#It didn't have to be this way and I'm pissed off

[nochepsicodelica]

You and Toji are sitting at a table at a bar, talking about different things that went on throughout your days over some drinks. Toji tells you about how Shiu's been a real asshole lately, because his marriage is hanging on by a thread and he hasn't gotten laid in almost a month. He gives you a look that you interpret as him saying 'thank fuck that's not us' to which you respond with a little smirk.

When it's your turn, you tell him about how the new hire broke the copy machine, knocked over and broke the water gallon for the water dispenser, and crashed into someone, spilling hot coffee all over their shirt, all in the course of one day.

"That poor fucker's cursed," Toji says, amusement riddling his expression as he brings his glass of whiskey to his lips.

"He looked like he really needed a hug by the end of the day," you add, biting back a smile, before you take a sip of your own drink.

"Tell me you didn't," Toji says, taking in the seemingly telling look on your face. "Ma."

"I'm kidding. It's jokes, baby. I have no interest in hugging someone I haven't spoken a single word to."

Toji flicks your forehead, watching with a grin as you bring a hand up to rub the sting away. "Gotta piss, be right back, doll. Want another drink before I come back?"

"I'll wait for you to finish yours," you say, to which he nods before standing up from his seat.

"Be right back," Toji repeats, affectionately setting a heavy hand on your head, before he heads off in the direction of the restrooms.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your socials while you wait. Altogether, Toji was gone for no longer than four minutes, and yet somehow, that was enough time for a rando to pull a chair up to your little table and start a conversation with you.

"Hey," he starts. "Why are you sitting here looking all lonely?"

You turn your head to face the person with the unfamiliar voice, slightly widening your eyes as if to question if he's talking to you. He looks at you with raised eyebrows, awaiting your response. "Oh, i'm not here alone. My boyfriend is in the bathroom," you respond, with a polite smile, before returning your attention to your phone.

"Ah. What kind of man leaves a pretty thing like you by herself in a place like this?" The stranger says, in a tone that almost seems pitiful towards you.

You look at him again and attempt to keep your expression neutral. "He'll be back any second now. He's just taking a piss, i'll be fine. Unless you're here to make things troubling for me."

The man chuckles, entertained by your quick shift in tone. "With a feisty attitude like that and a pretty mouth to keep up, it seems like you want me to get you in trouble."

You furrow your eyebrows, blatantly offended by his inappropriate insinuation. It's disturbing to see how he turned your warning into something sexual.

"I already told you, I have a boyfriend. Try someone else," you respond, no longer hiding your irritation.

Toji scans the room for the table you're sitting at, locating you and who-the-fuck in three seconds. This man looks awfully cozy with you, leaning in close every time he speaks to you, so he doesn't stand around any longer and quickly makes his way back to you and this new "friend".

"You sure you don't want another drink, doll?" Toji asks, sitting down in front of you, again, his gaze darting between you and this pocket square looking man. There's a difference between your demeanor from before he left and now. You clearly aren't comfortable, anymore.

"That's it? That is your supposed boyfriend?" The man asks, attempting to minimize Toji by referring to him as if he's nothing in comparison to himself. "Oh, princess. You see this watch?" He asks, raising the cuff of his sleeve to fully reveal his golden watch. "Four thousand dollars, and that's chump change."

You look at Toji and pull his hand into your shaky one, giving him a forced smile. Toji keeps his eyes on yours as the stranger continues spewing arrogant sludge about how much money he makes a year and how even the luxury car he has parked outside didn't put the smallest dent in his wallet.

"You would have it so good with me, baby," he continues blabbering. His hand goes to your wrist, a gesture that Toji quickly puts an end to by aggressively shoving the man's hand away, your empty glass clattering on the table from the force. Toji would have snapped the man's wrist and twisted his hand off, but he didn't want to scare you with the bloodshed. He feels like he's buzzing from the anger bubbling inside, and surely it won't be long before he acts out.

"Don't fucking touch her," Toji spits, glaring at the man with an expression that would have put him six feet under, if looks could kill.

Your heartbeat is in your ears and your blood is boiling. This man is disgusting for being persistent towards someone who doesn't want him. It's masochism, at this point, with the amount of times that you've made it clear that you're not interested.

The man snorts, snobbishly. "He brought you here, of all places. Even just glancing at him, you can tell this cheap ass place is all he can afford. He'll never be able to give you everything you want, so just come with me, doll face."

You rip your hand out of Toji's grasp and stand from your chair, delivering a resounding blow to the man's already hideous face. Tables and chairs wobble as he tries to keep his balance, but when you quickly strike him again, hard enough to increase the pain you felt in your knuckles with that first hit, you manage to knock him onto the ground.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole. You don't know shit!" You grit out, dropping down to try and land another hit to the man's bleeding face. By now, Toji is behind you, restraining your arms and pulling you back as a small crowd begins to form to observe the commotion.

"Ma, come on. Let's just go."

"Let me dent his fucking face in, Toji," you mutter, writhing in his grip.

The vile man manages to sit up, dabbing his fingertips against his busted lip. Though there is red blossoming on his face, his lips still form an amused, twisted smile. He laughs as he watches you get reeled back by Toji, seething as you are dragged away like a child having a meltdown in the middle of a store.

"Hey-- Hey, I said let's go," Toji says, his tone sharper when you continue to try to break out of his hold to fight the idiotic sociopath.

You take a deep breath and stop, willingly letting Toji take you away from this chaos you created in his defense. His hand rests on the nape of your neck, as he guides you through the stuffy bar and leads you outside to the car.

"Stop pacing," Toji says, watching as you threaten to make the asphalt beneath your feet waste away with every step you take in your heated state.

"Fucking asshole, dickhead, motherfucker." You groan, loudly, furiously, before covering your face with your hands. "It's fine, it's fine," you mumble to yourself.

"Then, stop pacing," he repeats, watching on as you walk the same steps, over and over, as if you're on autopilot. "Ma, eyes. Eyes." His hands go to your shoulders, manually forcing you to halt your movement. "Listen to me. I said eyes."

"I'm so... I can't stand still," you say, weakly.

"Stop looking around. Right here," Toji instructs, lifting one hand from your shoulder and pointing two fingers at his eyes. You release a shaky puff of air and hold his gaze as best as you can.

"Talk when you're ready," he says, following your eyes whenever they derail from his.

You aren't ready soon enough. You feel like your heart is trying to burst out of your chest and the adrenaline coursing through you isn't helping at all. Your hand hurts. Your knuckles feel bruised and they're bloody. The night might be ruined, but you felt your reaction was the only way to release the pain you felt when that nothing started talking the way he did about Toji. All you can think to do is hug Toji to prevent yourself from crying about your cause for attacking the gross man. It's all so much. You've never felt so strongly for someone, to the point where you hit a stranger for insulting them. It's scary how Toji brings that defensive, yet, offensive side out of you.

Strong, heavy arms reciprocate your embrace, keeping your tense body close. You feel warm and safe, his scent and the pressure of his hold managing to slowly calm your unsteady heartbeat. After a few seconds of quietness, you turn your head and rest the side of your face on him, finally prepared to speak.

"I didn't like how he was talking about you, Toji. He was talking shit even before you came back, and I hated it. I hated it so much, that I felt nauseous and if I hadn't done something, I would have been sick."

Toji sighs, not out of disappointment or feelings of that sort, but because you seeking out danger for his sake, was not something he ever wanted to see.

"Doll, you know how much I love you."

This sounds like a layer of sugar preceding a talking to. You're trying not to be nervous before the scolding even begins, but you feel the need to brace yourself, as well.

"I love you, too," you mumble.

Toji knows it. He's known it all along, and the events that transpired tonight were just another way of you proving your love and showing how much he matters to you.

"Want you to look at me," he says, lowering his arms on your back, allowing you to make the space necessary to give him your attention. He offers you a soft smile. "Don't get all fidgety on me after you just ripped a stranger's face open."

"I feel like you're about to yell at me," you say, lowly.

That makes him want to laugh, but he keeps his amusement to a minimum, since you're clearly anticipating something terrible.

"Nah. When have I ever raised my voice at you?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Never, and I won't start now, but I want you to get this through your pretty head... It's not your job to beat people up for me."

"I know, but-"

Toji shakes his head. "Hold on, mama. Let me finish talking, then it'll be your turn."

Your heart feels like it's in the depths of your stomach, but you nod, and allow him to continue talking.

"I'm not mad at you, i'm not gonna yell at you. Just wanna keep you safe, is all. That guy was already a fuckin' weirdo, harassing you like that and trying to get you to go with him while I was right there. I wouldn't be surprised if he was into hitting women, too, if he's so comfortable with making them uncomfortable."

It's quiet while you think of what to say. You don't want this to escalate into something that turns you against each other, when it started out as an act of love. You could argue about how you did this to defend him, but in the end, you know his own need to protect you, will stomp all over your arguments.

"I'm sorry we had to leave, but i'm not sorry for the reason behind it. I don't regret what I did."

"Ma..."

"No, Toji. He didn't even know you and yet he still said things that aren't fair." Your voice quiets down, the beginnings of stronger emotions threatening to outwardly reveal themselves. "He insulted you. He questioned your abilities as my boyfriend when he saw me alone— even after I told him you just went to the bathroom. He judged you superficially, he said you can't give me everything I want and--" you pause, interrupted by a shaky inhale and the painful lump in your throat. "Sorry," you mumble, when the first set of tears roll down your cheeks.

"No, you're alright," Toji says, in response, his warm hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your fleeing tears. There's a small pinch in his brows. Why are you crying? It's something he can't ask you, because he knows that if he makes a big spectacle out of it, you'll end up drowning in your tears and shutting down everything you have to say. He resorts to keeping your cheeks dry and encouraging you to keep talking.

"Go on, mama."

You sniff, before picking up where you left off. "I don't care about all that, Toji. I don't care where we go to spend time together, because we're together. I need you, not for you to buy me things or take me to fancy places. That's not what I'm with you for."

Your heart is beating fast, again, its rhythm no longer controlled by fear or nerves, but instead the focus that Toji has on you. He's good at holding eye contact with you, something that occasionally gets distracting if you become too aware of it. You notice that his expression is softer. Maybe it's your brief flash of tears or the way you are always subconsciously finding a way to indirectly recite some of the reasons for why you love him.

"I love you, Toji. That means I won't just sit around and let someone talk about you like you're worthless. And I know, I know you can handle things like this on your own and you don't need me, but it was hard to listen to that."

You pause, as if to give him a break from your bulldozing heart. Silence takes over the moment, both of you just looking at each other. Toji's speechlessness has you wondering if you spilled too much of your heart out to him. You know some things are better left to be figured out, such as the range of a person's love, and yet you just poured without measure. "You can call me crazy if you want to."

Toji's shit-eating grin is unexpected, but it's definitely a sight that lifts some of the heaviness you feel in your chest.

"You love me," Toji says, still smiling like a doofus. He knows your serious facade will crack if he looks at you like this for long enough. He can already see a shift in the expression of your eyes and the way your lips are pressing together just a little more. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that pushes you even further towards that pretty smile he wants to see. When you finally crack and give into his charm, you do so with a mutter of 'you're so dumb.'

"I'm glad that's what you got out of my rambling," you say, wholeheartedly and in better spirits. Toji pulls you in, this time, his soothing warmth and familiar scent tangling around you, again. His chin rests on top of your head and his arms secure themselves around you, tightly.

"I'm not gonna call you crazy, ma. It's not what I think. Also, don't go saying things that aren't true. I do need you," Toji says, his voice level kept at an intimate volume, as if there are other people there in the parking lot with you. His words are solely meant for you to hear anyway and getting them to you in this manner ensures that you won't go home with your heart feeling heavy, after a talk that was meant to comfort you.

"You know, I don't care what other people think— and that's not to say I don't appreciate you throwing a few punches for my sake. You're a sweetheart and you care so much, but if it's a stranger saying some unimportant, dumb shit, it takes a lot for it to actually get to me. If it really bothered me, they'd be gone."

"Yeah... I know," you mumble, into his shirt, knowing you would do it again and again— countless times. You loosen your arms around Toji and he does the same, his hands dragging towards your waist after you separate.

"How's that hand?" Toji asks, picking your wrist up before you can even respond. He whistles at the sight of the slight swelling and the dry specks of crimson spotted over your knuckles.

"A little tender," you say, feeling a tinge of fear when his other hand lifts off your waist to feel the damage.

"Looks real good on your pretty hand," he says, dragging his index finger over the protruding bones of your hand.

"Does it?" You ask, your barely there smile falling when you wince at the little bit of pressure Toji applies.

"No," he responds, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the sore area. You wince again when his thumb drags over your skin with slightly more pressure than before. "It doesn't. We'll ice it when we get home, alright?" He lets up on the torturous touching, but keeps your hand in his. The words aren't meant to hurt you. He doesn't mean them and he hopes he communicates that with the way he still opts to hold your hand. Your hands will always be pretty to him, he just can't say that to you, right now. Not if it serves as the smallest bit of encouragement for you to repeat what happened earlier, in the future.

"Okay." You nod.

"Gimme a kiss and we can go home or wherever, if you wanna stay out."

You tilt your head up and wait for his lips to meet yours. It's a gentle brush of lips, but the second Toji's hands start slipping under the back of your sweater and your shirt, you know it's going to be more than a single kiss. You can feel the night's cold wind nipping at your skin, as his hands go higher up, his fingertips reaching just below the hooks of your bra. To your surprise, he unhooks the garment, causing you to quickly press your hands to your chest when the cups loosen, to prevent them from fully sliding down.

"Toji," you manage to utter out during the wave of kisses. You turn your head, receiving a kiss that was meant for your lips, on your cheek.

"Yeah... I think we should go home," he murmurs, against your skin. "Maybe we can rock the car a little bit before we go, hm?" Toji smirks when you let out that flustered giggle he's so familiar with. He presses another kiss to your cheek before you turn to face him, again.

"Okay, but let's not blow it all here. We have a nice and comfortable bed at home. Let's add another good night to it."

You don't miss the way Toji's lustfully lidded, green eyes, keep glancing down at your hands on your chest, or how he's mindlessly caressing your bare waist, under your shirt.

"Alright, ma." He pulls out his car keys and with the press of a button, the car unlocks with a beep and the brief, dull sound of flipping locks. "Get inside."

[archangeldyke-all]

giggling so bad imagining R shaving her bush and sevika being like oh my god do u hate me?!?! what did I do?!?! how can I make it up to u I'm sorry pleeeeeease never do this again we can talk it out next time please 😭😭

LMAOOO

men and minors dni

last month, your period crept up on you, and you woke up half convinced you'd been stabbed in your sleep.

you and sevika didn't even try to salvage the sheets, just throwing them in the trash before re-making the bed. your pajamas were ruined, and, grossest of all, your crotch was a sticky, bloody mess.

so, this month to avoid any more incidents, you've been sleeping on a towel in anticipation, wearing a pad to bed just in case, and... you've shaved.

you haven't shaved in years. you and sevika are both bush enjoyers, and neither of you have ever felt the need to take a razor to your pits or legs since you started dating. finding a razor to use is almost impossible, but you manage to find one buried in the far back of your bathroom closet.

you feel so... cold. and smooth. you're hyper-aware of the feeling of your underwear rubbing on your skin. it's strange. not unpleasant, but strange. with one last look down your pants at your hair-less pussy, you shrug and crawl into bed.

you think that's the end of it.

you go to sleep easily, waking up about an hour later when sevika crawls in bed behind you. she kisses you gently and you hum, wrapping your arms around her before you both fall asleep.

in the morning, though, you wake up to a horrified gasp.

"what!? what is it, is someone breaking in?" you ask, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. as you pull your hands away, though, you don't find sevika sitting beside you where she should be. she's hovering on top of you on all fours, a horrified look on her face. "sevika, what?!" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

"you shaved?!" sevika cries. you blink, your mind still half asleep, before finally looking down at your crotch.

you burst into laughter as you do. sevika's pulled your pants down your thighs in your sleep, clearly trying to give you a nice wake up call, and she's just now seeing your bare cunt. "sevika, for fuck's sake, i thought something horrible happened!" you laugh.

"something horrible has happened! why the fuck did you shave!?" sevika asks, her eyes wide and heartbroken. "d-did i piss you off, or something? whatever it is, baby, i promise i'll make it up to yo--"

"sevika!" you cackle. sevika pouts as she looks up from your pussy to your face. "baby, i shaved because my period's on the way and i didn't wanna deal with the mess again."

sevika's looking at you like you've lost your mind. "wha-- fuck that!" she whines. you chuckle. "what the fuck am i supposed to do when i'm goin' down on you now? my nose is gonna get all cold, i won't have anything to run my fingers through..." sevika looks seriously upset. you giggle just a little at the absurdity of the situation, then reach up to cup her face.

"it'll grow back, baby." you promise. sevika frowns.

"but then you'll just shave it off again!"

"no, i won't babe." you say. "not if you feel this strongly about it. plus, it's a lotta work-- i was scared to death i was gonna cut one of my lips off or something."

sevika chuckles. "thank you." she sighs, kissing your lips. you grin.

"thank you. y'know, most people have to deal with the opposite-- their partners forcin' them to shave before any intimacy at all... i'm glad you prefer the option that requires the least amount of work possible for me."

sevika giggles and kisses you. "i am pretty amazing, aren't i?" she asks. you nod.

"the fuckin' best." you agree.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[boundlessdisaster]

Red state leftist here: the moderates see you calling them names, dragging them through the mud, and that is why they hate you. Nothing else. I'm going to let you in on a little secret: if you don't use buzzwords even hella alt right people will agree with you. They hear the buzzwords and all they see is hate for them as a person. It's no different to them than the transphobic comments. They see it as a direct attack on them. You want to change minds and change the world? Talk to people as people, regardless of their political ideology. Don't use buzzwords, because just like when you check out of a conversation at dog whistles, they check out at buzzwords. Speak to them on their level, learn how to really utilize that vocabulary to say the same thing 20 different ways. Say it the right way, they will see the light, they will start to agree with you.

I work in fundraising, and I was fundraising for a non profit that helps kids that are experiencing food insecurity. A blue state liberal told me she didn't want to donate because "we're only raising a country of idiots,"

Had I been a righty, that would have pushed me further right, because "Dumb Democrats don't want to feed hungry kids because they don't like who got elected, how can they say that they actually want to help people," and you know what? I understand that line of thought, because I want to feed the hungry no matter who is in office. And it did piss me off, because how can you sit there with the ability to help a hungry kid, and then not actually help them because of who is in office? You want to see a better world? BE BETTER. You may not like outstretching your hand to help these people and some are indeed beyond help, but liberals radicalize conservatives. I see it every single day.

The left SUCKS at recruiting people. And so many of you are part of the problem.

The talk about centrists and moderates being the literal devil I see constantly in online leftist spaces is one great example of the left's failure. Yes, it sucks when the people don't see how horrible the right is. But centrists are some of the most open people to discussion- and some already lean left!!

You can't demonize moderates to such an extent that you close yourself off to them and then wonder why you're losing swing states.

Centrists aren't even always people with all the privileges- you will find plenty of people who are part of marginalized groups who are concerned about politicians on all sides.

You can be a smol radical leftist bean all you want who only talks to other smol socialist and communist beans, but you're never going to make the difference you want to in the world that way. It's the cold, hard truth. It doesn't mean you have to engage in discourse with everyone- some people have no real hope of changing and are emotionally draining- just more than your bubble.

I am tired of the left eating itself alive and deranged people like Trump winning.

[v1x3n]

SNAP! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - fluff, angst - panic attack, trauma, flinching.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

There's a sudden knock on the door to your room, your body dry and freshly washed, the minty smell from the soap bar fills your nostrils whilst you slump on the hospital bed. Curled in a way that was uncomfortable but it wasn't hurting any wounds so that would have to do.

The knock is followed by the door opening wide, revealing a man who you recognise, a man named Logan. The cheery fellow bounces into the room, suddenly the dingy lights seem brighter. "how's my favourite girl?" the man smiles while trotting inside, then closing the door behind him. "The nurse told me t' not bother ya sooo here I am!" he announces, smirking when you peer up at him. Your permanent frown slightly moves upwards when you see the goofy yet devious grin on his face.

Without a reply he sits down on the wooden chair placed by your bed, "you're looking better! my wounds are barely healing!" you wonder what had happened to him for a moment but then you remember that one of the first times he snook into your room, he rambled on for almost an hour. Telling you that he had been shot whilst on a mission, twice in the stomach. Luckily he survived. He smiles as he stretches out his hand, groaning, "I'm glad you're okay," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

A sigh falls from his lips when you sit up, "saw some big beefy guy leave your room before," john, he's obviously talking about john. "Looked real pissed off." Logan mumbles under his breath when he looks to the side. Fucking twat, he was pissed off? He doesn't deserve to be pissed off. "Ya know him?" He looks towards you for an answer. But you two both knew you weren't going to verbally say anything. You nodded hesitantly.

"Ya friends?" the man questions, this time it wasn't so hesitant. "No." You firmly said. Logan thought this was the first time you had spoken to him, it clearly must've been a trigger or something, "he is NOT my friend." Reaffirming your statement, pure rage boils through you at even thinking about being his friend. He lost that fucking privilege. "huh."

There's a silence that lingers in the air. The wet droplets from your freshly washed hair drips down, sending shivers down through your body. "Well, at least you have people visiting. My family is too busy t' visit. Or they just divnt wanna." he mutters the last part, "id kill for anyone t' visit."

"You know you get a lot of people lining outa your door? I can barely get through mine cause these bulky men will always be there." What? You questioned internally. "Ya friends with them?" you probably knew who he was talking about, it was probably the other knobheads that harmed you. None of them had really spoken to you since you arrived, john would sit down on the chair that Logan was currently sitting on sometimes, you two wouldnt talk though. Youd rather kill yourself than utter a single word to him.

"none of them are my friends, " gruffly talking again. Your throat kinda hurt so the sounds came out raspier than you had wanted them to. "hmm! Anywho! You wanna play some cards with me? I knowww.... Snap?" Then he puts on a dumb little smile.

After rolling your eyes at him, you nod. Magically he pulls out a card deck. Placing them on the blanket covering you. Once splitting the deck into two and passes you a half. Logan puts a card down gently on the blanket, not wanting to put it down too hard and hurt you. He didn't quite know what had happened to you but by the looks of it it was bad. You had nurses in all the time, your body was wrapped in bandages and by the looks of it, you only had 8 fingers.

"6 of clubs!" he announces. You place down a random card, 4 of hearts.

After a few rounds, you had won. For him having a deck of cards and wanting to play snap, he wasn't that good at it. A small smirk rises on your face, looking down at your massive stack whilst he had no cards left. "Well, well done." He grumbles with a mocking pout.

Once nodding you give him half your cards and he whacks them across the bed. Scattering the cards around, you gasp. Laughing, he observes the stunned look on your face before you shuffle the cards and half them. Dividing them into two halves, again making sure you both have a half each.

The word snap was yelled out from Logan's lips as he finally got ahead of you and slammed his callosed hand downwards onto the 2 of diamonds. When you flinch, he felt the weight of his face drop. "fuck, I'm sorry-" the look on your face could only be described as panicked, scared and fearful.

Suddenly a loud ringing blinds your ears. Your breathing grows. You take sharp and quick breaths when he looks towards you. You don't know why you panicked so much over something so stupid but then again - you do. "oh god I'm sorry!"

Logan's heart sank as he watched you struggle to catch your breath. He quickly slid closer, his voice gentle, "Hey- fuck- it's okay. I'm right here." He hesitated, unsure whether to reach out physically, but instead whispered, "Just breathe with me, nice and slow," trying to guide you back to calmness. But unfortunately that didn't help. You flinch back once more and shuffle under the blanket. The sounds of the room grew louder, the beeping of the machines sound over Logan's - trying to be - comforting voice. Your breath caught up once more. Your breathing is loud and fast. "it's okay-"

He gets cut off when a nurse comes into the room. She quickly rushes to you and all you see is almost a blur when your eyes prick with water. Distant yelling and you see the obscured bodies rush into the room, the nurse beside you and mumbling nonsense as the blob you think is Logan leaves. 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[amermaidsecretdiary]

I'M QUITTING + MY VOID STATE SUCCESS STORY

Hello guys, it's been a long time since i have posted something or in general be active here which was mostly because of personal reasons (just focusing on myself), although one of them had to do with our community.

I personally joined loatumblr at the middle of 2022 (from a previous anonymous account i had) but i started posting much later. Back then, the community was at it's peak ngl. The bloggers and the way they explained stuff was honestly, at least for me, so helpful and enjoyable. After the end of 2023 - beginning of 2024 this community started dying. I really didn't like this since I loved scrolling through specific blogs and reading their posts. I tried to post some stuff to give a little bit of life in there and i guess it did help a little.

Quick note; Please don't get me wrong, i'm not saying that the current posts and blogs running right now suck.. what i'm saying is that this community used to be way more alive back then.

One of the reasons why this happened is because people applied and got what they wanted. So they logged off tumblr. When I realised that, I decided to seriously focus on loa and start applying myself. And i ended up manifesting some good stuff, and I was good with it. Although, after some time, i decided that i wanted to manifest a completely new life from scratch, which it was what i wanted to do from the first time i joined tumblr but i ditched that thought and ended up changing some stuff about my current life.

My goal back then was to enter the void state (which im pretty sure it was 95% of the people in here goal too), but i didn't understand it properly so i couldn't 'enter'. I ended up ditching it and manifested without it. But after some point, i did my research and fully understood the void state or better, pure consciousness. If you go through my blog, you won't see much stuff about pure consciousness because i choose to not talk about it in here. The way it is treated it loatumblr just pisses me off. If you post a void success story, people will immediately run to you and ask you basic stuff like 'how did u do it?' when all the information needed about it is already posted. People tend to see it as something 'huge' and believe they can't succeed in it which is bs. If you do a little bit of research on pure consciousness you will understand how simple it is. Although, even if the 'void state' is seem like something that people overcomplete this doesn't mean that you can not use it. What i'm saying is that there are some people who really dislike the concept of it and will recommend u not to try it. Look, everyone has their different opinions and beliefs but if you want to manifest your dream life in the void state, go ahead. After all, it found you for a reason.

So coming back to my experience, since it was always my 'dream' to manifest my dream life in the void state, i decided to do it now. I'm pretty good at lucid dreaming (i've been lucid dreaming 3 years now) i decided to tap into my pure consciousness during a lucid dream. So i did my usual routine, had a lucid dream in which i closed my eyes and found myself floating in a void. I affirmed that i have lucid dreams everynight and then i got out. I did this 4 days ago, and i have had around 3-4 lucid dreams every single night, without doing any practise at all. Also, i have been scripting my entire dream life and i'm preparing myself to finally experience it. I have decided to make a looottt of big changes but two of them are the 'biggest' for me; numb.1 i will manifest that i will completely forget about my current life (i will also not remember anything about the law, for personal reasons) and numb.2 i will go back in time around 30 years ago (again for personal reasons). I mentioned this to make it clear to you that i won't be able to post my 'success story' after manifesting it, since i will not remember anything about me manifesting stuff and also even if i did, i wouldn't be able to post it since i will not have access to tumblr or current technology in general. So my success story is this one. This days, when i find the right time for me, i will have a lucid dream as usual and tap into my pure consciousness again which from there, i will finally manifest the life of my dreams. So that's my final post you will see from me. I hope you all never give up and get what you want because trust me it's worth it and all this found u for a reason. If you really want it and you stay consistent, then it's all yours. My words can not describe the way i feel right now, knowing that i have my dream life right in front of me and i can just grab it and give it to myself anytime, after this big journey. Goodbye everyone :)

[amoebab22]

I completely agree with this. I feel like this is one of the worst parts about Veilguard. My Inky is in the South, and while I firmly believe Orlais is the devil, it's very weird that Tevinter is just super chill about my elf Rook when my elf Inky had constant micro-aggressions as well as just out and out slurs hurled at her. Also I'm going on a rant about Mythal.

SPOILERS BELOW

Bellara also seems to just...kind of ignore that I'm an elf? Davrin makes more sense. He left his clan and joined the Wardens because he just didn't really vibe with the Dalish. He'd think of himself as a Warden first, I think. Wardens don't seem to give much of a shit about your race or religion or sexuality or whatever. In The Calling, they canonically don't give a fuck about the gay couple in their little group, or that Fiona is a mage and an elf. Absolutely irrelevant. So Davrin could start to fall into that mindset because frankly, it's a nice way to live. It's just not real outside the Wardens.

So when Bellara is like oh my god our gods are evil and Davrin is like eh, fuck 'em, that's actually about the most realistic reaction we've got re: elves. Davrin is just out here like yo I'm a little busy saving the world fuck them gods. Love Davrin.

Also, in Inquisition, there's concern that knowing Corypheus's artifact is Elvhen will cause violence against elves. So knowing it's the Elvhen gods causing all of this? The consequences of that, even if an elf Rook saves the world, should be looming for a Shadow Dragon in particular. Clearly Inquisitor Ameridan's race did nothing for the elves of Orlais. It was covered up over time. His sacrifice meant nothing to the humans. This should make Solas's plans to restore the elves much, much more tempting.

The way the Crows were presented REALLY bothered me as well as someone who romanced Zev. The Crows *tortured* him, sexually assaulted him, made him feel worthless, because it was seen as necessary. Sure, Lucanis being blood family might give him a very different perspective and experience, but Jacobus is just allowed to be a Crow and start his own house when he wouldn't kill? I mean, I totally agree that prolonged, public shaming and imprisonment is worse for this individual, but like.... That's not how the Crows work. They kill stuff for money. Sure, they run Antiva and would be pretty pissed off about the Antaam taking their territory I'm sure, and they might work with Rook since Rook helped Lucanis and he's a big deal to the First Talon. But like... It should be a hard choice to work with them for Shadow Dragon Rook, because SLAVERY.

I feel like the pullback on slavery is to make Solas's actions seem more ambiguous, and to make it seem like there was some equal power between him and Mythal. But I have a very hard time believing he was never Mythal's slave. Also, a spirit of BENEVOLENCE? Get ABSOLUTELY fucked. She was fine with SLAVERY. Thought she could just slowly phase it out, maybe. Yeah, no .

Because here's the thing: slavery is evil. Whatever you have to do to stop slavery, short of participating or killing slaves, is pretty easy to justify. Maybe I'm just John Brown-pilled from living in Kansas a good chunk of my life, but killing slavers and slave owners and freeing slaves is MORALLY CORRECT. FULL STOP. A "kind" master is still a master. Sure, you can give them a chance to free their slaves and make reparations first, but waiting to vote slavery out didn't work. The US had to go to war. Haiti had to rebel (and give basically all its GDP to France for like two hundred years. Fuck Orlais AND France).

The only reason my Inky was able to befriend Dorian, at first, was their shared trauma in going to the future. That changes people (that whole quest fucked me up the first time I did it) and I think my elf Inky was looking for reasons to trust Dorian and ignore the system he participated in. She didn't have to see it so it seemed less real. He's an altus so he doesn't own the estate. He seems open to other opinions! And some part of him knows it's wrong, or he wouldn't be so awkward upon talking to Inky the first time.

But Solas's inherent and never fully overcome distrust of Dorian isn't wrong. Solas needs to see action; words aren't enough. I don't blame him.

This is the same softening we saw of the Templars in DA2 and Inquisition, but if you read The Stolen Throne and The Calling and play DAO, it's very clear that mages are oppressed by the Chantry and live in horrible conditions. The ones in Lake Calenhad are described as pale and kinda sickly looking (or something like that) because they don't get any fucking sunlight. Fiona is happy to go to the circle at first because she was a SLAVE in Orlais (Honestly Loghain's hatred of Orlais is justified even though his actions aren't). If you decide to allow the right of annulment or whatever in DAO, Zevran calls it genocide. Zevran isn't one to mince words. He doesn't pretend he isn't a killer or that he wasn't tortured.

My Inky and my Rook are both 'no gods no masters' types, which is why I think clan Lavellan sent their First on a risky mission supposedly by herself (got real sick of her shit lol). As a result, she heavily sympathizes with Solas's cause, and would have happily joined him in bringing down the Veil if he'd just agreed to spend time making sure as few people died as possible, particularly after she meets the Avvar and sees how spirits really are. She knows Solas better than anyone, and even without a full explanation, she'd know that his reasons for doing this were morally right. He freed her people. He never meant to hurt them. He can't live with his guilt. Inky (who in my game was more like 30 because I don't think she could have made decisions or led on her own at 20, nor would she have been a studied enough mage) wants freedom for everyone. She's chaotic good.

Rook is a Shadow Dragon who killed slavers a little too hard for an organization dedicated to killing slavers (based Rook). They're also chaotic good, and a bit of an idiot, bless them, who kinda sees everything as a nail because they have a hammer. They see slavery, they fight it. Fuck the consequences. Solas did the same.

So why is Rook not bringing up slavery a lot? Why is Rook only finding out that Solas freed slaves on the regular at the beginning of the game? Did Varric just decide that wasn't worth bringing up to a person whose entire life revolves around ending slavery? Why is Rook not having an existential crisis after talking to Solas and finding out the truth of his past in his memories?

Look, all I'm saying is that I don't understand why more people aren't angry with Mythal and why no one is talking about slavery and racism. The whole point of fantasy and sci-fi, and the point of Dragon Age, is to critique modern society through thinly veiled references. That's why people get so passionate about Star Trek. And yeah, yes, it's necessarily going to make a piece of media more niche, or people are going to bitch about it (especially gamer bros my dude calm down, sorry something is very briefly not about you), but it makes a game *good* and lasting

BG3 did a good job of exploring the themes of trauma and power imbalance, and while some characters I think needed more fleshing out (Wyll my beloved, I owe you a lengthy fanfic for the injustice done to you), it was particularly powerful in Astarion. The people are ready for real exploration of real issues. We always have been. Backing off was a mistake.

ANYWAY I have feelings and none of my friends share my special interest. Here you go.

Why Fenris could Never Cameo in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

In the run up to Dragon age: The Veilguard, I was almost certain that Fenris would be our main legacy character from previous games. Not only has he been central in the comics released between DAI and DATV, he is an escaped Tevinter slave who's plot revolved around magisters, magic and the structural prejudices surrounding elves in Thedas. Not only that, but he's canonically in Tevinter killing slavers currently so he's geographically in the right place for us to meet him.

About halfway through the game though, it was clear to me: Fenris could never cameo in The Veilguard. Because he'd break it.

How the Veilguard treats Thedas is...odd to me, to say the least. I will be writing another post about how much I adored the expanded big lore in this game (the titans, ancient elves were spirits, where the blight came from etc.) and yet while these large lore expansions worked for me, the actual culture of modern Thedas is entirely softened, its sharp edges filed down until it's a sanitised fantasy world devoid of what made the franchise so vibrant and compelling in the first place.

So let's start with Fenris and slavery. In all three games, the reality of slavery is pushing at the corners of the world. In DAO Loghain allows Tevinter Magisters to enslave elves in order to raise money for his war effort. In DA2 Fenris is fighting to be free from slavers who will not leave him be, let alone the reminders that the city was built by slaves which are everywhere. In DAI one of the two possible mini-bosses is Calpurnia who was a slave, and characters such as Gatt and Dorian both show us how much slavery is tied into Tevinters culture and success.

But DATV the first game actually set in Tevinter where we get to see the famed Minrathous...it's like the game purposefully wants to avoid the issue. I can feel it tilting the camera away to not allow me to see. Slavery is mentioned, but never talked about in depth or as a specifically ELVEN problem in Tevinter. This might have been done to be less problematic, it feels ignored.

We are in DOCK TOWN. We are at the DOCKS. You would think that slaves from all over Thedas who are being smuggled and bought by various groups would be everywhere. You would think that the injustice in dock town would be partly built on the back of ships we've seen in the comics crammed with elves in chains. This is the world Dragon age set up for us. And yet...nothing. zilch. A tiny easily skippable side quest where we free a couple of venatori slaves, but only one of whom is an elf.

None of our Tevinter characters seem to have been influenced by their culture even a little bit when it comes to how they view elves; there is no moment when Neve fucks up and says something prejudiced, no moment when Bellara or Davrin are distrustful of her for being a Tevinter mage.

The same goes for Zevran; a character who epitomised the issues with the crows. The crows have consistently been characterised as very morally dubious assassins who kill for the highest bidder and who buy children on the slave market and torture them as they grow in order to assure that they reach maturity able to withstand torture without giving away a client's name. Zevran is very explicit about the fact that if you fail a contract your life is forefit.

Nobody responds particularly to you if you're an elf. Nobody trusts rook less for it in Tevinter. Nobody treats Rook any differently. Even DAI had better mechanics for this; with nobles in Orlais less likely to trust you as an elf.

Considering one of the main plot points of this game and what makes Solas sympathetic is the fact that he was fighting against the slavery of ancient elves...you'd think the game might want to mirror that in modern Thedas. It might want to show us how characters fighting to end slavery in Tevinter are similar to Solas and how the society Solas fought against was similar to the one that characters we love such as Fenris have fought against in modern Thedas. Maybe we'd want to explore how in a world of slavery like this, how could the answer NOT be to tear it all down? Maybe we should have that option at the end of the game so it really can chose whether we agree with Solas and his plans or not.

Adding Fenris to this game would entirely break the game because Fenris refuses to allow you to look away from this horror. He is a sympathetic character who had to learn to trust mages again because of course he didn't trust them. Of course he didn't. Fenris wouldn't allow the camera to shift focus because he's literally covered in the lyrium scars that show how slaves are used as experiments in Tevinter. Fenris WOULD question Neve on how she feels about elves and slaves. Fenris WOULD have things to say about Lucanis and the crows (let alone the fact Lucanis is an abomonation). So he could never be in this game; he'd drop a bomb on it's carefully constructed blinders to the very society its supposed to be set in.

And yet, in DATV, the crows are presented as...a found family of misfits and orphans? The politician who opposes the crows having absolute power in Antiva is framed as a comically evil idiot who doesn't understand that the crows are ontologically good. Yet...they're NOT. Crows in this game act more like a secret rebel group than an assassin organisation. We see no crow taking contracts with the VERY RICH venatori magisters despite being hired killers. We see crows just refuse to kill people despite having a contract because 'its crueler to leave them alive'. The crows don't feel like the crows here, they feel like a softened version of a cool assassin group who are cool because they wear black and purple.

Our pirate group are also sanitised; the Lords of Fortune are good pirates who only steal treasure that's not culturally significant. Theyve clearly read the modern critiques of the British Museum and have decided to explicitly stop anyone levelling similar critiques at them. There is no faction of the Lords of Fortune who aren't like this, no internal arguments about it. Everyone just. Agrees. And is able to accurately tell what a cultural artifact is vs. what treasure that you can have yourself is. Rather than showing us why a pirate stealing cultural artifacts might be bad (like in da2 where such a situation literally causes a coup and a war) it just tells us it's bad. But also pirates are cool so we still want them in our world.

This issue seaps into Thedas and drains it of any of the interesting complexity and ability to SAY anything that this franchise had before this game. It becomes a game about telling and not showing rather than the other way around. The games have ALWAYS asked questions about oppressive structural systems and their interplay with society, religion and culture and how these things can affect even the most well meaning character. Dragon age at its best IS a game about society and how society functions both for and against it's characters and what happens to societies built on cruelty and indifference. The best bad guys dragon age has given us are those who are bad because they embody these systems or have been shaped by them. Our main characters have had to wrestle with questions surrounding how to exist in these systems, fight against them, learn and grow.

Yet every group you come across in DATV is sanitised and cleaned up to the point of being as non problematic as humanly possible. None of our cast of characters have to wrestle with where they came from or the world that shaped them. None of them have to confront their own biases. They start the game perfectly non-problematic and end it that way too.

And this just...isn't what Dragon Age has been in the past. It isn't why I love the franchise. The whole game just felt, in a way, hollow. And this was a CHOICE and it is why the legacy characters are few and far between. Too many dragon age characters are just too...angry and complex for this game. You can feel them pulling their punches on this one. I have to imagine they did this because they didn't want to be criticised or have too much controversy? But I think it honestly goes far too much in the other direction and just makes it bland.

I can't imagine what I say here will be unique, but it is the basis for a LOT of my other thoughts on this game so I wanted to get it out of the way first. The softened Thedas and characters make this game by far the weakest in the franchise.

[gayferrari]

oh to be a fly on the wall at scuderia ferrari

Oh yeah but not for the reasons you'd think. A spat between drivers when adrenaline is running high is genuinely no big deal. I know it feels like it because it was so public and it could be a bigger drama than usual but clashes aren't exactly unusual between them. The much serious issue this race is the complete communication breakdown that happened between pitwall and garage, and the two sides of the garage.

Bryan (Charles's engineer) told Charles that Carlos wouldn't overtake him when he got out of the pits. Meanwhile Ricky (Carlos's engineer) was a lot more non-commital with his communication, telling him to take it easy or something like that. I don't have the exact wording on hand but it was something that communicated the vibes but not in a clear way. The meaning could be inferred (don't overtake) but it wasn't communicated effectively. That's not something you want when you're coordinating drivers mid race. Then there was also the mess when Carlos went to pit and was told to stay out. Both of these are pretty unusual coming from Garage 55 who are usually better put together than that.

TO ME, this kind of stuff, which actively contributes to your drivers being pissed off and acting heated for five seconds, is a bigger deal than said drivers acting heated for five seconds. (I've said it earlier but if I was speculating in a rpf way, I'd wager that Charles's dissatisfaction with the race at large contributed to his rant. Baby boy was seething without much of an outlet.) Merc really fucking locked it in today so Ferrari were “lucky” in that regard that they didn't miss out on a potential win or double podium, but they could have potentially lost on a lot more. I think in debrief they're gonna have more pressing things to talk about than radio drama.

(on the other hand I'm delighted to live in a world where the biggest Ferrari strategy blunder of the season still results in a 3-4 but like. Ideally it shouldn't have happened)

[fuck-customers]

Fun(?) anecdote from work tonight. Our kitchen phone started ringing so me, being the closest, picked up. Not even half way into the "Hi, this is-" a lady just starts screaming down the line. She's laying into me, going on some massive tirade about poor service and shit. I'm stunned but also a little amused, so I just let her go on. Then she mentions clothes, and I'm like "wait a minute" and interrupt the spiel to ask what this is about (because a little context to the absolute chewing out I'm receiving would be nice, some foreplay first please). She tells about how she's pissed off about not being allowed to return a shirt and even tho she didn't have the receipt, she has rights etcetera etcetera. I go... Ma'am... This is a restaurant.

The line goes quiet. She says, "oh, I must've dialled wrong" and then hangs up. What the fuck? Not even a sorry for screaming down your ear canal, just a 'hehe silly me' and then nothing?? Had to take a long minute in the cool room after that one because what in the ever loving fuck. I pity the store that call was intended for when she actually gets a hold of them.

Posted by admin Rodney

[call-sign-jinx]

Theodore Nott X Reader - What of it?

summary - you and theo were best friends. but when you both got accepted into hogwarts but sorted into different house. you made a promise to each other to stay together. after theo made new friends he broke his promise. now you and theo compete against each in quidditch and academically. until he badly hurts you in a match. will he change his ways? or stay the same person he now is?

warnings - the war did not happen, arguing, mentions of injury, mentions of hurting, slight hufflepuff hate, fluff

Main Masterlist Theodore Nott Masterlist

a/n - this is based off of this ask, hope y'all enjoy becos i LUV this idea. ta ta my lovelies! xx

theodore nott x fem!reader

Nott and I had a history. We used to be best friends. Our houses were very close to each other growing up. And we were both accepted into Hogwarts when we were 11. He had run to my house and banged on the door 'til somebody answered to see if I had gotten a letter as well. We were so excited to go to school together. We hoped, prayed and begged that the universe would put us into the same house as soon as we were in the castle.

When Nott was placed in Slytherin and I was placed in Ravenclaw, we both promised each other we'd still hang out together every chance we could.

We both kept our promise. Until he became close friends with Malfoy. That's when the time he'd spend with me began to fade into less and less amounts. Until we never saw each other outside of lesson.

Now, I'm glad he didn't keep his promise. He's turned into a right dickhead ever since he became friends with Malfoy. We're in 7th year now, he hangs out with Malfoy and his lot. And I'm friends with the Weasley twins, Luna Lovegood and Delilah Halifax from my Quidditch team, we also share a room along with Luna. Although I only have 4 friends, I'm fine with it. I like when my circle is small.

It's lunchtime in the Great Hall and all of us are sat together. Although we're only supposed to sit at our House tables, the twins sit with me, Luna and Delilah at the Ravenclaw table. Delilah couldn't have lunch with us today, she decided to get some extra practice before the game later today.

"So Y/N, you ready to get beat at our Quidditch match on Friday?" I shake my head and laugh at Fred's cocky behaviour.

"That's if we beat Slytherin today first. So you should be the ones getting ready to lose cause Slytherin is an easy obstacle to get over." Fred and George mock fear and huddle together. That's until they both had disgusted looks on their faces.

I turned to see who they were giving dirty looks to, and it was perfectly understandable. It was Nott, Malfoy and Zabini. Nott and Malfoy had disgusted looks on their faces while Zabini didn't show any emotion at all. Sometimes I wondered if he was a robot.

"You seriously think you can beat us? We're ten times better than you even if we had only three people on our team." Malfoy laughs at us, Nott along with him. God, they were so annoying.

"That's rich seeing as you got beaten by Hufflepuff last month, and not to be rude to them but we know how bad they are." Malfoy and Nott stopped laughing. Obviously struck a nerve there.

"They cheated, of course they were going to beat us if they were cheating." Hufflepuff did not cheat baring in mind. Nott looked me up and down with utter distaste all over his face. I put my middle finger up at him and turned back to Fred and George.

"It doesn't matter who wins, it's just a game." Luna says to the Slytherin boys, trying to diffuse the situation. They look at her and burst out laughing.

"Oh pipe down Loony Lovegood, go chase some fargles or whatever you call them." Nott's words make Luna look down in embarrassment.

I stand up from the bench and get toe to toe with Nott. I was pissed. I'm fine him picking on me but when he picks on Luna. That's when I get pissed off.

"You better walk away Nott, or I swear to God." I looked at him with pure hate. My nostrils were flared, jaw and fists clenched, my back rigid, shoulders pulled back. He smirked then scoffed at me. What a prick.

"Come on, wasting our time on freaks like them." And with that, they turned away from us and walked to their table. I sat back down with Luna and the twins, and fake gagged.

"Cannot believe I used to be mates with him." The twins laughed while Luna smiled and then continued reading The Quibble.

"I can't either, you're the complete opposite of him. He's a massive dickhead, and you're not." I laughed at George's statement. But when I actually thought about it. I always wondered how and why he became like this. I mean, a lot can happen in 7 years but he changed drastically in the first year and has stayed the same since.

-------------------------------------------------------

It was 5 minutes before the match started between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I was quite nervous, I really wanted to win this game. I had my broom in hand and was practicing my breathing techniques to calm me down. I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was Delilah, one of my closest friends on the Quidditch team.

"You're going to be amazing Y/N, don't freak out. You're literally one of our best players." I gave Delilah a tight lipped smile and that's when I heard the music, signaling for us all to come out and onto the pitch.

Ravenclaw flew up first and we all took positions, I was a beater. Then Slytherin followed and did the same, Nott was a beater as well. I just knew he'll try to pull the little trick he did our last match against each other.

Last match, he got one of the Slytherin girls to put a jinx on my broom, causing my broom to try and throw me off of it, but I had a firm grip and luckily I didn't go flying.

The whistle blew, starting the game. I still couldn't get control of my breathing, I don't know what was wrong with me today. I focused as much as I could.

The game was going quite well for us, the score was 50-30 to Ravenclaw. To put it simply we were winning. No one on our team had gotten hit by a bludger, pushed off their broomstick or anything like that. Yet.

I saw a bludger going straight towards Delilah so I flew over to her as fast as I could and successfully hit it in a different direction. She nodded her head at me with a smile but the smile soon turned to fear.

"Y/N! Look-" Before she could finish her sentence I was hit in the head very hard with something and was knocked clean out.

--------------------------------------

I wake up in the medical wing, I had no idea how I got here and looked around to see if I could ask anyone what happened. Until I saw the twins, practically running to my bed.

"Blimey Y/N we thought you had died. Took a right hit didn't you?" Fred said, with that cheeky smile he and George always have on their faces.

"Did Ravenclaw win?" Was the first thing I said. God I sound like a right weirdo only caring about a game. Fred and George laughed.

"Jesus Y/N, that's the first thing you think about when you wake up?" I gave George a look and Fred elbowed him slightly while trying to hold back a grin.

"But yes, you did win. And Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor as well." I was confused. It's past Friday? How long have I been out for?

"Wait... What even happened? And how long have I been out?" I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head and realised my arm was in a sling.

"Nott hit a bludger to the back of your head. You were out in seconds. Then you went falling and falling and then you hit the ground and you'd be able to hear the sound it made from Luna's house." George explained to me, my eyes widened. What the fuck? I get that Nott and I don't like each other but that is low, even for him.

"And you were out for about 2 weeks. You've never been hurt that long it was like a bloody coma." Fred piped up. He then paused, as if he wanted to say something.

"What? Tell me." George and Fred looked to each other, silently asking each other if they should tell me.

"Nott visited you every day after the match." They both answered in unison. I didn't know how to react. Why would he visit me?

"Did you ever ask him why?" They both shook their head 'no' in unison.

"Didn't want to get a bludger to the head like you did Trouble." Fred's words made me giggle. But the question always stuck in the back of my head for the rest of the day.

Why?

------------------------------------------

It's been around three days since I woke up from my 'mini coma,' as the twins call it. Madame Pomfrey told me that I shouldn't go to Quidditch practice or move my arm until the potion she gave me wears off. Delilah checked up on me whenever she could though, she was very kind.

Luna has been by my side ever since I was allowed to go back to attending my lessons, said she "wanted to protect me." Bless her soul.

She was walking me to my potions lesson, which was second period, because she had a free period and had nothing else to do. While I was walking and checking my bag for everything I needed, she was skipping alongside me looking at the walls and everything around her. She was in her own little world.

When we finally got to the room I had to be in, dread filled my whole entire body. Snape had changed the seating plan and had placed me next to Nott. How wonderful.

I said bye to Luna and walked into the room, Nott was already there. And he was staring at me. God I really hope he doesn't take the piss cause after what he did I won't care that he visited me.

I sat down in my seat next to Nott and got my books and quill out. There was such an uncomfortable silence between us but I did not want to talk to him at all.

Snape began teaching his lesson like usual, until he said that we were making a potion. In the pairs we were placed in. Meaning I was paired with Nott. Could my day get any fucking worse?

We had to make a Wit-Sharpening potion. This is probably what I missed cause what the fuck even is that? And that is when I realised we had to talk to each other.

"You know what to do?" Nott finally piped up. Damn, didn't think he'd actually talk to me unless it was something rude.

"Not at all if I'm being honest." Nott nodded in response. I just stayed sat in my seat and let him make the potion, only passing him things if they were too far out of his reach.

The lesson went by quickly, thank God. And it was also break, so I'd be meeting the twins, Luna and Delilah in our usual spot at the courtyard.

When I reached the courtyard, all of them were already there and my usual seat on the bench was still vacant. Buzzing.

"Hey there girly." Delilah greeted me as she walked up to me and gave me a hug. We both pulled away at the same time.

"First day back going good?" My face answered her question. I looked exhausted and annoyed at the same time.

"Snape changed the seating plan so I have to sit next to the biggest dickhead I've ever had the displeasure of meeting." She immediately knew who it was and let out a slight chuckle.

We both then headed over to Luna and the twins and enjoyed our break. The twins were playing pranks on people, me and Delilah were talking about anything and everything, and Luna was reading an unnamed book. This is how we liked it. Although we were focused on different things, it was still spending time together.

Break then ended so we all had to go to our lessons. Luna and George had DAD, Delilah had Transfiguration, and me and Fred had a free period, luckily.

On our walk back to the courtyard, something popped into my head. And my first thought was to ask Fred.

"Why do you think Nott visited me? Do you think it's just because he felt bad?" Fred raised a brow at me, confused as to why I would even care.

"If you want to find that out, Trouble, you'll have to ask him for that. I groaned. I just wanted to find out without talking to him.

"Why do you want to know anyway? Think he likes you?" Fred gasped and put his hands on his mouth, when he finally took them off his mouth he asked, "Or do you like him?" I slapped Fred on the shoulder and gave him a dirty look. Of course I didn't like him, did I? All I think about is him, but only because he's a prick and all he does is be a dickhead towards me. That's what I told myself anyway.

"I don't know to be honest, it's just... In the past few years, he hasn't cared about a single thing I do. And now I find out he visited me every day while I was in the hospital wing." Fred nodded in understanding and we left it at that.

We finally made it back to the courtyard and sat down on our bench. But, as soon as me and Fred settled down in the courtyard after walking everyone to their lessons, Fred got called to Professor McGonagall's office. Great, he's going to be forever if it's McGonagall. Now I have to spend 2 hours on my own.

I thought I'd just walk around the castle and try and find a new place I haven't been to yet, but I've been everywhere we possibly could go when I used to skip lessons with the twins.

When I turned round a corner, I saw Nott, just leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette. Gross. That's when Fred's words played back in my head. "You'll have to ask him for that." Maybe I should. Before I could even make a decision my feet were already walking me over to him.

He saw me, put out his cigarette, put his hands in his pockets then turned his body to face me fully.

"What? Want to argue with me bout some-" I cut him off before he could even say something snarky, which earned an annoyed look from him.

"Why did you visit me in the hospital wing?" His face went a shade lighter. He thought no one except Madame Pomfrey had seen him and he had asked her to keep it between them. Then he thought. The twins.

"What of it? It's a need to know basis anyway Y/L/N." With that he turned around and began to walk away. No. Now that I'm here, doing this, he is not walking away until I get an answer. I began to walk at a fast pace to keep up with him.

"Well I need to know, so tell me." It was hard trying to keep up with him, he had such big fucking strides it was hard to keep up.

"No. You don't." It went back and forth like this for around 3 minutes until I heard him groan and was then pushed into an empty classroom. He had locked the door when I had realised we were in a classroom and I was leaning against a desk.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This is the most you've talked to me in years and it's about me visiting you in the hospital wing?" I subconsciously scoffed. Why the fuck was he acting like I had been the cause for the end of our friendship?

"Well I'd have talked to you more if you had let me. But no, Theodore Nott is way too fucking good for me to speak to. You are the reason we stopped talking in 1st year. I tried and tried to keep our friendship, but you were too busy becoming bum buddies with fucking Malfoy. So just answer my fucking question so I can leave." Nott rolled his eyes at me, acting as if I had done something wrong.

"We are not bum buddies." I scoffed at him and raised a brow. I stepped away from the desk and took a step closer to him.

"That's all you got from what I said? God you really have fucking changed. Dickhead." Nott began to get pissed off. His eyebrows lowered and nostrils flared.

"Now just fucking tell me why you visited me." I kept repeating it to piss him off. He ran his hand over his face and looked like he was about to lose it.

"Fine!" His voice boomed throughout the classroom. I took a step back, my eyes wide. I had never heard him shout before.

"You want to know why I visited you? Because I care about you, more than you can imagine and I felt so fucking bad for hitting you with that bludger. I didn't even mean to! And before you ask how come I only just cared now I haven't stopped caring about you. Even when we weren't friends. And it's because I love you! I have ever since start of 1st year." What the fuck? My eyes widened even more and my jaw dropped. Well that was a bombshell and a half.

"I thought we hated each other. And why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Nott laughed, but had a sad look on his face. He took a few steps towards me, we were now toe to toe.

"Because I'd rather you hate me and talk to me, than for you to not talk to me or acknowledge me at all." I felt horrible. All these years. He hadn't hated me, but he had loved me instead. My heart shattered, I had never felt so horrible more than I do right now in my entire life.

"Oh Theo..." I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. I didn't know what else to do. He didn't reciprocate for a few seconds but then I felt him slowly start to hug me back. We stood like that for God knows how long.

We then both pulled away and just looked at each other. I had forgotten how beautiful he actually was. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue-grey. His hair fell perfectly on his face. His jawline had looked like it was carved by angels. He grew up to be bloody gorgeous.

"I'm sorry... Y/N..." Never in my whole entire life had I heard Theodore Nott apologise. Not once. And now the first time I hear it, it's to me.

"I wish you had told me sooner Theo..." My hands move from his neck to the sides of his face. He gave me a small smile and a slight chuckle.

"How could I have told you? I fucked it up for myself. Especially when I said all those things to your friends..." I rolled my eyes, he raised a brow at me in confusion.

"If you just apologise, and actually mean it, then I'm sure they'll forgive you. They don't hold grudges once someone has apologised and realised what they've done." Theo sighed with relief. He looked to the side, as if he was thinking proper hard.

"What?" His eyes come back straight to mine, his face looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know if he should or not.

"So what are we then?" The question took me aback. I didn't know how to answer that.

"Well... I don't know..." I paused, trying to make a plan in my head. "If anything can we just take it slow? Need to wrap my mind around all this." We both giggled. We both looked up to each other and just stared.

I felt myself moving closer to him, and I could see him doing the same. We both paused until our lips were centimetres apart.

"Fuck taking things slow." And with that our lips crashed together. His hands took place on my waist and he squeezed it. My hands were still on his face so I tried to pull him impossibly closer than he already was. My arm hurt slightly, even though Madame Pomfrey told me not to move it I ignored it anyway. The kiss was passionate, but soft at the same time. I think Theo couldn't decide whether to be gentle or not. We both pulled away for air, I opened my eyes and couldn't help but smile.

"I'm sorry Y/N/N, I mean it. I truly am." I hadn't heard that nickname in years. Only Theo used to call me that. It was reserved only for him, I told everyone else who used it the same.

"It's okay Theo, I was just as bad as you." We both laughed and then hugged each other.

Did not think my first day back would go like this.

[theactualsunshinechild]

Seeing this post always immediately reminds me of a fun story from early on in my relationship that my partner and I affectionately refer to as

The Can Opener Incident

This was back in my college days. That semester I was living in a dorm that was more like a collection of small apartments on the very fringes of campus territory. My partner had come over to spend the night at my dormroom, and we were going about making some pasta in the little kitchenette. The pasta was already fully cooked and strained when we suddenly encountered a problem:

The canned pasta sauce I had bought was not a pop top, and rummaging around the kitchen for a can opener revealed that I had neglected to bring one.

Not one to settle for miserable, dry pasta on a cozy home date, I ran over to the dorm room next door and asked to borrow a can opener. They're a little startled to find someone knocking on their door at 9 PM, but they let me borrow it with no resistance. Upon bringing it back is when the problems truly began.

You see, all of my life I had used a can opener which you latched to the side of the can and twisted the knob to make the sharp ring cut into the top of the can vertically, parallel to the side of the can. This one looked similar, all the right parts were in the right places, so I gave it a shot... but nothing happened. My partner comes up and tells me I'm using it wrong, and I think to myself "oh, okay, so maybe he's used this kind of can opener before, I'll let him at it," and I hand it off to him.

The can opener my partner has used his whole life is the kind that you latch on to the TOP of the can, so instead of holding the handle at the side, you're holding it horizontally over the top of the can. I didn't know that kind of can opener even existed, so when he tried using this one his way, I looked at him like he was insane. This look quickly intensified as this method also didn't work. Things rapidly went downhill from there. He defensively explained the way his can opener at home worked, and I started pointing to the structure of the can opener and arguing why this one wouldn't work that way. We're a little frustrated, but it's nothing some pasta can't fix, so I propose I simply go over next door to the people who I borrowed the can opener from and ask them how to use it.

As I reached over to take it from him, he held it out of my reach.

"No! I'll figure it out myself!" He announced.

"What? Why? It's easier to just ask the owner," I argue, jumping around trying to get at the items.

"Because I can figure it out!"

Okay. Fine. I guess he wants to solve this like some kind of puzzle for enrichment. I give up and I wait. The fiddling begins. I'm standing there watching him try increasingly improbable methods of getting that thing to work over and over. The pasta is getting cold. He's testing methods that have already proven not to work, trying new methods that physically couldn't work, then trying the ones that have already failed us all over again. My stomach growls.

"We should really just ask," I grumble, hungry and frustrated.

"No, I've got this."

He does not fucking got this. I want my goddamn food and I do not have time for this puzzle solving.

"Give it here."

"No."

"I'm just gonna take it to the owners and ask them to show us how to use it, you can come with."

"No! I want to figure out out myself!!"

"And I want my food god fucking damn it!!"

This went on for a bit. The pasta was drying to the side of the pot and getting crusty. At some point during this yelling match I got so pissed off that I stormed out of my own apartment into the cold with no coat on.

'I need to make him see reason!' I thought to myself, making my way through the snow. One building over was where two of his friends were rooming together. I knock on their door, boiling with rage. It is 10 PM.

"Hey, can you come over? [Partner] is being completely unreasonable and obstinate over figuring out how a can opener we borrowed works and won't let me take it to the owner to ask. Please help me convince him to hand it over, I'm literally too short to wrestle it from him."

"Alright, let me grab my coat."

We head back over to my place to find my partner Still Messing Around with that godforsaken can opener.

"Let me see that for a second," says his friend, taking his coat off. I experienced a moment of relief, thinking to myself, 'Finally!' as my partner pouted for a second, but relinquished the can opener.

This peaceful glorious relief fizzled out into horror as his friend began to try to open the can the same way I had.

"That's weird. It really looks like it should work this way..." he mutters.

"Try it from the top, that's how my parents' works," my partner suggests.

"No no, that won't work, just give me a second to figure it out."

Oh my fucking god.

I stared blankly, watching them study the can opener and turn the can this way and that, both completely absorbed in finding the solution to this hour long problem. I was going to lose my fucking mind. Perhaps in that moment I really did. Shellshocked, I stood, wondering how it had come to this. I just wanted some fucking pasta and a relaxed night in, and instead I've gotten these goddamn STEM majors milling around in my kitchen at 10:25 PM arguing over how to use a can opener that isn't even mine. So I went and did what, in retrospect, I should have done ages ago: I went next door for help.

I can't imagine what my neighbor must have thought of me, showing up over an hour after borrowing their can opener, looking as if something inside of me had died, and, with a hint of desperation in my eyes, begging them tearfully to come next door and show us all how to use their can opener. Over an hour after borrowing it.

Well, whatever they thought of it all, they did oblige my pleas. Their arrival thankfully broke up the debate, and as all three of us watched intently as hawks over their shoulder, they cracked open that can of pasta for us.

Using it the exact same way I had tried at the start of it all.

It was just dull.

"I don't need a shopping list; with effort, I will remember that I need this item"

Okay but will you be able to remember that you already bought it? Because apparently I can't.

[ckret2]

I'd been meaning to do this since I found your account but today I read through the entirety of your Goldielocks fic (or at least, what's available) and all I can say is WOW !!!!!

You're really fucking good at writing these characters, capturing the lighthearted-yet-somehow-serious tone of the show, and the stuff you make up for worldbuilding fits right in with canon stuff. As a lover of making things canon-compliant and in-spirit-of-canon, this fic is like a dream come true. You're an amazing author !

I really look forward to your post-TBOB edits of the eclipse arc and the flatworld arc, I can already kind of guess where you're gonna go with it, but it's still exciting to think about what direction you might take things.

I'm also wondering, are you planning on changing anything about the Death Valley girls, what with the info we got about ciphertology and the like ? Or keeping them relatively the same ?

(I stayed up till almost midnight reading this - I'm so glad I don't have to be anywhere early tomorrow)

Thank you!! I've discussed my TBOB edits of the eclipse arc already, you can see some of them here if you want.

For the flatworld arc, I actually think basically nothing's going to change. Spoilers, but: Bill's world was never gonna be like Flatworld. It was gonna be a big reveal late in the fic ("big" for the characters, not the readers lmao) that Bill's world was actually pretty okay—like yeah, a few flaws, but not "barely-exaggerated satire of Victorian-era ableism/sexism/classism" flaws—and everything the kids read in Flatworld that made them pity Bill was 100% bullshit. It was going to turn out that Bill's world is actually...

... pretty much fucking exactly like Euclydia ended up being in canon—up to and including baby Bill getting medical trauma over having a super-rare cool-ass eye mutation that lets him see the stars of the third dimension.

I was gonna have Bill go "oh yeah, that's why I drove the author insane, I was that pissed at him for making my home world look that bad. I didn't correct you guys because I thought it'd be useful if you pitied me."

I did this because, before TBOB came out, I knew that no matter what I wrote about Bill's home dimension, probably a good 20% of readers would just push it to the side and automatically assume that his dimension was exactly the same as Flatland—like, occasionally readers were making comments about my fic talking about how triangles ***ARE*** oppressed in his home dimension like it was a canonical fact and taking it as a given that I was writing that. For that 20%, it seemed to me like the best way to ensure it got through to them that whoa, this isn't Flatland would be to have the characters assume his dimension is exactly the same as Flatland so that I could say, in story, "no that's totally wrong."

Post-TBOB, a lot fewer readers are gonna make that assumption. But having the characters assume his dimension is a lot worse than it really is is still a part of the story—it ties into the narrative of them slowly growing to expect him to be something more sympathetic/heroic than he actually is, a la Dipper's assumption that the Axolotl poem is a prophecy about how Bill will help save them—so there's no reason for me to take it out.

So yeah, tl;dr: Flatworld doesn't need to change because it was always going to be wrong.

I'm only gonna change the Death Valley girls a little bit. Everything I've currently written about them stays the same; except I'm also gonna mention that, yes, they are a Ciphertology sect, and yes, all the girls in the cult are Cipherwives.

So now I also get to crack jokes about Bill being both flattered and a little creeped out that even after he mostly ditched the cult they just kept inducting new recruits as "cipherwives" whether he showed up or not, like wow, you're just gonna marry him off in absentia to some lady he's never met??? What if he doesn't wanna marry her? What if he doesn't like her haircut?? Every time he shows up he finds out he's got a new wife! He loves the attention, but jeez, girls! At least send him a letter with his new bride's picture and wait for him to mail back an "OK" or something!

[thepenguinflash]

"trans men have their own unique struggles but still benefit from male privilege" WRONG

"trans men never benefit from male privilege due to the fact they are trans" ALSO WRONG

The reality is FAR more complex than either of those arguments, and varies greatly depending on the trans person, the situation, and a whole heap of other factors.

Personally, I absolutely do benefit from male privilege in many scenarios. I passed a solid 75% of the time (as long as I didn't talk) even before starting T. And after over 4 years on T? Yeah, no one thinks I'm a trans man unless I bring it up first. And honestly, it VERY rarely comes up in everyday life. I'm legitimately perceived as a trans woman more often than a trans man.

So yeah, in day to day life I have male privilege. I can go for a walk or run at night without worrying. I can crowd surf at metal shows without fear that some dickhead's gonna grope me. I can leave my drink at the table and go piss without having to find a trusted friend to watch it like a hawk. Other men don't question me when I state something as a fact they just believe me. Pre-T that almost NEVER happened, I had to argue and justify EVERYTHING.

I also had to fight 5 different doctors who wanted to pull me off T for months for an invasive egg retrieval process on the off chance I decide I want biological kids despite me being aromantic, asexual, and horrified at the thought of pregnancy. So I definitely don't have the same kind of privilege as a cis man.

I'm also VERY aware that my experience is NOT universal. Plenty of trans men can't go on T, or simply don't want to. Plenty of trans men will go on T but still won't pass as cis men. Plenty of trans men don't WANT to pass as cis men. None of them are likely to benefit from male privilege, certainly not to the extent I do.

There's also trans men out there who benefit from male privilege even more frequently than I do. I present quite androgynously. I can't grow a proper beard. I am sometimes mistaken for a trans woman (maybe 20% of the time, especially when I have my hair down and just after I shave). Some trans men have full beards and present in a more traditionally masculine way, and thus are exclusively perceived as cis men.

Anyway, ultimate point, there is no universal measure for whether trans men benefit from male privilege, or how often they do. Trans men are not a monolith, and have VASTYLY different experiences to eachother. One trans man may have almost as much access to male privilege as a cis man. Another trans man may have never benefited from male privilege in his life. There's no hard and fast rule you can apply.

"It shouldn't be unreasonable to agree both that trans men have their own unique struggles and that they benefit from male privilege, unlike other trans people"

No, it fucking IS unreasonable! I'm not gonna agree that I have some form of privilege I don't have any meaningful access to in reality. Acting as if I have male privilege would be directly dangerous for me, I'm not gonna do that, neither in the general society nor in the trans community.

[entry-85]

Tangy Delectibility | Vampire!Alex Kralie x Jay Merrick

jaylex | vampire au | 2k words | 16+

this isn't a masterpiece, I literally wrote this in probably an hour but I'm on a jaylex and a writing kick.

vaguely based off of @creative-clawmarks's liveleak au (au on the brain chat)

not really canon correlated.

The apartment was dim, the only light leaking through being the kitchen light some feet away from where they sat, providing just little enough light for Alex’s eyes not to feel like they were burning out of his sockets and just enough for Jay to see him. They sat in mostly silence, so much so you could hear a pin drop into the carpet— Or, at least, Alex could.

His arms were wrapped around Jay’s waist, head tilted slightly up to stare blankly at the barren ceiling of his apartment, trying to ignore how the other male was trying to weasel his way into getting bitten onto. This was just how their relationship was; When exactly it had started he couldn't fully pinpoint, but ever since that first bite, both of them were thoroughly hooked— though Alex refused to admit he was, he didn't rely on Jay’s blood to get by, it was just a treat— It was just something he could look forward to weekly in his boring and frankly irritating life. Jay however, he was completely reliant on the toxin that would seep from Alex’s fangs, psychologically dependent on the effects of it that would render him damn near paralyzed. It wasn't even addictive, yet anyone who saw Jay coming after it every week would probably assume it was. Hell, maybe Jay was just that pathetic.

Alex could feel the boy pushing his head into the crook of his neck, and he couldn't help but let out a low sigh as their skin brushed together. He had been ignoring the others desperate attempts to get his fix, opting to act like nothing was happening courtesy of the pounding headache pressurizing the inside of his skull right now. He could only take so much bright fluorescent lighting, loud garbles of everyone’s overlapping voices, and 3 hours of getting his head slammed with knowledge and things to remember before he had enough, and he had nearly forgotten that Jay was even coming over until he heard the knock at his door because of it. He knew it would be best to just stop stalling, alleviate his pain with his favourite nutrient source and give Jay exactly what he wanted in turn— But God, he was procrastinating. Hard.

“Alex..”

His thoughts were broken apart before he could continue his ridiculous conundrum of being too damn lazy to get what he needed when it was right in front of him by the sound of what he needed right in front of him, eyes finally tearing away from burning holes into the ceiling to glance down at the heap of brown hair at the bottom his vision. Jay’s voice was slightly muffled, shivers being sent down Alex’s spine as his lips brushed against the skin of his neck. Damn tease.

“You okay?” He continued, his voice gradually drawing off into a whine before he pressed a kiss into Alex’s neck. He swore, Jay got on his damn nerves sometimes, but God, everyone did. He didn't think a person walked on this planet that couldn't piss him off at this point.

He let out a sigh he didn't know he had been holding, combing his fingers through the others hair after shifting his eyes away from him. Jay hadn't done anything particularly wrong besides be worried, and needy, he really didn't have any reason to be getting upset at him. God, maybe he did just need to eat— Or, well, drink.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” He breathed out in yet another sigh, like the first one hadn’t fully made its escape yet. “Just.. tired.” He excused, his shoulders sagging a little. He wondered if Jay could see right through him, right though his ‘just tired’ umbrella excuse he used to brush off everything. Was he tired? Probably, but he was damn irritated and his head was killing him and he was probably starving by now. He probably could— They’ve known each other for, what, 5 some years now?-

Yet again, his thought train derailed suddenly as he felt a hand press against him right at the bottom of his ribcage. He felt himself jolt, a heat coming to his face that he would rather die than keep feeling— “I know what could make you feel better..”— Filled his ears, the most allusive words said in the meekest of voices. He hated when Jay did that, he knew the other knew what he was doing, saying things like that acting all innocent. He was a hell of a lot more of a string-puller than people gave him credit for, that was for sure. He just couldn’t be patient, could he?-

The slightly shorter male lifted himself from where he was tucked in Alex’s neck, tilting his head in such a way to reveal more skin, skin that was adorned with the light scarring of every other time Alex sunk his teeth in. God, he really needed to be more careful about that, he couldn't just let Jay walk around looking like he got attacked or something—

A hand slid up on his shoulder, fingertips subtly brushing against the fabric of his shirt. Jay’s eyes said it all— He knew what he wanted, he knew what Alex needed, and he knew that they both knew. It made the blond question if he should just give in, if he should have given in hours ago– If he should just stop being stubborn and give his body what it needed, especially since Jay was offering himself so willingly.

“Hungry?” Jay broke their silence, pulling at the collar of his own shirt to show more of his skin, the tendons moving visibly under his flesh and making him all the more appealing. Alex felt his eyes narrow right on the spot he knew gave him the best results, his hunger awakening like a beast stirring from a long sleep. He suddenly wanted nothing more but to lunge at the other, taste the tang of his flavour and—

No, no, he needed to stop himself there. Jay didn't control him and he certainly didn't need his offers. Besides, he should probably just wean off of this whole thing now, before he seriously couldn't control himself anymore. Surely, if he just learned to live without the taste of blood in his mouth, he’d stop having such urges, right? If he caught it early?

“No, I’m fine.” His voice rang out, sterner than he probably intended. He casted his gaze off again, not wanting to feel his own resolve crumble the moment he looked into Jay’s heavy lidded eyes. But even as he avoided eye contact, he could feel the others' stare bore into him. He didn't buy it, but hell, did Alex even believe himself?

“You're always hungry.” He filled the silence, the words making Alex’s lips purse. Yeah, he probably was. There was probably never a moment where he wasn't smelling blood, hearing everyone’s heartbeat over his own that had faded out by now, never a moment where the urge ebbed at the back of his mind— But he’d probably tuned it out. Years of doing that with humanly food had prepared him well for becoming an eldritch monster, who would have thought?

He let out a sigh through his nose, weighing his options. Would it make much of a difference if he gave in one last time, as long as he kept himself in check later? Jay was offering, he wanted it just as much as Alex did. What would the harm be? He just wouldn't take as much blood this time..

He casted his gaze over, narrowed eyes staring deep into Jay’s green ones, fighting to not fall over the skin of his neck that his peripheral was honed in on. It would get rid of his headache, that was a benefit, right? It was the only thing that would help, he knew that.. What choice did he have?

“Fine. Just a little.” He grumbled, shifting in his spot on the couch under the bleek weight of Jay. He could have sworn he saw his eyes light up from the corner of his eye, but he casted that thought aside in favour of moving his hands to press flush against Jay’s lower back, pressing him a little closer. Jay moved without a fight, draping his head over Alex’s shoulder to angle the skin of his neck parallel with his teeth. Alex’s eyes bore into exactly where he wanted to bite— The fleshy part right in front of the largest tendon. That part always gave him the best results.

They sat in unmoving silence for a moment, Jay’s breath quietly sounding out as it fanned across Alex’s own neck. He let his hunger build, the pressure soon filling out his gums as his fangs protracted in, pupils dilating while the clawing ache of fervour dug into his being. This is what Jay asked for, and he would give him what he wanted.

After what could only have felt like ages, he leaned forward, wetting the skin with his tongue just to give the briefest of warning before sinking his teeth in, moving with Jay as he tensed. This was a delicate procedure— He wasn't looking to rip his throat out with his teeth, afterall. They just had to keep still for a little longer..

Once he tasted the tangy, copper flavour of liquid seeping past his teeth, he knew he hit the right spot. He retracted them, only to latch right back onto his skin, licking at the blood beading out. He could hear Jay’s hitched breath, feeling the way his throat and chest stuttered each time, but he ignored it to focus instead on the eye-rolling delectability of the others blood, his hands moving to grip his hips to keep him in place.

He could feel Jay’s growing limpness as the toxin worked its magic to fill his mind with haziness, his head dropping down fully onto his shoulder as Alex sucked down the blood until he was sure it would stop pouring. He could feel the pressure in his head ease up, his irritation being smoothed over by the calming balm he was drinking down. When he was satisfied, he moved back, soothing the bite wound with his tongue to numb the pain soon and, hopefully, not leave too big of a scar. Who knew you’d get a free neomycin built into your saliva when you're turned into a beast? Definitely not Alex.

He moved away, his back resting against the couch yet again as he casted his gaze over at the male in his lap, watching as he swayed before falling limp against his chest. He moved a hand up, combing through the back of his hair. “Happy now?” He questioned, his voice now smooth without the migraine and irritation ebbing behind every word. Jay didn't reply anything besides a grunt, but that was all he needed to do. Alex knew the answer, he knew it was a yes, because it was always a yes.

He let his head lean back against the couch as he basked in the newfound relief flooding through his head, the metallic taste still coating the roof of his mouth. He should have just done this hours ago— Maybe he wouldn't have been so pissy the whole time. He continued going through the motions of his “I can't believe I was so stupid” self lecture, unbeknownst to the fact that his talking blood supply was sliding off of his lap until he heard the sound of his knees hitting against the carpeted-over concrete floor. The sound made Alex cringe slightly— He may have built up a higher tolerance now, but he knew good and well what that felt like.

His eyes traced back over to where Jay now sat between his legs on the floor, observing him to see if this was a complete accident or his own doing. It was a valid response, Jay had learned how to navigate the heavy stupor of the toxin by now, and he had interesting desires and even more interesting ways of going about getting them. Alex learned over the years not to question it, and he especially didn't now when he felt the pressure of Jay’s head resting against his stomach, eyes closed and body heavy. He stayed still for just another beat of silence, before lacing his fingers back through the others hair, letting him stay there for the time being. Both of them were satisfied, and he was sure both of them were content with being sat in comfortable silence instead of the usual tension.

He just had to hold back from doing this next time. Or, maybe the time after that instead..

[issues4him]

𐙚 footsie

IN WHICH - draco and y/n play footsie under the table - well, more like y/n plays footsie with draco under the table...

warnings: slight smut / foot fetish ? / draco jerking off / public-ish

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the smell of roasted turkey legs and mashed potatoes & gravy filled the dining hall. you sat across from draco tonight, crabbe stole your spot beside him. draco was going to tell him to piss off, but you insisted it was fine.

draco was looking rather handsome tonight. his hair was neatly swept to the side and he was wearing a white button down & his slytherin tie..

you couldn't stop admiring your boyfriend-particularly his outfit. he wore it everyday, but tonight... he just looked different. he just looked so... good?

your thoughts started to go else where. playing back the memories of a few nights prior;

draco had you bent over his bed, legs spread, ass up. he took slow and excruciatingly long strokes into your pussy. your hands were tied behind your back with his green and black tie.

"dray... please go faster." you begged, face stuffed in his pillow. he smiled at your neediness and then proceeded to leave your legs sore and ass cheeks red for the next day.

"y/n," you snap out of your thoughts. you look up to see draco staring at you with a slight smile. "what's up? why aren't you eating?"

you just smiled at him, "nothing." you took a couple bites before hesitantly slipping your foot out of your shoe.

draco feels an unexpected foot touch his own. he jumps a bit, and slightly raises an eyebrow at you.

he then just smiles softly, assuming you just wanted to touch him in some way shape or form. he knew you liked to touch him whenever you felt anxious, it always calmed you down. you blinked innocently at him, slowly rubbing your black-tight covered foot up his calf.

he glanced under the table at your foot-his raised eyebrow coming back. he gives you a curious look and mouths, "what are you doing?"

you shrug your shoulders, taking another bite of food. your foot continues to make its way up his leg, rubbing against his knee.

"y/n stop.." he mouths, again. you can tell he is a little flustered. you know he didn't want you to actually stop. if he did, then why'd he scoot himself closer to the table?

draco's eyes narrow at you. he silently curses himself for letting you do this sick stuff in public. he doesn't have a balls to tell you to stop.

your foot reaches the inside of his thigh, spreading his legs apart slightly. draco refuses to make eye contact now. he's instead looking around the room hoping no one is noticing what is going on underneath the table.

your foot suddenly reached his crotch. you rubbed against him slowly but firmly. he looks up at you, frowning when he sees you smiling.

"draco," he snaps out of his gaze on you, "you ready for the match today? i think gryffindor's been winning a lot of their games recently." said blaise. he was sat next to you, which you hated when he did. his elbow was always in your face when he was eating.

"yeah..." for a moment draco almost forgot what you were doing. he clears his throat, "yeah gryffindor has been playing well lately. i'm not worried, though, i'll beat potter. no doubt about that."

you had to bite your lip. your foot was still massaging draco over his pants. you couldn't deny how wet this whole scene was making you.

draco's ears were tinted red with blush as he talks to blaise. he was finding it difficult to concentrate on the conversation with your foot rubbing against his cock like that. he glances between your face and blaise's.

he wanted to push your foot away so bad, but he really didn't want to. he can feel the heat building up inside of him.

his knee suddenly slammed up against the table when you quickly pushed even harder on his dick. he backed away from the table, pushing your foot down.

everyone at the table looked up at him as he stood,

"i need to use the restroom." he muttered before walking off, holding his bunched up robes in front of his crotch. he leaves the dining hall making his way to the nearest bathroom.

draco quickly finds a bathroom and he slips inside. he enters one of the empty stalls and locks the door behind him. sighing, he leaned against the door, closing his eyes.

he can still feel the way your foot was pushing and pressing against him. he mentally curses at himself before undoing his belt buckle and sliding his trousers down.

he takes a seat on the toilet and immediately grabs his cock. quickly stroking up and down, draco just desperately wanted to get back to the table. he closed his eyes, imagining you.

the way you looked when you were on your knees gagging on him, or the way your pussy looked from behind when you bent over, or the way your boobs bounced when he fucked you.

he looks down and lets out a string of his spit onto his dick. he hated doing that, but it was the only 'lube' around here.

he spread it around himself, continuing to bring himself closer and closer.

he closes his eyes once more, remembering one night you two shared;

draco had your front side smushed against the wall in the bathroom in his dormitory. he was behind you with an arm wrapped around your neck, and a hand over your mouth.

his cock was slipping in and out of your wet pussy slowly, not trying to make much noise. his roommates were just outside the door, playing a party game.

to your disappointment, he pulled out, but only to bend down and eat your dripping pussy from behind. he wanted to smack your ass so bad, but he knew he shouldn't.

he spun you around so you were facing him, and he wrapped one of your legs around his shoulders. he dives back deep into your wetness, guiding you to your orgasm as quietly as possible.

draco quickly grabbed some toilet paper with his other hand and released himself all over it. he let out a sigh, finally feeling relieved.

he takes a moment to calm himself down and clean up before leaving the bathroom. he runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm his breathing.

he takes a deep breath and heads back into the dining hall, forcing the memories of what just happened to the back of his mind.

he takes his seat across from you, staring you down. he gave you a small glare and you giggled to yourself.

you really did have this boy wrapped around your finger.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Does a bad ending ruin a good story? A comprehensive guide to my feelings on the Arcane finale

*Spoilers for Arcane season 2*

So. You just finished the show, and you're staring at the screen in bewilderment. Perhaps you’re even with some friends, shouting words of confusion to the rolling credits. Try as you might, you can barely hear them, because a single thought echoes in your mind and pushes away any other:

“What the fuck just happened?”

If this happened to you, then boy oh boy, we're on the same boat. If it didn't, well, I'm glad for you friend! We might not have been looking for the same things from this story. But this is my post, meaning I will give my opinions (which are objectively correct because this is my blog and I'm the mayor here) on everything that Arcane broke and failed to deliver in its last 2 episodes.

Let's start with characters, and why none of it mattered.

Jinx symbolized the fear we all have of not belonging somewhere, of not having anything to call home or anyone to call a family. Her anger stemmed from wanting to carve a place in a society and a world that had so harshly rejected her (i.e., Vi leaving her). Her existence was a huge middle finger to all that refused to let her live, a fight to build herself something wholeheartedly hers (hence her being an inventor). It was proof that despite the world telling her she was better off dead, she would never stop fighting to prove it wrong.

… and she died.

She died, and that means all the suffering she went through to exist simply amounted to nothing. She left nothing behind either, no trace of a legacy, something that would have left her mark on that world. Isha, the child she raised as a daughter, died. Silco, who she taught love and care to, died. Vander, who she brought back from years of trauma and torture, died. Jinx fought so hard to live, and in the end, it was as if she hadn't lived at all.

Viktor is most certainly the character that made me the angriest, because of how attached I am to the person he is in season 1 (and even the first two acts of season 2 to an extent). Everything that made him so beautifully complex… gone, in about 10 minutes. There was NO reason to make him the surprise ultimate villain. Viktor had always, always been a pacificist. That's why he was so adamant Hextech not be used as a weapon. That's why every time there were chances to test hextech to hurt, he tried to learn how it could heal. Yes, his fusion with the hexcore had changed him; but NOT into a man who didn't care for human life. He wanted to help all the hurt done to his people. People like him, living day to day in the undercity, but who had never gotten a chance to crawl out of their hell. His community was about HEALING, not controlling. The very IDEA that he would accept killing innocents and ally with Noxus, the warmongers, is so ridiculous I could genuinely laugh if it didn't make me so angry. The show needed an easy, black-and-white showdown to conclude a story that would have needed so much more time to tell. And they chose Viktor. Because it was the easy way out. It was the perfect foil to the return of the Golden Boy. And that PISSES me off.

There is this really shitty concept in popular media that the handicapped/chronically ill character is always in the pursuit of being “cured” and that they need outside help to realize “that their imperfections make them perfect”. Fuck. You. As someone with chronic illness and who just finished beating blood cancer, fuck you. That realization, that you're you with every part of your being, even the ‘bad’ ones, cannot come from outside. It's YOU who needs to learn it. It's you who needs to discover how your body and your mind are so much stronger than you previously thought them to be. Not your lover, your family, your friends, or God forbid your able-bodied lab partner. You. Others may tell you as many times as they want your illness doesn't define you; it won't matter until you, yourself, have understood why and have accepted it. Having someone swoop in and “fix” Viktor with a “you don't have to change uwu” is just….. so reductive I can barely find the words for it. That was VIKTOR’S path to find, and not Jayce’s role to find it for him.

Also… Viktor wasn't trying to ‘fix’ his leg; he was trying to find a cure to a deadly illness ravaging his body and no doubt the bodies of many in Zaun. The HELL is the message here??? That he should have just rolled with it because the deadly illness was part of him??? Again, as a cancer survivor. Fuck right off.

Of course, I can't just ignore the hideous get-up they put him in at the end. The man who laughed at Jayce's narcissism….you want me to believe… he would put on that fucking edge lord costume and not DIE of embarrassment??? The design makes no sense from a narrative standpoint either: if his cane has become the sceptre, why is he still keeping it? He doesn't need it anymore to walk, and it's a reminder of his weaknesses as a human that he apparently hated so much. Why the hell does he keep it then? And the hexclaw. Where did that bad boy come out from?? Did you all see a secret extra bonus scene where he steals it from the lab, because I sure didn't. It doesn't add anything to his sets of powers either it’s… it's a fucking laser gun. WHY. And oh sweet god that mask… there would have been so many ways of designing a mask more meaningful than the one from LoL. This one is just. A piece of metal he spawned in embryo. Get it? Because he's made of metal now and also hiding his face means no more humanity? Get it?? Of fucking course you do, because this was the easiest and worst possible way they could have integrated the mask.

Viktor and Jayce had a fantastic dynamic in that Viktor had started out as the loner, the underdog scientist from the slums; while Jayce was the leader figure, living in comfort that made him attachingly naive, his face plastered on posters stroking his ego. The shift is delightfully slow, as Viktor gains in confidence and determination to see his invention through no matter what, while Jayce is confronted with harsher and harsher truths about the world he so blissfully ignored. By Act 2, they have fully switched roles: Viktor is now the leader figure, a symbol of the future for the people, while Jayce is desperately alone, both physically in the hexcore anomaly, and mentally in being the only one who has seen the devastating future. Excellent stuff. What would be a great way to push these parallels further and to show the complexity of these characters, and perhaps how they can balance each other out? Well, Fortiche sure didn't know, now Viktor is the bad bad guy and Jayce is mister hero. Zaun bad, Piltover good. All nuance, gone. Proving that indeed, the man from poverty and inequality turns out evil, while the one from comfort and wealth turns out to be the hero of the story. The whole “giving a warm speech to the bad villain about how you care for them, somehow immediately changing their ways, and dying together to save the world” can work well in shounen anime where friendship is magic, or in the Ben 10 live-action movie (yes, that's the plot, I thought that wasn't deep when I was like 7 years old so imagine now), but not in a show like Arcane. Not with the ethical and moral nuances they have accustomed us to.

And now, let's explore...

Plotholes and incomplete storylines galore.

Ekko’s tree and the contamination of Zaun from Piltover? Fuck that. The huge showdown between the two opposite yet sister cities, like Jinx and Vi, that has been built up for two seasons? Fuck that. And for what?

For the Noxus sequel teaser.

Mel’s plotline about finding her mage origins had NOTHING to do with the main plot. Absolutely nothing. It added 0 twists or intrigues to the story, and served no purpose except making her a deus ex machina for a broken ending. All it was there for was to lay the base for a following show on Noxus and the Black Rose. Time that could have been spent either giving Mel a proper arc related to the plot, or giving all the other rushed character arcs more development.

Finally, and I deeply regret having to say this, but… the end of Vi and Cait's relationship was majorly disappointing to me. As an LGBTQ+ person myself, who feels attraction to women, it was a delight to have such a realistically portrayed w/w relationship on screen. Popular media tends to portray m/m relationships as these doomed, sinful feelings between two repressed guys, while w/w relationships are shown to just be all sunshine and rainbows and teddy bears, because two women together are a cute little accessory to have on screen. It’s non-threatening. But not Cait and Vi; their bond was raw, and rocky, with violent lows and passionate highs in a world that seemed to want to keep them apart. Their separation and the introduction of Maddie showed the reality of a w/w relationship, where fights and cheating ARE things that happen, because they're two adult women with different beliefs, objectives, an trauma. Putting them back together, as if nothing had happened, without giving us anything about how their relationship would have evolved from the breakup? I'd never thought I'd say this, but it's too easy. How about Caitlyn's literal descent into fascism??? We’ll just ignore that? Vi will just ignore that?

As with everything else, this last part of Arcane destroys all the complex emotions that exist between these characters, the resentment, the anger, the frustration, built upon years of different social conditioning… gone. Because they had 2 episodes left to wrap it up, and there was no way to make a coherent and natural transition to them getting back together with that kind of time. And can I just say. The decision to have Vi, symbol of Zaun, go down on Caitlyn, symbol of Piltover and enforcers, in a prison cell that has held innocent Zaunites and represents their complete lack of freedom as individuals by a cop state that oppresses them….. yeah, bad. So bad.

And… the multiverse. Yup, they went the multiverse route. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing: the concept of multiverses itself is interesting in a vacuum, and quite a few properties have managed to make it work coherently. But it has been terribly overused and bastardized in serialized content in the last few years, for the simple reason that it's extremely practical. Why make a new, original series when you already have worlds and characters that are developed, and come with built-in fans? It's a money-saving hack! Why dedicate yourself to an ending that is meaningful in its finality and wraps the story properly when you can just say “It's just one ending in the multiverse!”. It takes away any accountability to the fans, and leaves the door open to a potential other version of the story! The perfect combo!

…except in practice, it comes off as lazy in a medium where that trope is overly saturated (don't start me on Marvel), and like a cowardly way of escaping from the responsibility of really taking the time to craft a good, solid ending to end your story.

So, with all that said: does it ruin Arcane for me? No, absolutely not, and I don’t think it should be for you either. The intricate artistry and raw talent that went into making the first season (and I would say a majority of the two first acts of season 2) is undeniable, and will stay undeniable. Nothing can touch that story. It will forever be one of my favourite pieces of animated media, which is saying a lot because I'm currently getting my master's degree on that topic.

However, it does give Arcane, as a whole rather than two separate seasons/entities, a very bittersweet feeling that is hard to forget. Thinking of what could have been, just if a little more time had been given to the minds behind the masterpiece you so loved… it's its own form of heartbreak. Academics have even compared it to experiencing a form of death of a loved one, before they ever got to reach their fullest potential and live the life they deserved. It may sound dramatic, but the feelings you feel in this moment, watching the horrible end of a fiction you have so much love for, are real. No one can take those away from you. You're allowed to grieve the loss of something that meant a lot to you.

Tldr; No, Arcane is not a bad series because of its rushed and incomprehensible ending. As they say, it's all about the journey, not the destination, even if that's one of the parts we tend to remember the most. And I don't know about you, but this was one of the best journeys I've ever been on.