#and in between that difference there are people's lives on the line

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your boss at The Last Drop

content: this fic is another multi-chapter work! i hope you enjoy.

content warning for this fic: depiction of sa (this chapter only), blood, slight gore/fight scenes, cursing, sexually explicit content. pretty heavy topics to be honest, it makes a lot of commentary on how it's like to live in Zaun. since this chapter has an sa scene (very lightly detailed scene but still hints to it), if you would like to skip that part, there will be three asterisks (***) that indicate when the scene begins and when it stops so that you can do what's safer for you. sa will not be talked about alot in depth for the rest of the chapters, and i will give a content warning to chapters that hint or reference it.

word count: 3k

thanks for reading!

Part One

When you are first hired at the Last Drop, it only takes 4 hours for Sevika’s name to circulate the building and make its way towards you. 

The first time you spot her, she is brushing through a crowd of drunkards, seemingly not wanting to be approached with an expression as hard as stone. The tall woman, attractive and large as she may be, is intimidating. Her figure, although only in your line of vision for a few seconds, is something made of pure muscle and height. You know that she could easily tower over you if she wanted. 

Despite her quick and fast entrance, it only takes your first day to realize that Sevika isn’t someone that you fuck around with. And based on the way that your coworkers and supervisors tense at the mere mention of her name, it’s obvious that she’s someone important here.

Throughout your first month at the Last Drop, any other appearances of Sevika is no different. Her steel cold stare could freeze anyone to death. You’ve seen her drag people upstairs only for them to never come back down (who knows what she or Silco did with the body?). You’ve seen the way she dominates the deadliest men–how she doesn't let them silence her. 

How she challenges them…

You've also seen the way that your coworkers have gotten their heart broken, hoping to be the one-night-stand turned lover that changes Sevika’s promiscuous ways. And every time, your coworkers end up heartbroken. Gender doesn’t really seem to matter with Sevika. She’s ruthless with everyone. She’s mean.

And, God, you really hate how much you like mean women.

At first, you thought it was amusing to be pining after her. It isn’t surprising, since you've had your fair share of passionate romances (and heartbreaks) with people similar to Sevika. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you can’t seem to stay away from them.

But now it’s been over a month and you can't help but wonder when the crush will dissipate. At this point, it's entirely inconvenient.

You've managed to keep yourself out of the limelight for the majority of your time at the Drop. You’ve found your rhythm by staying in the kitchen, away from the wandering eyes of questionable strangers. Away from Sevika.

But that only lasts for so long.

Amy, your boss, manages to shatter your Switzerland bubble on a Thursday evening at noon. It’s exactly the last thing you want to hear: “I need you to swap schedules with Janessa,” Amy barks.

It isn’t a suggestion or question. It’s a demand. 

Your mouth opens to object, already feeling that familiar pang of agitation within you. But Amy doesn’t hang around long enough to hear. 

“Thanks!” She calls over her shoulder, briskly walking behind the counter and towards the kitchen.

Your teeth grind and your jaw clenches. With balling fists, you stand there for a few more minutes. Trying to simmer down. Trying not to get fired.

You cook. You make new recipes. You may even help the dishwashers every once in a while (especially on nights that are packed). 

But you don’t buss and you don’t wait. That’s Janessa’s ballpark. She’s known as one of the best waiters in town. Her reputation followed her as she hopped in between different restaurants before landing at The Last Drop for good. She’s usually quick, efficient, polite but not too polite (no one ever could be considering the kind of people that this job attracts). 

The idea of Janessa swapping places with you in order to cook an overwhelming amount of food under the pressure of constant verbal abuse? That doesn’t sound right. 

Well, it doesn’t sound like something she would willingly do.

“I tried to help you out,” Max, your coworker, whispers. He clicks his tongue while washing down the countertop of the bar. You forgot that you were holding a conversation with him before Amy interrupted. “I overheard her talking to Nessa about it and offered the swap.” Max blinks through his thick lashes, which are covered with clumps of purple mascara, before he makes eye contact with you. “The bitch told me I wasn't qualified. Can you believe it?”

You snort underneath your breath, nearly choking at the idea of such a conversation happening.

Max—a petite curly-haired himbo with stunning hazel eyes and nails long enough to claw your heart out—most certainly isn't a popular bartender due to his skills. He has charisma, a charming personality and a smile that can make anyone stop in their tracks. He’s willing to listen to anyone that needs a shoulder to cry on (which is almost always every regular that comes here),  and he doesn’t mind sucking up to Amy as long as it means that he has full control of the bar. He’s been employed here long before Amy’s time, which you truly believe is his saving grace.

He knows the history, the neighborhood— the business very well.

But mixing drinks? Not his strong suit.

Seeing him out on the level ground with numerous tables to handle would be comical. A train wreck for sure, but definitely comical.

“Did she say why Nessa was swapping?” Self consciously, you peer at the rest of the pub over your shoulder. Everyone is seemingly out of earshot but it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

Max’s shoulders tense. He stops his scrubbing, right hand still holding onto his soaked disinfecting cloth as he sends you a sidelong glance. “Not my place to tell.”

The hairs stand up on your arms as you register his reply.

The sound of the entrance door opening is what shatters your reverie. Just like that, Max’s shoulders relax. A smile spreads across his face, this time not quite reaching his eyes, as he looks towards the door. “Welcome to The Last Drop!” He says, voice dipping into that flirtatious cadence you know all too well.

That is all he is going to say on the matter. You know Max doesn’t like gossiping about people’s shit. And your coworkers definitely have a lot of messy situations throughout their employment here. He wants no relation to any of it. 

You pick up on the hint, instead swallowing your curiosity and looking at the incoming customer. It’s one of the workers from the brothel across the street. She’s a leggy brunette with towering stilettos and a resting bitch face as cold as stone. She’s just as unapproachable as the last time you saw her. But there’s a spark in her eye when she regards Max. Based on her last few visits, you’ve grown to learn that she’s taking a liking to him.

“Well, that's my cue. I’ll leave you to…do your thing,” You mumble, fighting off a smirk. Max peers at you with a quizzical expression as you gesture vaguely to the bar around you. “Or whatever nonsense you do up here…”

“Hmph,” He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn't you be back there making shepherd's pie or something?”

“You mean working? Something you're not familiar with, I’m sure.”

“With a face card like this? I’m too fabulous to work.” He winks before gesturing towards his face. “A reality you're not familiar with, I’m sure.”

A laugh erupts out of you as you click your tongue. You’re walking towards the kitchen, ready to clock out for the day and finally rest, when you hear the lady of the night approach the bar. You believe her name to be Scarlett, and her voice is a low and silky murmur while she addresses Max.

When you glance over your shoulder, you can't help but notice the way her cleavage spills over her frilly corset top. Her braids are pulled into a bun on top of her head, eyes alluring as she peers at Max through thick long lashes.

Too caught up in all the glamor that Scarlett is, you walk right into a nearby wall (because that is unfortunately what happens whenever beautiful women are near you). 

Max and Scarlett immediately glance at you. Max, with that all-knowing smirk, and Scarlett's raised eyebrow is enough to make you want to dig yourself a grave.

But you don't. Instead, you clear your throat, apologize and shuffle to the kitchen with haste.

The air is thick with cigarette smoke.

That’s one of the reasons why you hate waiting. 

You don’t mind occasionally working in such an atmosphere. After all, you are one of the few chefs that regularly make an appearance everyday. So you’ve grown accustomed to walking through the boisterous crowds of smokers and drunken belligerents before and after your shifts.

But then, for the rest of the shit, you usually find solace in the kitchen—swallowed by plates and dishes and food and ingredients—which is more your forte.

“Hey pretty lady,” A bald, greasy buff man grumbles. His eyes are set on you yet simultaneously far away. Out of focus. “I’m getting hungry. Why don't you come over here and serve me?” Then he winks with a shit-eating grin that makes you queasy.

“You're not in my section,” You reply dryly with a shrug. “But I'll let Dylan know that you're ready to order.” 

“I don't want Dylan,” His eyes linger on your chest, before trailing down your entire physique. It's almost as if he allows his entire train of thought to become visible for everyone to read. 

Your teeth grind as you quickly scan the room once more. Dylan said that he was stepping out for a 5 minute smoke break 40 minutes ago. 

There's a part of you that doesn't want to give in. You don't mind being the one coworker that won't take on more tables than absolutely necessary. Especially when you were voluntold to switch job roles with someone you barely even know, and without even being told why.

If it wasn't so hard to find a job lately, you're pretty sure Amy’s management within itself would be enough encouragement for you to quit. But you really, really need the money. Despite the toxic work environment and occasional harassment from drunk citizens, this is the closest you've come to financial stability in years. You can’t afford to fuck it up.

A heavy exhale leaves you as you shift your feet. “Have you had a chance to look over the menu?” You ask, eying the man with distaste.

His grin widens. “No. What do you suggest?”

“Well, we offer a lot of stuff really. If you're in the mood for something more fulfilling, we have different stew dumplings. I'm not sure about your allergies though, most of the stews here are made with—”

“Surprise me,” Then he gives you another once over.

There is a part of you, a small part, that's tempted to reach across the table and rip out his eyes. You hate the feeling you experience when men unabashedly undress you with their eyes; especially when it’s from creepy old men. 

Even more so when said men don't know how to respect boundaries.

But you ignore the idea of doing such a thing. Instead, you turn on your heels and walk away.

Or, at least, you try to walk away. 

***

A tight grip wraps around your wrist, pulling so abruptly that you nearly fall over. It happens so fast that you barely register it. A breath, hot and pungent with liquor, travels across the base of your neck before meeting your nose. “You didn't ask me if I wanted anything to drink.” The man adds, voice low and gravelly.

Then more is happening...

And that's what makes you snap. 

Within seconds, you're reaching for your knife, which you had previously placed inside the pocket of your apron. 

A fire courses through your veins as you retract the blade.

“What the fuck!” The man yells, letting go of your wrist. He presses a palm against his right cheek, which now has a wide gash that is gushing with blood.

***

You don't give him time to say anything else. Your elbow comes in contact with his throat, jabbing his windpipe with as much force as possible. He staggers from the impact, landing with his back on top of the table behind him as he gasps for air.

Your knife, now dripping with his blood, digs into his chest. You hold it there, watching him wince when you apply pressure.

“If you ever so much as breathe in my direction again,” You mutter darkly. He’s squirming uncomfortably, a pool of blood soaking through his shirt as your knife continues to pierce his chest.

The pub has grown eerily silent and the heavy weight of countless eyes begins to register.

“I…I-I,” The man underneath splutters in shock. Beads of sweat gather around his forehead as he peers up at you through a cloud of fear. Thirty minutes ago, you’d have been surprised to find him roughed up by someone half his size, especially considering how large his biceps are. 

But then again, The Last Drop seems to be filling up with tons of useless goons nowadays.

“We’ll deal with him.” The voice that breaks your reverie is unrecognizable—feminine and raspy. 

That's when your head snaps up and you realize just how tense the atmosphere has become. Many citizens watch you silently, some mouths ajar while others look ready to egg you on. It's never really a typical Friday night at this place without people trying to drunkenly fight each other.

It's rare, though, that  employees become the main culprit.

Something moves closer to you—a person. “Hey, it's alright. I-”

Still on edge, you're quick to react. You inhale sharply, grip tightening around your knife with reflexes that feel like second nature.

A low growl fills the air, the sound of metal colliding with metal following soon after. Then your blade is being knocked out of your hand, something powerful grabbing both of your arms.

A flash of grey, the smell of cigarillo. Warmth. Undeniable warmth.

“Woah, it's just me." The voice is so close, yet so far away.

"Look-" Then... "Maxwell, I need you to come and help." The voice speaks again. This time even firmer. A woman’s voice. 

When your vision adjusts, you lock gazes with a pair of stormy grey irises. They're merely inches from yours, peering down at you with a gaze that is steady. 

That's when you realize that you can't move because she's practically towering over you. Holding you.

It’s Sevika.

You must have tried to attack her, clearly caught off guard. Surely, you hadn't meant to. For a split second, you lost it and now here she comes, seemingly out of nowhere. It was merely a reflex—a fight or flight response.

“It's me. Sevika," She announces, voice sharp as if she's trying to to speak through a wall. "I'm having them take him upstairs. He’ll be dealt with,” She repeats, almost as if it's a promise. She searches your eyes, grip loosening around your arms, “I’ll make sure of it.” She adds. Despite her expression being made of steel, there's something that flickers in her eyes. It appears only for a millisecond but it's glaring enough to somehow recenter you.

Her shoulders appear to relax when you start to feel present in the room again.

She waits for you to reply. And waits.

And waits.

And waits some more.

Then, “I can handle myself,” Is all that you manage to say. 

She stares at you for longer. You can see the gears in her brain shifting, but you aren't exactly sure of what to anticipate next, or even how to accept the fact that you just tried to attack your boss with a pocket knife.

“I’ve got her,” This time, the source is coming from someone familiar. Max. “It's okay,” He whispers, drawing closer. You feel him before you see him. The tips of his claw-like nails brush against your shoulders as he gingerly grabs a hold of you. 

Only then is when Sevika breaks your gaze, this time turning to Max. “Staff lounge.” The brute woman orders. 

“I’m fine.” You counter. 

The edge in your voice says otherwise.

“...Then I need you to grab Amy,” She continues, completely disregarding you. “I would like to know why we have a chef waiting tables during the busiest rush of the week—”

“I don’t need to go anywhere,” You press, voice raising a few decibels.

Sevika jaw’s clenches, icy eyes flickering towards you. “You nearly decapitated someone. You—”

“...I have four hours left. I will leave when my shift is complete.”

Her nose flares. “Lounge. Now.”

Before you can reply, she’s turning on her heels and walking away.

Unfortunately, Max agrees with Sevika.

It’s apparent in the way he immediately grabs your shoulders after her departure. Every citizen seems to be watching the entire escapade because this is the quietest you’ve ever heard the pub be during a rush hour.

“I��m fine!” You hiss, frustrated by the whole ordeal. You are perfectly capable of defending yourself. You don't need staff members to coddle you. “Seriously.”

Max doesn’t reply, merely huffing underneath his breath as he guides you past the bar and towards a back hallway that leads to another room. 

When the two of you have reached the lounge, he finally says, “You're shaking.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What?”

He leans forward, grabbing both of your hands,“ You're shaking.” He repeats, looking at you dead in the eyes. That's when he lets go and you peer down at your palms.

A frown spreads across your lips at the sight of your trembling fingers.

“You nearly killed the guy,” Max continues. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“It was only self-defense.”

“I'm not saying you were in the wrong,” A flicker of worry meets Max’s eyes. “That asshole deserves everything you did to him, probably more, But,” He winces. His gaze trails off to a distant place behind you. “Chef’s don’t usually do what you just did.”

Before you can reply to Max, the door flings open. In walks the petite redhead that you instantly knew to be Amy. She’s light on her feet, eyes alert and face flushed. At first, you’re surprised to see her in such a state. 

Shortly, though, Sevika enters the room. Then it all makes sense.

Sevika’s domineering in all aspects and has a ferocious air about her that can make anyone feel...tense. 

You thought she was the last of it, but another pair of footsteps walk-in behind her. 

“S-Sorry,” The person stammers, side stepping so they can scurry around Sevika and find a chair to sit in. The person is Dylan.

“This won't take long,” Sevika announces. She seems annoyed, not even looking at anyone else in the room. “Starting tomorrow, nothing about tonight will be brought up again. Now, Amy.” She turns to Amy, who instantly shrinks in her chair. “Why wasn't Janessa on the floor tonight?”

There's a beat of hesitation before, “She's working the kitchen now.”

Sevika’s nose flares. “If you moved her because of last week, I want you to think over your explanation very carefully.”

Another beat drags. Amy blinks. She gapes. She blinks once more. Her cheeks are tomato red at this point. “I-”

Sevika presses on. “Did Silco somehow change his mind?” 

“...No.”

“So you deliberately went against Silco’s orders and switched Janessa to the kitchen. Meanwhile,” Sevika’s eyes flicker to you. Your stomach lurches. “You make our only competent chef work the floor, after I told you that she isn't up for debate. And you expect me to show you mercy?”

Amy doesn't answer. She's on the verge of tears, which shocks you.

Amy is a bitch.

She’s known for brutally reaming people for simply breathing wrong. She doesn’t hold back and she doesn’t mind doing it in front of customers either. You know her to be stone cold. Heartless. Void of compassion and depth.

You never thought that you’d see the day where she’d get her ass handed to her.

Sevika turns to you, face filled with hard lines and calculating orbs. She stares at you for a few moments. You don't quite understand if she’s sizing you up or mentally chastising you. But you wait for her to fully collect her thoughts.

“If anyone touches you like that again,” She slowly begins, voice low. “You do what needs to be done. Whatever that means to you. Do you understand?” 

Your muscles freeze at her words.

No questioning? No reprimands?

“You aren't mad?” You clear your throat.

You were fully expected to get reamed for tonight.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to be?”

Heat spreads across your body. You don't answer her question, deciding to move on. “Does Silco know about tonight?”

She grows more perplexed, “Do you want Silco to know?”

In the corner of your eye, you watch how stiff the rest of the staff members become. The room is so quiet that you nearly hear a pin drop.

It’s obvious that Silco finding out about this would cause a shit show.

Sevika takes your silence as an answer. 

“None of this will be mentioned again after tonight.” She breaks eye contact and turns to the rest of the room. “Is that clear?”

Everyone nods.

“And Dylan?”

Dylan jumps at the sound of his name. “Huh? I mean, yes? Y-Yes, ma’am?”

“If you disappear for that long again, you won't have a job to come back to.”

“Yes, ma’am. I-I mean,” Dylan blinks with swimming eyes. “Sorry.”

Sevika chooses then to shove her human hand into her pocket, glancing at you once more. When she retracts it, you notice that there is something shiny and silver that she's holding.

Your knife.

Silently, she holds it towards you. 

When your feet stay planted—brain struggling to process everything that's happening—she exhales heavily, evidently becoming impatient.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to close the distance. You grab your knife, knuckles grazing her palm, which ignites a static shock. Your fingers jump away from her instantly. If the skin contact startled her, her face doesn’t give it away.

“Thank you,” Is all that you say. You hate how vulnerable you sound.

She merely nods. Then, “He's upstairs, by the way. Definitely suffering from what you did to him but not harmed any further." She pauses, rubbing her lips together. "Did you want to come upstairs? It's your call on how you would like him to be handled."

You eyes widen at the realization.

She took him upstairs to do god know what (everyone knows that if Sevika takes you upstairs for any other reason than discussing business, then you probably aren't coming back down). You'd never thought she would include employees in such a thing.

Even with a matter such as this.

"I'll give you ten minutes to think about it," She continues on. "If you decide to come upstairs, he'll be waiting. Otherwise, go home. Tomorrow you'll return to the kitchen.” Then she turns on her heels, adding, “Amy, I expect your desk to be cleaned out by midnight.” Before she walks away. 

In the midst of her departure, your eyes begin to burn. 

Max and Dylan are already stepping out of the room, completely shaken up by the entire situation.

Being reprimanded by Sevika is never on anyone’s bucket list.

You idle there for a while, letting all of the events replay in your mind as your muscles start to unspool. Fidgeting with your knife, you allow the blade to extend. That’s when you notice that his blood has been cleaned off and your blade sharpened.

Amy wails pathetically while curling into herself. 

Her cries are nothing more than brown noise at this point. You're too preoccupied by the hammering of your heart, and the way that Sevika’s words have tattooed themselves onto your hippocampus:

If anyone touches you like that again, you do what needs to be done.

[ultravi0lence14]

Flower Crowns

dean winchester x bimbo!reader

1.5k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: dean had lived his life as self-reclusive and stoic as possible. who knew one girl in tiny skirts with glossed lips could make him completely whipped?

dean winchester grew up in an environment that most people would widen their eyes at. mouths agape in shock as dean and his brother recount all the times their dad treated them like soldiers instead of children.

that lifestyle is what made dean who he was today; and most people would find it encouraging that he and sam didn’t turn out like complete asshole’s.

unlike his younger brother, dean was always the troublemaker between the two. yeah, sam had a knack for defying john’s orders, but dean always found himself in forms of trouble that landed him in boy’s homes.

all he wanted was to appeal his father. be tough for sammy and protect the people who he cared about. all that squished together made him into the hard shell of a man he is today; and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

that’s what drew you into dean in the first place. he was so languid in his actions. already knowing the exact way to push people out of his life when they got too close. having the tough guy act down to the final line. but you saw beneath it. you saw the man who cared so deeply about the people he actually allowed himself to hold close, and that interested you even more.

dean first saw you when he was on a case down in your hometown. and instantly, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

bobby had directed sam and dean to one of his hunter friends who lived in town. telling the boys that if they ever needed help, this guy was the one to call.

that man ended up being your father, and dean was thoroughly surprised that someone like you grew up around a hunter.

you answered the door wearing a baby pink sundress, thigh high stockings pulled up as high as possible with black heels on your feet. when you turned around, dean noticed the delicate ribbon placed in your curled hair, and he suddenly had the urge to pull it loose and use it on you for something else completely.

the whole time dean was at your house, he found himself thinking those unsolicited thoughts. you reached into your purse to reapply your lip gloss, dean wondered how it would taste on his lips. you tossed your hair over your shoulder to get it out of your face, dean wondered what it would be like to grab it in his fist.

each time he found himself alone with you, he couldn’t help the easy flirtations that fell from his lips. you almost dragged him upstairs to your bedroom when he called you a ‘good girl’ for finding a key detail in the case.

when it was time for him and sam to leave, dean slipped his phone number in the back pocket of your jeans. he disguised the action in the hug he gave you. . . while also lightly grabbing your ass.

he was scared you would smack him across the face for that last part. but the light kiss on his cheek that left a glossy residue in it’s wake had him thinking differently.

after months of talking — and establishing some form of relationship after multiple phone calls, dean asked if you wanted to live with him and sam in their 1950’s bunker. normal people would be immediately turned off and say no, but you weren’t normal people. and by the next weekend, you had your room packed up and ready to move in with dean.

every day you lived with dean was bringing you two closer together. your aesthetics varied so greatly, yet that somehow made you two even more compatible.

dean found himself falling even more in love with you as time moved forward. the evening he knew he loved you was when he walked into the kitchen, watching you attempt to make an apple pie. you were dressed in the shortest skirt imaginable, and dean almost passed out when you bent over to put the pie in the oven and he got a nice view of your lace panties.

he had come up behind you, wrapping his arm around your middle and dragging you back into his chest. whispering a soft “what are you doing” in your ear, dean went on to carry you back to your shared room, eclipsing your body with his own as you laid underneath him on your bed. he had whispered a soft and sensual, “let me show you how much i love you, baby,” and the rest was a story that dean still smirked about when he thought of it.

today was different. the weather in kansas was gloomy, and dean found himself wanting to stay in bed all day and cuddle with his girl. though for some reason, he couldn’t find you anywhere in the bunker.

he looked everywhere. every room and any place that he could think of you being. dean started to worry when sam told him that he saw you go outside a couple of minutes ago. so with the clambering of his boots, synchronizing with the patter of rain falling behind the door, dean ventured out to find you.

to dean’s surprise, he found you rather quickly. though, it wasn’t the fact that you were scaling the side of the bunker that surprised him. it was the fact that you could incorporate pink into any outfit and any weather condition imaginable.

a soft pink rain coat was covering your white tank top and pleated black skirt. a pink and black striped umbrella was perched over your head, and dean noticed how it was meticulously covering the pink uggs you wore with your classic white, knee high socks.

dean wanted to coo at your hunched figure. you looked adorable as you grumbled in frustration at your umbrella, legs bent at the knees as you searched for something dean couldn’t quite see.

“what’cha doin’ sugar, it’s pouring out here.” his voice startled you, your head whipping around to notice dean standing by the railing at the entrance.

tightly clutched in your hand was different types of small flowers, seemingly growing around the bunkers edges. dean craned his head like a confused puppy as he noticed the assorted flowers in your palms.

huffing slightly, you stood to your full hight as dean stared on at you, a massive grin on his face as he watched you dust off your clothing. “i’m trying to collect flowers dean, what does it look like i’m doing?”

the man couldn’t help but laugh at your matter of fact attitude. you looked so adorable standing there, covered head to toe in pink as you clutched pretty flowers in one hand and a comically large umbrella in the other.

with a shake of his head, dean approached you and grabbed the umbrella out of your hand, holding it over the both of you as he placed his free palm on the small of your back, leading you inside. “yeah, i can see that sweets, but why?”

you held up the assortment of flowers to give dean a closer look, allowing him to notice all the pretty pink’s, white’s, and purple’s you had grabbed. “i want to make you and i matching flower crowns, that’s why.”

dean stopped in his tracks as the two of you made it to the railing over looking the war room. never in his life had someone catered something so sweet towards him. yes, flower crowns were something dean would definitely not gravitate towards, but it was going to be made by you, and there was nothing better than a gift from his sweet girl.

“you are one of a kind, you know that baby?” he had rested your umbrella by the door, moving so he could wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer to his body. with a soft smile on your face, you placed your arms around his shoulders, the flowers tickling the side of his neck as he rubbed your back up and down. “yeah, you’ve told me once or twice.”

the rest of your day was spent as dean had intended when he woke up; in his arms. you both laid on your bed, dean’s back against the head board as you rested in between his spread legs and against his back.

you concentrated on weaving the flowers stems together, not noticing dean’s eyes on you the entire time. his hands rested on the tops of your thighs, moving from there to your hips every once in a while as he silently watched you work.

he couldn’t help himself sometimes and he would lean down and place a kiss on either your cheek or the crown of your head. when you turned around, placing the finished product on his head; you rocking your own of the same colour’s, dean left a lingering kiss on your lips, mumbling who beautiful you looked in his relaxed state.

you were his flower. his beautiful peony that grew the love in his heart. as you rested against his back again, fingers fiddling with the the pretty pink ribbon you were attaching to the back of your crown, dean wondered if the flowers and ribbon were going to be how you decorated your wedding veil one day.

because dean knew one thing for certain; if he didn’t marry you, he would be the dumbest man alive.

[thecoldandcruel]

Okay, but I just wanted to make clear how Timebomb literally destroyed me. Not only because they could've had EVERYTHING on a different time line: being together, working together, living their best life inside a really well done and sane Zaun. They made millions of parallels between the bridge scene and the dance scene, just to make Ekko see that, no matter how hard he tries, how desperately he wants to believe that Jinx is all that the women he fell in love with has left, he won't be able to stop loving her. Being Jinx. Being Powder. He loves her entirely, even after all the bad things she had done. When they fought, he saw Powder in Jinx's eyes, and when they danced and talked during the kiss scene and when he arrived there, he somehow knew that, no matter how many timelines the world had prepared for him to see, she will always be the girl of his dreams in every one. And then he came back just to stop her to end her own life and tried multiple times to talk to her when she thought that everything was lost, that she didn't deserve to live after the little girl she practically adopted sacrificed herself for saving everyone. Then she just stoped detonating the bomb knowing that it will kill Ekko too if he stayed, jumping into the void to avoid hurting him. But he just wanted her to see that she had much more to see, to fight, to live for. That she wasn't alone, that many people still believed in her, loved her, cared about her, and were waiting for her to come back again. The story literally built all this to just make Jinx sacrifice herself at the end and give us and scene where is insanely obvious how much Ekko misses her. He saved everyone. Sacrificed a better life just to save his timeline. Saved her before she gave up. And then they gave him an ending full of sorrow and loneliness after losing the woman he knew that now could've been with him after the battle is done. They are tearing me apart.

[reveryfics]

Soul For A Soul

Pairings: Dean Winchester x gn reader

Summary: You sell your soul in order to keep Dean alive, only to return four years later after being dragged out of hell.

A/n: This was requested by @yasmin12312, she asked if could do a gender-neutral fanfic similar to "Just Pretend" hope you enjoy! Let me know if you'd all like to see more gender-neutral oneshots!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The wind whipped around the young figure, chilling them to the bone. Shivering, they stood at the crossroads, a desolate, lonely place. A figure emerged from the shadows, a serpentine smile playing on its lips. Crowley, the demon, stood before them, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Why make a deal for Dean Winchester of all people?" he asked, his voice a silky whisper.

They sighed, their breath misting in the cold air. "Because I love him," they replied, their voice barely audible above the howling wind.

The wind howled as Crowley stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Your soul for his," he offered, his voice a mere suggestion. Without a moment's hesitation, they reached out and clasped Crowley's hand. The deal was sealed.

⎯⎯⎯

Four years. Four agonizing years since the irrevocable trade, the soul for a life. Dean Winchester, the man who had always walked the line between good and evil, now bore the weight of a different kind of darkness. The darkness of guilt, a relentless shadow that consumed him.

He blamed himself, though he knew it wasn’t his choice to make. Them, a beacon of light in his often bleak world, had sacrificed themselves for him. A selfless act that had forever altered the course of their lives.

Days bled into nights, each marked by the monotonous rhythm of whiskey bottles and the desperate pursuit of hunts. A futile attempt to distract himself from the gnawing emptiness within. His reckless behavior had ignited a fire of worry in the hearts of those who cared for him. They watched, helpless, as he spiraled downward.

One night, as he lay in the worn motel bed, the piercing ring of his phone shattered the silence. A voice, familiar yet distant, pierced through the haze. "Dean...Dean, please, I'm so scared." The words hung in the air, heavy with fear and desperation. Dean, startled from his reverie, choked back a sob. "Where are you?" he managed to croak, his voice barely a whisper.

He didn't care if it was a mirage, a trick of a fevered mind. He had to go. With a desperate urgency, he threw on his jacket and rushed out into the night. The Impala, his trusted steed, roared to life, guiding him through the darkness.

He arrived at an abandoned gas station, a relic of a bygone era. A figure, small and frail, huddled against an old phone booth, their form obscured by dirt and grime. As he drew closer, recognition dawned.

"It's you," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "It's really you." He pulled them into a tight embrace, tears streaming down his face. They clung to each other, their sobs echoing in the desolate night.

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled apart. The young person, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and love, looked up at Dean. "I'm so sorry," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "I love you so much."

Dean, his heart heavy with sorrow and relief, managed a weak smile. "I love you too," he replied, his voice firm. "Don't ever do that again, do you understand me?"

As they stood there, under the indifferent gaze of the moon, a fragile hope flickered in their hearts. A hope that perhaps, just perhaps, they could find a way to heal, to rebuild what had been broken.

[shaiprsly]

𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

��𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 1972. Fame, wealth, and the haunting allure of Elvis Presley—everything Y/N could ever want, except the one thing that really matters: a simple, normal life. Hired as the nanny for Lisa Marie Presley, Y/N is thrown into the heart of the Presley world, where she quickly becomes more than just a caretaker for Elvis's daughter. As Priscilla remains distant, Y/N steps in, offering Lisa Marie the affection and attention she craves. But it’s Elvis, cold and aloof at first, who soon becomes captivated by her. With 15 years between them, Elvis begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, showering Y/N with gifts and flirting dangerously. He may be married, but that doesn't stop him from wanting Y/N. Torn between duty and desire, Y/N must face the growing tension, knowing that giving in could shatter everything she’s worked for. Will she resist the King of Rock and Roll, or will his love prove impossible to escape?

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Cussing, cheating, age gap (Elvis is 37, reader is 22), virgin reader, emotional manipulation. I guess that all !!

𝐀/𝐍 : Hi so this is my first time writing and actually posting (and it's literally a whole fic), but I wanted to give it a try!! Let me know what you think and if I should keep writing, because I'm not sure lmao, I might change little thing in the story !! ALSO MY FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH!! I'M FRENCH LOLLZ

February 15th, 1972

You stand at the base of the grand staircase, your heart pounding in your chest. The door in front of you looms like a barrier between the life you’ve always known and the unknown world that lies just beyond it. The house, a sprawling mansion with gleaming white columns and intricate ironwork, feels both overwhelming and intimidating. It’s everything you’ve read about in magazines and seen on TV—the kind of place people dream of living in but never actually do. But today, it’s not a dream. Today, it’s your reality.

You’ve always been practical, grounded by the simplicity of life. Growing up in the countryside, you never imagined you’d end up here, working for one of the most famous families in the world. But here you are, standing in front of the Presley estate, about to walk into a life so far removed from your own that it almost feels surreal.

Priscilla Presley had called you last Tuesday, saying she��d come across your nanny advertisement in a mall, and that she needed help with Lisa Marie since Elvis would be away for a month. You had never worked for anyone like them, and the idea of leaving your quiet, small-town life was intimidating. But when Priscilla’s calm, urgent voice came over the phone, you couldn’t refuse. After asking you a series of questions, she offered you the job, promising a paycheck at the end of the month of $3,700. It seemed too good to be true, but you couldn't turn it down. This was Elvis Presley’s daughter—how could you?

Still, that knot of nervousness twisted in your stomach. You'd been a nanny before, in your small town, but this was a whole different level.

You shift your weight, feeling the weight of the mansion’s presence. The world you’re about to step into feels much larger than you, and you’re unsure if you’ll ever truly fit in. But there’s no turning back now. You’ve been hired, and now you have to prove you can do the job. As you lift your hand to knock on the door, it opens slowly, and there he is.

Elvis Presley.

In person.

Standing before you.

You’ve seen him on TV, in movies, and on the covers of countless magazines, but nothing prepared you for the way he commands a room the moment he steps into it. His presence is magnetic—powerful, undeniable. He’s taller than you imagined, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his gaze steady and intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, assessing, as if he’s evaluating you in the span of a single heartbeat.

“Must be Y/N,” he says, his voice low, rough, and heavy with that familiar drawl. “Priscilla told me you’d be here, she's out for the day.”

You nod, throat tight. You’re not sure what to say. Elvis Presley doesn’t feel like a real person. He feels like an idea, a legend. And yet, here he is, standing right in front of you. “Yes, that’s me,” you manage, trying to sound confident, though your heart is racing. “I’m here to look after Lisa Marie.”

His eyes flicker for just a moment, a hint of something you can’t place passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced by the same indifferent expression. “Come in,” he grunts, stepping aside to let you enter. His voice is dismissive, as if he’s done this countless times before.

You step inside, the cool air of the mansion washing over you. The grand foyer is decorated with dark wood furniture, vintage paintings on the walls, and thick, plush rugs that muffle your footsteps. The space feels like it’s frozen in time, a snapshot of another era. You feel like you’ve stepped into a different world, one where wealth and fame are the rules, not the exceptions.

“Hey, squirt,” Elvis calls out, his voice surprisingly soft for a moment. You turn, and Lisa Marie is standing there, staring up at you with big, innocent eyes.

“Are you the new lady?” Lisa Marie asks, her voice soft but clearly curious. She can barely form full sentences at her age, but you catch the excitement in her tone. She’s only four, after all.

You smile, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “Yes, I’m Y/N,” you reply gently. “I’m here to look after you.”

Lisa Marie grins widely and grabs your hand. “Yay! I like you,” she says, pulling you toward the living room. You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm melting some of your nerves.

As you follow her, Elvis lingers in the background, crossing his arms and watching you both with a detached interest. His gaze, however, is still sharp, as if he’s measuring you up, trying to figure you out.

“Don’t make a mess, kid,” Elvis mutters under his breath, not even glancing at Lisa Marie. It’s clear he’s trying to maintain some semblance of authority, but he doesn’t seem particularly engaged with his daughter. He’s just there, overseeing it all.

Lisa Marie pulls you down to the carpet, surrounded by her scattered toys. She starts showing you some of her favorites, her speech still childlike and a little jumbled. “This is my bear. He talks,” she says, holding up a stuffed animal that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Really?” you ask, playing along. “What does he say?”

“He says ‘I love you,’” she replies matter-of-factly, “but only when no one’s looking.” She giggles softly and looks over at her father.

You glance over, and Elvis is still watching, but now his gaze is a little different—colder, perhaps, but you can’t be sure. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he observes you.

“Do what you gotta do, but keep it quiet,” he grumbles. “Lisa’s gotta learn some focus.”

You try not to let his words bother you. It’s clear he’s not the warmest man, and his attitude toward you seems colder with every passing moment. But you’re not here to be distracted by him. You’re here for Lisa Marie, and that’s all that matters.

____

The afternoon sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across Lisa's room. Lisa had finally fallen asleep around 3 PM, her small body curled into a peaceful ball on her hamburger bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sound in the otherwise still room. You smile at her for a moment, the warm feeling of accomplishment filling your chest. You had managed to calm her down after a long afternoon of playing, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours, you have a moment to yourself.

With soft steps, you turn and leave the bedroom, your fingers brushing against the cool walls of the hallway as you make your way toward the living room. You need a break, just a few minutes away from the constant responsibility of being Lisa Marie’s caretaker. But as you step into the living room, you freeze in place.

There, on the couch, is Elvis.

He’s sitting back with his legs spread out, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s barely 3:15 PM, and yet, there he is, drinking. You blink, confused by the sight. You glance at him, and his eyes flicker up from his glass, catching yours. But he doesn’t say anything, his gaze simply lingering over you, as if expecting you to say something.

You don’t. You don’t have the courage to. After all, you’re not here to challenge him or question his choices. You’re here to take care of Lisa. That's it.

As you take a hesitant step forward, your eyes can’t help but notice something strange. Elvis is taking more than just a drink. With the glass still in his hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. Your heart skips a beat as he pops a few into his mouth, tossing the bottle back into his pocket without a second thought.

Your mind races. You’re not sure what those pills are, but the way he’s handling them, so casually, it feels like something you shouldn’t be witnessing. You stand there, paralyzed by the scene in front of you, unsure of what to do. You don’t want to intrude, but the anxiety building in your chest makes it hard to ignore the obvious signs of something troubling happening.

You stand frozen, unsure if you should say something, or if you should just leave and pretend like you didn’t see anything. But before you can make up your mind, Elvis's voice cuts through the thick air.

“What the hell do you want?” he growls, his tone sharp, and full of irritation. His eyes narrow at you, anger flickering behind them.

You jump back in surprise. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you stammer, your hands instinctively clasping together. “I just thought I should check on you, maybe—”

“Check on me?” Elvis interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his glass down on the table with a loud thud, causing you to flinch. “You’ve got no damn business checking on me! You’re here for one thing, and one thing only— to take care of Lisa. And that’s it, understand?”

His words hit you like a slap. The sharpness in his voice cuts through you, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Your mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your body trembling under the weight of his words.

“I— I just thought I could help, but I didn't mean to see you like—” you whisper, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Help?” he spits, his words venomous. “You think I need help from you? You’re not here to ‘help’ me, darlin'. You’re here to watch my kid, to make sure she’s taken care of. You’re nothing more than a stupid nanny. Nothing more!”

The insult stings like a slap in the face. You want to argue back, to stand your ground, but it’s hard when you’re this shaken. Your breath hitches in your throat as his words cut through you, each one sinking deeper and deeper. You had hoped, naively, that you could have a more personal connection with him, but now it feels like that’s never going to happen.

Elvis stands up, towering over you, his expression twisted in anger. He steps forward, closing the distance between you. The air around you feels thick and suffocating as he grabs your arm, pulling you harshly toward the door.

“You’re not welcome here, d'ya hear me? Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts, his grip tightening around your arm as he shoves you toward the door.

The force of his push sends a shock of fear through you. You stumble back, your eyes wide with shock. “Mr.Presley, please—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want t'hear it! I’ve got no goddamn time for your pity, or your whining! You’re just here to look after Lisa—nothin' else! Now get out, before I make you leave!” He’s shouting now, his voice seething with fury.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to regain your balance, the sting of his words cutting deep. You can’t believe this is happening. The man you’d been trying so hard to please all day, is now throwing you out of his house like you’re nothing. His hands are still gripping your arm, pushing you toward the door with alarming force.

“Please, Mr.Presley…” you beg, your voice shaky, so afraid of loosing your job the first day you got it, but he’s having none of it.

“Didn’t y'hear me?” he snarls, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a damn servant to me! That’s all you are. So get out of my damn house before I call security to throw you out!”

Your chest is tight with emotion as he shoves you toward the front door. You don’t have the strength to fight him. The tears you’ve been holding back fall freely now, but there’s no use. He doesn’t care.

With one last, hard push, he opens the door and practically forces you outside, slamming it shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the empty hallway.

You stand there on the doorstep, your body trembling. Your hands are shaking as you wipe your tears away, but it does nothing to stop the flood of emotions pouring out of you. How did things get so bad? Why did Elvis, the person you tried so hard to help, turn on you so cruelly?

Your mind is a mess of confusion and hurt. You had only wanted to be kind, to make things easier for Lisa, but instead, you’re treated like garbage. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Elvis would see the real you, see that you were trying to help him, too. But now, all you are is a nuisance in his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, you turn and walk down the front steps. Every part of you is screaming to go back inside, to make things right, but deep down, you know it’s not going to happen. Not today. Not after the way he treated you.

You have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but as you walk away from the house, you wonder if it’s worth coming back at all.

to be continued...

[felassan]

"During early development of The Veilguard, BioWare experimented with multiplayer once again, however, Epler insists that there was never a mandate from parent company Electronic Arts to implement any specific online or live-service modes; the devs were just exploring different ways to tell the story. Eventually, BioWare ditched the multiplayer aspects to focus solely on creating a single-player experience, aiming to meet the lofty expectations of the fandom. “We’re a studio built to make single-player RPGs,” Epler says. “And more importantly, I think a lot of people have come here to build single-player, story based RPGs. So, it just kind of ended up making more sense to make this game the way it is versus a multiplayer game.” With the transition back to a core single-player emphasis, many of The Veilguard’s systems had to be reworked, including one that Bioware is most famous for: the companion system. Unlike previous Dragon Age games, The Veilguard only lets players take on two companions instead of three — more in line with how the party system works in Bioware’s other big game, Mass Effect. However, when developers were testing out multiplayer for the game, it had the classic four-player party setup where the player and three other friends could join. But now that The Veilguard was strictly a solo affair, BioWare wanted to focus on the main protagonist, Rook, and their companions. Banter between the party was essential to get them to feel like fully-realized characters. In previous Dragon Age games, whenever the player traversed the world, non-playable party members would talk to each other about current events or their interests, fleshing out their perspectives and constantly evolving the dynamic between the team. This was usually reserved for just two characters at a time, however, with the third generally meandering off to the side. “One of the biggest things we got slammed on at Dragon Age: Inquisition’s launch was people felt there wasn’t enough companion banter because it wasn’t firing as often,” Epler says. “So much of our companion banter is built around two characters interacting. When it came down to it, it felt like [three] was the right number when we were building the game.” And while it took some time to come to a final number of active party members, Epler insists that initial experimentation with multiplayer didn’t impact the decision in the end. “It was not a relic of the multiplayer at all,” he says. “In fact, one of the few things that survived was the four-person party until we tried it out a lot and realized that three made the most sense for the game.”"

"Lessons to be learned While Anthem’s poor reception wasn’t the sole reason for BioWare’s decision to focus on creating single-player, narrative-driven games again, it was clearly a catalyst. One of the biggest complaints about the game from fans was the lack of traditional storytelling and characters that made the studio revered in the first place, especially coming off the back of one of the developers’ weakest links, Andromeda. “We were alienating parts of our fan base that had been with us for a long time, and not successfully bringing in anyone else through the multiplayer side of things,” Epler says. “The reception to Anthem was very clear in that we needed to get back to those aspects that we did well, and multiplayer became an obstacle in the way of doing just that.” [...] The biggest lesson that BioWare learned from Mass Effect: Andromeda’s botched launch was the importance of polish. The game became the butt of jokes and a slew of memes for its hilarious visual glitches, a legacy that leaves Epler feeling torn. “I do think Andromeda was a better game than its reception suggested, but on the flip side, I don’t think the reception was unfair,” he recalls. “At the time of launch, there were technical issues and things that didn’t work.” Avoiding these issues again was of critical importance to Epler and the rest of the team, especially as they sought to get back on players’ good graces. Another lesson that BioWare took from critics of Andromeda, and Inquisition too, was that sometimes building a massive open world doesn’t mean much when it isn’t filled with meaningful content. At the time both games were being developed, open worlds and big explorable spaces had become an industry trend, even in games where they failed to serve the overall vision. BioWare still wanted players to have a sense of discovery in The Veilguard, but also didn’t want to settle for an open-world that the developers couldn’t realistically fill. “We had been doing Dragon Age pre-production on versions of Dragon Age 4, and we did have a version that was a lot more open-world,” Epler says. “But again, we ran into the same problem of how do you make it compelling or narratively interesting? The reception to Andromeda definitely solidified that.”"

"Staying focused on what’s next With Dragon Age: The Veilguard now complete, BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions. The developers’ full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project. While Epler won’t divulge anything about it, he does weigh in on whether BioWare would take another crack at multiplayer. “It’s possible to tell a strong story in a multiplayer game. Final Fantasy XIV does an excellent job,” he says. “Multiplayer also introduces some complications around world states. I make a giant choice in my world, and the world changes.” For games like Dragon Age, the consequences of a player’s choice are intended to impact the narrative moving forward, but for a multiplayer game, it isn’t quite as simple. For example, one player could choose to save a certain person from their fate while another could do the opposite. “It’s funny, because the games I play the most on my personal time are actually multiplayer games,” he says. “But when it comes to crafting these worlds and crafting the experiences, I love the focus that single-player can give you.” Epler also comments on the possibility of some sort of Dragon Age collection, similar to the Mass Effect Legendary Collection that updated the original games for modern consoles in 2021. Having been at Bioware since the first Dragon Age game back in 2009, he would love to see a collection come together, but remastering the first three games in the series would be challenging as they were originally designed using EA’s proprietary game engines. The first two used their own custom Eclipse Engine while Inquisition used Frostbite, a platform famously used to build the Battlefield games. The Mass Effect trilogy, on the other hand, used Unreal Engine, a more flexible and widely popular engine used in game development, which made the remastering process much easier for the Legendary Collection. “I think I’m one of about maybe 20 people left at BioWare who’s actually used Eclipse,” Epler says. “It’s something that’s not going to be as easy Mass Effect, but we do love the original games. Never say never, I guess that’s what it comes down to.” Shifting focus from multiplayer integration to fleshing out the solo narrative ultimately allowed BioWare to finally get The Veilguard to the finish line. “Once [the companions] become the core, all the other pieces start falling into place,” he says. “Statistically, a lot of people just take the first two companions they meet, and that’s their party for the rest of the game. I would say for The Veilguard, try different characters, try different combinations, and get outside your comfort zone.”"

[source]

Rolling Stone interview with John Epler: '‘Dragon Age: The Veilguard’ Is Bioware’s Best Game in Ages. Here’s How They Got There'

Veteran Bioware creative director John Epler looks back on the lessons learned from the studio's failed multiplayer game

Some key excerpts:

"BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions" for DA:TV

The devs' "full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project"

[source]

[souurcitrus]

It's a shame we can't have more seasons of Arcane. I love this series and think it has an amazing lore, however, the second season left me so sad because there's so many cool stuff we could have gotten if it wasn't so short.

So, I'm just gonna post here what I think we could have gotten if there was more time, more episodes:

• We need to see more of Caitlyn's mourning. And how it really affects her. I think it's bullshit her mother dies and then she starts to act like she suffered more than Zaun as a whole, but if it's the reason she becomes a fascist, a least make me believe it harder.

• We get more time seeing Vi ans Caitlyn develop a relationship.

• Loris and Vi become friends and spend more time together after joining Caitlyn's strike team. So we got more content of Loris and maybe even Steb and Maddie.

• Maddie getting closer to Caitlyn because she admires her would make her betrayal more.... impacting.

• Viktor leaves and we don't hear of him for a while after starting to heal the people of Zaun.

• We see more of Ekko, Heimmer and Jayce before they dissappear. Maybe just scenes of them in different times before they are gone.

• Jinx takes longer to deal with Silco's death. Through the season, she talks about him like she can't accept that she killed him and sees him once in her head. I think we could have more of that, because Silco was one of the most important people to her.

• Sevika and Jinx fight often. They have trouble keeping the Last Drop alive and people who want to take over the bar become a problem.

• Sevika has to deal with the other Chem Barons. If they were the antagonist for Sevika, Jinx and Isca this season, it would be cool. They can't make so many cool Barons and not use them.

• And maybe, by seeing Jinx defeating the Chem Barons and causing trouble to the Enforcers, Zaun would change their views of her and then the Jinxers and the Firelights start to act.

• Vi spending more time as a Enforcer and her relationship with Cait changes because of their views.

• Isha and Jinx bond.

• Mel is kidnapped by the Rose and has to go through changelles, as the Rose wants her to unlock her power.

• The big Fight in ep 3 could have been at the end. And it kinda off closes the season, with Vi staying behind, Loris finding her after leaving Cait and they leave together to Zaun. While the Jinxers become more famous, and Jinx is happier with Isha and Sevika.

• Next season, Cait gains more power. Maddie starts to slowly get closer to her.

• The Jinxers and the Firelights are still on their fight against the Enforcers.

• Jinx is living with Isha in a 'fantasy', like Sevika says.

• We could see more of Jayce's mom trying to find him. People worrying about Ekko, Jayce, Mel and Heimmer disappearing. And Tobias Kiramman's opinion on his daughter drastic change.

• Without the Chem Barons, the empire of Shimmers falls, but there's still people that need Shimmer. That's when we start to hear about the Harold.

• And start to hear about a monster in Zaun.

• Sevika is trying to keep Zaun together. Maybe she even has a meeting with the Firelights to discuss what to next, how to keep everyone safe.

• Isha is captured with the other Jinxers. Jinx and Sevika save her. They find Warwick.

• Vi and Loris are living together. Vi is dealing with the breakup in the best way possible, Loris is worried about her, but she won't listen to him and keeps hurting herself. After she crosses the line in of the fights and Loris sees she doesn't want to help herself, he puts a distance between them.

• Jinx, Vi and Isha go after Warwick in the tunnels.

• They don't know what to do with him. Warwick can't control himself, so they hide in the tunnels with him, and he starts to slowly warm up to them again.

• Maybe Jinx goes after Sevika, who's having trouble dealing with her new 'job', and with the fact she's just like Silco and Vander now.

• Vi goes ask Loris for help, because I think it would be hilarious for someone who doesn't know Vander to see him like this and go 'what the hell is that thing?'. And Loris could be the one who tells the girls about the Harold.

• We see Ekko, Heimmer and Jayce in other dimensions again, trying to solve the mystery of the Arcane. And then, they accidentally fall in different universes.

• Mel figures out Kino is dead and faces LeBlanc, who offers to train her after failing to contain Mel's power. So now Mel has a mentor and knows about her mother gaining power in Piltover.

• We also see Cait become more ruthless, with Maddie by her side, trying to convince her that Ambessa is right and there's nothing wrong with what they're doing. Steb is just on the background thinking 'I should have left with Loris'.

• What if Ambessa convinces Cait to pay a visit to the Firelights' tree? Maybe Cait tries to help them escape, or is the Jinxers, Vi and Jinx who fight the Enforcers and help them escape, and unfortunately they lose the tree.

• The girls take Vander to Viktor and we see him unblocking his past. While the girls fix their bond and try to help the Firelights and the Jinxers against Piltover.

• Jinx is happy, but she's still struggling with a lot of things. I don't think Vi completely accepts her as her new 'me'. Jinx causes a big explosion that the Jinxers love, but Vi is angry. They fight about Vi joining the Enforcers and Jinx becoming a criminal.

• We could see more of ther time with Silco, and she talks about it to Vi. Isha is there having fun with Vander and we could see more of him in the past with the girls, Mylo, Claggor, little Ekko and Benzo.

• Ambessa hears about the Harold and goes after them with Singed and her army.

• We see Ekko in the other universe. I'm just a sucker that wants more happiness and to see the family all together. I want him spending more time with Benzo, Mylo and Claggor.

• Vander starts to get better. He has a full conscience and can speak a few words. Everyone is happy and have papa wolf back.

• Ambessa arrives, fucks shit up. Isha dies, driving Jinx closer to the edge and making her angrier with Piltover and even more mad. Vander is fine, if he could have just ended as Warwick and not Vander, it would be cool. Would drive him closer to the game lore.

• Next season, we got the war.

• Later, Ekko comes back to his world with the Z-Drive, to help the Firelights, finds out his tree is almost dying and prepares to fight Piltover. Jayce is there too, he has been trough hell. Everyone agrees they need to stop Ambessa. Cait is there too I guess, after seeing how far Ambessa will go.

• Cait is dealing with the consequences of her actions. Her relationship with Vi is shitty, Maddie is still trying to convince her that she did nlthing wrong.

• Ambessa is forbidden of stepping in Piltover again and stays in Viktor's little village, while Singed tries to heal Vik and use Warwick. He wonders if Warwick is still Vander or if he's gone.

• Jinx left. She's dealing with Isha's death poorly. Seeing Mylo, Claggor, Vander and Silco, getting more mad. Sevika tries to talk to her, Vi tries, Ekko tries, she won't listen.

• Ekko, Vi, Cait, Jayce, Sevika, the Jinxers, the Firelights, Loris and Steb join forces to defeat Ambessa and Viktor.

• Mel hears about the war and wants to go back to help. She's more powerful now, but still struggles with her powers.

• Our little group of heroes goes to Piltover to convince the Counsil that Ambessa is shit and they need to be ready for war. Nobody listens but they won't give up.

• We see Cait and Vi getting closer again, Maddie is there too.

• Ekko tells Vi about that other universe maybe?

• Mel comes back, talks to Jayce and the others. They start to get ready. Cait tries to convince Vi to take her badge again, she refuses. Ekko finds out she was a Enforcer for a few months and gets mad.

• Jinx is doing crazy shit, fuck everything, she doesn't care anymore.

• Mel goes talk to her mother, we get a bit of background. Viktor envolve in his new form. Mel helps Warwick escape, and he runs away. She runs back to Piltover.

• We see Ambessa turning her soldiers into monsters with the help of Singed. And Singed stealing parts for his daughter.

• Warwick is somewhere having a identity crisis.

• They start to protect the City and Zaun. Sevika, Ekko, Scar and Gert convince the people of the Undercity to help protect their nation. Sevika is the one who spends more time with Jayce in the council, and has beef with the other Counselors.

• Jayce and Ekko work together to build weapons to protect the city. Bonding :)

• The war starts slower. We can see people preparing to fight, we get Vi and Cait talking. Please no sex scene in the prison, that actually upset me.

• Maddie is acting weird. Someone finds her doing suspicious shit. Loris and Vi bond, Mel and Jayce spend time together and break up.

• Can we see Jaycs talking to his mom about what he saw in the other time-line? Or just talking to her about his dream or something? Also, Cait and Tobias talk. Cait feels like shit for distorting her mother's work.

• Ekko goes talk to Jinx to try to convince her to help them, she refuses, but thinks Isha, who wanted to help so bad, would be upset. She starts to act in secret.

• The fight starts. The Undercity and Piltover are all together, it's pretty cool. Mostly of the same thing happens.

• Jinx comes in a cool entrance, Ekko and the Firelights and the Jinxers are with her. Warwick comes too, not quite Vander, but not quite Warwick.

• Viktor and Jayce fight. Or better, Jayce tries to talk Viktor out of his madness. Maddie gets shit and dies. Loris can die or not, don't know.

• Sevika is there fighting and saving people and just being badass.

• I think I would let the Rose take Ambessa right after she tells Mel she's the wolf.

• Viktor starts his shit to turn everyone into dolls. Singed is just having tea in his lair. Jayce and Ekko saves the day as normal.

• I don't know if Jayce dies with Viktor, or if Viktor has a moment of compassion and stops his actions, letting himself be destroyed, just to be revealed to be alive later and still planning to do crazy shit.

• With the fight over, we see Jinx go back to being a criminal, Ekko, Sevika and Vi work to change the undercity, and Jayce is there to help them.

• Ekko wants to make what he saw in the other time-line becoming reality. Sevika sits on the Council, knowing it would be a long time until they reach what Vander and Silco dreamed for Zaun.

• Warwick is running around, Vi tries to talk to him sometimes, but he always leaves. We get an almost good ending to everyone, and maybe see what the Undercity becomes one day.

[grishaverse-only]

Tante Heleen Rant

"The Darkling is the most evil villain", "No Van Eck is" "Pekka Rollins!!"

Not to compare trauma but of all the Grishaverse villains Tante Heleen is truly the most despicable. She's a slaver who literally owns, living, breathing humans and abuses them. She lets them be sexually abused, doesn't let them leave all for her own profit. The others are horrible but at least Pekka and Kirigan are interesting characters. On the other hand, there is absolutely nothing interesting about Heleen other than the fact that she's so realistic. There are still people in the world today that engage in sex trafficking and sex slavery. The worst part is she's a woman. You know? Nobody would expect the slaver to be a woman! The worst part of the show and the only unforgivable bit is the killing of Tante Heleen off screen. I wished this was a plot line that could have been left for season 3 with the Ice Court Heist. It's truly unforgivable the way the show downplayed Inej's trauma and her character in general in favor of Kaz's especially in season 2. Tante Heleen is so awful and the fact that people do the exact same things as her with absolutely no differences between that fantasy world and the real world is horrifying. Like at least you have to adapt people like the Darkling to fit in the modern world, but you don't have to do that with Heleen, she already fits.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Understanding Tolkien Legendarium: A Mythology of its Own

Canon vs. Legendarium

On several of his letters, Tolkien uses the expressions “my myth”, “my mythology”, “mythological-theological”, “mythological world” and “a monotheistic but sub-creational [literary] mythology” (Letter 181) to describe his world-building:

I am interested in mythological 'invention', and the mystery of literary creation (or sub-creation as I have elsewhere called it) and I am the most readily available corpus vile for experiment or observation. Tolkien Letter 180

Dr. Corey Olsen, an American Professor, who specializes in Medieval literature and on Tolkien studies, recently made headlines because of his affirmation: “First thing to specify is that there’s no such thing really as canon in Tolkien.” Precisely because there’s a legendarium (or "lore"), and it's organic and ever involving, allowing for multiple interpretations within it.

This statement enraged many in the Tolkien fandom, who promptly accused Dr. Olsen of “selling out” and “lying” on Amazon’s behalf. Because, of course, some random people on-line think they know better than a college professor with a PhD in medieval literature from Columbia University (2003), and a prolific academic career. To advance Tolkien research and make it accessible “to the masses” Dr. Olsen started a website on 2007, a podcast on 2009, and founded the Mythgard Institute in 2011. 

May I say that all this is 'mythical', and not any kind of new religion or vision. As far as I know it is merely an imaginative invention, to express, in the only way I can, some of my (dim) apprehensions of the world. [...] I have, I suppose, constructed an imaginary time, but kept my feet on my own mother-earth for place […] Middle earth is [...] not my own invention. It is a modernization or alteration (N[ew] E[nglish] Dictionary] 'a perversion') of an old word for the inhabited world of Men […] I imagine the gap to be about 6000 years: that is we are now at the end of the Fifth Age, if the Ages were of about the same length as S.A. and T.A. But they have, I think, quickened; and I imagine we are actually at the end of the Sixth Age, or in the Seventh. between ice of the North and the fire of the South. [...] Many reviewers seem to assume that Middle-earth is another planet! […] I have deliberately written a tale, which is built on or out of certain 'religious' ideas, but is not an allegory of them (or anything else), and does not mention them overtly, still less preach them [...] But I might say that if the tale is 'about' anything (other than itself) […] t is mainly concerned with Death, and Immortality; and the 'escapes': serial longevity, and hoarding memory. Tolkien Letter 211

The denial of a “canon” doesn’t mean everything is fair game, mind you. There’s still a legendarium, and while, yes, it allows for different interpretations (or “playing around” as Dr. Olsen puts it) they still need to be aligned with Tolkien lore; follow the themes Tolkien embodied on his world-building and work. Tolkien created a living mythology, yes, but these are still his characters, his story and his world.

The adaptations of Tolkien work can afford to play with the legendarium if they keep the core message, themes and symbolism, and this is what Peter Jackson did, and what “Rings of Power” is doing; the latter more successfully, actually, because Peter Jackson delivered a very wholly evil vs. wholly good type of story, when Tolkien himself rejected this notion (Letter 183): In my story I do not deal in Absolute Evil. I do not think there is such a thing, since that is Zero. I do not think that at any rate any 'rational being' is wholly evil.

A Myth not an Allegory

The fastest way to misunderstand Tolkien is trying to see allegories where they don’t exist. His work is not an allegory for WWI, WWII, industrialization, totalitarianism, nor any other present day or 20th century event. Sauron is not Stalin, the Orcs are not the communists, and Mordor is not the Soviet Union. Nor anything of that sort. Sauron is Sauron, and the Orcs are the Orcs, period. There is no allegory here, and Tolkien himself rejected this idea.

Tolkien expressed his dislike for allegory and denied his work is one several times on his letters: there is no 'allegory', moral, political, or contemporary in the work at all (Letter 181); my story is not an allegory of Atomic power, but of Power (exerted for Domination) (Letter 186); there is no 'symbolism' or conscious allegory in my story (Letter 203); I have no didactic purpose, and no allegorical intent. (I do not like allegory) (Letter 215); I am not naturally attracted (in fact much the reverse) by allegory, mystical or moral (Letter 262).

That there is no allegory does not, of course, say there is no applicability. There always is. And since I have not made the struggle wholly unequivocal: sloth and stupidity among hobbits, pride and [illegible] among Elves, grudge and greed in Dwarf-hearts, and folly and wickedness among the 'Kings of Men', and treachery and power-lust even among the 'Wizards', there is I suppose applicability in my story to present times. But I should say, if asked, the tale is not really about Power and Dominion: that only sets the wheels going; it is about Death and the desire for deathlessness. Tolkien Letter 203

This might indicate that Tolkien doesn’t mind having his work interpreted as theological allegory on occasion (for different sins/vices). However, political messaging is something that, as Tolkien tells us on his Letter 299, is “entirely foreign to [his] thought.” 

Meaning: everyone who tries to imprint political issues (whatever they might be) onto Tolkien legendarium is missing the point, and completely off mark with their interpretations. Over the years, many accused Tolkien of racism arguing the Orcs were meant to symbolize countless non-white peoples. No; if the Orcs would to be any allegory to real life, they would be corrupted/possessed men by the Devil.

On his Letter 131, Tolkien writes about his dislike for “conscious and intentional allegory”, and, once again, states his work is not one. However, he did used “allegorical language” because it’s almost mandatory on myths and fairytales. 

Inspirations

The main inspiration to the legendarium is, evidently, Christian-Catholic theology, since Tolkien was, himself, a devoted Catholic.

“The Lord of the Rings” is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, consciously in the revision […] the religious element is absorbed into the story and the symbolism. Tolkien Letter 142

The struggle between “good” and “evil”, in Tolkien legendarium, is personified by Eru Ilúvatar (“The One”) and Melkor/Morgoth (the source of corruption/evil), and the all other characters must choose (Free-will) with which one to align themselves with. And this is where Tolkien employs allegorical language:

Eru Ilúvatar is the Christian God, and Tolkien himself refers to Him as such on several of his letters: gift of Ilúvatar (God) (Letter 131); denies the existence of God, saying that the One is a mere invention of the jealous Valar of the West (Letter 131); part of the World, which is God's and ultimately good (153); special gifts of God to the Eruhini (Children of the One); 'There is only one 'god': God, Eru Ilúvatar. (Notes on Letter 156).

Melkor/Morgoth is the Christian Devil, the corrupter of God’s creation, and Tolkien calls him “diabolus” (Letters 153), and describing his actions as “satanic”: absolute Satanic rebellion and evil of Morgoth and his satellite Sauron (Letter 156); substituted a Satanist religion with a large temple [devoted to Morgoth] (Letter 156); Satan fell. In my myth Morgoth fell beasts and monsters, and the Unknown (Letter 183); Melkor became the rebel, and the Diabolos of these tales, who disputed the kingdom of Arda with Manwë (Letter 211); the Prime Dark Lord (the Prime sub-creative Rebel) Morgoth (Letter 153). 

The whole of Middle-earth was Morgoth's Ring: A shrine to Morgoth on the Southlands (Rings of Power, 1x05)

What is Sauron’s place in all of this? Sauron is a follower of Morgoth/Satan and his chief agent on Middle-earth (Tolkien Letter 183). He’s a “satanic demon” and a satellite to Morgoth (Letter 156), but “by the end of the Third Age (though actually much weaker than before) he claimed to be Morgoth returned" (Letter 183). Allegorically speaking, Sauron is, in essence, the Devil’s wingman and the head of the Church of Satan.

The Ainur: Valar and Maiar

The Ainur (Valar and Maiar) are not “Catholic saints” in Tolkien legendarium, as many wrongly assume. They are of angelic nature, as Tolkien describes them several times on his letters: the first creations, angelic beings (Letter 156); 'angelic' gods (Letter 159); angelical First-created (Letter 257) and angelic immortals (Letter 325). The Valar are "regents under God" while the Maiar are "of the same order but less power and majesty" (Letter 325).

The Valar's function is to exercise delegated authority in their spheres (of rule and government, not creation, making or re-making). They are 'divine', that is, were originally 'outside' and existed 'before' the making of the world. Their power and wisdom is derived from their Knowledge of the cosmogonical drama, which they perceived first as a drama (that is as in a fashion we perceive a story composed by some-one else), and later as a 'reality' (Letter 131).

'The immediate 'authorities' are the Valar (the Powers or Authorities): the 'gods'. But they are only created spirits – of high angelic order we should say, with their attendant lesser angels – reverend, therefore, but not worshipful; and though potently 'subcreative', and resident on Earth to which they are bound by love, having assisted in its making and ordering, they cannot by their own will alter any fundamental provision.   Tolkien Letter 153 

The Valar are similar to Christian archangels in the sense they can intercede next to Eru (God) on the Faithful’s behalf. This is very much in line with Christian-Catholic tradition: the devotees pray to the archangels (especially to St. Michael the Archangel) to deliver their prayers and pleas to God: the Valar lay down their delegated power and appeal to God, and receive the power and permission to deal with the situation (Letter 131). The Maiar are associated with lower-rank angels, servants to the Valar (archangels).

We are in a time [Third age] when the One God, Eru, is known to exist by the wise, but is not approachable save by or through the Valar, though He is still remembered in (unspoken) prayer by those of Númenórean descent. Tolkien Letter 297

Like Tolkien tells us, the Valar (like the Christian archangels) are worshipful, but they aren’t like the Pagan Gods (Polytheism), because "there is only one God” in Tolkien legendarium, and that's Eru Ilúvatar (Monotheism).

And with this is why Melkor/Morgoth (a Vala), like Lucifer (archangel) is in open rebellion against Eru/God’s authority: it’s a Satanic rebellion like Tolkien describes it, because Melkor wants to usurp Eru’s place as "the God" and "the creator" of the legendarium. But the power of Creation is God’s alone, and, so, Melkor, like the Christian Devil, devoted himself to corrupt it, in every way, shape or form.

But this is where things get misinterpreted, as well, especially when it comes to the Virgin Mary, with many attempting to associate her with the character of Galadriel. There is no Virgin Mary “equivalent” on Tolkien legendarium, nor could ever be. The “Holy Virgin” is the highest Catholic devotion, and Tolkien was not only a devoted Catholic but he lived during the time the Vatican consecrated the Church and the human race to the Immaculate Heart of Mary (1942). Him associating the “Holy Virgin” with a symbolic human character (Elf) is not only absurd, but pure blasphemy, because he describes Galadriel as “penitent”, a repentant sinner: I think it is true that I owe much of this character to Christian and Catholic teaching and imagination about Mary, but actually Galadriel was a penitent (Letter 320).

No Catholic would ever describe the Virgin Mary a “repentant” because that goes against everything Catholics believe ("Mother of God"; “Assumption of Mary”, "Immaculate Conception"; "The Sinlessness of Mary"), and Tolkien himself talks about this on his notes of Letter 212: The Assumption of Mary, the only unfallen person. To Catholics (and other Christian branches), the Virgin Mary was born without the stain of the "Original sin" (The Fall), she's sinlessness because she's the "Mother of God".

When Tolkien talks about the “Christian and Catholic teaching and imagination about Mary” he is talking about Catholic Mariology and Marian devotion in Catholicism (which is a female-centered devotion praticed, mostly, by Catholic women). Which means, Galadriel is not “the Virgin Mary” of the lore; she’s a devotee of the Virgin Mary, and follows the Holy Virgin example as penitence for her former sins in Tolkien legendarium. And this should be obvious to any Catholic or, in my case, anyone who was born and raised in deep Catholic countries.

Children of Ilúvatar: Elves and Men

Elves and Men [are] the Children of God (Letter 156), and they were Eru’s addition to the Design, the Eruhîn [...] The Firstborn (Elves) and the Successors [or Followers] (Men), whom the Valar were forbidden to try and dominate by fear or force (Letter 257).

The Valar played no part on their making, but Elves and Men are “the object of the special desire and love of the gods” (Letter 131), or the ideal material for subjects and slaves, to whom the corrupted as Melkor/Morgoth and his followers (mainly Sauron), wanted to become masters and “gods”, envying the Children, and secretly hating them, in proportion as they became rebels against the One (Letter 212). 

It was because of this pre-occupation with the Children of God that the spirits [Valar and Maiar] so often took the form and likeness of the Children, especially after their appearance. It was thus that Sauron appeared in this shape. It is mythologically supposed that when this shape was 'real', that is a physical actuality in the physical world and not a vision transferred from mind to mind, it took some time to build up. It was then destructible like other physical organisms. But that of course did not destroy the spirit, nor dismiss it from the world to which it was bound until the end. Tolkien Letter 200

Maiar in human form: Olórin (Gandalf) and Mairon (Sauron). As Tolkien tells us, these physical forms are real, and made of flesh. They are not visions these Maiar conjure on the minds of others.

Elves and Men are related and similar races, but partly different, and wholly divergent from the Ainur, like Tolkien tells us in Letter 131. Neither Men or Elves are of “divine nature” nor "higher beings". Immortality and Mortality are special gifts from Eru to His children, and no Vala can alter this pre-destined condition: meaning, the Valar can’t grant immortality to Men, nor make an Elf mortal.

The cases of Lúthien, Túor and Arwen were a direct act from God, because the entering into Men of the Elven-strain is indeed represented as a part of a Divine plan for the ennoblement of the Human Race, from the beginning destined to replace the Elves (Letter 153). 

In Tolkien legendarium, “Men” and “Elves” represent different sides of Human nature, mainly connected to Death (mortality vs. Immortality). Both are rational creatures of Free will in regard to God (Letter 181):

In this mythological world the Elves and Men are in their incarnate forms kindred, but in the relation of their 'spirits' to the world in time represent different 'experiments', each of which has its own natural trend, and weakness.   The Elves represent, as it were, the artistic, aesthetic, and purely scientific aspects of the Humane nature raised to a higher level than is actually seen in Men. That is: they have a devoted love of the physical world, and a desire to observe and understand it for its own sake and as 'other' – sc. as a reality derived from God in the same degree as themselves – not as a material for use or as a power-platform. They also possess a 'subcreational' or artistic faculty of great excellence. They are therefore 'immortal'. Not 'eternally', but to endure with and within the created world, while its story lasts.  When 'killed', by the injury or destruction of their incarnate form, they do not escape from time, but remain in the world, either discarnate, or being re-born. This becomes a great burden as the ages lengthen, especially in a world in which there is malice and destruction [...] Mere change as such is not represented as 'evil': it is the unfolding of the story and to refuse this is of course against the design of God. But the Elvish weakness is in these terms naturally to regret the past, and to become unwilling to face change: as if a man were to hate a very long book still going on, and wished to settle down in a favourite chapter. Hence they fell in a measure to Sauron's deceits: they desired some 'power' over things as they are (which is quite distinct from an), to make their particular will to preservation effective: to arrest change, and keep things always fresh and fair. The 'Three Rings' were 'unsullied', because this object was in a limited way good, it included the healing of the real damages of malice, as well as the mere arrest of change; and the Elves did not desire to dominate other wills, nor to usurp all the world to their particular pleasure. But with the downfall of 'Power' their little efforts at preserving the past fell to bits. There was nothing more in Middle-earth for them, but weariness. So Elrond and Galadriel depart. Gandalf is a special case. He was not the maker or original holder of the Ring – but it was surrendered to him by Círdan, to assist him in his task. Gandalf was returning, his labour and errand finished, to his home, the land of the Valar. The passage over Sea is not Death. The 'mythology' is Elf-centred. According to it there was at first an actual Earthly Paradise, home and realm of the Valar, as a physical part of the earth.  Tolkien Letter 181

In the legendarium, the Elves are representative of the intellectual and artistic-driven humans, more concerned with understanding the world around them than with power itself (safe a few exceptions, of course). However, they desire to stop change and cease the passage and decay of time, wanting things to stay the same forever; and that’s their greatest weakness. And this is visible on their two “Falls” on the legendarium (first in Valinor, and later on Middle-earth). 

Men, on the other hand, are more ambitious and power-driven, and their unacceptance of their own mortality is their greatest weakness, in Tolkien legendarium. Aligned with Christian theology “mortality” was the punishment for “the Fall of Men”, however, Tolkien doesn’t consider it that way because “a divine 'punishment' is also a divine 'gift', if accepted, since its object is ultimate blessing” and a 'mortal' Man has probably [...] a higher if unrevealed destiny than a longeval one (Letter 212). 

Hobbits belong ot the race of Men in the legendarium: the Hobbits are, of course, really meant to be a branch of the specifically human race [...] They are entirely without non-human powers, but are represented as being more in touch with 'nature' (the soil and other living things, plants and animals), and abnormally, for humans, free from ambition or greed of wealth. They are made small (little more than half human stature, but dwindling as the years pass) partly to exhibit the pettiness of man, plain unimaginative parochial man – though not with either the smallness or the savageness of Swift, and mostly to show up, in creatures of very small physical power, the amazing and unexpected heroism of ordinary men 'at a pinch' (Letter 131).

Hobbits were a breed of which the chief physical mark was their stature; and the chief characteristic of their temper was the almost total eradication of any dormant 'spark', only about one per mil had any trace of it [...] hobbit virtues: shrewd sense, generosity, patience and fortitude, and also a strong 'spark' yet unkindled Tolkien Letter 281

Children of Aulë: Dwarves

The Dwarves are called the “Children of Aulë” because this race was created by this Vala as companions, but their existence was allowed by Eru Ilúvatar (the ultimate authority on the legendarium).

This legend is present on “The Silmarillion”, but Tolkien refers to it on his Letter 212: 

Aulë, for instance, one of the Great, in a sense 'fell'; for he so desired to see the Children, that he became impatient and tried to anticipate the will of the Creator. Being the greatest of all craftsmen he tried to make children according to his imperfect knowledge of their kind. When he had made thirteen, God spoke to him in anger, but not without pity: for Aulë had done this thing not out of evil desire to have slaves and subjects of his own, but out of impatient love, desiring children to talk to and teach, sharing with them the praise of Ilúvatar and his great love of the materials of which the world is made.  The One rebuked Aulë, saying that he had tried to usurp the Creator's power; but he could not give independent life to his makings. He had only one life, his own derived from the One, and could at most only distribute it. 'Behold' said the One: 'these creatures of thine have only thy will, and thy movement. Though you have devised a language for them, they can only report to thee thine own thought. This is a mockery of me.'  Then Aulë in grief and repentance humbled himself and asked for pardon. And he said: 'I will destroy these images of my presumption, and wait upon thy will.' And he took a great hammer, raising it to smite the eldest of his images; but it flinched and cowered from him. And as he withheld his stroke, astonished, he heard the laughter of Ilúvatar. 'Do you wonder at this?' he said. 'Behold! thy creatures now live, free from thy will! For I have seen thy humility, and taken pity on your impatience. Thy making I have taken up into my design.'   This is the Elvish legend of the making of the Dwarves; but the Elves report that Ilúvatar said thus also: 'Nonetheless I will not suffer my design to be forestalled: thy children shall not awake before mine own.' And he commanded Aulë to lay the fathers of the Dwarves severally in deep places, each with his mate, save Dúrin the eldest who had none. There they should sleep long, until Ilúvatar bade them awake. Nonetheless there has been for the most part little love between the Dwarves and the children of Ilúvatar. And of the fate that Ilúvatar has set upon the children of Aulë beyond the Circles of the world Elves and men know nothing, and if Dwarves know they do not speak of it. 

The Corrupted: Orcs

On his letters, Tolkien describes the “Orcs” as a “race of 'rational incarnate' creatures, though horribly corrupted”, ruined and twisted by Morgoth/Melkor during the Elder Days, when the Diabolus subjugated and corrupted some of the earliest Elves, before they had ever heard of the 'gods', let alone of God (Letter 153). 

They would be Morgoth's greatest Sins, abuses of his highest privilege, and would be creatures begotten of Sin, and naturally bad. (I nearly wrote 'irredeemably bad'; but that would be going too far. Because by accepting or tolerating their making – necessary to their actual existence – even Orcs would become part of the World, which is God's and ultimately good) [...] I have represented at least the Orcs as pre-existing real beings on whom the Dark Lord has exerted the fullness of his power in remodelling and corrupting them, not making them. That God would 'tolerate' that, seems no worse theology than the toleration of the calculated dehumanizing of Men by tyrants that goes on today.  Tolkien Letter 153 

"Rings of Power" gives a bit of insight on the corruption of the first Elves by Morgoth, in the character of Adar (2x01)

In the chapter “Myths Transformed” of  “Morgoth’s Ring”, we have more insight on the Orcs: the idea of breeding the Orcs came from Melkor, not at first maybe so much for the provision of servants or the infantry of his wars of destruction, as for the defilement of the Children and the blasphemous mockery of the designs of Eru. The details of the accomplishment of this wickedness were, however, left mainly to the subtleties of Sauron. 

In that case the conception in mind of the Orcs may go far back into the night of Melkor’s thought, though the beginning of their actual breeding must await the awakening of Men. When Melkor was made captive, Sauron escaped and lay hid in Middle-earth; and it can in this way be understood how the breeding of the Orcs (no doubt already begun) went on with increasing speed during the age when the Noldor dwelt in Aman;“ 

Morgoth had the idea, and entrusted Sauron with overseeing the breeding of the next generations of Orcs: who reproduce sexually like all “incarnated creatures” in the legendarium; so the "Orc baby" from “Rings of Power” is very much lore accurate:

However, what kind of dark sorcery, twisted sex magic Sauron used to breed more Orcs out of the first Elves corrupted by Morgoth remains a mystery. “Rings of Power” tried to answer this enigma by creating a “father” to the Orcs (Adar) to whom Sauron “gave children”, but this created more weird questions than actual answers. 

Core Themes

The core themes of Tolkien legendarium are: the Fall [of Adam and Eve; of Men], Mortality/Immortality (Death), Machine (magic), and God, from which the others branch: like Free-will, and God’s authority (theological).

Anyway all this stuff* is mainly concerned with Fall, Mortality, and the Machine. With Fall inevitably, and that motive occurs in several modes. With Mortality, especially as it affects art and the creative (or as I should say, sub-creative) desire which seems to have no biological function, and to be apart from the satisfactions of plain ordinary biological life, with which, in our world, it is indeed usually at strife. This desire is at once wedded to a passionate love of the real primary world, and hence filled with the sense of mortality, and yet unsatisfied by it. It has various opportunities of 'Fall'. It may become possessive, clinging to the things made as 'its own', the sub-creator wishes to be the Lord and God of his private creation. He will rebel against the laws of the Creator – especially against mortality. Both of these (alone or together) will lead to the desire for Power, for making the will more quickly effective, – and so to the Machine (or Magic). Tolkien Letter 131

Side note: Tolkien uses the word “stuff” as in its oldest meaning. Probably meant to signify “literature” or “literary work” (meaning from the 1500s). 

Tolkien tells us that “The Fall” [of Adam and Eve], mortality and the machine (“magic” = "power") are connected in his legendarium, as he explains on his letter. In short, it's the lust [The Fall] to "cheat death" [Mortality] that leads his characters to chase power [the Machine], and in doing so, they are rebeling against Eru Ilúvatar (God).

The Elves cheating death by the means of the rings of power: these rings allowed them to stay on Middle-earth instead of returning to Valinor like they were meant to

In "The Lord of the Rings" the conflict is not basically about 'freedom', though that is naturally involved. It is about God, and His sole right to divine honour. The Eldar and the Númenóreans believed in The One, the true God, and held worship of any other person an abomination. Tolkien Letter 183

Rebellion against God's divine honour: folly and blasphemy

Power as a means to immortality

The Fall or corruption; every being (Maiar, Elves, Dwarves and Men) are susceptible to it, due to their own Free will (choice).

I plan on doing a series of posts exploring each one of these themes, separately.

[arcane-ish]

@needanaccount2readarcaneposts

This is the quote:

Q: uh can I can I elaborate on how Zaun flourished in the alternate timeline. 10 seconds go

A: so I think I'll just say very quickly that you know the kind of the key to unlocking that was Silko being able to tell you know Ekko like the greatest thing in life life is being able to forgive um and so I think sort of the tragedy of Vi's loss made people reexamine their lives and you know you know I think we set that letter up in episode five if he just found that letter everything would have been different and so that you know kind of informed that for us you know that now they could mend their fences which would mend you know all the fences between top side and bottom and you know then like the Grayson you know it's it's kind of like they were able to actually realize on and come together top side and bottom uh in in the wake of that tragedy is is how we imagine that.

and then there was kind of no hex tech uh you you know Silco mentions in season one is like the Topsiders are leaving us further and further behind well without the hextech you know kind of accelerating that you know wealth gap. you know it didn't it didn't exist so they were able to come overcome their differences and come together as opposed to being driven apart.

So the first part is more like Zaundads did all the work and the bolded line is the sappy take.

Adding my personal restructing of the quote for more readability rather than just that the google subs spit out.

The key to unlocking that was Silko being able to tell you know Ekko like the greatest thing in life life is being able to forgive.

I think the tragedy of Vi's loss made people reexamine their lives.

We set that letter up in episode five if he just found that letter everything would have been different and so that you know kind of informed that for us you know that now they could mend their fences.

Which would mend you know all the fences between top side and bottom like [with] Grayson.

It's kind of like they were able to actually realize on and come together top side and bottom uh in in the wake of that tragedy is is how we imagine that.

And then there was no hex tech. Silco mentions in season one, it's like the Topsiders are leaving us further and further behind. Without the hextech accelerating that wealth gap, [because] it didn't it didn't exist, they were able to come overcome their differences and come together as opposed to being driven apart.

I breaks my brain a little that "Piltover is forced to respect Zaun more when they need them to fight against an enemy from the outside" is actually the less shitty and condescending take compared to the writers potentially actually thinking a long running conflict with HUGE economic interests involved and years of inequality is gonna be solved by "Piltover is so touched over the death of one certain Zaunite child that they feel bad and fix Zaun".

I laugh bitter tears. Like I watched a decent amount of the Politics of League/Arcane vids (like the Skyen one or the Color of Fascism one) and I always thought they were way, way, way, way too optimistic that Arcane was gonna have any interest on really exploring systemic oppression and/or inequality and taking a hard stance on it.

That because there are Piltover characters who have to be portrayed in a positive light, it is BOUND to be some sort of centrist solution.

And yeah, as much "Zaun become ground troupes for Piltover against an imperialist force, tons of their people die and then they give Sevika one seat on the council" was poorly explored and it's kinda shitty, it feels like something roughly analogous to real life dynamics.

While the "Piltover feels so bad about one cute girl dying they get rid of systemic oppression" is such an offensively polyanna outlook on the world (and like grossly infantilizing of Zaun) it's just pukeworthy (and yes I don't think they meant it that way, they probably just thought of it as people should be in awe of Vi's death. But that just makes jack shit sense. Vi is not the first Zaunite child that died. Vi means something to us the viewers and to her relatives, but there's jack shit reason for Piltover to give a shit). And yes there are cases where one sad child picture (Alan Kurdi) changes things, but I would argue you notice they usually don't change for long and not systemically and I feel the "the death of an innocent child instantly leads to the end of a years long conflict" probably feels particularly gross to all the people who are emotionally invested in the Gaza conflict.

That's why I'm just gonna say the writers who supposedly said that are on crack, none of that is stated in the show (ie if Pilties helped so much, wouldn't it make more sense if Mylo and Claggor were working together with Piltover students, or if like let's say Caitlyn was hanging around the Last Drop?) and I'm just gonna pretend it happened not because Pilties spontaneously felt bad about it but because SIlco expertly manipulated public opinion and they combined it with let's say strikes and blockades.

ETA: And there were people seriously thinking that Arcane was taking an ACAB/anti police stance. And instead we have the Jinxer who was personally persecuted by the police donning a uniform, fighting side by side with the enforcers and dying for them.

[flutenby]

I saw a post that basically mocked people saying it's easier to organise under dems than republicans, because people don't organise under dems.

Now I don't live in the USA, but I will note my observations of organising while going from a conservative government to the more left-wing major party here

You're right that it's harder to get people to organise and take action. There are many people that will absolutely take action, donate, etc, under a conservative government, but then under a more progressive government go "well the more progressive people are in, so all the problems are fixed yay!" when there are absolutely still cooked things happening. This is a pretty known phenomenon, and yeah it sucks

However, in terms of getting good things to happen, or stop the government doing shitty things? Way way way easier under the more progressive government. Yes our action groups are smaller, we have less money, and rallies get lower turnout. But the actual policies are less bad, and sometimes even good. Because you can get in contact with the more progressive government. As much as the liberal party doesn't like us, they do things that are much closer to what we want than the conservative party. And hey, sometimes they initially say no fuck you then adopt that exact policy 3 years later

This is to say - you may find it harder to organise under dems because your community is less motivated, but it is much easier to get the actual outcomes you want. No it's not going to be exactly what you want, and ok many fronts they'll still be cooked. But every fraction better you can get is worth it.

Every person that's allowed in on higher refugee caps, every person who gets higher unemployment benefits, every percentage of a degree saved by fossil fuel projects that are rejected. Even within these policies, yes the more progressive party is still not doing enough. But are you really willing to sacrifice more lives for it?

Always keep pushing left. But the mood of the country is in many ways dictated by who is in power. And when right-wing bigots are in power, you have to fight so much harder to get basically nothing. Don't ignore the people who are on the line between living and dying under conservative and more progressive governments. And don't forget that despite how hard it is to fight now, it's so much harder to win under conservative governments

[prolibytherium]

Absolutely death gripped clenched trying not to comment on reductive posts on ancient greek homosexual relationships

[hyperfixationcritter]

#YES I love these thoughts thank you#I fully believe that if the scope had stayed contained there would have been plenty of time to tie Ekko into the parent themes too#we could've learned what happened to ekko's parents and learned more about the legacy ekko is carrying on with the firelights#at least he could've been drawn into the warwick plot if the warwick plot still has to be there#the extra kicker to tesla's mom's death is that she died uneducated and tesla spoke of how she would've changed the world#had she had the opportunity to do so. but living in a village in 1800s croatia she didn't have that opportunity#reflecting that in viktor's story would've doubled the gutpunches to his character in realizing that he has been ineffective in piltover#his mother gave him the opportunity that she never had and then he was too late to bring the benefits he wanted for the undercity to her#there is so much potential with jayce's character and ximena especially with how jayce's character has so much to do with image and ideals#and with how jayce never really grapples with where he came from compared to where people from the undercity come from idk#we really just needed a different vision for season 2 because if all the writers had was 2 seasons then a different game plan was needed#i always love seeing your thoughts on the show

AAAHHHH thankyousomuch 💖 I like seeing your thoughts on the show too!

If Ekko was trying to carry on an ideological legacy of his own, it would be a cool comparison to him, Jinx and Vi and bring him back into their shared story instead of sidelining him.

Also, I really how you worded Viktor being "given an opportunity his mother never had and being too late to bring the benefits he wanted for the undercity to her." Like, just reading that breaks my heart but if that actually played out in the show I'd be screaming, crying and falling over lol XD

Edit: Viktor's mom being a character could also add some interesting context/flavor to the song "The Line" now that I'm thinking about it.

And YES, Jayce doesn't really grapple with where he came from. I feel like I've seen different takes as to whether or not he was originally from Piltover and his near-death experience in the mountains was from a trip him and Ximena were on or if they came from somewhere else and ended up settling in there. I'd like to see that clarified on screen because either version would do interesting things for the two of them.

If it was the latter though, it could make for an interesting parallel between him and Mel as immigrants compared to Viktor who's a local and would further feed into the themes of image and ideals with Jayce. I personally would've liked to see more of Jayce grappling with how easily he was let go by people he thought supported him, namely house Kirraman, after being put on trial and how that affects his trust in others/people pleasing tendencies. If he was an immigrant too, that would add onto how he feels about his place in Piltover.

In a different world, with Arcane season 1 having such a focus on fathers, Arcane season 2 has a focus on mothers. The highest stakes remain the Piltover/Zaun conflict.

Mel and Ambessa, Caitlyn and Cassandra, Vi and Jinx and Felicia, Jayce and Ximena, Ekko could have someone too, and you know what? We meet Viktor's mom too. Here's why.

Viktor is inspired by the real historical inventor Nikola Tesla. Today, Tesla's family is usually considered Serbian and they lived in what is now Croatia. His father was an Eastern Orthodox priest and his mother, Đuka Mandić, ran the household, a genius in her own right in several ways, including being a clever seamstress, having an incredible memory, and being an inventor herself because she made tools and appliances to help with household tasks. Letters and pieces of interviews show that Tesla spoke fondly of her and that he felt that his talents came from her.

Tesla lived in Prague, Paris, New York, all over, throughout his career. When he was in his 30's, he was giving lectures in Paris when he got word that his mother was dying of illness. He rushed back to Croatia to see her and was there when she died, devastating him.

Listen, arguments can be made about respectfully reflecting real historical figures' lives in fictional characters - but the good, bad, and ugly parts of Tesla's life have already been ground up and used for parts of Viktor's story and in many other pieces of fantasy media. Just imagine a Viktor who leaves home (this wasn't in the show, but according to the writers, they believe Viktor's mom helped him sneak into the Academy, which makes me think they knew about Đuka and if they had included Viktor's mom, she would have been like her) to attend the Academy, intending to help the undercity someday. Arcane plays out in its usual tragic way. Imagine a plotline where Viktor hears that his mother is dying. He goes to see her, help her, something. She dies in his arms.

Just think about Viktor's mom being the specific example of someone he couldn't save, this moment being the one where he realizes his time in Piltover was spent in vain. Imagine she dies because of the problems Piltover and the Hexgates are causing Zaun, be it the Zaun Gray or the tainted water or what have you. It would tie Viktor's story so much more strongly to the plight of Zaun itself, it would be thematically consistent with the other Arcane characters who lose parents, it could be just one of several concrete examples of Viktor trying to help someone with his own hands, and it would show that he had connections besides Jayce that were tethering him and that Singed's "loneliness is often the byproduct of a gifted mind" really was bullshit (whether Viktor realizes it or not).

[perenlop]

im sorry, i 100% get what the op meant, but its so wild reading “the r slur has returned” implying that it ever left, when my brothers and i were called that our entire lives by most generations, especially our own

[longagoitwastuesday]

Gushing about Gojo and Megumi and how they are or could have been everything to me I forgot to mention that I really really really love Yuuji. Like, a lot

[thequibblingking13]

Worried people are gonna look at my own oc's struggle of the self and decide that those are two different characters instead of fractured parts of the same (looks at how people perceive V, Urizen and vergil in dmc)