#and leave it to the audience to put it together

[thechildofshadows]

A DAY FOR LOVE

Avery Grambs/Jameson Hawthorne - 2k

Alright!!! This is my sad, sad attempt at fluff, and I also haven't written since like June, so I've had about half a year to lose my writing skills to the mess that is social media. This fic happens between The Hawthorne Legacy and the Final Gambit. When we first see our OTP, they've just told the world that they're dating, and they're preparing for a charity gala. (anyone can read- I rated this General Audiences on Ao3) have fun!

T-MINUS FOUR HOURS (BEFORE THE GALA)

“You’re nervous.” The statement came from Jameson, who saw right through her rapid finger-tapping as more than just an outlet for boredom.

Out of all of the things Avery needed to do that day, filling out forms seemed like the least stressful- and yet, it didn’t seem to curb her anxiety.

She looked up from her desk, and watched Jameson lean his back against the doorframe, putting her in the center of his field of vision.

“Of course I’m nervous! The Hawthorne Foundation Gala is today, and for some reason I’m doing taxes-“

“-and for your pain and suffering, you deserve at least a year’s worth of chocolate donuts!” Xander burst into the room, bearing said chocolate donuts and nearly knocking over Jameson. He tossed his brother a donut before taking a better look at Avery. “I fear you may require a stronger source of sugar with the amount of stress coming from you.” he placed the donuts on her desk.

When Avery didn’t take a donut, he raised an eyebrow. “Does this have nothing to do with taxes and everything to do with an upcoming press release involving the two of you?”

Avery looked at him, seeming close to panic, and both of Xander’s eyebrows went up. “I will take that as a yes, leave this room, and strongly recommend you lovebirds speak to each other.”

Jameson left the door and stood against her desk, facing away. “Do you regret this, Heiress?”

Avery stood and braced herself on the desk. “Of course not. You know that, I know that, but does everyone else know?”

Jameson looked at her. “We’re doing this so that everyone knows. I don’t know if they’ll believe us, but they’ll be informed.”

Avery turned around, and leaned against Jameson. “They’re never going to believe or accept it. This community is weird, Jameson. They hate me enough as is, they’re never going to accept us together.”

Jameson raised an amused eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

“What?”

“Look, you gave Alisa the picture and the caption yesterday. She posted it about two minutes ago-“

“-when the donuts came?” Avery’s shock was mixed with anger and relief and it caused Jameson to give her a small smirk.

“-yes, when the donuts came. I think you’re prepared for the worst, Heiress, but maybe not as prepared for the reception we’re truly receiving.” He handed her her phone.

Avery rapidly opened up Instagram and found her phone filled with notifications. She checked her latest post and found a picture of herself and Jameson covered in paint, from the day the two had built and painted her desk. In the photo, she gave Jameson a kiss on the cheek and it was captioned ‘first love ❤️❤️’.

It had over a million likes.

“Wait, a million?” Jameson leaned over her shoulder to look at her phone. It felt oddly domestic and she embraced the feeling. “Alisa said it had 10,000. It’s been less than five minutes, how is the app still running?”

Avery shrugged, a smile finding its way onto her lips. She opened up the comment section.

angel_face222 THEYRE SO CUTE

SONICSCREAMS people date this guy?

reply from lia-eliza dude imagine the kids 😍😍

HOT_TO_GO OPPOSITES ATTRACT CONFIRMED?????

      reply from SONICSCREAMS didn't she date his brother 😭 like that one interview

laffytaffyhappy does this mean he’ll stop being all law-breaky or will she start doing illegal shit.

my-name-is-slim-shaky wait, I lwk never imagined this, but they work so well together, it's my new OTP

theCALENDARRR oh to be young and in love.

      reply from I_is_calculator you're like 16

      reply from theCALENDARR shut up Jessica

      reply from I_is_calculator my name is Elena 😭

Jameson stopped her from scrolling further. "Look, the reception isn't all going to be puppies and chocolate donuts. But I think you're doing pretty good if Instagram thinks it’s not propaganda.”

"Jameson, that was five people out of-" she checked the phone again. "nine thousand comments."

Jameson shrugged. "I highly doubt they're the only five positive ones, Heiress, you would've had a harder time finding it otherwise."

Alisa, who Avery hadn't seen since that morning, walked into the room holding a large garment bag, followed by a makeup artist. "Congratulations, Avery. That's one of the most positively recieved posts I've ever seen on your account."

Jameson raised an eyebrow at Avery, giving her a look that said I told you so, and Avery let go of a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. "You're not joking?"

"Have you ever known Alisa to joke?" Alisa glared at Jameson, who punctuated the statement with a smirk.

Alisa turned to Avery. "About 95% of the general public reacted well, and out of that 5% that didn't, most were teenage girls."

Avery sighed. "As expected."

With the problem mostly settled, Alisa clapped her hands. "Okay, then, onto the rest of our duties. Avery, you have a gala in about four hours. Jameson, get out."

Jameson opened his mouth to protest and then decided against it, for he closed his mouth and dropped a kiss on the top of Avery's head before leaving.

Avery turned to Alisa. "You didn't have to kick him out."

Alisa closed the door behind Jameson, before ushering Avery to the bathroom. "Once you figure out how to get your makeup on while holding a conversation with him, he'll be allowed to stay. We need you both there on time, and you take significantly longer to get ready than he does."

T-MINUS ONE HOUR (Before the gala)

Jameson wasn’t exactly one to panic, but neither was Avery. He began tapping his foot and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

Alisa had left him a selection of four ties and matching pocket squares, and Jameson assumed he was supposed to wear them with a tuxedo. He pulled out the garment bag containing the black one, and began slowly buttoning his shirt.

The sounds of Hakuna Matata filled the room while he tucked his shirt in, and Jameson sighed before picking up his phone. Xander had set his ringtone over two weeks ago; Jameson hadn't gotten around to hacking it yet.

"How are ya doin', Jamie?"

"You live three doors down, why don't you tell me?" he hung up the call.

Not two seconds later, Nash strolled into his room, wearing flannel over jeans and a band t-shirt.

"You look like a waiter. Didn’t Grayson ever teach you to dress yourself?” he took a look toward the rest of the clothing Jameson had set out to wear.

Jameson ran a hand through his hair. “I look the same. I wore this last week.” 

“And then someone asked you for champagne. And you socked them in the face.”

He then proceeded to walk into Jameson's closet -"There’s nothing wrong with what I'm wearing!" "People are gonna ask you for more caviar; Grayson told me to not let you leave the house like that."- and after rummaging for two minutes, found a waistcoat that he didn't even know existed. It was the exact color of the tie Jameson wanted to pick, but Nash procured a black tie and pocket square.

"I think this is the same color as her dress, but honestly, it's gonna be dark, who's gonna see?" Nash held up the waistcoat, as if the nonexistant light would help him see better. 

Jameson took it from him. "Have I ever worn this?"

"Maybe. You were also drinking a lot, so I doubt you or the news remembers." Nash sniffed the cloth. "You would never even know. It doesn't even smell like bourbon."

Jameson raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he began to put his tie on.. “Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

Nash crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I couldn’t tell you whether it was true or not, Jamie, you wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said.”

Jameson buttoned up his waistcoat. “A wise man takes all truths with a grain of salt.” 

“Bullshit.” Nash drew out the first syllable.

Jameson gave his brother a smirk. “Don’t you know it.” He grabbed the suit jacket and left.

1.5 HOURS IN

“Oh hello dear!” The sound of posh over-confidence crept up behind Avery, who quickly turned.

“Mrs. Anderson!” The woman was one of the slightly pushy heads of a charity created to support budding culinary minds. While incredibly specific, the charity had sent over a thousand students to culinary school, who went on to open restaurants that were all doing pretty well. Avery didn’t mind the woman; she was a lot nicer than most of the attendees, and used her reach to benefit the people who needed it. “How are you, ma���am?”

“I’m doing great, darling, but we need to talk about that dress. You look stunning!”

Avery was draped in dark red silk, covering one arm, and hugging her body until it hit her hips, where it flowed in waves, just shy of reaching the ground. The asymmetrical neckline and bottom of the skirt were covered in minimal silver embroidery-visible when the light hit just so. Alisa had shoved her in a pair of black stilettos, and curled her hair, painting her lips with the same red as her dress. A silver choker was clasped around her throat, matching her earrings and the bracelets on her left hand.

She thanked the woman, handing her a glass of champagne, and asked, “Have you heard about the charity we’re sponsoring today?”

Avery and the woman chatted for a couple of minutes as Avery convinced her to donate thousands of dollars out of pocket.

“Cancer truly is a scary thing.” Mrs. Anderson smiled softly. “I lost my husband to lung cancer. I doubt the majority of these people consider the research worth funding.”

“They think they’re untouchable.” Avery said.

“Precisely, my dear.” The woman grabbed another glass of champagne before looking behind Avery. “Oh, I must add, you and Jameson Hawthorne are a beautiful couple.”

Avery felt her cheeks heat and she looked down, but Mrs. Anderson hadn’t finished. “The amount of love you two have for each other is simply incredible. Just being in the same room as you two makes me feel like an outsider; your bond is so sweet.”

Avery paused. Same room? She turned and saw an incredibly familiar face.

Jameson Hawthorne had finally showed up. He wore a dark grey suit-so dark it was nearly black, with a waistcoat the color of wine and silver chains. His tie matched his suit jacket and his hair was artfully arranged, neat with enough personality such that he still looked like himself.

Mrs. Anderson gave Avery a soft smile. “You two look at each other like a man seeing the stars for the first time in years. If this isn’t true love, I don’t know what is!”

Avery’s lips parted. “Really?”

“Oh trust me darling, you and Jameson are something that happens once in a lifetime.” The woman winked and walked away, exchanging greetings with Jameson, who was headed Avery’s way.

She motioned towards the side of the room, and he showed up a minute later with two wineglasses.

She leaned on a pillar and he stood her to her. “You look beautiful, Heiress.” Jameson handed her the wineglass as he said the statement.

Avery smiled. “And yet, you still upstage me by millions. How has this gala gone so far?”

Jameson grimaced and drained the wineglass like a shot. “All people want to talk about is the fact that I’m ‘off the market and it’s such a shame and won’t I please put in a good word for Grayson’ - if I hear another woman tell me any of that, I’m going through the old man’s whiskey stash.”

Avery suppressed a smile and switched their glasses. She doubted she would drink the wine, and Jameson seemed like he needed it more than she did. Jameson wasn’t usually this open, and she wondered if the wine wasn’t his first drink of the night. “You seem like you’ve had fun.”

Jameson shot her a smirk. “And you should be prepared for more, Heiress,” he clinked his glass against hers, “because I believe the slow dances just started.”

For the few hours, Jameson and Avery alternated between spinning around the dance floor and resting at the bar. Their routine was occasionally interrupted by a speech, a person or both, but by the end of the night, they had raised over a million dollars to charity. The venue closed, but they stayed for an additional thirty minutes to supervise cleanup.

  It took about forty minutes to get back to Hawthorne House and once they made it to Avery’s room, she tossed her heels into her closet and sat on the nearest chair.

Avery sighed. “I am never doing this again.” She stood up and began removing her jewelry, shedding her media persona for the sake of comfort.

Jameson unzipped her dress. “I highly doubt that.”

Avery shot him a look and she had to stifle a laugh when he mirrored it.

Once they were both changed and under the covers, Avery turned to Jameson and propped her head on a hand. “Do you know what day it is?”

Jameson’s eyes glittered and Avery knew he knew the answer. “The fourteenth?”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Valentine’s Day.”

Jameson smirked. “An astute observation, Heiress. And while one AM is a perfectly reasonable time to exchange gifts and other things, I don’t think you want to leave this bed right now.”

Avery nodded. “Definitely not.”

“Then Happy Valentine’s Day, Heiress, and I’ll see you when we inevitably wake up in six hours.”

Avery laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. When they broke apart, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jameson.”

And if she woke up the next day with several news articles focusing on the gala (or rather its hosts), well, she was going to ignore it all and spend the entire day with her amazing boyfriend.

fin.

Alright- 2.5 thousand words later, I wish you a happy Valentine’s Day!

(or just a happy Friday if you don’t have plans like me 😄)

(dividers are from @/cafekitsune)

please like, reblog and leave feedback in the comments. Or just throw tomatoes at me. Anything works.

I also realize now that im going to keep writing even if the reception is negative, so if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

expect another fic in 1-2 weeks, more likely 2 than one.

[mobiusmybeloved]

Alright storytime!!

(it ended up a lot longer than I expected, so more under the cut)

After the play, I waited to see if they'd do a stage door. Not long after, I spotted him! Another fan approached him (very grateful cause I'm so socially anxious with this stuff).

He had been talking to that fan and another (both super sweet, i talked to them after), but when he noticed me waiting, he pointed and said "hi, you, who are you?" in like a sweet way. So one of the first things I said was how I'd driven from Atlanta (10+ hours), which he thought was crazy and said something like "i hope not just for me." But asked me to tell him all about it and asked my name 😭😭 So I told him he's my inspiration and fav actor and everything, and I can't remember exactly everything I said (cause I was lowkey in shock). But he was so sweet about it and couldn't believe I'd driven all that way for him.

I had my special edition DPS dvd for him to sign, and he said "I didn't even know there was a special edition." He flipped it over to read the special features and said "interview? I don't remember doing an interview." Then, still just holding my DVD, he went off talking about how he and Ethan were originally cast for each other's roles since their personalities aligned with each, but the director randomly decided to switch them at some point, but robert thinks they should've stayed in their original roles (very curious about this alternate universe now, but I just can't picture them swapped). He also mentioned how River Phoenix was considered alongside Ethan, but the director wanted to cast all unknown actors so the audience could get to know the boys equally. When he signed, he said my name was beautiful (😭😭) and also was like "well I have to write carpe diem of course." When he put the DVD sleeve back into the case, he put it in upside-down but i think im gonna leave it that way 🥲🥲

Then, he was like "I was in this show called House" (wild thing to hear him say 😭😭), and asked if i knew Lin Manuel Miranda. Mentioned how he was in an episode, then told a story about his daughter being a fan, and Robert contacting Lin Manuel to ask if he could do anything for her birthday. Lin Manuel ended up personalizing this very unique and rare piece of Hamilton memorabilia (he explained what it was but I can't remember exactly, all I know was that there's only like 4 or something in the world?) and giving it to Robert's daughter for her birthday 🥹🥹

After is I think when we took the photo together, and he wrapped his arm around me pretty tight which I was not expecting, but he was genuinely so sweet about everything.

We talked a little more about my plans for getting home, and my dad mentioned how he teaches middle school, and Robert mentioned how he has a daughter in middle school. He asked if we were doing anything else while there, and I told him how my flight leaves first thing in the morning but I'd had a chance to explore the city earlier. My dad briefly mentioned that I'm a film major, and Robert said he hopes to see my stuff on screen someday 😭😭 I told him that that means a lot coming from him. As he went to head out, he thanked me again, super sweet and genuine, and ended up pulling me into a bear hug 😭😭😭

I probably left out so many details cause I was def in shock, but it just amazes me how genuine and kind he is. He was talking a bunch with my dad as well, and seemed both genuinely interested in what I had to say as well as what he was sharing with me.

Also, for a lot of his yapping, the other two fans were there as well, so he was mostly talking with all four of us. He was so grateful that we were all there, and I hope he knows how much we all appreciate him 😭🫶

GUYSSSS????!?

[includedisco]

Title: Firsts (Chapter 2- Bubble Bath)

Characters: Fadel, Style

Pairing: FadelStyle

Fandom: The Heart Killers

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, post canon, dates, new beginnings, domestic boyfriends,

warnings: none

Word Count: 1,266

Summary: Amid candlelight, bubbles, and soft music, Style and Fadel share an intimate bubble bath as they discover new depths of love and connection.

Link for Chapter 1

_

The bathroom glows softly under the warm flicker of candlelight, the air filled with the soothing scents of lavender and eucalyptus. Flower petals float on the surface of the water, and there is soft RnB music spilling from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Style’s eyes widen as he takes it all in, his lips parting in exaggerated awe. He gasps, clutching Fadel’s hand tightly. “Fadel, this is… incredible.”

Fadel raises an eyebrow as he tilts his head at his boyfriend’s dramatic reaction. “You helped me put this together,” he deadpans, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Style pouts, his playful demeanor shining through. “What even is the point if neither one of us acts all touched and amazed by the romantic setting?”

Fadel watches him for a moment, his expression softening. He steps closer, cupping Style’s face gently and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “Fine,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Style grins, his cheeks flushing as he leans into Fadel’s touch. They stand there for a moment, hand in hand, taking in the scene they’ve created together. The flickering candles, the petals, the music—it’s all for them. Just them.

With slow movements, they help each other out of their clothes, their fingers brushing against skin as they undress. There’s no rush—just the quiet intimacy of the moment. Fadel’s hands linger on Style’s waist, his touch light but possessive, as if he still can’t believe this sweet, playful man is his. Style, in turn, traces the scar on Fadel’s chest, his touch reverent, as if he’s memorizing every inch of it.

They step into the bath together, the warm water enveloping them as they sink in. Style leans back against the tub, pulling Fadel against his chest. Fadel relaxes into the embrace, his head resting on Style’s shoulder as Style’s arms wrap around him. For a moment, they just exist, the tension in Fadel’s body melting away under Style’s touch.

“I’m gonna hit you with a line that they always use in porn whenever somebody wants to cop a feel.” Style announces

Fadel laughs, “Let’s hear it.”

“You’re so tense,” Style murmurs, his lips brushing against Fadel’s ear. “Let me take care of you today, okay?”

Fadel hums in response, still smiling and his eyes closing as Style’s fingers begin to knead gently at his shoulders. The water sloshes softly around them as Style works the knots out of Fadel’s muscles, his touch firm but tender. Fadel lets out a low, contented sigh, his body sinking deeper into the warmth of the bath—and into Style.

“The massage is a lot better than that cheesy ass line from porn.” Fadel remarks

Style snorts out a laugh, “Thank goodness.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Style ends the massage and hugs Fadel close, kissing the shell of his ear

After a while, Fadel shifts, moving to the other end of the tub so they’re facing each other. Style hands him a glass of wine, their fingers brushing as Fadel takes it. They clink their glasses together, the sound soft and intimate, and take a sip. The wine is in good taste, and Fadel can’t help but smile as Style launches into a story about a British murder mystery TV show Kant recommended.

“Sherlock just mutters smartass shit to himself as he investigates, leaving us viewers feeling lost and dumb, begging his arrogant us to let us in on the damned investigation. Fucking annoying.”

Fadel chuckles, the sound low and warm. “That bad? You look so annoyed,” he teases

“I didn’t even get to the homicide jargon. By the third episode I was asking myself what audience the show is meant for. Folks with an IQ of 200?” Style rolls his eyes bitterly

Fadel laughs again, the sound rare and precious, and Style feels his heart swell. He loves seeing this side of Fadel—the side that’s relaxed, happy, and just a little bit playful. It’s a side he’s worked hard to draw out, and it’s worth every moment.

Style scoops up a handful of bubbles, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Hey, Fadel,” he says, his voice sing-song. Before Fadel can react, Style gently blows the bubbles toward him, a few landing on Fadel’s nose and cheeks. Fadel blinks, momentarily stunned, before a soft chuckle escapes him. He swipes at the bubbles, but Style is already reaching for more, his laughter filling the room.

“Challenge accepted,” Fadel says, his tone mock-stern. He gathers his own handful of bubbles and flicks them playfully at Style, who squeals and tries to shield himself. The two of them dissolve into laughter, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls as they playfully chase bubbles around the tub. For a moment, they’re carefree, in a way Fadel has never particularly known.

He had been carefree with his past lover, but in this way. They never had a bubble bath together.  Style has come to show Fadel so many more ways a couple can share a life together.

As their laughter subsides, Style reaches for a small tray of treats they’d set aside earlier—slices of juicy strawberries, ripe mango, and a few pieces of dark chocolate.

Fadel makes to reach for some fruit but Style holds the tray out of reach, shaking his head, “It’s only romantic when we feed each other.”

“Must everything be romantic?”

“Of course. Look around you.”

Fadel does look and well…he can’t argue.

 Style picks up a strawberry and holds it up to Fadel’s lips, his eyes soft and inviting. “Open up, krub” he says, his voice teasing but tender.

Fadel hesitates for a moment, momentarily flustered by the treatment, but he obliges, taking a bite of the strawberry. The sweetness bursts on his tongue, and he hums appreciatively. “I can taste the romance,” he says, picking up a slice of mango and holding it out to Style. Style leans forward, his lips brushing Fadel’s fingers as he takes the fruit, his eyes never leaving Fadel’s.

Style nods in assent as he chews, and they both laugh for no apparent reason.

They continue like this, feeding each other bites of fruit and chocolate, their movements unhurried.

Setting their wine glasses aside, Fadel reaches for the shampoo, lathering it between his hands before gently working it into Style’s hair. Style’s eyes close n, his head tilting back as Fadel’s fingers massage his scalp. It’s a simple act, but it feels like so much more to Style. It’s a gesture of their growing trust and intimacy.

When Fadel finishes rinsing Style’s hair, Style opens his eyes, his gaze soft and full of affection, but there is also a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He shifts around and straddles Fadel’s lap, the water sloshing around them as he wraps his arms around Fadel’s neck. Fadel’s hands instinctively settle on Style’s waist, his touch firm and grounding.

Style leans in, his lips brushing against Fadel’s in a slow, lingering kiss. Fadel responds immediately, his hands tightening on Style’s waist as he deepens the kiss.

When they finally pull apart, their foreheads resting together, Style smiles. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the music.

Fadel’s breath catches, his chest tightening with emotion. He’s not used to saying those words, but with Style, it feels different. Easier. “I love you too,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sincerity.

Style’s smile widens, and he leans in for another kiss, their lips meeting in a promise of more moments like this—quiet, intimate, and full of love.

Thank you for reading ❤️

If you liked this story, please visit my AO3 for more.

[mokeonn]

I think that the 2010's media landscape of Buzzfeed articles about plotholes in disney movies, Cinemasins critiques, and Watchmojo Top Ten scenes in movies that make no sense has truely ruined a lot of media. People are afraid that their work will be torn down if they dare leave a single thing up in the air, if they dare ask their audience to suspend their disbelief.

All too often nowadays I see stories (especially fantasy), take the time to explain how every small aspect of the world works and how it all logically makes sense. The constant time stopped to explain why an event happened, how this object works, or why this is important to the characters. It's just really not needed and it honestly makes a lot of stories worse.

I am of the opinion that the best stories truly just drop you into their world and explain nothing. They just take you through the story of this world and you just have to accept it and continue on. "When he became king, the land became barren." I don't want the story to stop and explain why this is, or how it happened, I want us to move on so we can just assume that the king has such rancid vibes that everything died.

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

I need a completely rewritten teen wolf series with Derek Hale as the main character. I think it would heal me.

[byler-alarmist]

God can you just imagine Mike coming to the conclusion that Will is in love with El....she's the reason he was moping in Lenora....that he only painted because she told him to even though it broke his heart....

Some tense moment and they're fighting, and Mike is choking back tears and finally says "it's her.....isn't it?"

And he leaves, heartbroken, before Will has a chance to explain.....

[prosebushpatch]

Listen, i don’t care if it’s romantic/platonic/barely put up with, but in totk, Link and Zelda share that bed. I didn’t spend all those rupees so Link could sleep on the floor, Nintendo. You couldn’t even give him a bed under the stairs? WHERE’S THE SIGN THAT SAYS “LINK’S HOUSE” NINTENDO. COMMIT TO THE SHIP OR AT LEAST PUT TWO FRICKING BEDS IN THE HOUSE THIS IS MALARKEY

[blazehedgehog]

Soaking this in

If you don't know what this is, here's an explanation: Both Fortnite and Call of Duty employ something called "Skill-Based Matchmaking" (SBMM for short), and it has become the bane of a certain subset of players who very vocally yell about how it is ruining multiplayer games.

In short, the game secretly and quietly keeps track of your "skill level." Even if a game has both ranked and unranked modes, it is always tracking this skill level stat that reports back how quickly and easily you're getting kills. When you connect to a new match, it tries to group you with players near your skill level.

The idea being you start with zero skill stat, and by playing the game well, your skill stat levels up until you eventually plateau and you are forever playing the game with people that are just as good (or bad) as you are, within some level of variance.

This means if you're one of these career streamer guys or a Youtube clip compilation sort of dude (or both), then you very quickly get put into high tier matchmaking pools with all the other career streamers and wannabe esports pros. Hence the very loud, very vocal complaints, because if you're one of those guys, the idea of having a "casual match" goes away. Everybody is always firing on all cylinders and you're expected to do the same in order to keep your rank and not look embarrassing to your captive audience.

So Activision apparently ran an experiment per Charlie Intel (article here) where they reduced SBMM's effectiveness, meaning the big fish pros and the little tadpole casual players were thrown into more games together.

The result was a sharp uptick in players rage quitting matches early, some even quitting the game entirely and never coming back. The report notes that while player retention for players with a high skill rank was improved, they make up such a small percentage of the player base (apparently less than 1%; the article has some grammar problems) that servicing them really doesn't make sense.

As it turns out, low level players don't want to get hopelessly destroyed by wannabe esports pros. And those pros make up such a small percentage of the player base it doesn't make sense to keep feeding them more low level chum, even though they are the hungriest for it. As more and more low level players permanently leave the game due to frustration, it turns into a wasteland where high level players are getting mad at each other until they also get frustrated and leave as well. SBMM ensures long term health for a game's multiplayer ecosystem.

And being a Fortnite player, it's so validating to hear this. "SBMM is ruining multiplayer" was always a narrative coming from streamers and youtubers who were frustrated by having to actually TRY instead of being able to score easy clip compilation fodder on clueless newbies.

Enjoy sticking to your smurf accounts now, I guess.

[torchwood-99]

Eomer and Eowyn only talk to each other once in the films

but they communicate so much.

When Eomer first returns with a wounded Theodred, an entire dialogue is shared between Eomer and Eowyn without a single word passing between them.

This mutual look of concern, they're both on the same page.

Eowyn then goes on to look at Theodred's wound. It's interesting that Eomer now looks curious above all things, he's waiting on Eowyn's judgement.

Eowyn looks at the wound and grimaces. It's bad. Theodred isn't going to survive this.

She looks to Eomer, who looks back at her in grim resignation.

They go to Theoden to inform him of the situation. As Eomer walks by Eowyn, he doesn't speak to her or interrupt her, but he puts his hand on her back as he passes. Even when the focus is on other things, he is giving her that gesture of support and fondness. That it is done without fanfare shows that this sort of affection is commonplace.

They both stand before the throne, both of them united in their attempt to reach through to their uncle. They're a team, a unit.

Eomer throws down proof that Saruman, who Grima is trying to portray as a friend to Rohan, is sending his soldiers to terrorise their people.

Eowyn gives Grima a death glare, challenging him to refute her brother's accusations. She's on Eomer's side, Eomer's team.

Eomer sees Grima looking at Eowyn, and knows what he wants. It fills him with fury.

Eowyn sees her brother choking Grima against the wall. She looks on in cold silence, then walks away.

When Aragorn reveals that the beacons have been lit, Eowyn rushes into the throne room, drawing to a stop at Eomer's shoulder. They wait together for Theoden's judgement.

When it comes, and Theoden sends Eomer to muster the troops, Eomer bows, but even before he has fully straightened up, his eyes go to his sister.

Again, no words exchanged, simply a look of common understanding. They both know what the risks are, they both know what is at stake, for the world, for their country, for their family.

Before Eomer leaves, he touches Eowyn's arm, before walking away.

With Eomer gone, we see a steely determination come into Eowyn's eyes. Now there's something Eomer's missing, now Eomer's back is turn and there's something about his sister that she's keeping from him. She's riding to battle.

The one time they speak to each other, they're in opposition. About Merry, about Eowyn, about war.

The words are harsh. Eomer is stern, Eowyn is defensive.

But Eomer puts his hand on Eowyn's shoulder. He doesn't say "I don't want you to get hurt, I don't want you in battle", but that hand on her shoulder, tells the audience that's exactly what he's saying.

Those small moments of physical affection culminate in one great moment, when stern, stoic Eomer discovers Eowyn on the battle field, and breaks down in tears, cradling her and rocking her like she's a child.

And his devotion to her is ultimately shown in him sitting small and hunched, tucked in on himself, crouching down in armour for what seems to have been a lengthy space of time, as he sits by her side, waiting for her to be healed.

This is such an effective way of showing to an audience that two characters love each other, when there is a limited time window. The movie needed to crack on to cover the ground it needed to cover, and with so many important dynamics to reveal to the audience, the creators needed to be time effective. Eomer and Eowyn don't share much screen time, but the looks exchanged, the passing moments of intimacy, tells us clearly that these are two people greatly fond of each other, and have been fond of each other a long time.

The lack of spoken dialogue almost enhances it. Little is said between them because little needs to be said. They already know. The one time they do speak, it's when they're quarrelling, because that's the only moment when they need to use words. The rest of the time, a gesture, a look, is enough.

[yugsly]

RIP David Lynch.

David Lynch truly is one of my biggest inspirations. I remember my teachers begging me to watch his work because my storytelling 'evoked' him in some way, and when I finally did I felt like I had found a missing piece in my brain. Everything clicked, I was so inspired.

His surreal approach to art and storytelling only strengthened the weird road I had begun to go down with my own art at that time. I became a much more honest artist. I'll forever be thankful.

He taught me the importance of letting a piece of art stand on its own, existing as an explanation of itself. That the audience has an important role to play in experiencing the art- they are the ones that get to put together the breadcrumbs the artist leaves, finding their own personal explanations and meanings in it.

It's why I leave a lot of 'lore' out and purposely leave gaps in certain pieces of my work. It's because I want the audience to find their own truth, play in the world I make. With Be Kind, My Neighbor, I did this so deliberately. Great God Grove, too. And I saw you all craft your own theories and play in that world. It was so beautiful and I hope I can let my audience participate in that way for as long as I make art.

David Lynch, you were so weird, you were such a pioneer, you really understood how to express your soul, express the human condition, it's lights, darks, in such a personal and unique way. Thank you. RIP

[harrysfolklore]

lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation

summary: lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Lando Norris could be described as someone who's not scared of saying whatever crossed his mind.

And that's why he never, ever, missed the opportunity to talk about his girlfriend whenever he had the chance.

He mentioned her during interviews, press conferences, social media post and even fan interactions. To the point where fans started making compilation videos with all the moments he publicly obsessed over his girlfriend.

The most popular one gathered millions of views on YouTube, showing multiple occasions Lando couldn't help but be down bad for her.

The video started with a clip from Q&A with fans, someone asked him about his favorite way to relax after a race. Without missing a beat, Lando replied, "Cuddling up with my girlfriend, of course. Nothing beats that."

"You're really whipped man, It's embarrassing," Oscar, his teammate, teased beside him, making the audience laugh.

"It's not, really." Lando shrugged proudly.

The next clip was taken from McLaren's Tiktok account, their content creator tried to do the "Can you watch my ___ for a second" prank on Lando.

"Oh my girlfriend already did this prank to me," Lando said, laughing at the camera, "Baby, If you're watching this, I miss you. Your pranks are way better than McLaren's"

The video moved to show Lando during a post-qualifying interview, his suit hanging by his waist and his fireproofs showing, when asked about his strategy for the race, he cheekily replied, "Well, first I'm going to call my girlfriend for some good luck wishes. Then, I'll focus on getting to the front."

"Zak Brown should hire your girlfriend as your strategist then," the interviewer joked.

"That would be great but I don't think we would be getting any job done. You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure."

The next clip showed Lando with his friend and fellow driver Max Fewtrell, playing a trivia game about how well did they knew each other. Max had to answer what was Lando's worst habit.

"I'm going to say leaving dirty plates around the house," he said, showing his board, "You do mate, admit it."

"My girlfriend would agree on that," he admitted, "She's always complaining about it."

"I don't know how she's still living with you."

"Because she loves me, and I would die if she leaves me."

On the same note, a video of Oscar teasing Lando followed right after.

"Who's most likely to snore?" Lando read the question, and Oscar quickly put ut the cutout with Lando's face, "How are you so sure? You didn't even hesitate."

"Mate, I've heard you, plus your girlfriend literally complained about not being able to sleep properly last night because you kept snoring."

"I did keep her up last night, but it wasn't just because of the snoring," Lando said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Put the not safe for work disclaimer at the beginning of this video please."

The next segment was from Lando's own Youtube channel, he was doing a little vlog in Miami before the race weekend.

"Hi everyone," he said, filming himself in the mirror with his camera, "Today I'm back with another LandoLog, I'm going to be filming some behind the scenes of this Miami weekend, so without further ado, let's go," he moved the camera around, focusing on his girlfriend who was putting some mascara on her eyelashes, "Here's my beautiful girl, who takes ages to get ready. Say hi baby."

"Hi everyone," his girlfriend waved, laughing, "I'm not taking ages, I'm just making sure I look good."

"You always look good for me," Lando said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning the camera back to himself, "See, I told you she's the best."

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar together once again, this time they were giving a tour around the McLaren hub.

"This is my driver's room," Lando said as he opened the door, "It's cleaner than Oscar's, clearly, and looks like I have a bed."

Lando moved to put together the small bed that was behind the door, "This is an upgrade from last year, we didn't have this. I'll be definitely giving it some good use, to nap or with my girlfriend."

"Can we have a video where you're not a horndog please?" Oscar said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You're the horndog, I never said what we were going to use it for, we're just going to cuddle."

The video moved to show one of Lando's post race interviews after winning the Miami GP, he had been asked ho would be the most excited person about this win besides him.

"My girlfriend, definitely. I couldn't have done it without her," Lando said, his voice filled with emotion, "She's been my biggest supporter, my inspiration, and my motivation. This win is as much hers as it is mine."

The video then cut to a scene from Lando's gaming stream with Max Verstappen. The two drivers were deep into a game of Call of Duty, their banter and laughter filling the screen. Lando was focused, his eyes glued to the monitor as he coordinated with Max.

Just then, Lando's phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and his expression softened, the comment section noticing, "Hey, mate, I need to go. My girl needs me for something," he said, setting down his controller.

"Lando! Are you serious right now?" Max said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"I am, see ya," he turned to the camera, smiling not so apologetically "Sorry, guys, duty calls. See you next time."

The last scene was a snippet from an interview, Lando had been asked what he saw in his future.

He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I see a lot of racing, hopefully some championships," he laughed, "but most importantly, I see her. I can't imagine my life without her."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Get you a man who is as down for you as Lando Norris is for his girlfriend.

[chrrymlks]

୨୧﹕ mustang .ᐟ part one

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , slight smut ( makeout , undressing ) , enemies to lovers , getting caught. a/n ; this is based off of the aesthetic and time period of the ‘monsters’ show, but it is NOT based off of the menendez brothers. it is also based on ‘challengers’, specifically the tennis scenes. nicholas is a rich kid in the 1980s in this fic. summary ; after a competitive tennis match between y/n and nicholas, they decide to let their anger out in another way.

A TIE BREAKER is the last thing y/n needed for this match, and she could tell nicholas was furious too, swaying from side to side with his eyebrows furrowed, sweat dripping down his forehead slowly after a long game. it didn’t help that it was in the middle of a heatwave, and y/n’s legs had rubbed together so much that a chafing rash had began to form on her inner thighs. with every movement there was a burning sensation, but at this point she didn’t care — she wanted to make a point to nicholas, that she was better than him. she wanted to humble this rich boy so much, that looking at her in public would anger him.

so, pushing through the pain, y/n got into position and held the tennis ball against her racket, before looking nicholas in the eyes, unafraid of his intense gaze. and without a second thought, she threw the ball up into the air and hit it towards him.

with every grunt and hit of the ball from nicholas, y/n’s heartbeat raced. his muscles glistened in the sunlight as sweat drenched them. it was attractive, sure, but he wasn’t attractive. y/n could never imagine being attracted to him. the spoiled momma’s boy? no fucking way. it only fuelled her need to succeed, to show him who’s boss. so, as soon as she saw the chance, y/n hit the ball as hard as she could to the other side of the net, and without fail the ball bounced just before the baseline before bouncing once again out of the court.

nicholas just watched as he lost — he knew it would’ve been impossible to save himself from that.

as y/n and half of the audience cheered, nick agitatedly rubbed his temples with his left hand, trying to compose himself. this was until he shouted a loud “FUCK!” as he threw his racket on the ground.

y/n laughed at his outburst as they both walked up to the net, “is someone mad?”.

nicholas didn’t answer, putting his hand out for a short handshake. but, instead of letting go, he grabbed y/n’s hand tighter and pulled her in slightly, his eyes locked on hers. nick muttered under his breath, loud enough for only her to hear, “you’re fucking dead to me”, before pushing her hand away and walking off.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. for some reason she felt hurt? it’s not that she liked him, or wanted him to like her. but that was just… mean.

after packing her things and thanking people for congratulating her, y/n began to leave the small stadium with her tennis bag slung over her shoulder. she walked into the parking lot, making her way towards her car and shoving her bag into the trunk before spotting another car — and she knew exactly who’s it was. the red 1965 ford mustang parked next to the lamppost, two rows from her car was obviously nicholas’.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. wondering why he was still here, she decided to walk towards the car.

it seemed like nicholas didn’t realise she was walking up to his driver’s side window since he was looking down, eyes closed as he rubbed his temples in annoyance. the girl stood there for a while, pondering on how to get his attention before clearing her throat.

nicholas flinched before looking up at the girl who just beat him, her face in an awkward expression, “so..”

“no” he cut her off immediately, “fuck off”

y/n was taken aback by his rude remark before responding, “okay, no. stop acting like a fucking child”

“being annoyed about losing is acting like a child?” nick scoffed, opening his car door.

the girl moved to the side so he could get out, her arms folding as she leaned against the expensive car, “yeah, it is”

after he got out of the car, he crossed his arms, mimicking her. she had to look up to him now, as he towered over her with an annoyed smirk on his face, “it’s not my fault you’re a bitch”

“it’s not my fault you’re a sore loser” she retaliates, causing him to take a few small steps closer to her. y/n had to look even further up at him, actually seeing his face now as he blocked the sun with his head. the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat filled her lungs, which was strangely attractive to her.

nicholas spoke in a much softer, yet condescending tone than before, “sore loser, huh?”

“sore.” y/n got in his face, “loser.”

the two sat in the tension for a minute, just inches away from each other’s faces. nicholas inhaled her exhale, and she did the same with him. their eyebrows remained furrowed as they looked into each other’s eyes, filled with hate. you couldn’t tell if he was about to punch her, or kiss her.

that was until the tension broke as they both rushed to smack their lips together in a sloppy yet passionate kiss. nicholas wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist, roughly grasping her, as she moved her hands to his neck — one hand ran through his hair as the other dug her nails into his neck, causing him to let out a grunt, kissing her even rougher.

nicholas removed one of his hands from her body, reaching behind her for the door handle and opening the car door. they both swiftly got into the backseat of the car and slammed the door shut behind them, never breaking the kiss.

he then started placing sloppy kisses along her cheek and down her neck, letting y/n catch her breath as she reached for his biceps. she grabbed his muscles, getting flashbacks from when she observed them on the court.

abruptly, nick moved his hands from her waist to her thighs and pulled her in closer, placing himself in between her legs, causing y/n to let out a gasp. nicholas looked up at her, giving a playful smile which she returned before sharing another rough passionate kiss.

as he moved his hand up her tennis skirt, he lightly grazed his fingertips along her upper thighs. y/n’s body shivered at his touch before a sudden, loud knock on the window interrupted them both.

ah shit.

part i | part ii

[rindreamery]

two hands on me.

you had agreed to keep your relationship with itoshi rin a secret. but after an important win, he decides he doesn't want to keep you a secret any longer. f1!itoshi rin x reader ─ fluff, angst if you squint, w.c. 1.6k+ ─ content: kissing/making out

note. watched that one f1 wag edit of nicole scherzinger and the helmet kiss, and i had to write about this IMMEDIATELY. just with a twist cuz i didn't know how to make a helmet kiss romantic LMAO

it’s late, but the roar of the crowd is lively and deafening around you. it's echoing in your ears.

you stand there in the midst of it, hands clasped together, behind the divider that separates you from the track. but you’re ignoring the noise as you focus on itoshi rin, the man of the hour. there’s tears of overwhelming joy and pride brimming in your eyes, and your heart is racing with excitement from the buzz of watching such a victory.

he’s just finished the race; he’s barely stepping out of his race car before he’s being bombarded by the people around him. you’re not surprised by this. this victory, it’s big. so big. one of the most important in his career, and the entire world is watching him, cheering for him. there’s people who have traveled from all over the world, just to be able to watch him. their phones are pointed at him, immortalizing this moment, and other people are fighting for a sliver of his time.

he deserves every second of this.

you’d been a witness to his hard work; you were there every step of the way. from the long training periods, to the excruciating workout regiment he had to endure to make sure his body was ready for this circuit, and the long hours spent doubting if he could really do it all. you (and him) know better than anyone else that he was meant to win.

you want him to shine. 

but the selfish part of you wants him to know that you’re also watching him, that you’re cheering for him too. that part of you that wants to run onto the track and join him, to hold his face in your hands and tell him how absolutely proud you are. to keep all his attention to yourself, to kiss him until neither of you can breathe. but you stay in your spot— you know you can’t.

all you can do is watch from afar.

your relationship is a secret, after all. a mutual, and carefully hidden truth between the two of you. it was agreed on, after a deep conversation, that it was probably within your best interest to keep it that way. he didn’t want you to get bombarded by his fans. he knew better than anyone else how it felt like to have random people poke their noses into his business, and he didn't want that for you. and you didn’t want to put a damper on his career, knowing that it could ultimately result in the loss of support for him. this is for the best, so you stay hidden.

(but, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck to not be able to publicly support him the way he deserves.)

it’s a given that you’re not expecting him to look your way— not here, not now. not when he’s basking in the glory of his victory in a crowd of thousands. his crew was crowding him, equally as thrilled as the audience, and paparazzis were swarming around with flashing cameras all asking for his attention.

right now, you weren’t itoshi rin’s girlfriend. you were just another fan in the crowd, standing there, heart filled with pride and joy.

you’re just about ready to leave, uninterested in going onto the track to watch the podium celebrations, ready to escape the crowd and go back to your shared home. you’ve set your mind on the fact that you’re content on congratulating him when he gets back, surprising him with his favorite meal.

but you don’t get far before the crowd erupts again, and this time, everyone’s pushing past one another to get into your section. you don’t even think about it. you just act on instinct, stepping closer to the barrier once again, curiosity getting the best of you.

and then you see him.

he’s breaking free from the chaos, his eyes scanning the crowd with an urgency you’ve never seen before. and there, in the middle of it all, his eyes land on you. your gazes connect, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. he stumbles for a second, momentarily shoved back by the crowd. and then, the next second— there’s no hesitation in his movements as he pushes past the people, ignoring the gasps of offense.

alarms go off in your head; he’s jogging straight towards you.

he still hasn’t stripped himself of his driving kit, not caring enough about that in that moment. he’s still wearing his helmet, face covered and unreadable, and his hands are still wrapped in his gloves.

but then he’s ripping his gloves off, haphazardly throwing them on the ground behind him as he makes a beeline for you. he’s undoing the clasp of his helmet with clumsy hands, and he doesn’t bother to push it fully off, awkwardly laying on top of his head. once his face is no longer blocked by the tinted plastic, you see that his eyes are staring straight at you. there’s a look of set determination on his face, and you can’t deny the feeling of nervousness that washes over you.

for once, it feels like you don't know what he's thinking of doing.

and then rin’s standing in front of you within seconds, and his breath is ragged and uneven from the jog. but he doesn’t wait to catch his breath. not when all he can think of this one thing: his second win of the night. he doesn’t wait for a word from you— no, he doesn’t have the patience. he doesn’t ask for permission. he’s jumping over the barrier, and his hands are gripping at your hips in a heartbeat, pulling you to him.

"tell me," he’s giving you an out before he does something he can’t take back. “tell me if you don’t want me, this, right now.”

you’re not sure what he means, but you answer anyway. “i want this.”

then everything becomes a blur; it all happens so fast. your mind is still reeling from the shock. from how rin’s acting. and you’re overwhelmed by thoughts of the cameras, now all pointed towards you, and rin standing right in front of you. real, and very much not a hallucination. you’re barely able to register anything before one of his hands is traveling up, pushing at the back of your head to pull you into a kiss.

you freeze, unsure of what to do.

you can't help but make a noise of surprise when you make contact with him. it’s soft at first. his lips are moving with yours in a shallow, but hungry, kiss. as if the words he couldn't say were being poured into it, into you. and then his hand is traveling to the nape of your neck, pressing gently against it, and he’s tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

one of your hands instinctively fly up to cradle his jaw, palm cupping his cheeks, gently. the other hand clings onto the collar of his tracksuit, knuckles turning white from your grip.

his hold on you is firm, grounding you, constantly pulling and clutching at you to keep you close to his body. you can feel the desperation, the way his lips stay locked on yours even as you both run out of breath. even when your mind starts to grow fuzzy, and your brain starts to signal for air. as if, in his mind, you would run away from this.

but you don’t. you would never.

in that moment, the world falls into silence around you. the noise from the crowd fades into the background, and it's just you and him. no cameras, no flashing lights. even the plastic of his helmet, digging into the skin of your head, doesn’t bother you. you know nothing but the feeling of his lips against yours, his two hands on you, and the way his heart is beating in sync with yours.

“rin–” you gasp, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. you're coming to your senses, and your palms are weakly pushing at his chest to pull away from him momentarily. but his hands keep you in place, not wanting to let go. “hold on— i thought we were keeping this a secret? so many people are watching us right now.”

you hate this feeling of being pulled back into the present. the fact that you can feel the overbearing presence of the cameras, and how you can practically feel the stares burning holes into the back of your head. but he’s quick to pull your attention back on him, one hand squeezing at your hip reassuringly, the other tilting your chin to face him. his face softens at your words, almost looking guilty, and his eyes filled with tenderness and vulnerability.

focus on me, you can almost hear him say. it's just me.

you're looking at him expectantly, and he can see the worry in your eyes. this is sudden, he's aware, and he knows you both made an agreement. but rin’s never cared much for the approval of the media— he'd only ever cared about you. it’s his, and your, life and no one else’s business.

he'd made up his mind already. he's willing to fight anyone who insults you, and he doesn't care if he loses the support of some fans. (he knows he'll gain more anyway.) he wants to show everyone who’s been truly supporting him.

his number one fan. the one who's behind all his successes.

rin doesn’t want to hide you any longer— he doesn’t want you to hide any longer. he wants the world to know what’s his.

“i don’t care if they're watching,” he breathes against your lips, forehead resting against yours. your breaths are still shallow, chests heaving against each others, but he’s leaning in again for another. “i want to show off my biggest win.”

and his lips are on yours once again.

© rindreamery, 2024

[shitpostingsapphic]

Why I don't feel disappointed by Vi's arc, but you might

I usually have pretty strong and polarizing opinions when it comes to my takes on Arcane, but this is one where I wanna open up the discussion a bit more and invite people to my perspective, and it's fine if you don't see it this way.

I think there are two primary reasons why people feel disappointed by the arc of s2 Vi. The first, being that Vi had stronger voiced concerns about the state of Zaun in the first season. The second, being that she spent the whole show wanting to be with her sister and she didn't end up getting that.

Why I actually feel fulfilled in Vi's arc has to do with these two points, and I invite you to sit with what I have to say next.

Both of these parts of Vi have to do with her fatal flaw: her neglect of self.

We know two things based on what the creators have said about the show: the theme of Arcane is the cycle of violence, and the entire show was written together, instead of season 2 being written after season 1 production. From this, I can then ask: what do the creators want to tell their audience about this message, knowing they wrote it all out together, knowing the events of season 2 were very purposeful, using Vi as a conduit for that message?

If violence is a cycle, can one person defy it? No, of course not. At the start of Vi's arc, she wants to be a person that breaks it, though. She wants to change things in Zaun, wants a better life for her sister. As season 1 continues on, she wants to pick up where she left off with Powder without truly processing the gravity of the years between them. She thinks she can hold the world on her shoulders and fix any problem that comes her way. She thinks she can use her fists to make progress, thinks she can physically reach out and create change, but it only contributes to the cycle. And that's not because she's morally in the wrong when she does so, but she doesn't grasp yet that her fists can't fix everything. Vander tries to tell her as such in act 1, and it's a lesson that goes beyond just the literal application.

Vi's tendency to try and fix everything around her leads to her neglect of self. Inevitably, when you try to change things you have no control over, it leaves wounds. It leaves a person feeling like something is deeply wrong with them. And we watch Vi go down this spiral. I actually find myself really brokenhearted watching Vi in the first 2 acts, because I think she represents a lot of us: we see pain and devastation around us, but we don't know what the right thing to do is. We try different tactics and try to fix things and are left wondering why things feel worse than how they started.

I think that's something a lot of viewers could benefit to reflect on: I think in watching a show with strong political messaging, we yearn for a message that tells us the answers to these big problems. Truthfully, most of us don't have a fucking clue what we're doing. We want change but don't know how to see it through. That includes the writers. This isn't a show about the solution to political strife. It's about the cycle of violence. It's about not knowing how to change something that's been continuous throughout history in some form.

If we put ourselves in Vi's shoes, it would eventually take a toll on us to try and change something that isn't within our ability to change. Vi can't fix the problems in Zaun. Vi can't change the way time and distance and pain has warped her sister into someone else. In season 2 act 1, she's still trying to take responsibility for things that are outside of her control. She blames herself for the way Jinx has changed and has to tell herself that the only way to fix it is to end the cycle with her own fists. She teams up with Caitlyn because she's convinced herself it's the only way she can help. She sees how violence has devastated not only Zaun but innocents in Piltover as well, and she feels responsible for it.

BUT SHE IS NOT AT FAULT. And she cannot fix it any more than she could have created it.

Perhaps people may feel Vi's arc is lacking because they wanted to see more of her involvement in the revolution of Zaun. They wanted to see her be able to change the situation with her sister and for them to live happily together. But because of the circumstances surrounding both, for Vi to do so, she would inevitably lean into her fatal flaw. She cannot do either of those things without neglecting herself. That's not who she is.

The whole point of a character arc is for someone to be a changed person from beginning to end. If Vi starts out as someone passionate about enacting change to the point of self-destruction, what would a resolution for a character like that look like?

Vi needs to choose herself. Vi needs to release herself of the responsibility of changing the world. She can't do it. There are ways to contribute to positive change that don't involve putting the world on your shoulders, and Vi has yet to put herself first in any situation. Vi choosing love is how she does it.

Amanda Overton, one of the main writers that contributed to Vi's character and the Caitlyn and Vi dynamic and relationship, said about Vi: "If she has no one left to protect, she would fall in love". If Vi finally lets go of this crutch of hers to protect, to fight, to take responsibility for things that aren't her burden to bear, she would fall in love. She would finally be able to choose something for herself.

This is why I find her arc fulfilling. I feel like it's not an arc we really see a lot. It's not every day we have a character that starts out like the classic anime slash marvel protagonist, and instead of being the person that saves the world, they accept they're not a superhero and it's okay to choose love and personal happiness.

If it applies, and you're reading this, I want you to ask yourself: are you perhaps disappointed with her arc because you expected her to be the superhero? And would you be okay with accepting that she isn't and doesn't need to be? That it would be better for her to choose herself?

[cyber333angel]

SEVIKA X CAMGIRL!READER !!

finally convincing your girlfriend to join you on your stream you realize later on how much of a mistake that was..

a/n — i didn’t like how this turned out but enjoy ☺️ it has usage of strap on, overstimulation, and kind of in public because your being recorded

three times a week you stream videos for your viewers in the office of the apartment you and sevika share, wearing the most gorgeous and revealing lingerie as always. just a one hour show gaining you about 200 bucks to just do stuff you and your girlfriend do every night for some randos. when you started dating her you had only just started to test the waters of cam shows and hadn’t gone all in yet, so when you told her about your recent hobby she was surprisingly not against it at all. in fact it’s how the two of you started to explore your sexual relationship with each other, trying out stuff you never thought you would do, but being comfortable with anyway because it was just the two of you. eventually you grew into the routine of your streams and wanted sevika to join you, always whining and pouting about wanting her to play with you but she would always decline, saying it was a nuisance.

however when you asked her to at least watch you she said yes, the show lasting a whopping 20 minutes before she told you to turn it off just so she could have her way with you, messing up all your pretty clothes and leaving you with tears in your eyes. you told sevika how you really wanted her to join you, pleading and letting her do anything she wanted to just so that she would agree. and she actually gave in after a couple of weeks of begging as she usually does because she could never resist when it comes to you, talking over it with her and making sure she 100% was okay with it. the two of you decided to do it next week when she came home from work and you would have a new set of lingerie coming in from the mail, courtesy of sevika as per usual!

when the day came you were nervous for some reason when you were putting together your set up, this routine had became normal to you but now that your girlfriend was joining you - your nerves were on 10. and it wasn’t a bad nervous feeling, no you just know what things people suggest to you in your chatbox and you just know how it might make your girlfriend a bit dramatic and jealous. you hear the front door close and your stream is about to start in 15 minutes, giving you enough time to gather yourself. walking out of the office you greet your girlfriend with open arms to give her a hug, “hi baby.” sevika says, kissing your forehead as the two of you rock together side to side at the doorway. “missed you sevi” nodding into her chest you feel a wave of relief rushing through you when your in her arms and all your nerves come down as you take in her scent.

you guys get started in the room, the stream starting as soon as you hit the red button, you look to sevika to see her leaning back on the desk, watching you set up. “go on.” she mouths to you as she puts out the cigarette she had, taking a gulp you turn on your camera to face you, your viewers flooding in going from 10 to 100 in mere minutes.

you greet them as you always do, of course added with the introduction of your special guest. “on tonights show we do have a special guest so get ready..” turning around you motion for sevika to come closer, walking up to the camera with that sway in her hips as she arrives on the screen.

telling your audience all about your girlfriend and what to expect for the stream, “don’t forget to hit the like button and enjoy the show!” you say as you look back to sevika, seeing her sat in the chair of the vanity that your camera is placed on as she watches you, “c’mere and sit down.” she says and you immediately walk to her with a smile, climbing onto her lap. making yourself comfortable while you hold her face seeing how cute she looks looking up at you, examining your face as she always does until you lower your lips to hers, kissing her so deeply and passionately. your girlfriend raises her arms to your ass as she breaths into the kiss, its always crazy how just a quick make out session could make you soaked and needy for her. and in this moment is when sevika realizes why she declined so many times when you asked her to join the stream, it was just the thoughtless “no.” each time but now she knew why.

she didn’t want to share this side of you with anyone, she didn’t want everyone to see how dumb she would make you by only shoving her tongue down your throat. the pathetic pretty sight of you that only she could make you experience was only for her eyes, deciding to make this quick even if it would end with tears. sevika still had her hands gripping the globes of your ass tightly as the puddle in your panties kept getting damper, moans coming from you as you moved on to your girlfriends neck. sucking and making bite marks all over her while sevika looked at the chatbox, people commenting “that’s so hot..” and other lustful thoughts while they watched you did much more than tick sevika off, making her scrunch her face in annoyance. sevika switches back to you taking your jaw in her hands gently, “lets go to the bed yeah?” making you nod your head while you get up from her lap to prop the camera next to the bed. crawling onto the comforter you face sevika at the end of it, lifting your chin up for a kiss as she slides down her boxers to reveal her strap underneath. it was a black dildo that was about 7 inches long with some girth around it, it was always a struggle to take all of it but sevika makes sure all of it fits every time. “get it nice and wet for me like you always do baby” following you with her eyes as you lower your head down, taking the silicon in your hands as you put it to your mouth giving it kisses at the tip.

taking the whole thing into your mouth stretches your jaw open, sevika bucking her hips forward a bit to force it down your throat a bit more, it makes you gag. gripping at your girlfriends thighs as you suck her dick, tears already trickling from your eyes when the rubber reaches as far as it can in your mouth, taking a bit more than half of it. “there you go baby, just like that.. my pretty girl.” that last part is said while she holds your jaw up to face her, your mouth still filled with her dick inside as she slides it out. by this point you have already long forgotten about your stream, which had previously never ever happened to you before, you were always in control when it came to your streams but sevikas presence in itself is enough to cloud your judgement.

that’s how you know end up laying on your back as you grip and pull at the sheets your currently laying on, with sevikas dick pushing deeper and deeper into your cunt. moans overflowing from your mouth as your stomach tenses,your hips rocking back and forth with your girlfriends large hands holding them harshly. your in missionary position and your lingerie is long gone— facing her but avoiding her piercing eyes by squeezing them shut, a series of pleads coming from your mouth. “hngh vika s’too much!” her name falling out your mouth so easily brings a smile to sevikas face every time face. “such a fucking crybaby, relax..” you don’t know how she can tell you to relax when she’s thrusting into you so hard, hitting that same spot repeatedly that she knows makes you go crazy. moving her hand from your hips sevika brings her fingers to your neglected clit, circling the bud crudely when your hands fly to your mouth.

it’s way too much for you and sevika knows that but it’s what makes it all the more fun for her to watch, seeing you struggle and cry because of her hands on you like this. “don’t cover your mouth, let em hear you c’mon” she says pulling your hands from your mouth, tears welling from your eyes as she holds your hands to her stomach with one hand. “know how much i like to hear that pretty voice..” still rubbing at your bud you feel yourself cumming, your face scrunching up and your chest heaving up and down. “m’cumming sev please..” pleading for her to help you get there, sevika rocks into you deeper as your hips flow together. your so soaked that your cunt can be heard loud and clear on the camera, a harsh plap-plap-plap echoing in the room even though the camera is more than a few feet away from the bed, you can’t even imagine what the people in the chat are saying and you honestly couldn’t care at the moment.

you are too focused on how good sevikas making you feel and it almost makes you forget how to breathe but sevika can just tell how close you were. “yeah you gonna cum for us sweet girl? you love it when im deep inside you like this huh..” she says looking at the camera, turning back to see you nodding your head as your eyes go half lidded, feeling the coil in your stomach snapping with the help of sevikas words. legs quivering on her shoulders you coat the black silicon in your slick, a white ring covering the base. you twitch as your back arches off the bed, sevika watching you with praiseful eyes, if she wasn’t so focused on getting her baby to cum she probably would have came herself.

but she’s “kind” enough to let you catch your breath for a couple of seconds before sliding her dick out of your messy pussy, a uttering cry pulled from your throat as you instinctively close your legs from the loss. she pulls your legs to the edge of the bed as she kneels down on the floor, “open your legs.” is said with a impatient tone, waiting for you to defer to what she told you. “mm sevi I can’t! already came just now, I need a break..” instantly feeling your cheeks get hotter as you watch sevikas face, a stare you don’t get too often but when you do, you know that your doing something your not supposed to be doing. “you know im not gonna repeat myself baby..” a quiet whimper coming from you as you do as your told, shyly opening your legs for your girlfriend. she holds your thighs down to your stomach, they already ache and she hadn’t even begun to torture you yet.

lowering her head down, sevika laps at your soaked cunt, slurping and licking up stripes to your clit. you can’t even attempt to keep your moans to yourself, gripping at the sheets below you as you cry’s fill the room, your babbling to her about how it’s too much while your legs quiver and hesitate to close on sevikas head. “so fucking wet..this is all for me huh baby?” she says as she thrust her fingers into your hole, already soaked from the strap that was deep inside you just moments ago. leaving you panting as she holds your thighs down to the bed, licking up all your slick as if she hadn’t eaten for days, the sight alone was more than enough to make you overwhelmed as you feel yourself cumming again. “vika, vika sevika- please m’cumming again!” you hiccup, gripping at the dark brunettes hair, uncontrollably grinding your messy cunt against sevikas face trying to chase that sweet relief. she rolls her tongue against your clit while leaving trails of praise every time she comes up to kiss at your thigh or look at you, with her focus fixated completely on you as your legs shake around her head, squeezing your teary eyes shut with a cry. “taste so sweet..” is whispered as sevika gets up from in between your legs to give you a kiss on your forehead, “did so good for me baby.” you hear from her, walking over to your camera set up. in the midst of all this you completely forgot you were even filming, your head way up in the clouds of pleasure and you were completely embarrassed. you watch as she grumbles to the camera and signs off of it, walking back to you with a smile. sitting on the edge of the bed with her hand cupping your face while her thumb rubs across the soft flesh of your cheek, “do you usually make 1k everytime you stream? I didn’t know I was missing out on miss celebrity over here.” she says with a chuckle and your just laying there with shocked eyes, you never made that amount of money before for a show, in fact you just barely started to make 200. “and I love you baby but im never doing this again.” your girlfriend says with her stern tone as usual ending with a kiss on your forehead, nodding to her, you knew you were definitely gonna make her do this again.

[hellotailor]

armand’s costumes are such an interesting data point re: his nebulous sense of identity.

when analyzing any costume, there are always many factors to consider: the setting, the character’s personal taste and economic constraints, storytelling concerns like tone and genre, etc. with armand, we also need to remember that he’s 500 years old and violently disconnected from his human origins. everything he wears has an element of disguise, selected to blend into a new environment.

armand was enslaved as a child in 16th century delhi, and barely remembers his mortal life. unlike louis - who can return to new orleans after 80 years and reconnect with his past - armand has no home to return to. his whole backstory, even his name, is rife with traumatic subtext, leaving him with an obsessive need for structure and control. this adds an extra layer of meaning to costuming choices that initially seem like straightforward menswear. 

armand’s 1940s wardrobe is very put-together - primarily three-piece suits and coats that make him look wealthier and more formal than louis, who is purposefully dressing down. most of these outfits are tailored to bulk up armand's frame, leaning into the "maitre" persona. and like his business-casual dubai wardrobe, he always leaves his collar open. when i interviewed costume designer carol cutshall, she described this as a symbolic power move, signalling that he's an apex predator who doesn't need to protect his throat.

my personal interpretation is that while armand clearly likes to look good, he has a complicated relationship with attractiveness. he doesn't always want to draw attention. his color palette is shadowy (black, grey, brown, olive green), and he’s much less flashy than the other Théâtre vamps. however when he’s feeling confident and flirty, he becomes more of a power-dresser - for instance his hunting outfit with the big coat and sunglasses, or his habit of wearing kohl.

interestingly, most of armand's 1940s costumes set him apart from the coven. the Théâtre vampires dress like cabaret performers, embracing a lot of period-specific styles. by contrast armand is more timeless and neutral. in fact, due to the relatively minor changes in men's suits over the past 100 years, there's a lot of overlap between his wardrobe in the 1940s, '70s and 2020s:

the rest of the Théâtre squad share an unofficial uniform of boldly clashing monochrome patterns with pops of bright color. meanwhile armand has a very plain wardrobe, emphasizing the image of him as a businesslike authority figure surrounded by zany artistes. he only wears subtle stripes on a few occasions in the '40s, reflecting the recurring prison motif we see in lestat's trial suit and (most famously) the dubai penthouse bedroom:

if we ask the question, "what does this person like to wear?" there are easy answers for lestat, louis and claudia. we understand their tastes, and the motives behind them. but armand is more enigmatic. we can recognize through-lines in his wardrobe, but his "taste" is dominated by whatever role he's currently decided to embody, whether that's a parisian theater director or a real estate mogul in dubai.

the times when he appears to have the most fun with clothing are when he steals a pair of sunglasses from his human dinner (!) and when he's pretending to be rashid. in other words, when he's explicitly performing for an audience. "real armand" is still a mystery.

(i may write more about armand's dubai wardrobe later, but for now, you can find all of my iwtv costumes posts on this tag!)