't make him any less of a layered character

i really wish vic hadn't died but his death didn't feel like a revelation of how evil oswald is to me. i think this episode was more about the lies that os tells himself to feel better about his life than it was about "he was evil all along and you too fell for his manipulation". why else would he say all that as he strangled him? vic was dying. if it was about getting rid of him because he didn't need him anymore, why would he bother saying anything?

also that last scene with os pretending to dance with his mom was fucked up but it also seems to me like another way of showing how he's choosing to live in a world of his own lies. he can't deal with the truth, so he doesn't. it's easier that way. and this doesn't make him any less of a monster; it just makes him a complex one.

anyway your analysis is on point and i can't believe they killed off vic to progress os's character

HI! YES i totally agree; please don’t mind my lengthy yapping— i have sooooo much to say about this show

one thing I noticed predominantly throughout the show is the level and intricacies of complexity the characters were given, which you typically don’t see in the average shows pumped out these days, where good and bad is black and white and behavior will always be ‘straightforward’ with the character, unlike in real life where a person’s true nature will more than often contradict their actions, whether that be in acts of denial, or repressing something. whether large or grand, we all do it—so I kind of disagree with people only seeing this finale at surface level.

I really do think Sofia kind of ‘cracked the egg’ with dismantling or at least shaking loose oz’s denials through aggravating the unhealed wound of his brothers and the unspoken wounds between him and his mother; i saw that scene as sofia trying to force out feelings of remorse from oz, which I believe he repressed x100 after his brothers’ deaths, as seeing his expression struggle to remain stoic and continuously denying the truth even if it cost his mother her finger (if he did lack any true guilt, he would’ve admitted it much sooner with indifference ; and if he didn’t feel guilt but never admitted the truth to solely benefit his mother, he would not have hesitated to admit the truth with that priority over his mother. But he doesnt) . But by ‘dismantling’ oz himself, she unleashes this newer version of himself—she showed an opportunist what happens when he slips up with his greed and pauses to care for someone other than himself/guard. before sal and sofia find his mother, sal angrily comments that oz has no one—no one they could weaponize. family is weaponry, a step above simpler loyalty. someone can have as many allies as they want, but it doesn’t mean anything if they’re expendable. oz has viewed all of his allies as expendable, like sal, sofia, and the rest of the gang leaders. victor was an ally initially expendable and a failsafe for alberto’s murder, but upon becoming his protégé, an emotional tie was thrown in.

So in order to fully prevent his guard from ever slipping up again (caring for his mother despite the endangerment), he cannot similarly care for anyone else again (caring about victor despite the endangerment). so vic has to be shut out completely now both for oz’s self-preservation and possibly vic’s ‘preservation’ in a more morbid sense, by knowing his life is now endangered by his own care for oz likewise. who knows what sofia could do to him and what she could wrench out to harm oz again. and when he ‘shuts’ vic out, he has to shut out any sympathies/empathies that follow.

when he steals the money from his wallet, I saw it more as a not-wasting-resources gesture (sewers blown up + crown point hideout raided) rather than genuinely-indifferent disrespect, which goes in hand with that ever-prevalent opportunistic characteristic. “it wasn’t for nothing.” throwing away his ID also appeared disrespectful, but with how his expression froze, it was clear he was shutting out unwanted feelings of regret, perhaps a rogue emotion (seeing as he expresses nearly no remorse for his actions and lies his way around it to avoid it altogether), and threw it away briskly. He needed that reminder gone before the feeling could settle in. (a lack of expression does not always mean a lack of feeling)

If anything, killing victor could also symbolize oz killing his former self—tragically fitting for a finale and change of occupation/direction. it was obvious that he saw himself through vic, or at least began to until it reached a point of no return. That idea could also be applied through vic finding strength in family—oz realizes that was his own undoing, family, and that vic was officially non-expendable. It’d already been basic knowledge that non-expendable people are lethal tools of manipulation (using taj to also kill nadia, and their deaths against sal, alberto against sofia even if it was pinned on the maronis anyways).

And you’re right about him killing vic differently. In the beginning of the show, if he’d done what was expected and had shot vic while his back was turned—it’d be quick and easy, indifferent like everyone else. Same with the second time he nearly killed vic, Oz gives in and spares him, giving him yet another chance even when it didn’t benefit Oz at the moment. Oz centers those around him with how they benefit him, so choosing to spare victor despite the potential burden is an obvious sign of care. Although it makes it much more twisted, oz killing victor the way he did was the furthest thing from indifferent. He could’ve lifted his hand at any moment, but didn’t until the end, further exposing his need to snuff out his own weakness, his care for victor. its the ultimate and worst father-son moment— oz recognizing his care for victor as his protégé to be non-expendable, and the recognition that he couldn’t let himself genuinely care for another person again. i see a lot of people saying that there was no reason for oz to kill victor after everything he did for him—but that’s the exact reason why he needed to. Vic did all of that because he was just that close to Oz, not even taking that exit when given, his loyalty had become familial which could become just as dangerous as Oz’s love for his mother. I also think Oz’s care for vic was similar to the nature of his lies regarding his brothers—not it being a lie itself but rather getting caught up in the short term benefits and attention while blocking out the long term consequences waiting—perhaps distracted by becoming this fatherly figure as a fatherless son himself to a fatherless boy, and avoiding the inevitable pain at the end of the road (their criminal circumstances/predicament) until it’s too late and boils over from his mother’s incident. its also important to note the unique situation this is and how heavily survival and preservation is involved here. Oz can’t care about anyone, it’s dangerous and just as dangerous for everyone else involved in crime (alberto to sofia, nadia + taj to sal). its why he was untouchable when his mother was still hidden, he had nothing to lose—but after sofia, oz learned his lesson the hard way about exceptions, urging him to turn his attention towards vic for the last time.

It could also be similar to how he never returned his brothers despite having time and even staring out the window (slowly killing victor with time to change his mind). It could be that in the moment as a child he was accepting the situation for what it was, he’d killed his brothers and needed to assess what to do, but us the viewer have to keep in mind his opportunistic personality (hinted by oz’s admiration of rex despite his older brother’s moral aversion) and the possibility of shock feigning as indifference (i say this because of the severity of oz’s denial reminds me of a trauma response). as many children do, he sought the short term benefit—the short term benefit was keeping his mother’s affection over disrupting that current peace and causing long term harm. (i don’t really believe the real reason was to have it solely for himself, mostly because it was only from his mother’s bias/pov and then by sofia who was only out to hurt him—but i think he just wanted to sustain it). by seeking the short term benefit of saying nothing and sharing a nice moment with his mother, it also further highlights, as you said, his inability to deal with the truth and the lies he upholds to keep his own peace (something his mother also did by constantly lying to oz that she didn’t know what he’d done and actually loathed him for it instead)—a ticking time bomb which sofia uses and demolishes completely, or at least enough for the viewers to realize the severity of oz’s delusions, which as you said, had been prevalent since the beginning, but never quite the full depth or scope of.

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SECRETS OF US - I

i knew it, i know you

it all changed for me and i told you

you had the wrong idea about me

masterlist

summary: you needed the fine arts credit to fill your schedule and finish out your junior year at university, but so did your sworn enemy coriolanus snow because of course he did.

warnings: swearing

paring: modern!coriolanus snow x reader

notes: omg so happy to have this out!! this story has been so fun to write!! i hope u enjoy!! it took me way too long to write this whole story out but its finally ready to have someone else enjoy it (hopefully)

You're staring forward with a blank expression on your face as your mother rambles into your ear through the phone. You chew your cuticle to avoid sighing or groaning at her, letting her into the obvious feelings of annoyance of the subject of her conversation; your father, your career, your school.

"Yes. Yes, Mom I know." You scoop up the iced coffee into your hands and make for the door. You shift your bag around shoving the phone further into shoulder as your other one pushed the door open. "I'll come visit for the holidays I promise." You lie turning around the glass door and smacking into a solid wall. Your coffee smashes to the floor and all over your feet, "I am so-Oh it's you." You glance down as your destroyed beverage, "I have to go." You hang up mid questions.

He glares at you, "Do you ever watch where you're going?"

"Do you?" You shove back inside to grab napkins to clean the coffee off of your ankles. You grab your now empty cup and toss it into the trash along with the wet napkins before pushing past him down the street. You don't even try to go and reorder too annoyed and needing distance from him of all people. "You owe me $6 for that coffee you made me spill."

"I made you spill." He catches up to you matching your stride easily with his long legs and you feel more annoyance settle into your stomach. "You ran into me!"

You don't even look over at him as you cross the street. "You should have held the door open for me like a gentleman."

He snorts, "You've known me our whole lives...when have I ever been a gentleman?"

"Maybe you could start." You take a left to head down another block your campus coming into sight. It had been three years since you had seen him, three peaceful years of never having to look at his aggravating face besides a rare sighting in the library, but what should have been a docile dislike still burned in a raging blaze of fury. You searched for maturity, for a sophisticated phrase to send him off, but he brought out the worst in you. "Don't you have somewhere else to be? Schemes to plot in an evil lair?"

"I actually am heading to class this way too." He chuckles. "Has anyone ever told you you are a ray of sunshine?"

You smile sarcastically, "I would be a lot nicer if I had my coffee."

"So dramatic." He shakes his head laughing at you. You stop, looking at his grinning face. Three years and time had treated him well which only infuriates you more. He was taller somehow, his hair shorter and trained straight instead of those adolescent curls you begrudgingly despised. There was slight bags under his eyes no doubt from the start of the semester changing his sleep habits because you were the same, even more reason to be upset over spilled coffee. He looked good, and it made you hate him even more.

You decide not to respond, but pick up your own pace to put distance between you and your sworn enemy, but he kept following. You knew he had classes in this building since you had the same classes given he decided to pick the same major as you, but when you take a right down the stairs you believe he's simply following you. "You're being creepy."

He points ahead of you, "I have class this way too... like I told you." Your stomach drops. No, no, no this can't be happening. You reel on him eyes narrowed in anger watching his smug face slowly drop in realization as well. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I needed the fine art credit."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, "So did I."

You slap you hands against your legs in exasperation because of course you had the same curriculum with the same required credits. "You simply always need to copy me."

"Could say the same about you." He pushes past you and into the classroom ahead. It wasn't just a classroom, it was a theater. You had chosen this for the credit on your transcript because it was different than anything else you have done, you had a chance to prove yourself in something new, be the main lead if you wanted; gain attention, notoriety, and an ever growing boost to your resume. You chose it because you knew you would excel and exceed where others could not simply based on who you were and how you treated everything academically in your life.

Okay maybe you also figured it would be a fairly easy pass.

And so had you old Academy rival Coriolanus Snow.

It wasn't horrible. He mostly sat on the opposite end of the room as you and you barely had to interact with each other those first few classes. It had consisted of generic information, a slow introduction to the world of pretending, nothing too intense that you knew was surely coming.

You had the same major, political science with a minor in business, but you had had freedom structuring when you took certain subjects, carefully crafting something that never put him a few desk away from you again, thankfully you both never had crossing seminars...besides this one.

You and Coriolanus Snow had a long history together. You had grown up together, not closely, and not anything of note, enough to be aware of each other, but this growing animosity didn't take root truly until you both attended Academy together. You can't always picture how it started in the depths of your mind, but it had been there for some reason. You see snippets of niceties but that always seemed like delusional daydreams of a world that never existed, never could exist. You had both wanted to be top of the class, always fighting for the number one position, teacher's favoritism, student body president, valedictorian... It gnawed at both of you eating away at any form of camaraderie to the point anyone who knew you, knew you hated each other.

You glared over at him as he wrote things down in his notebook. You knew he would be attending University with you, you wished he had been dumb enough to not be accepted, but nope he was here, sitting a few seats away from you again. And of course the asshole had to be gunning for you here just the same.

"Alright my lovely students." Mr. Flickerman clapped his hands. "Now that were a couple classes in I want to go over our huge project for the year." You sat up straight, this was your moment. "I have written a play that we will be performing, and I'll be holding auditions next week for different parts." He smiled glancing around the room, "The final show won't be until the end of the spring semester, and as we go through it we'll be going over different techniques of line delivery and stage directions and play writes...you get the point. Once we're done you won't be able to view a show without analyzing it."

The class flatly laughs.

You smile after he dismisses you heading down to the sign up sheet quickly. You wanted the lead, you needed the lead. You wanted him to be so impressed he makes a reporter come down here to add you to the paper. Okay that was silly. Mostly you wanted your father to come watch and maybe see your more than just his pawn, that maybe there was more to you than his perfect molding. You wanted Coriolanus to be some boring side part with no lines that no one would ever pay attention to. You scribble you name down on the part you want and take the script copies home to practice and then you're heading back home to your apartment with that ever growing fire under you.

You lose yourself in preparing for it you barely hear your phone ring until it goes off for the second time. "Tell me you're getting dick and that's why you're not answering."

"I wish Clem." You run your hand over your face. "No I'm studying up for something."

She groans, "You're so boring, come out with us tonight there's a new place in town that has really good espresso martinis."

"I can't." You sigh. "Maybe once I land this part."

"Wait." She chuckles. "Part? Is this for that theater class you wanted to take or does daddy have you off doing side quests again?"

You actually laugh as you set the script aside, "It's for a class, for a credit I need." You trace the words absentmindedly. "I figured it would be different...fun. Nice break between all the other boring shit I'm doing." You stare down at the lines of your future male counterpart, "You'll never guess who-!"

"Are you and Coriolanus Snow in the same fucking class...again?" She sounds shocked as if the possibility of running into him had always been small despite the agitation around it every coming semester.

You flop back onto the couch, "Yes ugh he's obsessed with ruining my life."

"Surprised the building hasn't combusted from your two inflated egos." Clemensia jokes.

"His is bigger than mine."

She laughs even louder. "I'm sure it is darling. Well, I got to run, our car is here but you'll have to tell me how it all goes next weekend over these martinis if they're actually any good."

"It's a date." You smile as the line cuts off plunging you into silence. You shove the script away and stand up going to your fridge grabbing out the bottle of wine and opening it to pour yourself a large glass. You sit back down on the couch, curling your feet under yourself as you scroll through social media.

You find yourself on his page seeing his stupid pictures with his stupid face doing stupid things as you sip on your wine. It wasn't fair that someone so annoying was so good looking, it also wasn't fair that he was aging like fine wine. You chuckle into your own wine. You keep scrolling and scrolling through his pictures more of your wine disappearing before you neared when he was back in Academy with you. You pause on one of him with a group of the other boys. He looked so young, with his longer blonde curling hair, and a little grin on his lips before the cruel world could steal the light from his eyes. You're trying to zoom in when your phone slightly slips the red heart appearing on your screen.

"Oh no." You quickly unlike the photo. "Shit, shit, shit." You close the app throwing your phone across the couch. Maybe he wouldn't see it. You drain your wine, your nerves buzzing.

Your phone vibrates.

"Are you stalking me?"

It spreads out across your bright screen that sends adrenaline coursing through your thumping heart. It's a direct message from him.

You stare at it for so long considering all your options. You could lie, say it was your friend, a pet you didn't have, maybe you were babysitting or hacked! You could just tell him you slipped but then he would know you were looking through his old photos.

You could just...never respond.

"I thought I blocked you." Is all you type back. He didn't need an explanation, or your time and beating heart, screw him.

"Clearly not if you're looking through my photos from years ago." He types back too quick, "Reminiscing on the good ole' days?"

You tap your fingers on the side of your phone, "You did look so innocent back then, how deceiving." You're on your feet going to the fridge for more wine to avoid the three little bubbles going off while he typed back.

"What are you doing right now besides looking at pictures of me?"

"What?"

"Can you read?"

"Yes, but why do you care."

"Call it boredom..."

"Drinking."

"What are you drinking?"

"The blood of my enemies."

He doesn't respond for a while, so long you think this little game is finished. But then your phone goes off again bringing a blush to your cheeks as you read his message, "You wish."

You never type back, you turn your phone off and go to bed.

You avoid messaging him again the rest of the weekend heading to class with your head down. You blames the alcohol for even letting you give him the time of day. You take your seat in your normal spot grabbing out your notebook as a coffee slides across your desk. You follow the hand holding it until you're staring into his blue eyes. "Figured it's better than the blood of your enemies." He says finally taking his hand off of it you glance at his name scribed out on the cup by the barista then back to him, "And I owed you one from last time." You scowl at him, "It's not poisoned."

You narrow your eyes at him venom dripping from your ever present emotional fangs, "Just because we had a little DM session doesn't mean we're friends."

He rolls his eyes, "Can't you just accept one act of kindness and move on."

"I don't trust your kindness." You cross your arms, "It's manipulative."

"At least I can fake kindness, you don't have a nice bone in your body."

You smirk, "Only to people I don't like."

He glares at you, "Then block me." He storms off.

"I did already!" You lie watching his back as he makes his way to the other side of the room. You trace the letters of his name.

You get the lead...obviously. The play was an original romantic tragedy that Flickerman had constructed, you were surprised by his lighthearted nature he was able to produce something so solemn, something that encompassed what you had always longed for within romantic entertainment; yearning and passion; everything your life lacked. It didn't matter as long as you did well with what you were given, and you would. You had to.

Clemensia had kept true to her word by taking you out for celebratory drinks, and as your drinks clink with your friends you can picture the applause you will receive after the performance, the smug smile on your face as Coriolanus lurks in the shadow of anonymity. "You always were into the dramatics." Arachne Crane watches you over the rim of her drink.

"Well now I can put that trait to good use." You laugh taking a drink.

"How romantic is it?" Clem ask with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

You shrug, "Nothing crazy just some kissing scenes."

Arachne swirls her drink, "Do you know your scene partner? Is he at least cute?"

You racked your brain trying to imagine the rest of the class, for some reason the only 'cute' person that showed up in your imagination was Coriolanus, and that didn't seem accurate because he wasn't cute, he was annoying. "No idea Arch." You sigh, eyes wandering out into the dim restaurant, but your phone vibrates in your purse.

You glance at your friends who are engrossed in their side conversation before tugging your phone gently out of your purse. You chew on the side of your finger smirking down at your phone reading the name pinging on your screen.

Then its being ripped out of your hands, "Who has you smiling-Coriolanus Snow!" Arachne's eyes widened in shock, "'I thought you blocked me.' That isn't even clever and why don't you have him blocked?"

"Yes, how did he ever get through those defenses." Clem chuckles. You had never blocked him during your time at the Academy, it had never seemed important at the time, and after the whole direct message debacle you had blocked him...for about a day.

You snatch your phone back, "I must have forgot and he's in the same class as me, probably just wants to ask about a test or something."

"I did. How did you figure out I unblocked you?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, also I'm smart."

"So I'm the cat or are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, kitten."

Your head spins, he's teasing...right? "Then what are you in this story?"

"Whatever you want me to be."

"Are you flirting with me Coriolanus Snow?"

"Do you want me to flirt with you...kitten?"

You know your face is flushed, why did he text you when you had been drinking and can't think straight. Why was he even talking to you? He wasn't flirting with you, he hated you and you hated him and that had always been the status quo you both enjoyed. This had to simply be banter to get into your head, to throw you off, he's always been personable, smoozing his way to the top, sarcastically nice towards you; this seemed different. "Gross." You had sent the puking emoji for good measure.

You watch the three bubbles for quite some time, you actually begin to feel bad you were on your phone but it dragged you in for some reason, making it incapable to look away, like a horrible car wreck happening in the palm of your hand.

Until finally his messaged popped up, "Congratulations on getting the part, looking forward to working with you." He had sent a kissing emoji next to it making your heart stop.

"He's my scene partner." You stare up at your friends all joy dripping out of you. "He got the lead part too." Because who else in that room would have been capable if not him.

Arachne nearly spits her drink out while Clemensia burst out laughing. "Oh that is perfect."

"Who knows." Arachne states condescendingly, "Maybe it will bring you two...closer." Which only brings laughter from both of them as you put your head in your hands. This was bad, bad news and you needed to end it before wreckage could ensue.

Once the week starts you go into class earlier than everyone to search out Mr. Flickerman. This had to be some mistake, or game he must be playing at to continue to ruin your life. "Professor." You breath. "I need to talk to you about the play."

He doesn't look up at you as he filters through papers, "What about?"

"Coriolanus can't be my scene partner."

Mr. Flickerman glances up at you. "Why not? I think you two will be wonderful, you both had the best auditions for your respective roles."

You close your eyes trying to phrase it nicely. "We have a long history and-!"

"Romantically?"

You cringe, "Gods no."

"Then what's the issue?"

You sigh. "We don't like each other and I'm worried that will...reflect in our performances."

Mr. Flickerman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you backing out then?"

"No." You stand up straighter, why would you ever give into him. "He should."

He laughed. "Good luck convincing him of that." But he saw the distressed look on your face and took a deep breath. "Look I suggest perhaps figuring your issues out, maybe this will be a bonding experience!" He nudged you with his shoulder, "Maybe it will heal old wounds."

You know you won't get anywhere, he's too caught up in making his play perfect for reviews and you didn't blame him. You turn around watching Coriolanus striding down the row of desk in all his wicked glory. "This is a new low for you Snow." You seethe at him. "I know you're only doing this to make me back out."

"Did you?" He smirked but for some reason its doesn't have the usual flair behind it.

You held you chin up. "No, and I won't be, but you will."

He leans down, closer to your face. "Is that a threat, kitten?" You feel the blush burning through your cheeks and he laughs at you. It's the first time he uses the pet name outside of your phone and you lose words. "Have fun trying though." He pushes past you towards his seat leaving you grid your teeth in frustration.

He was impossible, he was rude and narcissistic and-and you had to kiss him or else your pride would be in shambles. You wouldn't-couldn't back out or else you'd be viewed as a failure, a quitter.

You would have to kiss Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hope u all enjoyed this first chapter i had hopes the first chapter was longer but alas this is where we are at!! hoping you stick along for the ride!!

CHAPTER 2 coming 11/29

[unopenablebox]

doing evil behaviors (looking up different methods of engagement ring sourcing to try to identify the most ethical one)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The girls are plottinggggg

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[scoliosisgoblin]

Which version of Rick is your fav?

it's so hard for me to choose tbh. HOWEVER, I'd say Evil Rick

then I'd say it's C-137 and Memory Rick

I love how pathetic™ Evil Rick really is tbh. love that he's being controlled by his Morty. can you guess who my favorite Morty is?

[moeblob]

Amazing, take some of the side character demons from Evil Bound.

Vincie is a menace to Chuck and Chuck alone so in Hell, Chuck hexes his hand behind his back so that he isn't grabbed as much (and it's harder to pet him). Chuck is like the most irresponsible older sibling ever to demons though so Kelvin recruits him (as an older sibling vibe) to go help him get his ACTUAL older sibling from Earth. Chuck agrees. And then drags Vincie from Hell with them because no one else wants to babysit him and he refuses to unbind the hex just to re-hex when he returns to Hell.

In Hell, Kelvin actually doesn't appear much different than his human form! Like Kronos, the lines under his eyes are red in Hell but black on earth. Chuck however? In Hell he has wolf-ish ears and has a fur lining his neck (note the neck scars in human form). In addition to that he has four eyes in Hell (note the scars under his eyes in human form). Vincie just has horns in Hell. And! In Hell the hex doesn't have a silly looking "tied up" look, it's invisible unless Vincie strains it with movement and then its red text. But it shifts on earth to be visible.

Vincie's biggest agony for the entirety on earth is "dude it's colder here than in Hell I want a jacket to slip my arms into BUT I CANT BECAUSE IM BOUND".

[lovelyrotter]

can ppl in this fandom like... stop... implying that transmasculinity in hcs or (especially) canon is shallow or misogynistic or even transmisogynistic on princible, like literally just by being prescent in someones mind or in the text. like that doesnt fuckin feel good. thats kind of really nasty to imply. if its not okay to say about other trans experiences, maybe dont say it about this one either. why is there a weird little exception here. yall KNOW how much that sucks to hear all day every day. what the fuck

[purpurussy]

.

[camzverse]

wish some of u were into typology id love to know how youd type some fnaf chars so bad

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

There's a lot about discussion of hdwr that baffles me (not all discussion to be clear, because i do think there's a lot of good discussion about hdwr. But equally so are there the ones that make you wonder if you're reading the same story) and I think one that is especially annoying is the constant infantilization of miwa as this passive eternal victim. It drives me up a wall because this is quite literally an issue she's struggled with within the text of the story! She had an arc about how she dislikes how people treat her this way like towards the beginning of the story! And like even ignoring that, this story is about like nuanced and realistic portrayals of being in relationships and learning how to navigate them and so it's like what's the point if you're going to immediately reduce the characters to "the victim" and "the victimizers?" Is that even interesting? Is that a useful lens to look at interpersonal relationships?

[reminiscentrainclouds]

You guys ever feel trapped? Yea I'm well-acquainted with the feeling of being trapped.