#and the fact that the same people have worked with him since the beginning speaks volumes

[marianasofiaibarra]

real talk i don’t actually like most current late night talk shows because i find the hosts boring/annoying/terrible and their shows are tiring and repetitive and there’s no room to flourish. the ones i do enjoy are because they’re actually innovative, they do know how to conduct interviews in a way that the guests feel comfortable and are actually heard, they involve their staff and genuinely feels like they appreciate the people that work with/for them and are engaging with the audience

[nerdy-novelist017]

i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!

Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!

Word Count- 2k+

Summary- See request above.

Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club. 

Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door. 

“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking. 

“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”

“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”

Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.

“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation. 

“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”

You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you? 

But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.

******

Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore. 

You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent. 

Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you. 

You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence. 

“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.

Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”

He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.” 

You shrugged. “Not much happened.”

“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you. 

You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”

You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”

He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”

“What were they saying?”

You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look. 

He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me,” he was quick to say. 

“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.

Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”

“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”

“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.

“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”

“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.

“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.” 

“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you. 

Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times. 

He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!” 

He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.

His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”

You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict  @elizabeth916  @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @dudii4love @ironmooncat  @beebeechaos  @astrogrande  @pearlparty  @themorriganisamonster  @sillylittlethrowaway  @ughdontbeboring  @penwieldingdreamer  @charmingballoon  @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans  @groovyangelkisses  @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit  @pomtherine  @tranquilty  @m00npjm  @twisteduniverse5  @justsomewritingblog  @nhlfs  @thepassionatereader  @rebecca-hvnstn  @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations  @buckysteveloki-me  @simsiddy  @zablife  @sansaorgana  @autumnleaves1991-blog  @charmingballoon  @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey  @cynic-spirit @pomtherine  @ilovehyperfixating  @xcallmetaniax  @lovenewfandoms  

[visibleclosedeyes]

Gap in my heart (Literally)

pairing: Mr. Gap x reader

“Hello”

While you prepare to work in your bedroom–doing your makeup and hair, putting on your uniform–ready for the day ahead, a chilling but familiar voice calls you. 

“Mr. Gap? Uh. Me not play,” You said without turning your head toward the voice. Since the day you managed to get out of that  Otherworld, Mr.Gap has consistently shown up in your space in the gap in the wall, in different containers, and so forth. At this point, you kinda have a domestic relationship together. Boyfriend? You wouldn’t go that far, but something is there. 

“Disappointed” Mr. Gap narrowed his eyes before asking another question 

“Where go?”

“Same place every day, Mr. Gap. Working. uh–Me work, same work.”

“Why?” He asks, eyes still narrowed–displaying an unreadable expression that you guess to be some kind of discontentment. It surprised you really–Mr. Gap isn’t a high-maintenance type and he never asked you these questions before. What changed?

“Uh…Work hunger gone,”

“Work stop hunger?” He seems interested now. 

“Not exactly. Work gives things, and things get food.” You try again to explain to Mr. Gap the concept of monetary exchange and bill to the best of your ability. 

“....not understand, residents don’t need work. Why work?”

“Humans need work, me human…Mr. Gap, why curious now?” You ask a question of your own. 

“Me bored, Stay,” 

“Can’t. Need work,”

“Disappointed” He responds, the conversation sounds like it goes back to the very beginning. 

“Give finger?”

“No,”

“Disappointed” He repeats yet again before disappearing. 

Working is hard. Living in the human world is hard. You know this already but it seems like every day her co-workers really remind her of that fact. Today is just another day of demoralizing work days. Getting yelled at by your boss because of your co-worker's mistake is not fun. In the parking lot, you are sitting there with a cigarette between your fingers contemplating whether or not to murder your co-worker, literally speaking. Suddenly between the gap in the wall opposite to you, a familiar pair of eyes pop up.

“Hello”

“Mr. Gap??! How did you..? Oh right, you can show up in any gap,”

“Human trouble?”

“Its nothing, just hard day at work,”

“Me solve problem, give me finger,”

“What? No! Not give finger,”

“Boring. Goodbye,”

Almost every day was the same old same old—your co-worker is an annoying asshole who purposefully caused issues just so he could blame it on you.

“Where are the documents the boss asked you to do?” Speaks of the devil… the most annoying face among the co-workers in this shitshow of a company has shown up like a fucking ghost the moment she starts thinking about her job

“What? What documents?” She answers truthfully. What fucking documents? And why is she hearing this just now?

“Seriously, the boss wants you to be the one to do it. you’re seriously irresponsible. Why did they even hire you?” He said with such a fake shocked expression on his face. Wait, so the boss told him…

"Boss told you this and you never told me?” she asked him in disbelief

"You never ask me to tell you, you should have been more active,” He snickers with a smug smile. Oh, this irritating fucker.

2 months and 1 week. She has sworn off killing people for exactly two months. Like a proud ex-addict, she wears that pride quietly on her mind, unable to announce how prideful she is for not killing some random pedestrians who show up in an abandoned apartment. She wants to keep it that way, but this man seems to be testing her patience. She is going to lose it and kill this guy on his way home. 

"There is still time left. You can take responsibility and be active for once. Give me a call once you are finished!”

your palms curl into a fist full of hate and rage–this man has no idea who he is up against. She fantasizes about the different ways she would go about killing him. Her regular method of a crowbar to the head would be the safest route but this guy is a piece of shit to her so far and she wants to do something special for him.

No, she doesn't want to kill these days. Hunting and killing seems to be a hobby she lost interest in a while ago. Now, she simply wishes for a more simple life after all those lives she proudly took. 

(not finish)

One day, when she was working as per usual–she hears the sound of that asshole screaming from the restroom

"I swear! I saw it there! a pair of creepy eyes between the crack in the wall inside the male restroom!”

"some pervert looking into the male toilet?”

"No! I…I don't think it's human–when I saw it, it just disappeared into thin air!”

"I think you should go see a doctor”

“Yeah, are you I'll or something? Did you hear a voice in your head too?”

“S–shut up! Stop mocking me! I fucking saw it, Ok?!” 

It seems like vacation comes to visit you early this year as she hears one of the best but most shocking of all week. Her asshole co-worker has decided to quit, it also seems like he has been scared shitless and borderline losing his mind at something that most people don't seem to understand. Many think that he cracked under constant pressure but she has a better idea of what might have happened. She didn’t think to ask of him at this current time but it seemed like he could read her mind somehow when she found him manifesting in her bag, a pair of gleeful, teasing eyes with an otherworldly smile somehow made her heart skip beats. 

“Mr.Gap!”

“Hello. Me good resident.” 

“I heard about the haunting spirit between the wall’s gap in the male bathroom—did you do it? The guy who tormented me quit”

“Me solve problems, me good resident,”

“Yeah, that was a good one. Good, thank you”

“Give good resident finger?”

“No”

“Disappointed”

[munsonsmixtapes]

One Single Thread of Gold Tied Me to You

Evan "Buck" Buckley x fem!reader

summary: After many failed attempts to set you up with someone, Hen and Karen finally decide to set you up with Buck since you both seem to have so much in common. But when you both decline, you keep seeing him around town which leads you begin to wonder if maybe it's fate that you're meant to be together.

cw: wee bit of hurt/comfort

You sit at the restaurant, waiting for your friends to meet you as you peruse the menu, deciding what you’re going to order. You hear your name being called and turn to see Hen and Karen making their way towards you with bright smiles on their faces. You stand up from your chair and pull them into hugs before they sit across from you, picking up their own menus that are on the table in front of them. 

The three of you have been doing these lunch dates for almost a year now and it‘s something that all of you always look forward to. You work with Karen at the lab and after befriending you, she decided to introduce you to her wife and the rest was history. You‘ve become an honorary part of their family and have never taken that for granted, always thanking them for taking you under their wing. 

“So what’s new with you?” Karen asks, her gaze moving up to you from her menu. You don’t have to ask to know what she‘s getting at. You’ve been chronically single since you’ve known her and she and Hen have been trying to set you up with several people that they know as soon as they found out that you weren’t attached. 

“Nothing,” you sigh, setting your menu down on the table. “You know that. So let’s just get this over with.”

“This one’s good, we swear,” Hen assures you and you just roll your eyes. 

“You said that last time and he picked his nose right in front of me before he ate what came out.” The two of them grimace at your words and you can’t help but do the same as the memory plays in your head. 

“Well, this one’s different,” Karen says as she rests her hand on top of yours. How many times is she going to say that before it’s true? 

“And we apologize for you having to see that,” Hen pipes up. 

“Alright,” you sigh. “Lay it on me.” Maybe you’ll give them one more chance and if they blow it once again, you’ll fire them from their job as your matchmakers. 

“We don’t know why we haven’t thought of him before, but it’s Buck.” Buck. The name sounds familiar, definitely one you’ve heard in passing, but for some reason, you can’t match a face to it. 

“Buck?” You’ve never met him and are hesitant to believe either of them considering past events. 

“Yeah, you’ve heard us talk about him before. He’s the one who always has interesting facts.” That’s right. He works with Hen and even though you’re both very close to her, somehow, your paths never seem to cross. 

“Right, so is that the only thing we have in common?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Karen rolls her eyes. “He’s also not doing great in the relationship department.”

“So you think that by setting us up, we’ll just automatically hit it off? That’s not how it works.” 

“Obviously we’ve factored in much more than that, babe. We understand if you’re not interested, but we feel like this could really work.” Karen’s the one to speak this time.  You’re so over the two of them trying to set you up and are just wanting to be alone until you find someone on your own. 

“Fine,” you reply, pointing a finger at Hen, then at Karen. “But this is your last chance.”

“Well, hopefully this will be the last time we’ll need to set you up.”

“Fingers crossed this one sticks.” Considering that you’re giving them one last chance, you’re really hoping that it’s going to go well. 

“Bobby is having a party next Saturday to celebrate Buck’s birthday and we figured you could meet him there.”

“Okay,” you nod. “What should I get him?”

“Well, we got him a video game he’s really been wanting and it’s part of a series so maybe you could get him the next one?” Hen suggests, but you feel lame getting him something that one of his friends told you to. You want it to be genuine. 

“I’ll think of something,” you respond and just then, a waiter comes to take your order. 

The rest of lunch is spent talking about Buck and how the two of you are allegedly perfect for each other. That remains to be seen, but you’re still holding out hope. Hoping that he really is a good guy and that even if you don’t hit it off romantically, that maybe the two of you can be friends. 

You don’t know why you feel so good about this one, but you’re at least going to try to see what could happen. From what you’ve heard, he seems nice and you really want Hen to be right about this one. And considering that she actually knows him well unlike your other dates, you’re believing that this could be the one to stick. 

“So, what does he look like?” You ask as the three of you head to your vehicles. 

“Look up his Instagram, it’s evanbuckley, all lowercase,” Karen replies and you’re quick to pull out your phone and type in the username into the search bar in the app, tapping on the first profile in the list of results. You go through his photos and can’t help but notice how attractive he is. You’re going to have to do a deep dive later. 

He seems normal enough, but that was what you thought about all the others. You weren’t holding your breath, but at the same time, Hen and Karen seemed much more excited about this one. Maybe it was because they actually knew him and he wasn’t a friend of a friend of a friend or a distant relative of someone they knew. That actually knew him personally which seemed promising. Could Buck actually be the one?

“Yeah, no thanks,” Buck says as sits at the table at the station. He just wants to eat his breakfast in peace and here’s Hen badgering him about going out with you. 

He’s sure that you’re a nice girl and all, but he’s been burned too many times to go down that road again. Buck has also fallen victim to Hen and Karen’s set ups and he’s not doing it anymore. He can’t. He just wants his “me time” that he thinks he deserves after his most recent breakup.  

“Just look at this picture, then.” Hen slides her phone across the table and Buck picks it up, staring down at the photo of you. You’re with Hen and Karen, of course, on Hen’s left while Karen is on the right. You’re all beaming at the camera and Buck can’t help but notice how pretty you are. 

“I also have this one,” she says, swiping to the left to show a selfie of you. It’s a mirror selfie and Buck’s eyes almost bug out at the tight, black dress you’re wearing. He hates how attracted he already is to you and he hasn’t even actually met you yet. 

“Yeah, no thanks,” he shakes his head as he hands the phone back to Hen. He doesn’t want another disaster date on his record. 

But the truth is that he does want to settle down, but he’s scared to actually take the leap. He can thank his abandonment issues for that. He’s been in therapy for that among other issues and he’s still concerned about people leaving him because it’s happened time and time again. 

He wants to find someone who will stay, who he can wake up next to every day for the rest of his life, who he can cuddle up with on the couch after a long day at work. As he thinks about your photo, he wonders if you could be that for him. But he really doesn’t want to log another date in his journal that his therapist made him keep to jot down his thoughts so he can navigate his feelings. 

Buck then spends the rest of the shift thinking about you and whether he should tell Hen that he changed his mind. He’s pondering the “what ifs” about the whole thing, trying to make the best decision for himself. What if you’re the one for him? He doesn’t believe in the whole soulmate thing, but now he can’t help but think about the fact that you could be the one he will spend forever with. 

“Did you know that forty-three percent of Americans have gone on a blind date, but only one out of four are actually successful?” he asks Hen as the two of them hop into the engine, Eddie, Ravi, and Chimney following. “So that’s only a twenty-five success rate.”

“Why are you giving us blind stats, Buck?” Chimney asks as he sits across from Buck, buckling his seatbelt while everyone mimics his actions before putting on the headsets.

“I think Hen and Karen are trying to set him up again,” Eddie responds, giving Buck a nudge with his shoulder. 

“But it’s different this time,” Hen tells him. 

“If I had a nickel,” Buck mutters under his breath as the engine starts up. He’s not going to go out with you, even though he kind of wants to. If he wants to go on a date, it will be with someone he meets organically, not someone his friend tried to set him up with.

Living in a major city, it wasn’t uncommon to see or hear ambulances, fire engines, and police sirens. But it was different seeing them on your street, so close that you could see them down in the cul-de-sac from your bedroom window. It seemed like the fire department was just putting out a small fire. No one was injured from what you could tell. You were mostly seeing when they were going to move since they were blocking your car, but really, you wanted to get a better look at the cute firefighters, your eyes drawn to the one who was using the hose, the name “Buckley” on the back of it. 

Was that-no way. It couldn’t be. But then you see someone who looks scarily like Hen and you decide that it has to be Buck. What are the odds that out of all of the stations in the city that it’s his that would respond to a call on your street? Hen would tell you that it’s fate, but you just think it’s a coincidence. 

There are only so many stations in the Los Angeles area so you don’t think it’s that weird for him to be there. That’s what you’re telling yourself anyway, because you can’t help but feel Hen’s words in the back of your head. 

“See? It’s totally fate, because out of all the stations that responded to the call in your cul-de-sac, it just happened to be ours.”

You think it's all just a coincidence. That is, until you see Buck again a few days later. He’s getting out of his jeep and heading into the coffee shop you were just in. You’re heading to your own jeep and you see that he doesn't have any rubber ducks on the dashboard like yours does. It’s littered with them and you even keep a bag of them in your glove box for moments just like this. 

Reaching for the glove box, you pull out the bag and go through it, looking for the perfect one to leave on his jeep after getting in the driver's seat. You smile to yourself once you come across the little firefighter and decide that it’s perfect. You pull a napkin and a pen from your middle console and scribble down a note along with your name and number before hurrying over to Buck’s jeep before he can catch you. 

You drape the napkin over the handle of the door to the driver’s seat then put the duck on top of it before hurrying back to your vehicle just as Buck comes out of the coffee shop, sipping on the beverage that he’s purchased. 

Buck goes to open the door to his jeep, but notices that there’s something in his way. With his free hand, he picks up the little duck that’s dressed as a firefighter and as confused as he is as to why it’s there, he can’t help but let out a little chuckle as he thinks about how cute the little thing is.

He sets the duck on the roof and then he picks up the napkin, noticing that there’s a phone number and another note underneath it. 

I noticed your jeep didn’t have any ducks so I thought I’d give you a little buddy to keep you company. But if you’d like some company given to you by a human, don’t hesitate to call!

Underneath the number is your name and something in parentheses. 

y/n (Hen and Karen’s friend that they’ve been trying to set you up with) 

That’s why your name looks so familiar! He should know what it is since he’s been stalking your Instagram for days. He had even gone as far as going to DM you, but he backed out at the last second because he didn’t want to weird you out. But considering now he has your number, he guesses that it actually would have been okay to contact you.

Buck gets into his jeep and pulls out his phone, typing out your phone number to save it. Once it’s in his contacts, he finds himself hovering his thumb over the “call” button but ends up backing out at the last second, setting his phone in his cup holder before deciding to head home. Maybe he’d finally get the guts to call you to finally hear your voice, but today’s not the day. 

Once Buck’s jeep is gone, you decide to head home yourself, calling up Karen as you do because now you’re nervous that you’ve made a mistake. She’s always the person you go to when you feel you need help to calm down and her words always seem to do the trick. Your heart races in your chest as the phone rings and you start to panic when she picks up. 

“There’s my girl,” she greets and you can just picture the bright smile on her face. 

“Hey,” you reply, still trying to find the words to say to explain the situation to her. You know it’s silly to call her about something so trivial, but you feel like you need to talk to someone about it. 

“So, what’s going on?” 

You hate that Karen can always read you like a book, that she always seems to know when something’s up. And she’s always there for you whether it’s a shoulder to cry on or just a piece of advice. She just wants to help you in any way that she can since she knows you don’t really have a lot of people in your life that you can rely on. 

“Nothing,” you reply too quickly, sounding rushed. “Maybe it’s something. I don’t know,” you lean your head on the steering wheel, trying to convince yourself that you haven’t done something completely weird. 

“Tell me what it is, babe. Can’t help you if you don’t.”

It’s the reason you called her, isn’t it? The reason you wanted to talk to her, for help. To make sure that you hadn’t done something stupid to turn Buck off. You just want the confirmation and are sure that Karen will give it to you. She always does. 

 You let out a long sigh and then tell her everything from seeing him and the rest of the 118 putting out the fire in your neighborhood and now giving him the firefighter rubber duck with the napkin that had your number on it. What you don’t tell her is how long you spent stalking his Instagram page last night before going to bed and even went as far as typing out a DM to him before quickly backspacing everything before you could actually send it. Yeah, best to not tell her about that one. 

“I don’t see why you’re so worked up about this,” she replies. “Just because he didn’t immediately text or call you doesn’t mean he was turned off by it. Give the man a chance to respond, y/n. It’s been, what, twenty minutes? If he doesn’t respond by the end of the week then you can start freaking out.”

“Fine,” you respond as you pull into your driveway, feeling a bit better but not much. “Fine, I will wait for him to respond.”

“Good,” she nods. “I promise he won’t think it’s weird.”

That makes you feel better, but not much. If it were possible, you’d go back in time and take it all back. You don’t know why you feel so weird about it. You’ve left countless ducks on people’s jeeps so you don’t know why this one is any different. Maybe it’s because you gave him your number and you don’t really do that anymore. 

“Alright, I believe you.”

“Good,” she repeats. “Hey, did you get that address I sent you? The one for the party?”

“I got it,” you confirm. “Saturday at two. I’ll be there.” 

She’s been reminding you about the party for days so there’s no way you can actually forget when or where it is. You actually really hope that Buck is into you. Not only for your sake (because being rejected now after all you’ve gone through just makes you want the ground to swallow you whole.) but also for Hen and Karen because of all the work they’ve clearly put in to set the two of you up. You haven’t heard anything on Buck’s end, but you really hope he’s looking forward to meeting you.

You stare at the gift you had bought for him that’s sitting in the passenger seat and can’t help but smile to yourself at how well you did.You had been stressing all week about finding the perfect gift for him and then eventually found something while scouring the internet. It’s a book with a bunch of fun facts about Los Angeles and California as a whole and you had actually spent the whole night before looking through it, wondering why you hadn’t gotten one for yourself. Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll let you borrow it.

“I love to hear it,” she responds. “Hey, babe, I’ve gotta go. It’s dinner time and Hen just got home. But please, text me if you need anything alright? I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, then hang up before heading inside. 

The week goes by in a flash and as the days pass, Buck still hasn’t contacted you. You don’t know why you’re so disappointed by it. It’s not like he owes you anything. But now you’re about to show up to his birthday party feeling nothing but awkward, wondering how you can suddenly make time travel possible so you can take it all back. 

But the reason why Buck hasn’t texted you back isn’t what you think. The truth is, he got nervous. He’s been overthinking what he’s wanted to say to you for weeks, opening and closing his messaging app over and over, typing out a long winded message then backspacing it all because he doesn’t like the way it sounds. And maybe he should just be honest and tell you that he’s nervous, but now he feels like it’s too late. Like he’s absolutely blown it. 

He’s staring down at his phone even now, another message typed out to you even though he’s going to see you in person any second now. He still feels like he owes you an apology or at the very least an explanation, because he doesn’t want you to think he’s not interested. Because, fuck, is he interested. 

“Still trying to figure out what you’re going to say to your future wife? Man, you’re going to see her in like ten minutes,” Eddie claps Buck on the back, trying his best to hold in a laugh. He’s never seen Buck so into anyone before and he really hopes this one sticks because with how much he seems to like you, the rejection is going to hurt like hell.

“She’s not my future wife,” Buck rolls his eyes as he pockets his phone, turning to face his best friend. 

“You have been hung up on her for weeks. It’s always y/n this and y/n that. And you keep overthinking your text to her. You’ve never been so into someone like this before so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He asks and Buck mulls that over as the door opens, Hen and Karen entering his apartment, but he’s not even paying attention to anyone once you come in. It’s like everything around you blurs and you’re all he can see. 

You’re wearing a green dress that compliments your skin tone beautifully, and Buck thinks you might as well have wings since you look like nothing but an angel. He’s so drawn to you, watching your every move as you take in his apartment. 

His apartment is really nice and you don’t know you’re imagining what it would look like with all your stuff in it. He doesn’t like you, you have to remind yourself. He made that very clear when he didn’t contact you. You try to wipe that thought out of your head as you look around and once you make eye contact with him, you can’t help but smile, making a beeline for him. 

“Happy birthday,” you say as you hold your arms out for a hug as if you’re old friends. Buck is quick to return your hug, wrapping his arms around your waist while yours are around his shoulders. You’re squeezing each other tight and you bury your faces into each other’s necks as if you haven’t seen each other in a long time. It was to the point where everyone, including yourselves, forgot that this was the first time you were actually meeting.

You pull back to look at him and it’s as if all of your anger towards him melts when you look into his eyes. With the way he looks at you, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same about you. He has to. 

And just when you’re about to pull away to give him his gift, he pulls you back gently, his grip on you so loose that you can leave if you want to. Buck wants to apologize. He needs to because he can’t move on with the party until he does, the guilt churning in his stomach making him feel queasy. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you know exactly what he’s apologizing for. He doesn’t need to say it. You can tell how sincere he is from the look on his face and it’s obvious to you how guilty he feels. He just wants you to know just how bad he feels for not responding to your very nice gesture. 

“I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just really wanted to impress you and I over thought my response. I guess I could have just told you how nervous you make me feel, but I didn’t want to sound overeager. But I really did like the duck. I know you’re supposed to put it on your dash, but I put it on my keys. 

Buck lets go of you and hurries to the hook where he keeps his keys and he turns to hold them out to you. Sure enough, there’s the little duck amongst the keys and other keychains. You’re so overwhelmed by the sweet gesture that you do the only thing you can think of to thank him for it. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re grabbing hold of him and pressing your lips to his. He lets out a gasp at the sudden movement, but he eventually melts into you, the two of you so wrapped up in each other that you have completely forgotten that there are other people in the room. 

Buck smiles into the kiss and you mimic him, not being able to stop yourself from laughing into his mouth because of how happy you are. And when you pull away, you see that everyone is looking at the two of you with nothing but smiles on their faces. 

They have been waiting for this for quite a while and as you look around the room at all the party guests, you don’t miss Hen and Karen high fiving each other as a result of a job well done. They think this setup will work so much better than their other ones. And when you look back at Buck who’s staring at you like you’ve hung the moon, you’re beginning to think that maybe it will.

[changbunnies]

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident” occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he? 

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played. 

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow. 

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home. 

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful. 

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you. 

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are. 

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere��� he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him. 

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants. 

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you. 

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm. 

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you. 

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own. 

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate. 

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties. 

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor. 

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs. 

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering. 

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways. 

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.  

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly. 

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face. 

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit. 

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream. 

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t. 

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips. 

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down. 

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face. 

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption. 

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true. 

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side. 

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night. 

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same. 

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

[thegreatimpersonator]

Heeey, if u dont wanna answer this that's fine! But just wondering what's Travis done? (Im not a fan or anything lol, legit curious). Now that i think about it, i think he's irl friends (like, outside of work) with that mahommes guy whose brother... well, trigerring topic but ye his brother's a piece of shit and that guy's wife im pretty sure defended the brother + is a trumpie💀. But i dont follow them/usamerican football so ive just heard about these things casually. I think there were also some weird tweets from years back? Guess i answered my own question lol. Wild the kcc also have that "women should stay home" at a uni graduation speech guy...

welcome to the materpost.

im making this so i can always have something to refer back to when people ask, and this isnt gonna include personal opinions as facts (like how i just find him very attention-seeking and annoying, that's just personal opinion) but it will cover all the main terrible things he's done as well as the bad stuff people he (and now taylor) voluntarily choose to associate with.

don't know where to begin so i'll just start from where i remember

people found his old tweets where he was ableist (making fun of autism and saying the r slur), fatphobic towards women, misogynistic and homophobic.

him along with the chiefs decided to visit trump at the white house in 2020, after many teams declined bc they didnt want to publicly associate with a fascist, but travis was down!

he then also got caught liking an instagram post about trump

he has said recently he would be going to visit trump again in the white house if they win the superbowl.

when asked about how he felt about Trump going to the Super Bowl and playing in front of him, he said it was “pretty cool” and “an honor”.

he also made a r*pe joke, (first part in the clip) he was asked what word turned him on and he said when women say 'no' and then laughed and he was "kidding".

in the second part of that same clip in the previous bullet point, he's also xenophobic! on a podcast he said "if you dont speak english, then what are you doing here (in america)" and then proceeded to laugh when the host says he tells them the wrong directions on purpose.

he also 'jokingly' (no one laughed) called women "breeders" when discussing what women he was interested in.

he, alongside the chiefs, stood in solidarity with Israel by doing a ‘moment of silence’ before a game. i know people are gonna try and find excuses for him by saying ‘he was just doing what his team did, what was he supposed to do, etc’ nonsense, but that implies he was forced and had no choice; which he did. he also could have spoken up about the genocide/palestine afterwards but he stood in solidarity with Israel and has silent ever since.

he has a history of violent temper tantrums, and no him being a football player isnt an excuse. men using violence to get through their emotions isnt something to be normalized. he has had multiple instances of extreme aggression, including a screaming match with his couch at last years Superbowl, screamed at a ref and threw his helmet, also punching his own teammate during practice, and punching opposing players during games.

he's best friends with machine gun kelly, they grew up together and have remained close to this day. MGK has been openly racist, misogynistic, has said he sees nothing wrong with sleeping with minors, etc.

he defended his teammate, harrison butker (who was the guy who gave the viral problematic commencement speech, saying "women should be most excited about their marriage and the children they will bring into this world" and "things like abortion, IVF, surrogacy, euthanasia, as well as a growing support for degenerate cultural values and media all stem from pervasiveness of disorder,” and called Pride Month “the deadly sin sort of pride,” and specifically criticized the LGBTQ community, which he claimed promotes “dangerous gender ideologies.").... anyway travis defended THAT guy, saying he cherishes him as a teammate and said "he is every bit of a great person and a great teammate." and said harrison treats everyone with "nothing but respect and kindness, we’re not always going to agree … but I understand the person that he is and he’s trying to do whatever he can to lead people in the right direction." Travis then said 'everyone has different opinions and that's what's great about this country'. he flat out said hating gay people and women are what make this country great.  

travis is also besties with known racist, morgan wallen (who got caught saying the n word, promised to donate money to charities fighting for racial justice and then just didnt), and joined him on stage last august. oh and travis was also wearing a harrison butker jersey during the concert... supporting him once again, just 3 months after his bigoted speech.

travis is also besties with the mahomes, now lets talk about him and taylors new besties they voluntarily love spending time with.

the main issue isnt really patrick mahomes (another player on the chiefs), it's brittany (his wife) and jackson (his brother)

jackson sexually assaulted a woman at a restaurant by grabbing her and forcibly kissing her. she reported the assault and he reportedly tried to bribe her into shutting up, but then she faced such harassment from his fans that the restaurant shut down and the case was dismissed despite video evidence of it happening.

brittany defended jackson and became a vocal assault apologist by saying "he is a human just trying to live his life and find his way and until you walk a day in his shoes (which no one ever will) you have no right to say shit about him".

last summer, brittany got called out for liking a post by trump where he outlined his plans for being president in 2025, including starting the largest deportation operation in history, zionist propaganda, and transphobic rhetoric about not wanting trans women in women's sports. she then defended it and doubled down vocalizing her supprt for trump.

brittany being transphobic about not wanting trans women in women's sports is deeply concerning due to the fact she is the co-owner of Kansas City Current, a team in the American professional top-division National Women's Soccer League.

[xetlynn]

Twilight Imagines- Benjamin

First Sight

[Masterlist]

Requested by: @twilightlover2007

Summary: in where the Cullens are getting multiple covens together to help them convince the Volturi that Renesmee is not a danger Benjamin spots [Name] and is immediately enamored by her. Even with her two year old daughter. Also finding out they have similar abilities.

I sit in the living room with Bella and Edward as we watch Renesmee play with Athaliah. I cross my arms, holding myself. "How do you feel?" Edward asks me suddenly and I turn to him. "Read my mind." I roll my eyes, he scoffs out a laugh. "I'm asking so you can let it out."

He responds, I look back to the girls. "Yeah, we haven't talked much since you found out about her." Bella chimes into the conversation. I frown for a second.

"It's a weird situation, I don't really know how I feel." I tell them in all honesty. One second Renesmee was a newborn and seconds later she was months old and now she's physically 4 years old.

"I just wish we didn't have to deal with the Volturi. Once again." I hold my head in my hands. Last time we dealt with them was when I turned into a vampire, Athatliah was only 16 months old. They were worried that I would turn Athaliah.

We had to convince them I wouldn't go near her until I had control over my thirst and she wouldn't know anything about us until she was the age of turning or if anything I would fake my death and she'd never see us again. It's something I don't even want to consider. It's something I have 16 years until I have to truly think about. The Volturi believed us when Aro looked into Edward's mind along with mine. Also with the fact that my ability was strong, I would put up a fight. They didn't need any of their men dead.

"I wish that woman just talked to us before running straight to the Volturi. She's also going to get killed." I lift my head back up. Renesmee takes Athaliah over to us and they both smile. I pick up my daughter, placing her on my lap. Edward doing the same with his daughter.

"All right, lovely, it's time for a nap." I stand up. "I'll meet you guys outside." I tell my two best friends before walking upstairs. They have a crib that was originally for Renesmee in Edward's old room. I place Athaliah down. I could tell she was tired so when she started crying I knew it was only for a few minutes.

The first year of her life I cried almost every time she cried. I couldn't handle it. My mom was a huge help since Athaliah's dad left in the beginning of my pregnancy. His parents moved to a whole different state so he didn't have to be a father to our baby. I grieved the relationship in the beginning. I don't really care anymore.

Bella was the only friend I've had ever since giving birth. Other people judged right away. Not Bella. She sometimes would babysit for me if I had to work and no daycare. My mom would pay her as well. Edward then started to help with her. Then he bonded with Athaliah as well. They both became an aunt and uncle to my daughter. I am forever grateful for them.

When her cries stop I snap out of my thoughts. Quietly slipping out of the room. I go downstairs and join everyone outside. Bella and Edward showing the new vampires renesmee's gift. I look off into the distance to see Carlisle and Esme coming our way with three new people. They're from the Egyptian Coven, they drink human blood. I lock eyes with the younger looking man. His eyes were a dark red. They felt entrancing. I couldn't look away. That was until Rosalie comes up to me.

"Could you help me with something?" She asks in a quiet tone, I furrow my eyebrows but nod my head. Following after her. Feeling eyes watch me the entire time. The blonde leads me back into the house where Zafrina, Kachiri, and Senna were standing in our way. "These ladies are from the Amazon coven. They wanted to meet you." Rosalie speaks softly, I place a hand on my chest, confused on why they would want to speak to me. "They've heard of your ability." Emmett tells me, I let out a little 'oh' standing straighter.

"Zafrina likes meeting people similar to her. Having incredible gifts." Kachiri informs me. "What's your gift?" I tilt my head, intrigued. The quiet woman smiles slightly, staring at me. Focusing on something and then suddenly I'm not in the house anymore. I'm back outside. But not our outside. A different place. A place I've never seen before. It was gorgeous.

Then I'm back in the house and I stare at her with wide eyes. "That... was amazing." I tell her, utterly in shock. She grins back to me. "We'd like to see your ability." Kachiri says, I make a face, turning to Rosalie and Emmett who nod their heads for me to do it. "We'd uh, we would have to go outside." I lead the way outside, in front of the porch. The three from the Amazon Coven stand on the porch with Rosalie, Emmett was standing in the door frame.

I smile to them as the cloud above us gets darker than earlier. Their expressions are confused until I bring my arms in the air and it starts raining. It was sprinkling at first then thunder struck. I felt the others crowd around me. I then make it storm. Everyone getting soaked. And then suddenly it stops as I stop focusing on the sky. I take a deep breath. The others begin to clap.

"That's just a tiny bit of what she can do." Emmett roars out, I nod my head sheepishly. "How did you find that out?" One of the Denali sisters ask me. "When I turned, the pain caused a storm. The wind was strong. The weather was insane that night. Later on when I wasn't paying attention and every time I had a huge emotion, a storm began every time. It's a lot easier to control now." I smile as I then make it begin to snow. Renesmee runs up to me with a huge smile. I pick her up so she can play with the snowflakes.

"This is a powerful ability... The Volturi would have no chance against us." Garrett laughs beside Kate who has a tiny smirk on her face. "You could deflect my electricity and make it more powerful." She tells me, lifting one of her hands to show me the electricity coming out of it.

Then everyone begins to talk to one another about it. I place Renesmee down, she holds my hand though instead of running off. I listen outside of the others to see if Athaliah has woken up but her breathing is still slowed. I can tell she's about to wake up. Her naps aren't very long lately.

A person walks up to me, startling me. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." It was the younger looking man from the Egyptian Coven. I wave a hand. "It's alright, I was trying to make sure my daughter was still sleeping." I sigh out, looking down to my niece who was staring up at the man.

"Your daughter?" He asks, looking around. "Her name's Athaliah." I tell him, we begin to walk inside the house, Renesmee sticking by my side because I think she knows we're going to see my girl. "Beautiful name." He compliments, I quietly thank him. His looks are entrancing I can barely focus on what is being said.

It goes silent between us until Renesmee speaks up in a small sweet tone. "He can make tornados, smaller than yours though." I smile down at her. "Really?"

I've only created a tornado once and right as it formed we made it disappear. That was before Renesmee was born though. Of course Emmett told her about it though. "Our gifts are incredibly similar." He tells me. Before he can say anything else though I hear my daughter begin to stir. Her tiny whines sounding out to down here. "Oh, I have to go, I'll be back." I step up the first couple of steps. He stands there, I can tell her wishes to say something though.

Renesmee was already running to the bedroom though. "What's your name?" I ask him.

"Benjamin." He says. I smile. "Beautiful name." I then head up the stairs.

Renesmee is playing with Athaliah through the bars of the crib. I smile, heading over to them and picking up my daughter. "Let's go play downstairs." Renesmee says, taking my hand once again and dragging me back down. Benjamin was still standing there just as he was before I left.

I was glad to be honest. I was hoping he waited for me. "This is Athaliah, Athaliah, meet Benjamin." I bounce her on my hip, pointing to the beautiful man. She tiredly looks to him.

Then suddenly doing grabby hands at him for him to take her. I furrow my eyebrows. It usually takes her a minute to get used to new people. He sticks his hand out, letting her grab onto it. It wasn't enough though she lunges her body forward so he could take her out of my arms. I laugh. "Sorry, you don't have to-"

"I don't mind as long as you don't." He puts his hands out and I shrug my shoulders, handing her over to him. Renesmee watches, a little bit annoyed until Edward comes in and tells her to go with him somewhere. I watch as my daughter puts his face into her hands. I then wondered if that was a good idea looking at his eyes which were red. Meaning he eats humans.

I bit my lip. He looks over to me and I think he can sense my worry. He gives me a short smile and places Athaliah down. She walks back to me, hugging my legs. She's still waking up.

Later in the night Bella and I were getting the girls to sleep. Athaliah sprawled out, her arm going over Renesmee's torso. She's holding onto her hand. I look up to see Bella looking at someone. I trace where. It was Benjamin who was sitting beside Jacob. He was staring at me though. "He seems enamored by you." She whispers, careful not to wake the kids. I snort out a laugh. "Yeah, okay. He wants a single mom." I joke, rolling my eyes.

"I mean the whole time he's been here he's been staring at you. He keeps trying to talk with you and he's brought you up to us every chance he gets. Asking about your ability." She informs me and I give her a look. "Yeah, he's interested in my ability. Not me." I sit up straight, crossing my legs.

"You're so oblivious, [Name]." She comments, sitting up as well. We eventually get up listening to Vladimir and Stefan talk about how they despise the Volturi and why. They were characters, that was for sure.

I sit down by the fire, a log was already there but no one else was there. They all went to different areas of the woods. I stared at the flames wondering how tomorrow was going to go. Someone sat beside me but neither of us spoke. I didn't even move my head to see.

"[Name]." The person speaks up after moments of silence. I hum out in response. "I uh I've never been left this speechless before. I don't know what to say around you." It was Benjamin, I smile to myself before turning to face him. "I'm boring, I apologize." I say, now just observing his features and I wonder what he was like as a human. If he was always this perfect.

"No, you're not at all. You make me nervous. It's a feeling I don't think I've ever experienced." His eyes lock with mine and I badly want to look away. But I can't. I'm stuck in place. "When did you turn?" I slightly change the subject. "1815." My eyes widen to his answer. He begins to laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, that was rude." I rub my hands together, finally looking away due to embarrassment.

"I expected it, when did you turn?"

"Last year."

"A newborn practically and you're that in control of your ability?" He seemed to be surprised.

"I couldn't control my ability completely until maybe six years after turning." He then ignites fire from his pointer finger. "You control the elements?" I ask in amazement. "And you control the weather." He states.

"Our abilities are incredibly similar." I laugh, excited. Watching the flames on his finger tip before he closes his fist and it goes away.

For hours we talk about our abilities, about his life before turning. I do the same. Telling him a bit about Athaliah. It never felt like a bad subject bringing her up like it usually does with men.

He actually asks about her and that's where I feel he doesn't want to be with me but to be friends.

"Your daughter truly has your looks." We both look to my sleeping daughter who is still sprawled out. I smile. "Thank you. She's my everything." I tell him.

"I can tell."

"I'm interested in getting to know you more." Benjamin says, this time he cautiously takes my hand into his. Making sure I was okay with it before gripping a little tighter. "What do you want to know?" I nervously ask.

"No, I mean courting you. You being mine, me being yours." He explains, I scrunch my nose before saying. "it might be forward, I know this. But you, seeing you, talking to you today. It only makes me want to be yours more."

"What about Athaliah, she comes with, we're a package deal. I'm a single mother. She's human, you eat off... humans." I take my hand back, now giving him a serious expression. It feels crazy but I feel the same way. I feel so strongly for him and I can't lose it but I also have to put my child first.

"I'll love her as my own. I'll eat animals for you both. I'll learn." He assures me, I pause for a moment.

"This feels crazy." I laugh out. "But I'll give it a try. I'm interested in getting to know you more." Even though we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow I don't care. I deserve to be happy even for a little bit.

——————

I almost deleted this whole thing after finishing it.

Heart was racing. Almost cried.

If you want to request anything lmk!

[mind-intheclouds342]

Helping Daisuke!

(I don't know why but i think you all gonna think that the way i write its pretty funny and weird, it's just so different making it in spanish.

My first language isn't english and i'm trying my best doing this for the first time!

I hope that at least you can all enjoy it a little bit)

This is pure fluff

You thought you were going to have a horrible experience on that ship, but a light was there to brighten your days.

After finishing high school, you weren't quite sure how your life was going to keep going or what you were going to do.

Your parents were very worried about you, immediately urging you to do different things that only ended up putting more stress on you.

Until they achieved this, and you accepted, you needed to escape from them and have time for yourself.

You never imagined that one day you would reach space, it was something unreal for you.

The fact that they hire people with no experience at all it seemed so strange, but you didn't complain too much about it or think of it.

You ended up being Anya's intern, who was in charge of the nursery.

You liked her a lot, she was so calm and sweet with you, and you felt secure having another woman on the crew.

At the beginning of the trip, you were extremely focused on learning as much knowledge as possible from her, where the medications were located, CPR techniques, how to perform a routine check-up, and other things.

In any case, you kept a certain distance from others, feeling defenseless in front of everyone else since they were older than you and had the necessary experience to do their jobs, while you only felt like an intruder.

But not with him.

Daisuke had gone through a situation similar to yours, ending up as Swansea's intern, helping him with mechanical work.

But you two hadn't exchanged a word until that day…

Swansea: "Hey (Y/n), I need you to help me with something, and it would be better if you bring your emergency kit"

You had been alarmed immediately upon hearing the man call you, but you nodded to accompany him; he certainly looked upset, making you wonder what had happened.

Swansea: "I couldn't find Anya, you were the closest one to ask for help, because I need you to fix this idiot soon."

He mentioned, pointing at a Daisuke sitting on a box, thinking about what had happened.

You immediately noticed the drops of blood on the floor, you began to carefully examine the boy's body until you found that he had a piece of metal embedded in the palm of his hand.

You tilted your head, analyzing the wound for a moment; it wasn't large, the metal was cylindrical and of small diameter.

"How did that happen?"

Swansea: "Ask the fool, I don't wanna here, if I keep seeing him I'm going to smack him"

He ran his hand over his face in frustration before leaving.

You couldn't help but smile, noticing that he was truly worried about the boy.

You approached and sat down in front of him.

Daisuke looked up to see you, and his eyes soon began to search for something else to focus on.

"I'm going to need you to lend me a hand."

You said, extending your hands, hoping he would do the same.

Daisuke: "Really, it wasn't as stupid as the boss says! Seriously, I was doing something very, very important"

He began to speak nervously, to which you just kept staring at him, waiting for his hand. Defeated, he finally handed it to you.

"So, what was that totally not silly and super important thing you were doing?"

Daisuke: "As you can imagine! Swansea couldn't fix inside the ventilation ducts for obvious reasons! I wanted to help him and I climbed up! But… I fell and my hand got stuck as you can see… It was for a good cause!"

"Mmh"

You hummed, focused, watching the swelling around the metal, and touched the boy's fingers, making sure it hadn't pierced any tendons or bones.

Daisuke: "Does it look very bad? It doesn't hurt as much as you might think"

"It's going to hurt."

You warned him, leaving him confused, when you put on a glove and ripped the metal off, making him let out an extremely high-pitched scream.

Both of them stood there, surprised by how he had shouted, the boy immediately turning red.

"The good thing is that it didn't go through anything important, you were lucky."

You began to clean the wound carefully.

Daisuke: "Great… Great… Soooo… what things are you into?"

You raised your gaze curiously for a moment at his question.

Daisuke: "I need to talk to distract myself from the pain."

"What do I like?… Lemme see… I like watching series… Listening to music… Read… Normal things, I guess? Nothing extraordinary"

Daisuke: "Those are awesome things! What kind of series do you like to watch? Oh! What's your favorite music genre? I can teach you some awesome songs! Do you like movies? I love action movies! Ka-pow!"

You couldn't help but laugh a little at his enthusiasm while you were already bandaging his wound.

"You're going to have to take good care of yourself and we'll do some check-ups from time to time, okay?"

Daisuke: "You mean like dates?…….I mean! Medical! Medical dates!! Medical appointments?"

You were surprised by that and smiled at him, raising an eyebrow, starting to understand what all that nervousness was about.

"We can also have dates, if you like, although it will be difficult on the ship, but if you're okay with a day playing cards and watching the screen, then I think we can make it work."

Daisuke: "Are you serious??"

You could see how her entire face lit up with your suggestion.

"I'm not going to deny it, you're cute, and you're the only one my age, I feel much more comfortable with you."

Daisuke: "Eh-? Seriously, is that all you see??"

"…You have never spoken to me! How could I like anything else about you if I don't know you?"

Daisuke: "It's just that talking to girls makes me nervous… I was afraid of saying something that would make you think I'm an idiot-"

"Okay, so… What do you like about me?"

Daisuke: "…That you're my age… and you're pretty…"

You crossed your arms at his vague answer like yours.

Daisuke: "How handsome do you think I am? The most handsome one in the crew, am i rigth?"

He smiled, running his hand through his hair, making you laugh.

"The second one, I would say~ but Captain Curly is too old for me."

Daisuke: "I didn't want to know that! Lie to meeeee!"

He stayed, and you could only laugh more, to the point where you accidentally started to snort, covering your mouth trying to stop laughing.

Daisuke found that even more adorable and magnificent, his cheeks flushing even more, thinking that he might have a chance with such a sweet girl who laughs at his silly words and actions.

"Remember, no matter how much it itches, you mustn't scratch it, okay?"

You indicated to him after you had caught your breath and stopped laughing, you had to return to the infirmary to leave the emergency kit you had taken.

Daisuke: "Got it!"

He brought his hand to his forehead and smiled at you.

You returned the smile and approached him to leave a kiss on your cheek before leaving.

He stood in place for a few seconds before jumping up, shouting with joy, raised his hand wanting to high-five someone, but realizing he was alone, he high-fived himself.

Something he immediately regretted but it was worth it.

Anya: "Oh, (Y/n) was looking for you"

"I was helping Daisuke, he had hurt himself, here I bring the kit to put it back in place."

Anya: "Yes, it had a very nasty wound"

"…How do you know?"

Anya: "Well, I was the first to see it but Swansea suggested that you should see it to test what you've learned, I'm sure you did great."

You let out a chuckle upon hearing that, so Swansea took it upon himself to help you talk to each other, he really do cares about Daisuke.

[tarohugs]

a million things i didn't say (l.jn)

► When Jeno proposes to you as a joke to get free ice cream, you can't help but begin to feel the butterflies in your stomach. You don't even have time to process the feelings before he's on one knee for someone who isn't you.

► childhood best friend!jeno x reader

► angst and some fluff (you know the drill)

► w/c 1.8k

► toxic jeno, very very sad ending (prepare your tissues), jeno is a bit insensitive at times, jeno proposing, reader ignoring feelings and being a bit dumb, annoying character stereotypes, jeno and reader making you want to rip your hair out, not proof read.

►a/n haven't posted in a while so hope this makes up for it. plz send recs i need inspo for writing.

When Jeno first proposed, it was to you. As a joke, of course. The typical things teenagers do in their free time. Right?

You met Jeno in your high school chemistry class and had clicked since. Some would mistaken you as a couple but you were always quick to deny the accusations.

Considering that most saw you two as a couple, you had decided to take advantage of your relationship spontaneously to get free ice cream. The idea wasn’t well prepared at all. Jeno had planned to propose in your local ice cream parlor and be rewarded with a sweet treat.

Well the two of you were clearly not aware how the plan would go.

“Are you sure this will work Jeno? Your ring doesn’t even look real.” You knew the plan was a dumb idea but you always listened to Jeno. 

Yes, he was your best friend. Yet, you knew he meant more to you. He was one of the most special people you had met. You just couldn’t put a finger on what he was to you.

He laughed at you, his infamous eye smile sending butterflies to your stomach. “Don’t worry, y/n. I got this. Even prepared my special vows for you.”

You didn’t have a response to his sudden confidence, only a blush that scattered your cheeks. When he reached over you to hold the door entrance to the ice cream parlor, your stomach only dropped further into your stomach.

Has Jeno always been this attractive? How had you not noticed how tall he was before? 

With all the thoughts rushing through your head, you had forgotten the main objective: free ice cream. That was all you were here for, not to develop feelings for your best friend. 

By the time you had come to your senses, Jeno was propped on his one knee, fake ring in hand.

“Y/n l/n.”

Well here goes nothing.

“I’ve waited my whole life for this moment. I know it’s not the most romantic but this is where we first met and I developed my love for you. There are so many hours I’ve spent thinking about you, yet they all stemmed from a couple minutes within the walls. I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with you.” He continued on for minutes reciting his script. Never stuttering once, it was as if he was speaking from his heart.

It was safe to say Jeno had a way with his words - even if they all met nothing.

You hadn’t realized it yet, but you had fallen in love with Jeno.

When you had finally recognized your feelings for Jeno, it was high school graduation.

In your mind, it was like the weddings that never commenced from your fake engagement. Walking down the same aisle, wearing expensive gowns, celebrating the start of a new chapter in your life. 

These scenarios would all seem fresh in your head if it wasn’t for the fact that Jeno had just begun a relationship with a girl in the year below. All you had known was him for the years prior to graduation. Now, you were clueless as to what would develop as you moved on in your life.

“I’m serious about her. I think I’m going to stay back a year before I head to college. I really think she’s the one.” Jeno had told you one of your sleepless nights on the phone. 

You took a deep sigh, clearly signalling you were not following his ideas. “Look, you have dreamed of moving away for years. Why change your mind for a girl you just met?”

He was clearly losing his patience with you. It was only a matter of time before he snapped after his numerous hours of convincing you he loved her. You would never agree with him, though. As long as he was with someone that wasn’t you.

“You just don’t get it. Maybe you’ll understand when you finally find someone that loves you.”

When he heard the immediate hanging up of the call, his emotions were too high to apologize. Jeno knew his words hurt you but he wasn’t in the right sentence to justify his actions. Time didn’t allow him to correct himself either, only progressing through the rest of highschool by never addressing him again.

But here you were at graduation, finding yourself after the ceremony looking for your parents talking to Jeno’s family. He stood beside them, his new girlfriend pressed tightly by his side. When your eyes flickered to make eye contact with him, he reflected a gaze of sorrow. You never returned the sorrow, your gaze only remaining lifeless.

After Jeno had uttered such nonsense to you, you had deemed him as nothing to you. Even if you had recognized your feelings for him, you couldn’t keep waiting. 

When you had finally let go of the petty teenage drama, an invitation to Jeno’s wedding had arrived at your front door.

You had come to the conclusion that you were in love with him. After continuously convincing yourself you needed to get over him, it was becoming more difficult to let your feelings for the boy go unnoticed. 

With the emotionless response you had given to Jeno after graduation, you had thought your relationship with him was over. And you were proven correct when you found that he had blocked you on every social media platform to ever exist.

You decided it was time to rekindle with your childhood best friend your senior year in college. But to no avail, you still remained blocked and found no new accounts.

So to find the invitation to his wedding - when you had moved far from home and started a new job - was a shocker, to say the least. Even if you hadn’t communicated in years, you were still on the backburner.

Now, you find yourself sitting in an assigned seat in the corner. Far away from any of his family, not needing a reason to explain why you had cut off all communication with Jeno, or rather, how he had done such. 

The only other person sitting by you was his youngest cousin he had always explained as a nuisance at family gatherings. She was sweet and you had told him he needed to treat her nicely considering her young age, but teenage Jeno didn’t know better. Even adult Jeno didn’t know better.

You had done a good job holding off any conversation for the first hour of the wedding, but you couldn’t stand the awkward silence and dwelling going on inside your head anymore. 

Why had you come just to realize you hated him? You had no clue. All you knew was that you wanted to talk to your best friend. He may not have earned his respect back but it was clear he felt the same way. There is only one reason he would even think to send a wedding invitation your way.

When you finally excuse yourself from the table for a drink, his cousin mutters something under her breath.

“What did you say?” Not sure if her words were meant for her.

She looks you in the eye, “Why did you leave Jeno? He was so happy when he was with you?”

Well clearly she was not in the loop. You dreaded talking about your past with Jeno. But you dreaded even more reminiscing on how close you used to be with him. 

“Me and Jeno were never together. I have no idea what you're talking about.” You tried to escape but her words only drew you in.

“Well, I know you weren’t dating, but you should’ve. He was so happy with you. He hated me but you made him realize his indifference. Now here you are with me, the least favorite family member, sitting in the back when you deserve to be down the aisle.”

It was clear her words were leading to the verge of your tears. Time was the only thing that stood between your face full of makeup being ruined. Before she could even allow more words to escape from her mouth, you found yourself making a run for the bathroom. 

You had managed to find a new seat along with some of your high school friends in another far corner. You couldn’t face the emotional damage that was Jeno’s cousin. Your friends knew better than to ask any questions about you two, instead opting to treat the experience as a reunion. 

As much as you didn’t want to, you had thought about her words. Did you really have an effect on Jeno?

He never told you he loved you, except in his vows. You remember every syllable that came from his mouth. Most importantly, “I love you.” They weren’t real, but they were the closest symbol of reciprocation Jeno had ever given to you.

Even if the words were never truthful, it was only a matter of minutes before you heard his real vows come from his mouth. Watching him walk down the aisle, all you could picture is what your wedding with him would’ve looked like.

If you had ever told Jeno your real feelings that day. Maybe if you were truthful, maybe if you had listened to his cousin, maybe if you hadn’t cut him off, you could be descending down the aisle. 

Instead, here you are, sitting isolated from your best friend, wondering what he even thinks of you. Does he know that you're here? Did he invite you or had he been forced to by his parents? All this clouds your mind as you watch the bride approach Jeno, joining hand in hand.

Jeno stood tall on the altar. His black suit defines his build. It was obvious that he had grown into his body well since you had last seen him. As he took a deep breath, you knew it was ready for him to begin his vows, for real this time.

“The love of my life.”

Tears began to blind your vision. You couldn’t stand hearing what was about to come from his mouth. All you could make out was the movement of his lips as ringing stormed your ears. 

If you weren’t so scared you would’ve told him how you felt. 

If you had been mature you wouldn’t have let him give up on his dreams.

If you cared more about yourself you wouldn't have allowed him to let you burn on the backburner after all these years.

If you had listened to his cousin you would understand that you were important to him.

As you watched him slip the ring on to his now wife, you knew time was up. There was no reversing what you hadn’t done, only reminiscing on what you could’ve.

Jeno was now no one to you. Just a friend in the past who you would tell others you don’t talk to now.

All the years of unreciprocated love would never rekindle. Maybe one thing you should’ve done was listen to him. “Maybe you’ll understand when you finally find someone that loves you.”

It was time to find someone that loved you. Even if it wasn’t him.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Lunch

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Story Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Attempted Murder, Murder, Smut, Eventual Fluff and Romance

*I completely forgot that i was cross posting, forgive me!! For all of those that asked, there's no edits! It's the same as AO3!

The interview goes well– at least you think it goes well, and then you wait for the reporter and photographer to go back home. There isn’t much to talk about since your father isn’t exactly the happiest about the man you’re engaged to, and he doesn’t want to let Naobito have a piece of his mind. You say your awkward farewells before leaving the house.

Your father doesn’t shut up once he gets into the car, he rants the whole way home and you tune him out. You just can’t wait to see your daughter. Every now and then you catch a bit of what he’s saying.

“That motherfucker really fucking screwed me over. We had agreed on that other nephew of his not on that piece of shit, good-for-nothing man.” It is around the fifth time your father says those similar words, and your stepmother is annoyed.

“What the fuck did you expect? Your daughter literally has a creature that most men don’t want to deal with! Suck it up!” She raises her voice.

“Who doesn’t want to deal with Misaki? She’s an angel brought from heaven!” Your father claims, the soft spot his heart has for your daughter is very visible. But he will still choose his wife over his granddaughter, the same way he chose his wife over his daughter.

“Angel brought from heaven.” Your stepmother scoffs. She’s grateful that the Zenins will soon take you off her hands. “Naobito informed me that the wedding is set to be in a month or so. The wedding planning has begun.”

“In a month? Did he not think to inform me, considering I am the bride.” You speak up, causing a laugh to come from her. You don’t find the humor in it.

“Inform you? He told me which is more than enough. I told you the news, so it isn’t coming up to you as unexpected.” She replies. You open your mouth to speak but she interrupts you, “This isn’t a marriage that’s made of love. If you fall in love with him, then good for you but at the moment it’s not about that. It’s to clean their image and to get you and your daughter off our hands. The wedding is not going to be to your liking but to theirs.”

“You don’t have to say it like that.” Your father tells her, but you can agree with her on something.

“She’s right. That’s the only reason you’re doing it, or else why are you marrying me off to a complete stranger?” You say.

“Because it’s what’s best for you and Misaki. You saw what happened with Misaki’s father, didn’t you? He left even though you have a daughter together. He claimed he loved you, didn’t he? But you still came back to my door with your daughter because you couldn’t pay the bills.” He begins and you want to interrupt him, but you let him ramble on as you roll your eyes at his every word. “My point is, I think marrying for love is pointless unless you both have money. I’m setting up your daughter to have a successful life, even if it costs your happiness. Love didn’t bring you anything good anyways.”

“I-” You try to think of a way to defend yourself, but it’s not worth it in the end. You mutter it though, “I was just unlucky.”

“As I was saying…” Your stepmother continues talking, “The wedding will be as they envision it. The only thing that will be adjusted to you will be your gown size, which will be in fact next week.”

“How big is this wedding supposed to be? A month isn’t a lot of time to organize a big wedding.” You ask, wondering how many eyes will be on you in a month.

“Really big. Every person imaginable will be there.” She answers. “As to wedding preparations, you don’t have to worry because you’re not doing it. The Zenins have hired people that are more than capable and work fast.”

You just stay quiet and close your eyes. Maybe this is all a dream– More like a nightmare. Maybe when you open your eyes back up you’ll go back to when you were five, when life was good. When you could go running back to your mother and give her a hug and she’d fill your face with kisses until you begged her to stop.

But you open your eyes back up, and the only thing you see is your father’s house, which looks as horrid as ever with the lack of color. You remember once upon a time that the outside was filled with a mix of beautiful colors, now it's colorless. The flowers that your mom once planted are gone; they have been for a long time.

You’re the first to get out of the car, and walk to the front door. You knock since you have no keys. Soon enough the door opens and you see the babysitter that your father hired. She lives in the neighborhood and is roughly sixteen years old.

“Hello, Utahime.” You greet her and she greets you back. “Did she behave?”

“She was a sweetheart.” She answers. You walk into the home, and as the little girl notices she drops her doll and runs to your side.

“Mommy!” She yells as she runs to your side. You kneel down to receive the hug that she so warmly welcomes you with. You kiss her cheek. She’s quick to ask, “How was lunch?”

“It was- good!” You tell her. She’s too young to know or even understand what’s going on. She made a fuss before you left and you assured her that you’d be back soon, that you were only having lunch with friends. “Nothing too interesting, how about you, baby? How did you like your time with Utahime?”

“It was good!” She replies. Your father and stepmother walk through the door and your daughter rushes to greet your father. She receives the same treatment you do from your stepmother, so she rightfully doesn’t like the woman. You get off the ground, and go upstairs to get Utahime’s money.

You quickly go back downstairs with the money and give it to Utahime. She thanks you and gets her stuff. She says her goodbyes before walking out the door.

Once the door closes, your stepmother opens her mouth. She looks down at Misaki. “You’ll be having a dad soon.”

“What?” Your daughter asks, blinking at the very much older woman, very confused. “What does that mean?”

You glare at the woman. Maybe you’re looking more forward to this wedding day than you first thought. You’ll even prepare a speech of all the things you want to tell her.

“Is daddy coming back?” Your daughter questions, hope in her voice which makes you want to break down crying. It hurts to crush her illusion.

“No, Misaki, you’re getting a new daddy.” Your stepmother responds. Your daughter’s hopes are not the same, but she’s not crushed. She doesn’t remember her father that much so she’s not scared of someone replacing him.

“Misaki, do you want to watch a movie with me?” You ask, switching the topic. She nods and walks to your side.

“Wake up, you two.” You hear a not so nice voice that slowly causes you to open your eyes. You look at the woman you despise more than anything in this world, and your day is already ruined. You know it’s not going to be a good day.

You caress your daughter’s cheek since she’s always hard to wake up in the morning. She groans but she eventually opens her eyes. The woman still stands in your room. It’s a rare sight to have her wake you up.

“What?” You ask, wondering what she wants. She never needs anything from you which is why you never spoke. She has people to cook or clean for her since your father is more than blessed to have the money for. Otherwise, you would be the one to be doing those chores. She wouldn’t be with him in the first place if he had no money.

You’re not the same little girl that she could torment so there’s no point in being in your room, more or less speaking with you.

“You have lunch with Toji today. Misaki is coming with, and there’s a couple of hidden paparazzi’s so make sure to look decent.” She informs you. You sigh as you get up from bed. “Be ready in two hours.”

You get up from bed and let the child rest for a couple more minutes while you begin the process of getting yourself ready. You first take a shower, and when you come back out you see your daughter still sleeping.

You wake her up again, and she gets up looking around confused. You want to smile. She’s your literal clone, she just has a couple miniscule features that are like her dad’s.

“We’re going out to lunch, baby.” You inform her. You walk back to the bathroom to fill the bathtub up with water for your daughter. You walk back to the room, and she’s still really tired. She wants to lay back down but you try to get her excited to go out. “We can get ice cream after lunch.”

“Really?” She asks, practically sold. She’s now fully awake and she gets out of the bed. She walks out of the room and into the bathroom. You walk in as well, while she does her business you shut off the faucet that is ruining water.

“Are we going to meet my new daddy?” She asks, which catches you off guard. You’re not sure how to respond.

“I-” You begin, but can’t find the right words. “He’s not your new daddy, honey, but we will be seeing him a lot more, soon.”

“Okay!” She responds as she gets up to wash her hands. You want to chuckle, thinking about how easy that was.

You get to the restaurant, and your father and stepmother decide to sit a couple of tables over. You sigh watching them be led by the hostess to their seat. You don’t get too much time to stare at them, soon enough you’re being led to the table your future husband is sitting at. 

You notice the infant that is sitting in a high chair, right next to his dad. There’s a genuine smile on Toji’s face as he feeds the baby some of the baby food. The baby isn’t too pleased with the food, you notice as his nose scrunches up, and half the food is practically down his chin.

The smile on Toji’s face disappears as he sees you and the little girl that is holding on to your hand. You make your daughter sit down before sitting down next to her. You and Toji exchange looks, his being nastier than yours. But he remembers there’s supposedly people around that are watching.

“This is my daughter, Misaki.” You introduce the little girl who is shy when meeting new people. She warms up easily, but Toji just has an intimidating look.

“Hi!” She surprisingly says, waving at the man. He’s not the kindest, but he has some manners. He reminds himself that your daughter is not you.

“Hi, I’m Toji.” He waves back. Toji then goes back to paying attention to Megumi. He tries to give the baby more food but he just flat out refuses to open his mouth. Toji sighs and puts the food back into the food. He looks back at you two, looking more at your daughter so his dislike towards you doesn’t seem as evident. “This is my son, Megumi.”

“Megumi’s a cute name. One of my baby dolls is named Megumi.” She is quick to inform him. She warmed up fast. He raises his eyebrow and continues the conversation with the child.

"Really? That's nice." Toji says. The waitress comes up to the table and you order your drinks. You watch the baby and can’t help but help but smile at the baby's adorable face.

“He’s so cute.” You comment and Toji hums in agreement. 

Toji taps his fingers on the table, everything a bit too awkward. He just doesn’t understand why he feels this way. Annoyed. You haven’t really done anything, and you seem like a decent enough human being but he feels frustrated and mad when he just so happens to look at you.

He just needed you to refuse that proposal, and make the Zenins clean up Toji’s image some other way. But getting married again so quickly– It is an easy plan, he admits, but he prefers a harder one because he learned that matrimony is a sacred thing.

He doesn’t want to get married again. More or less, with someone he’s not in love with. Since he’s not getting what he wants because of you, the negative feelings take over.

“How old are you?” His eyes are on your daughter. She puts five fingers up, a smile on her face as she tells him verbally.

“Five!” She tells him.

“Are you in school?” He continues questioning, wanting to know more about his future stepdaughter because the wedding is going to happen whether he likes it or not. Unless something happens.

He fights back a smirk as an idea comes to mind. The Zenins can’t throw him in the streets if something were to just happen to you.

“Mommy put me in preschool. I’ll be starting kindergarten soon!” She excitedly responds.

The waitress comes back with your drinks. Misaki and Toji continue to chat while you watch baby Megumi, who took a liking to the spoon. He wasn’t slapping it on the high chair, something your daughter would’ve done at his age, but he inspects it. He puts his little chubby fingers on it.

And as you hear your daughter speak with Toji, and watch as the adorable baby inspects his spoon, you think that things won’t be so bad.

[shizucheese]

So about that Dropout Tweet...

There's a common trend in influencer/ content creator apologies, where the person doing the apology will say they are sorry for the harm that they did, claim they are taking ownership of it and using the whole situation to become a better person, etc. etc. Usually in a way that makes it sound suspiciously like it was written by ChatGPT.

And then they'll go on to say something along the lines of "But we've been getting a lot of death threats guys, and that's bad!" As if the fact that they're getting death threats somehow absolves them of at least some of the guilt of whatever it is that made the apology necessary in the first place. As if it means they're the real victims here.

Apparently Dropout decided to just skip the "ChatGPT apology" part and jump straight to the "We're getting physcal and legal threats" part. Followed up with them once again saying they support Palestiniens and ending it with "We reject antisemitism, Islamophobia, and all forms of bigotry, and welcome all to our platform who treat others with respect, empathy, and human dignity."

And they did it on Twitter, and only Twitter. You know, the website that's notoriously overrun by Nazis. Nothing on Tumblr or Instagram, where the original statement that sparked all of this (which has since been taken down) were posted.

@dropoutdottv, @samreich, this is not listening to the Jewish members of your community who are speaking out about antisemitism. This is reinforcing the antisemitism that those Jewish members of the community are speaking out about. Because what this Tweet does is paint everyone who spoke out against the antisemitism in your original post with the same brush as the people who were sending you threats.

Which, let me be clear, they should not have been doing and I wholeheartedly condemn.

But the actions of the people sending you threats of violence and threats of legal action do not invalidate the things being said by the people who haven't threatened you with anything worse than a boycott. I have literally seen people say "the fact that they got threats just proves they were right." Is that the outcome you were trying to achieve with this?

People who did bad things get death threats all the time; refer back to the beginning of this post. Does that make their critics wrong then, too? Or is it only now, when the accusation being made is that a nerdy comedy network beloved by people on the left did an antisemitism?

I honestly can't tell if you have no publicist helping you out with one, a bad publicist that needs to give you your money back, or an evil genius publicist that knew that if you made a post like this one, it would distract from the fact that you're being accused of antisemitism, maybe even act as a dog whistle to to paint anyone who accuses you of being antisemitic of being "Zionists" (meant in the derogatory way, where people claim they're only talking about people who uncritically support the Israeli government and their actions in Gaza, but then in practice will use it against anyone who believes Israel has the right to exist, including those who want a two state solution, whose hearts break for the people in Palestine, and call Netanyahu a fascist and probably want him gone more than even the people calling them "zionists" do). Maybe even make up for all of the subscriptions you're losing over this and even gain a few by catering to the antisemitic leftist crowd.

Is that really the kind of culture you want to cultivate? If not, then do better. Acknowledge the Jewish voices that are speaking out. Listen to them. And do it in a way that doesn't bring up any other marginalized group. Because like...fuck, man, I reject Islamophobia, and all forms of bigotry too. And I'm sorry you guys are receiving threats; that truly does suck and I hope everyone that works for you guys are staying safe.

But you're specifically being accused of antisemitism. Can you really not reject it all on its own without including other forms of bigotry in the same statement?

And do it on a platform that *isn't* run by an infamous antisemitic, and overrun by more antisemitics? (You can turn off comments and reblogs on Tumblr and comments on instagram, in the same way you disabled replies on your Tweet, you know.)

Here, I'll even write the statement for you: "Earlier this week, we made a statement regarding accusations that Dropout was platforming zionists. At the time, we made a statement focusing on our support of the Palestinian people. We stand by this statement. However, we have received feedback from several members of our community that some of the things that we said were inappropriate insensitive to the Jewish people. "Zionist" and "Zionism" mean different things to different people, ranging from "people who support the Israeli government's actions in Gaza" to "people who believe that Israel has a right to exist and the Jewish people have the right to self-determination." We had meant it in the context of the former definition, but we understand that many Jewish people identify with the later, including many people who are disgusted by the Israeli government's actions in Gaza, and we should have been more sensitive to this fact. Additionally, we would like to reiterate that, to our knowledge, nobody who has appeared on Dropout has openly stated support for the Israelie's actions in Gaza, and several of those accused have voiced their support for a free Palestine. We would like to take this moment to remind everyone that just because a person is Jewish, and may have ties to Israel, does not inherently mean they condone the actions of the Israeli government in Gaza, and to suggest otherwise is antisemitic. We at Dropout reject all forms of antisemitism and are committed to providing a safe space to everyone regardless of religion or ethnic background. We apologize if we made the Jewish members of our community feel like that was not the case."

See how easy that was? I feel something like this is the bear minimum, and if you had said the things in the last three paragraphs from the start, you could have avoided having to say everything in the first two paragraphs and the apology at the end.

That's...pretty much everything I have to say on the matter. To anyone reading this: Do not use other Jewish people to silence Jewish voices.

Do not use people of other marginalized groups to silence Jewish voices.

Just...maybe just listen to what we have to say without twisting our words and putting words in our mouths? Maybe?

Thanks for reading.

I'm so tired.

[r4izx]

Worth more than what you take me for.

ayato x gn!reader

summary: in which he had to choose between two people including you, in a life and death situation.

disclaimers: swearing (there's like one lol), kidnapping, ooc traveler.

4,032 words and 21,895 characters.

a/n: dayum. this took a while and i did not expect to write this much.

you've known ayato since childhood. your parents has been serving their clan for generations, being one of their most trusted allies. and you're no exception.

growing up with people with high authorities was such a privilege. you remember when you first met lord ayato and lady ayaka. they both were very the same yet so different. so elegant, disciplined and was well mature for their age. you felt some kind of barrier between you and the siblings but they turned out just as kind as they look. they were easy to converse with. naturally, after some time of serving them, you would have gotten closer. and in fact, you did. although you thought, you and ayato's relationship was... rather special.

for some reason, ayato treats you very differently compared to others. not in a bad way. he often calls you to his workplace, make you sit there and drink tea with him. he takes you out to go eat dinner at uyuu restaurant when you both have finished work. he requested you to be his personal assistant while ayaka had thoma. and because of this, you get to spend more time with him than anyone else. at the beginning, you always thought ayato would be a cold and strict person. but it turns out to be quite the opposite. okay- maybe he is more quiet and colder than others, but that's towards other people. especially to those he only has business with.

ayato is surprisingly different to what you originally thought. he would try to match your humor, often speaking informally like the way you would around your closest friends just to match with you. lately he's been spending his free time with you too. he noticed you liked tea a lot, much like him. so both of you had made it a habit to have tea at the estate's balcony while the sun is going down. watching the sunset together. it felt really romantic for you- but you quickly shook your head and remembered that to him- you're just his work partner. but is that really the case for him? because he was much more observant than you thought. especially about you. he notices any slight change in the mood with you. so there was a particular day when you were gloomy because of being so tired. but he noticed this immediately.

"Shall we take a break?"

-- and you don't know why but your heart skipped a beat when he said that. you thought it was funny-- how he would do all of this for you. and at times like these, you start to feel like a special person to him. just because he always relies on you compared to others. you thought you were special to him. until she came.

who is she? she looks so... bold and pretty. just one look at her and you can already tell she has a strong personality but has a gentle aura. her blonde hair swaying so glamorously in the wind. her otherworldly clothes making her stand out among people. the way she moves makes it embarrassing to stand beside her. she seems so... perfect in everyone's eyes. unfortunately, that includes ayato's. you don't remember having a guest in ayato's schedule when you were fixing it, so why's she here?

you found out the answer really quickly. everyone at the estate has been talking about her and... ayato lately. you don't know why though, which is weird- because as his assistant you should be the first to know about things regarding him. it's even weirder that ayato had not summoned you after work has ended. 'is this where our afternoon tea sessions end?' you thought to yourself. so you found it upon yourself to just be straightforward and ask others what's the gossip all about. luckily, there was another servant nearby. she quickly leaned closer to you and whispered.

"h-haven't you heard?... it seems that lord ayato had taken a liking to lady ayaka's guest."

you were surprised. really. it wasn't even his guest yet he bothered to entertain her. just who is she?

"who-... who is her lady's guest?" you nervously questioned.

"I heard it was... the traveler? was it? lord ayato visited her personally! they're just so perfect with eachother!- i can't help it." the servant squeals in excitement, contrary to your look in horror. you try not to make it obvious though. but you shouldn't even be feeling this way. why does it hurt? there's a sharp feeling on your chest that you just can't get out of. it just hurts to know the reason why he stopped your afternoon tea sessions, dinner hangouts, or just even talking with eachother is because of another girl! you were in no place to get frustrated since you were just a servant. nothing more, nothing less. to him.

you only see him through work now. the urge to invite him to a tea break and have a conversation with him while watching the sunset is getting stronger everyday. and who are you to resist?

"lord ayato... wou-" before you could even finish your sentence, he stopped you. your heart was beating so fast. 'oh no. did I do something wrong?' thoughts like these were circling through your mind.

"i told you to just call me 'ayato' y/n"

--and he chuckles a bit at the end. and so do you. you felt so... relieved. your worries instantly washed away. you felt at ease knowing that you are special to him. i mean- he doesn't do this with others does he?

"ah- my bad... but as I was saying, would you like to have some afternoon tea break with me? I mean, we used to do that everyday but it has been a while since we last did soo..."

and at this point you were so sure he wouldn't decline. he's been less busy this week, what could he possibly do that's far too important to even refu-

"my apologies, y/n. i've already scheduled a tea break with someone else this afternoon. maybe next time if i have the time. i promise i'll make it up to you. however, you could accompany us if you would like." and your mind. empty. the world seems like it stopped for you. not only was your only time to hang out with him gone but you were also replaced. all this time... he was with someone else. you had a gut feeling of who that someone else might be. but you couldn't hold a grudge, you have no right to.

"i-... i look forward to it." nope. you absolutely don't, look forward to it. that day will eventually come though. you just didn't expect it to come, three days later. how quick. you were filled with mixed of different emotions. you hate to admit it- but... you are jealous of who this person might be. but at the same time you're glad to just see ayato again! sadly, for work. when he summoned you, you thought-- 'oh is this finally it? will we finally hang out together again?' until you realize it's just that you will just accompany him to go to a somewhat date with someone else. compared to you and ayato just drinking tea at the estate's balcony, he had prepared so much as to have tea and snacks at the shore. alas, you could finally meet this person. once again. as you realize it was her. the traveler.

"traveler, did you wait long? i'm sorry, you could've ju..."

and their conversation went deaf on your ears. the ayato kamisato. speaking informally, and giving out tea invitations to the traveler. when it used to be you... why are you feeling like this? isn't it obvious. the traveler is way prettier, stronger and better than you. comparing yourself to the traveler is already such an embarrassing thing to do. no one could compare to her. she's out there defeating monsters and fighting archons. while you're here holding a grudge on a person who doesn't even know you just because you're jealous you were easily replaced. but who were you to be replaced when you weren't even his to begin with. this is why you feel guilty. because you think that you have no right to feel this way. it's just now that you realize how much of an overthinker you are. however your thoughts were cut short when you hear ayato calling out your name.

"y/n, i'll go to to the comfort room for a bit. please entertain the traveler while i'm away."

he says.

"understood." and so you take a seat at ayato's chair before. and despite not wanting to have a talk with the traveler, it is still your duty and you would not abandon it for just some mere feelings.

"greetings, i'm y/n. it's a pleasure to meet you traveler." you bow slightly and give the smile you usually show to guests. a smile you practiced countless of times infront of a mirror. "you might have not heard about me though. so allow me t-"

"oh i know. you're ayato's personal assistant. he mentioned it to me before." the traveler states. and you were genuinely shocked but also... curious.

"is that so?... then, has he said any other things about me before?" you nervously asked. though the nervously part may not be obvious to others. the traveler sees right through this. and she giggles. but nods. "would you mind serving me some tea? the tea ayato has been serving me is delicious however i've tasted it countless of times from our past tea parties. so I would like to have a different flavor this time."

the word 'countless' implies that they have been doing this for a while now and you already know that. but it still stirs a feeling of jealousy inside you.

"of course. luckily i brought a different tea flavor for myself as well. let me go get the ingredients from my bag." you return after brewing the tea and pouring it into the cups. how thoughtful that the traveler had already prepared the cups for you.

"this tastes a lot like lavender... melon." the traveler says.

"hm. because it is. you have a great sense of taste." you reply. from this point and so on, you don't really know what to talk about. the atmosphere is really awkward. but you still try to strike up a conversation because she is a guest.

"s-so... what brings you here to the kamisato estate?" you ask. in which the traveler replied with "originally, ayaka invited me. and ayato next." you don't know if it's just your eyes playing tricks on you or did the corner of her mouth raise upwards for a bit. you brush it off. maybe the grudge you have on her is going too far. i mean, it's not like you hate her though. but it's also not like you like her.

by now you've almost finished your tea. same goes for the traveler. you only had to endure a little bit more of this atmosphere and her because ayato should be back soon. so you lowered your guard and relaxed a bit. this whole time you only stared at your teacup, but it wouldn't hurt to take a glimpse at the traveler right? so slowly but hesitantly, you lift your eyes up to see her. already staring at you. but you couldn't break away from the eye contact. especially because she just asked you something you're also asking yourself.

"y/n. tell me. do you like ayato?"

despite having a smile on her face as she asked this, her tone was rather cold. it sent shivers down your spine. you don't know why she's asking this. but you also don't know the answer to that question.

...do you like ayato?

"I'm..."

that was the last thing you said before you went unconscious. before that, your vision went blurry and your head was getting dizzy. how could this be? all the years you've spent serving the kamisato clan, this has never happened.

a loud ringing on your ears forced you to wake up, you could hear numerous voices as you slowly opened your eyes. your vision was still blurry but you could figure out that someone was huge was standing before you.

"it's awake."

'it's? what do these people take me for'. --is what you would have thought when you realized you've been kidnapped and the kidnappers are a group of nobushis. you look at your surroundings, counting just how many they are until you finally notice someone beside you. the traveler. she's still unconscious. looking at her made you realize that you're also tied up and is unable to speak. screaming is no use. you seem to be in a... cave? you're not so sure because you don't remember a cave this huge at inazuma. you try to recall what happened and why you ended up here until you heard something a nobushi said.

"ya think he's coming here?"

"i heard he fancies these two. of course he will."

he? who's he? considering they kidnapped you and the traveler, don't tell me they're talking about him. not lord aya--

"oh well look who's here."

your eyes widen in shock when you turn to the direction they're facing. he's standing right there. ayato kamisato has come to save you. ...and the traveler. something moves beside you and you see the traveler, already awake, with tears in her eyes. isn't the traveler supposed to be strong and mighty? you don't understand, how were they able to kidnap her. in what situation was she in for her to become so vulnerable and be captured? i mean before all of this she was only with you-- !! your eyes widen. you saw ayato, ...glaring at you.

why was he glaring? you were in a pitiful situation right now, yet he glares at you as if you commited a crime. you can't believe it but... 'don't tell me thinks... i poisoned the traveler.' archons. he definitely thinks just that. the way his eyes softens as he looks to the girl beside you confirms so.

"give us the document. maybe we'll let both of them go." one of the nobushis spoke up. documents? what documents are they talking about? you handle all the documents for ayato, could it be he's been keeping something from you? are they comparing lives to a piece of document? surely ayato would-

"no. ...who sent you?" his voice cold as ice. the world has been surprising you a lot today. how important could that document be for it to be able to compare to a person's life. "straightforward i see... too bad, if you don't give us the documents any time we'll kill both of your precious little friends and this place will blow up soon." one of the nobushis spoke up again, it was the same guy as earlier. normally, ayato would be able to beat a few nobushis on his own. but he's way outnumbered right now. for some reason he knows that you and the traveler was taken here, yet he still came alone. you look beside you and see that the traveler is now crying. compared to the mighty traveler you seem to be too calm. you shouldn't be, in a situation like this. is it because ayato is now here? although he probably hates your guts already. but you just trust him way too much.

"...not giving in eh? then let's see..."

the nobushi paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about another way to make ayato give in and for them to gain something out of him. the nobushi smirked.

"...if you give us some mora... we'll let ya choose one of them to go with. give us the documents, you all can go home safe and sound. give us none and... you'll die with them." and finally, you felt... fear. your heart was racing. you didn't know it was this bad. earlier you already knew that you're this close to death's door but you weren't panicking at all. you also don't mind dying if it was for ayato. from an early age you already knew that you had to serve and protect their clan no matter what-- even if you have to pay the price of your own life. so why panic now? is it because the nobushis are going to far with their negotiations? is it because you're knocking right at death's door? or maybe it's because you're afraid that ayato will abandon you. choosing someone else, right infront of you in a critical situation like this. but surely he wouldn't, right?

" ...traveler," he throws a pouch of mora to the ground towards the nobushis. you remember when you both were strolling around at inazuma city after dinner. when he mentions that ever since he saw you looking through the stalls but not buying anything, he figured he'd buy them for you. so he always carried a pouch of mora. for you... and not for anyone el-

".. let's go." what? are you hearing things right? but judging by the way they pull the traveler and untie her, it seems that you are. but you wish you weren't. it turns out he really would choose someone else. the traveler lunges to embrace ayato. seeing ayato slowly hug her back, patting her back to calm down her tears and letting her cry on his shoulder just made your broken heart break even further. you get it. with the traveler's back facing you as they embrace, you take a glimpse of ayato until his gaze lands on you.

" ...y/n..."

his tone was somewhat... soft. you assume on a lot of things and right now you don't wanna expect but, you are. is this his last words to me? is he telling me he's sorry? is he gonna tell me how he regrets doing this? and that he never really wanted this to happen? and that i'm someone special to him, viewing me more than just a serv-

" --how dare you."

...and his gaze turns dark. what for? you didn't even do anything. his eyes glares at you as if you both were never friends. or maybe you were never really a friend to him. and he always thought of you as a mere servant. just like the rest. you were just- too naive. so foolish. thinking you were special. special just because he went looking for you and bought medicine and special rare tea in a day when you were sick for work. special cause he always invited you for tea breaks, conversing with you and only you. special because he always relies on you, and you allowed yourself to be relied on, --when you had no one to rely on for yourself. was those years of being with him nothing for him? was it that worthless in his eyes? that you could just be replaced and abandoned any time? you thought you were someone special in his life when he treated you differently compared to others.

but what about the way you treat him?

you treat him as if you were nothing without him. because he was everything to you. you were only this happy with him. only him. if you think of the most memorable memory you've ever had, it would include him. the day you first met him, and today. the last day you're seeing ayato. you watch them slowly turn their heels to leave. and all of a sudden you spoke. you couldn't help it, you spoke without even thinking. and now you don't know what to say. or maybe-- you just don't want to say it.

"a-ayato..." 'did you ever think if me as more than a friend?'... heck- more than a worker even. you wanted to ask just that. but you wouldn't. cause you couldn't. "...thank you, but I did nothing wrong." you say as you smile. that was your final words before the traveler and ayato takes more steps towards another path, probably leading to the exit. you hesitantly and slowly lift your eyes up to take one. last. look to ayato and... the traveler. and last time your eyes were playing tricks on you, but now you realize it wasn't. cause she was smirking again. smirking at you. leaving you to death.

anger. shame. resentment.

fury rises inside of you. you were raised to be patient with others. it was your job. so you've never felt this way for someone before. you wanted to scream but you couldn't. all you could think about was the traveler.

...the traveler!! the traveler!! the traveler.

it was all because of her that you're in a state like this. ever since she came, things changed. she was the person ayato replaced you with. the person he chose to spend the rest of his life with. and the reason why he threw away all of his memories with you and treated you like nothing. he chose a girl he just met instead of a childhood friend companion who has done nothing but pledge loyalty to him. now that you think about it... for ayato you would risk your life for him, die for him even. but he wouldn't do that for you. he only showed up for the traveler when you thought he came to save you.

it felt like your world was crumbling right before your eyes, watching them walk away, leaving you to death. you could mean that literally since anytime now you might be reduced to nothing but also... ayato is your world. to you he is everything. growing up with him, growing with him. he really is that special to you.

too bad,

he doesn't even see you as anything more than a servant. to him you were, not. special. at. all.

their footsteps has slowly faded away. they left. they've left you. behind, to die. it seems... this is it. you hear the nobushis chuckling and talking amongst eachother,

"geez... what a show! anyway.., are the preparations complete?"

"really? then we could go!"

"where did she say we would meet her again?"

"that bitch... making us do all of this. if it weren't for the mora then I wouldn't have agreed."

her? who's her? who's she? these thoughts seem all too familiar, and once again, you got your answer quickly.

"oh the traveler asked us to meet her at jinren island." a nobushi replied. just when you thought your hatred for her couldn't get any worse. however your thoughts were completely cut off when the nobushis all started leaving you. not even batting a single eye. you remembered them mentioning something that would leave you to ashes here. what was it again? if you recall quickly it was probably a-- "a bomb," --a nobushi says to you. as if he could read your mind. "a few minutes from now, once we all leave, this place will get wrecked. including... you." the nobushi laughs. you have never been this lonely before. i mean, you always had ayato beside you. but now that he personally left you for someone else- who do you have now? you have no answer for that. or maybe it is the answer. nothing. no one is there to help you. your reason to live is gone. atleast, you served your life's purpose before you die. you were never really that close to others including your family because of ayato. so you have nothing to lose now. but... you wish you could atleast take revenge on the traveler... even though you hate that idea. revenge isn't something you would even consider but.. the traveler is a different case.

today has given you particularly a lot of last things. like your last thoughts just now. before feeling a strong burst of energy and the brightest light you've ever seen. and everything turns dark.

...your eyes are closed and you can't move your body. but you're hearing something... footsteps? oh, a voice.

" ...how pitiful,"

you fall into deep sleep once again after feeling such an electrifying strike on your back.

... just who was that?

[sanzaibian]

Oh. You’re here once again.

What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?

To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.

I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !

See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !

I’m not supposed to become someone like this :

I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !

Or like that :

Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !

Or that guy :

His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !

Or even this guy !

… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !

Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !

However, today, it all changes.

Today, you will understand my plight.

Today, I’ll transform you for a change.

Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.

So, let us begin.

BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?

… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”

You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.

Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !

There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !

Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.

Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.

Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.

Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.

BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.

Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?

Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !

… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !

Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.

So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).

Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !

However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.

Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)

By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !

Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !

This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !

Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !

I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.

BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !

Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.

All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !

… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…

NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.

Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.

Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…

… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?

What are you holding out for me ?

...

I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.

================================================

By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I know you've written something similar with Bucky hearing the heartbeat of his unborn child buy what if the reader and Bucky weren't in an established relationship in fact the two don't really get a long at all but they hooked up once and Rayleigh got pregnant. After a mission they end up in a safe house and Bucky realizes that he's hearing the heartbeat of their unborn child

hii!! I did change some things, hope that’s okay (about the hearing heartbeats as don’t think he can do that) but I love the idea!! other fic is HERE. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

FIVE WEEKS SINCE.

bucky barnes x fem!reader — fluff/ angst?

word count. 957

Over a month ago, you and Bucky made the mistake of sharing a hotel room, and it consequentially led to the pair of you indulging in those romantic feelings you knew you always had for each other. At the time, it felt far from a misstep, but the awkwardness that followed made it all feel like a huge mistake. 

A following three weeks later —two weeks ago— you found out some life-altering information - discovering that you were pregnant. You knew that it was the work of you and Bucky during that night, but you couldn't bring yourself to share the news. Recently, he's acted like he wanted nothing to do with you, and you felt completely isolated as you wallowed in the feeling by yourself.

During those weeks of uncertainty, you confided in Natasha, essentially using her for support until you worked up enough courage to tell Bucky. She was far more helpful than she gave herself credit for, and slowly but surely, you started to get there in terms of bravery.

You were all currently spending the night at a safe house, sleeping over to resume your mission the next day. Everyone grouped off to share rooms.

It was late, all but you sure to be fast asleep. But you couldn't drift off, something undecided going on with your body - you couldn't figure out what it needed; was it food, water? Something to steady the nauseous feeling in your gut? You weren't sure, so you decided to head down to the kitchen, creeping out of the room quietly, trying not to wake Nat.

As you make your way downstairs, you see the silhouette of someone in the fridge, their back dark - the outline of them lit up by the yellow-white light. You wanted to turn around, not wanting to talk in your moody, tired state, but it was too late. The creak of the last few steps alerting them of your presence.

It was Bucky. And the look on his face was just as uncomfortable as yours.

"I'm just about to go," he murmurs, avoiding you, turning his attention to the open cupboard of glasses.

You roll your neck, working out the kink as you step into the kitchen - it wasn't small, but the space was far too tight for two people who couldn't bear to be in the same room. "No, it's fine. I was just getting a drink," you shrug, standing off to the side of him as you wait to collect a glass. 

Instead, he turns to you, handing you one. "Juice is on the counter," he nods, gesturing to the island behind.

"Thanks," you smile reasonably, uncapping the bottle and pouring yourself a glass. But when Bucky steps over, you hand him yours, taking his to fill for yourself. 

He takes a quick swig and thanks you, looking around the room awkwardly.

"Do you know where the cookies are?" you ask, trying to ease the tension.

He nods softly and reaches into another cupboard, pulling out a pack of cookies. He opens the packet and hands it to you, acting courteous.

"Thank you," you smile sweetly, offering him the first one. 

With a soft shake of his head, he declines.

"Can't sleep?" you ask. 

"No. You?"

"No."

And as he begins to step back, you decide to speak up - not wanting him to leave just yet. "Hey, uhm," you pause, fiddling with the cookie wrapper. "We haven't really spoken... how you been?" 

"Uh, doing good," he nods faintly, clearly holding back. "Have you— are you good?" 

You nod, also holding back. 

"Good," he nods, lips in a forced straight line. Feet turning away, itching to leave the room.

"James," you hesitated, clutching at straws - desperate to keep him around just a little longer.

His movement halts, and he twists back to face you. The simple call of his real name brings back memories of the two of you before all the awkwardness. 

"I'm..." you inhale sharply, thinking of the words. "I need to tell you something, and I—" you shake your head, stilling your wavering voice. 

He takes a small step closer, leaving a comfortable distance between you. "Tell me what?" he asks, the desperation clear in his eyes - his body language growing anxious.

"A couple weeks ago... I found out I'm pregnant," you whisper, momentarily closing your eyes - cowering away. "And I don't know what to do," you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. "It's a lot... and I didn't know how to tell you, but you should know."

The silence is deafening. Bucky's being far too quiet, and it makes you feel sick. You finally meet his gaze and watch the contrasting emotions play out on his face - he's clearly trying to process it all. 

"I know the timing isn't great, and things aren't good with us," you try to be mature, attempting to patch things over. "It was a shock for me too, but I just..." you sigh, waiting for him to say something. "I don't expect anything from you, it's okay. I get it."

He nods, seeming to have collected himself. "Let's talk everything over, okay? Talk it all through, clear the air," he offers with a half smile, closing the gap with another step forward. 

"Now?" you ask, thrown off by his sudden cooperation and interest. 

"Yeah, we'll sit on the back porch," he nods through the kitchen window, gesturing to the deck chairs. "You tell me everything, I'll tell you everything. We'll sort this out."

You're pleased with the progress you're making, and your forced smile turns into a real one - the first real one he's seen of yours in a while. "Yeah. I'd like that."

I spent way too long trying to understand the pregnancy time frame of conception and implantation😭😭

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> what is his problem?

word count: 2.1k TW: a bucket of snark, cold wonwoo, mentions of bullying, swearing italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

"Mingyu!" Cyana yelled from across the living room, her leg propped up as she sat icing her swollen ankle.

The boy in question slid into view, stumbling a little for balance as he grappled with the slippery wooden floors. "Yes, princess?"

Cyana made a little face at the nickname. "Can you charge my phone for me please? I left it in the kitchen and I can't stand up." She pouted at the mention of her rolled ankle. "And I thought I told you not to call me that."

Mingyu let out a deep sigh. "It's fitting though, don't you think? You are seventeen's princess." He poked her ankle gently. "Look at me, waiting on you hand and foot."

She sent him a glare. "You're the reason I'm like this." She let her upper half crumple dramatically onto the couch.

Mingyu had came rushing into practice this afternoon, colliding into an unaware Cyana, who had just been trying to leave the room for water. Everyone had chalked it up to the fact that Mingyu only ever looked parallel to his height, and could not see Cyana below him.

"I've already apologized." He whined, leaving to grab her phone. "You're even sleeping over so I can take care of you. Seungcheol said it was my punishment. You know only special people can ever enter the Minwon residence."

She scoffed. She noticed she was unnaturally riled up today, annoyed by the pain and inconvenience of not being able to walk. "Special, my ass."

"Hey." Mingyu stared at her from the doorway, having been on his way to grab a charger for her phone. He sent her a frown. "I understood that."

Cyana stuck out her tongue in retaliation, smiling to herself when it got a loud laugh from Mingyu. She watched him walk out of view, probably to his room to grab his charger.

They really had started to feel a little like family, Cyana realized as she sat there, with nothing to do but to ponder. She wouldn't have ever expected to be enjoying small moments like this, despite her ankle still throbbing. She also wouldn't have ever thought this job would be anymore than purely working. She never imagined she'd make friends, let alone call 13 boys her family. Well, 11 boys, she correctly ruefully. Woozi had been refusing to speak to her since the Hug BPM incident, although Cyana noticed he had changed it to be 138. Wonwoo was another one who seemed to be doing everything under the sun to avoid her, despite them literally being under the same roof right now. He had helped Mingyu move her from the car to their couch, gave her a look over and retreated to his room.

She let out a huff. She'd been here for nearly two months now, and comeback season would begin in less than two weeks. Wonwoo or Woozi (preferably both) would have to get their shit together sooner or later, before fans began to notice and shit started getting stirred.

Mingyu knocked twice on Wonwoo's door before entering. The last time he had walked in unannounced, a controller had been sent flying his way.

"Wonwoo hyung~" He called, reaching over to move Wonwoo's headset slightly off his ear. "Can I borrow your charger?"

Wonwoo frowned, blinking at Mingyu, his eyes adjusting from the bright screen back to reality. "Why?" Mingyu's phone wasn't adaptable to his charger head.

Mingyu waved the lilac phone in his hand. "Cyana's phone."

"She's got you charging her phone for her now?" Wonwoo muttered, getting up to grab it from the floor next to his bed. "Puppy."

"Hey!" Mingyu protested indignantly. "Her ankle's injured. I'm just helping. Like you should be doing."

Wonwoo frowned. "Why would I?"

"She's family."

Wonwoo scoffed. "She's not family. Family is the people who were there with us in that fucking lime green room."

Mingyu cut his eyes at the older boy, disappointed. "Cyana's a good person. You'd know if you'd just give her a chance."

"She's a ticking time bomb, Gyu. You need to realize that." Wonwoo's shoulders sagged as he sighed, handing over his charger. "She's going to blow up our comeback either way."

"You've been talking too much with Woozi hyung." Mingyu decided. "One skeptic's enough in this group."

"She's got 11 cheerleaders and knights-in-waiting already." Wonwoo quickly countered, sitting back down and putting his headphones back on, clicking open a new game. "I just don't think we'd get along."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "She's literally you, Wonwoo. Down the a T." He groaned when the older boy gave no reaction, the headphones blocking his words. "Aish-" He slapped the back of Wonwoo's head gently. "Idiot."

Returning back to the living room, he plugged the charger in the outlet next to Cyana and handed her her phone. "You better thank Wonwoo later, it's his charger."

Cyana groaned. "Why~ Couldn't you have just grabbed yours?"

"My charger doesn't fit your phone, nana." Mingyu frowned. "Did something happen between you and Wonwoo hyung or what?"

"What do you mean?"

Mingyu took a seat next to her, hands reaching over to bring her injured foot into his lap, massaging her ankle. "Just mean that there has to be a reason you hate each other, that's all."

"I don't hate him, Gyu." Cyana sighed. "I just don't like being where I'm clearly not wanted."

"I'll talk to him."

Cyana shook her head. "No, no. Don't make it worse. It's okay, Gyu." She patted his arm. "Wonwoo not liking me isn't going to destroy me. As long as he hides it well during recordings, we're fine."

"He's my best friend though~" Mingyu whined. "I want my two best friends to get along well."

Cyana let out a shaky laugh, hit by a sudden jolt of pain when Mingyu pressed on a particular spot. "Sadly we don't always get what we want." She squeezed his shoulder. "Really, though. It's okay. I still have more friends than I ever had before."

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "I didn't really have friends growing up, is all. I was busy."

Mingyu looked at her sadly. "That's not good. Childhood friends are the best. You didn't make any at school?"

Cyana thought for a little bit, reaching over to move Mingyu's fingers to a certain spot where she felt like the pain was the most. "I had some friends in Vancouver, but once we moved to LA, everyone kind of already had friends. So it was awkward to join them."

"Oh." Mingyu couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Cyana didn't have friends in LA. She was so comforting and funny and pretty and good.

"They were all mean anyways." Cyana shrugged off the heaviness that the memories had brought her. "Not very friend-material."

Mingyu nodded. "I guess." He was still sad though, imagining lonely baby Cyana in the middle of a busy and large LA.

Sensing his sadness for her, Cyana offered him a bright smile. "I have you now. And Shua. And Kyeomie, and Boo, and Chan, and Vernon." She began counting them with her fingers, earning a smile from Mingyu. "And Hannie, and Hoshi, and Jun, and Haohao, and Seungcheol." She paused. "Well, kind of Seungcheol. I don't know if we're there yet." Looking up at Mingyu, she smiled. "But still! That's a lot of friends."

"I'm glad." Mingyu could only say, although his eyes said a whole lot more. I'm glad you have us. I'm glad you see us as your friends. I'm glad you're our friend. My friend. Cyana's grateful smile told him she understood.

The next morning, Cyana woke up in a stranger's bed. She sat up, frowning when she didn't recognize the bedroom she was in. Mingyu's bedroom did not have pretty LED lights coming from the ceiling, and last time she checked, he didn't own a gaming station.

"Get up."

Her eyes widened at the sound of Wonwoo's voice. She turned her head to look at him, leaning on the doorframe of the connected bathroom.

"What?" She mumbled, still deciding whether or not it was all a dream. It had to be, for on what planet would she wake up in Wonwoo's bed?

"I said get up." Wonwoo sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe to grab his coat from the foot of the bed. Sensing her confusion, he bit back a tiny smile. "You and Mingyu both fell asleep on the couch last night. I brought Mingyu back to his bed but found you couldn't fit comfortably next to him so I brought you here." He threw his coat on, grabbing his keys and phone as well. "I slept outside on the couch, don't worry."

Cyana's face flushed. It didn't go past her that this was the most words Wonwoo had ever spoken to her. "Sorry." She moved to get up. A large hand stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

"Sorry." Wonwoo mumbled, releasing her. "Your ankle."

"Oh." Her face flushed again. "I think it should be fine. Mingyu's pretty good at physical therapy."

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Cyana stood up, gingerly placing weight on her bad ankle. Wonwoo stood a couple steps away from her, ready if something were to go wrong.

"It's fine." Cyana gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks. You could've just left me on the couch." She had definitely expected him to.

"Maybe I should've." Wonwoo muttered. "Hip Hop unit's got practice early today. Breakfast's on the table. Don't call. Don't burn the house down. And don't touch my things." He left the room without another word. Cyana heard Mingyu's voice from the distance and could hear the front door shutting behind them.

She blinked, frozen. She didn't know whether to cry or celebrate that Wonwoo had finally acknowledged her presence. His actions and words confused her greatly. It was i put you in my bed and slept outside so you can sleep well and then shout loudly to wake you up followed by a got you breakfast ending with a i don't trust you in my house.

She sighed, shaking her head. Boys.

Although her stomach grumbled, she opted to skip breakfast. Her stylists had complained that she wasn't fitting the skirt they'd made for their stage performances, despite it being not her size at all. She supposed it meant she still had a long way to go before she would look good onstage next to the members.

Looking around the room, she was able to properly see Wonwoo's place for the first time. It was clean, she expected nothing less from him. Everything about him screamed clean.

The computer hummed with life despite it being off and it was surrounded by photographs and equipment. She smiled when she spotted a photograph of what looked to be young seventeen, huddled together in the midst of their trainee years. There was also a few photos of a dog, who she assumed was Wonwoo's back home. There were books as well, overfilling the shelves that lined the far wall. That was something Cyana could relate to, although these titles were all in Korean instead of English. She found that she missed having books to read. It was hard to find anything good in Korea that she could understand.

She could've spent eternity in Wonwoo's room just looking at things, trying to decipher a person she desperately wanted to know. Her phone rang however, startling her.

"Hello?" It was their manager.

"Oh. Manager oppa. What's going on?" Cyana frowned. The manager rarely called them, schedules and changes were usually relayed through text.

"We have a couple company higher-ups who want to see your improvement before the comeback, Soyeon-ssi. I'm sorry to spring it on you now, but they'll be at Pledis soon. Could you come over quickly?"

Her blood rang cold. "Oh, uh- yes. I'm at Mingyu's right now. I'll be there in 10 minutes."

"Great. No need to panic, Soyeon. They just want to know if you're ready."

That was the thing though. Cyana didn't think she was ready. Sure, she'd been practicing with the others, learning techniques she hadn't learnt in LA, but she still wasn't as polished as the others. She couldn't quite grasp the concept of levels and angles, although she tried her hardest knowing it was essential to Seventeen's famed synchronization.

Rushing out of Wonwoo's room, she threw on the first hoodie she found in Mingyu's room before rushing to leave, locking the door behind her. Waving down a taxi, she sent prayers to all the gods she did not believe in that she'd pass whatever test they were giving her. She wanted to debut. She needed to. She wasn't about to let herself be sent back to LA. Not when she had family here.

author's note: ahhh! thank you so much for reading! things are about to get intense (,,>﹏<,,)

[luka--lu]

Anthropological and philosophical analysis of Viktor’s story in Season 2 - Part I

Finally gathered thoughts that floated in my mind since Season 2 had ended. These will literally be my first posts ever, will be a bit chaotic, please be kind, I’m shy. But also very critical.

I’ll preface this by saying that I’m not a person with a disability. I cannot claim to know this experience, because I simply don’t. I love Viktor as a character and it so happens he has a disability, it’s something I always consider when engaging with his story. Besides, his story revolves around his disability since S1 Act 2 and he kind of falls into the trope of ‘disability as character motivation’, but he’s much more than that. And that’s what I want to explore in these posts.

My analytical approach is obviously influenced by my experience as an able-bodied person. I’ve had extensive courses on disability studies while at university and focused my bachelor’s thesis partially on disability representation in media (I focused on scars and ‘deformities’, something many Arcane characters have, but that’s perhaps for another post). To people out there who have disabilities and wish to engage with this post - please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely trying to learn more.

I want to stress that in my analysis I’m not saying Viktor is entirely ruined as a character or is bad disability representation. I analyse his story from the perspective of philosophical, cultural and social contexts, and through disability studies theory. I’m not an expert and certainly can't speak on behalf of people with disabilities, I'm talking as an anthropologist and enjoyer of storytelling and art.

That being said, I’ll try to make it coherent and divided by topics, because these’ll be long posts. Some thoughts are a bit disjointed, I’ll be sharing some of my ideas for how Viktor’s arc could’ve been improved. Hopefully it makes sense as a whole.

TRANSHUMANISM & POSTHUMANISIM

Transhumanism as a philosophy and social movement originates from the notion that many people are forced to live worse lives than necessary and can’t reach their full potential. One of the most important thinkers of transhumanism Julian Huxley argued that application of science can prevent poverty, illness and change the world for the better. He literally wrote that ‘the man can manage evolution’. 

Viktor represents transhumanist ideology in a way that, in Season 2, he literally can’t refuse the job - he was forced the moment Jayce fused him with the Hexcore. Sure, he could have refused to use its power now residing in his body. But the writers chose to disallow him that choice. So Viktor ‘heals’ Huck and begins his Jesus Era. Viktor later asks Singed if the doctor believes in fate, which is followed by Viktor declaring evolution has a course - superseding nature. This way Viktor exemplifies Huxley’s idea of what transhumanism is:

(...) whether he [man, as in human] is conscious of what he is doing or not, he is in point of fact determining the future direction of evolution (...). That is his inescapable destiny and the sooner he realizes it and starts believing in it, the better for all concerned. (Huxley, Transhumanism)

If the Hexcore was actually sentient and controlled Viktor, then I guess it’s the soul of Julian Huxley.

The same way Huxley's work was grounded in a desire to make the world a better place, so is Viktor’s. His dream of betterment of his people's lives was the primary motivation of Viktor’s character, but it got hijacked by the magical mumbo jumbo of the Hexcore and Arcane powers in S2. His transhumanist ideology wasn’t developed organically, the story just jumps to act 2 and then 3 without proper explanation as to why he turned to this philosophy so radically.

Important to add, Huxley was a eugenicist. Kinda wild to take transhumanist ideas and write Viktor’s, a disabled man’s arc, the way they did. Viktor wanted to use technology to change the world, but writers said: ‘hmm, what if… magic?? And eugenics! because he has internalised ableism now!’ But more on that later.

Central question regarding transhumanism is who decides what’s an enhancement and what’s a limitation. The short answer is: it’s a personal choice, we can use inventions to improve quality of life if we wish. Yes, some things can be a choice, but in reality it’s kind of compulsory, because the society is built in a way that demands conformity.

Viktor changed himself instead of trying to change the world the way he intended to in S1. His arc was derailed from his initial will to act for the society that needed positive change. Progress for Piltover meant technological advancement in the name of scientific and economic gain. In Viktor’s transhumanist vision progress is about extending the self - to live without suffering, to cure physical and mental afflictions of Zaunites. It goes beyond his motivation to cure his disease, his actions in S2 don’t fit his characterization in S1. This is why I believe inserting parts of his original League Lore into Arcane would have made an amazing story with transhumanism as background.

Good part of technology is that it gives us opportunities for different forms of embodiment. Embodiment, important in phenomenology and feminist studies, means how we experience ourselves as a living body that feels the world as we inhabit it -  how we experience it in connection to us, simultaneously being influenced and influencing the world. There’re plenty of theories that tackle this concept, but let me go the short way.

Transhumanist philosophers talk at length about progress in relation to embodiment. Critics ask questions about the ethical side: who’s gonna get to use the technology to enhance themselves? What about people who can’t afford technology used for the enhancement? How will technology influence the embodiment of certain people? Specifically, what does this philosophy say about disability?

I will talk more about disability in another section, but transhumanists consider physical disabilities as something open to changes. Different technologies can be used as mobility aids, advanced procedures could help with improving the standard of life for people with disabilities.

But there still remains a question: what kinds of disability are considered in need of improvement? If technology changes a disabled person's body so they can function similar to able-bodied people, then is the category of 'disabled' even relevant anymore? Is there a definite line when it comes to influencing the body with technology? What kind of progress do transhumanists actually seek and for whom?

We don't hear Viktor’s stance on ideas similar to transhumanist ones until his talk with Singed, but it's a bit convoluted and isn't developed well enough to be an interesting take on a very controversial and fascinating philosophy that is transhumanism. It’s only indirectly addressed at the end by Old Man Jenkins Viktor when he says ‘There’s no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit’, meaning that the glorious evolution doesn't really have a destination, even though Viktor believed so.

The change transhumanists seek can never actually reach a final perfect end - who and when will decide what the end of human evolution looks like? What is the ultimate, trans- or even posthuman form we’re supposed to achieve? Arcane seems to argue that nobody will ever be able to decide, even with godlike powers and knowledge.

Old Man Jenkins Viktor calls back to primary belief of posthumanism, which Nietzshe wrote about:

Man is not the effect of some special purpose, of a will, an end; nor is he an object of an attempt to attain an ‘ideal of humanity’ or ‘an ideal of happiness’ or an ‘ideal of morality’. It is absurd to wish to devolve one’s essence on some end or other. We have invented the concept of ‘end’: in reality there is no end. (Nietzshe, Twilight of the Idols)

Posthumanism is another philosophy that provides an interesting context for analysing Viktor’s arc in S2. I first focused on transhumanism since his story originally involved using technology to change lives. But Viktor seems to mix transhumanism and posthumanism.

Posthumanism is more about getting rid of core values of humanism. it’s about going beyond what makes humans, well, humans, which is a lot of things (biology, culture, economy, science, politics, environment, religion, social relations ect.). Posthumanism states that humans aren’t really that special, and argues that there are many other creatures and things that are equally as innovative as humans. It’s a philosophy critiquing anthropocentrism. It dismisses the notion of humans as apex creatures that can control and bend the world to their needs and will. The will to extend ourselves and find power within us isn’t exclusively a human trait - all organisms and things on Earth have that potential (interesting that in the destroyed Piltover Jayce saw the flora and fauna still expanded at the top of the Hexgates).

Viktor’s story isn’t really about that, but it ties to posthumanism when Viktor declares that emotions clash with reason, humanity is a contradiction which causes destruction, so there’s the need to go beyond humanism. Viktor’s ideas about human nature aren't really posthuman. His thought as he was dying after Jayce's attack revolved around the humanist idea that humans actually have an unchangeable essence.

Posthumanism, as understood by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guatarri, states that there’s no essence of ‘humans’. There’s only the potentiality, which comes from an individual will to create oneself, apart from fixed rules of the world. Funny enough, Viktor speaks about similar ‘charge, potential, impulse', but I don’t think it’s in any way connected to Deleuze’s idea. The philosophy of Viktor in S2 seems all over the place with trans- and posthuman ideas underneath, but it's an interesting mix that I wanted to explore, even if only on surface level.

Deleuze is fucking difficult to understand, French philosophers are the demons that always kick my ass, but they had some good stuff to say. In Postscript on the Societies of Control Deleuze claims that society is made by machines, not only in technological sense, but also by different systems: social, political, economic, religious ect. Every system is a machine. In the case of Piltover and Zaun, the social and political machines categorize people and program them to inhabit certain identities and spaces. Human body is also a machine consisting of different anatomical systems. We are machines living in machines, the flow of information and experiences between us and the world is constant. In a way, even before Viktor tried to change everyone into machines, the world was already run by machines.

I also think that technological posthumanism is an amazing lens to analyse the usage of Hextech and its final destruction of the world in Arcane. Technological posthumanism states that humans use tools and technology as integral to our identity and functioning. Inventions are made by humans, but inventions also invent humans - we use tools, art, machines that extend us, that make us. Humans don’t make technology because they’re free and rational, rather they’re free and rational because they make technology.

Donna Haraway says we're already cyborgs, because tool-making and technology is always a part of our evolution - we incorporate the world into our bodies. We use tools, but according to posthumanism, tools use us in some sense, like a parasite. Interesting that Viktor becomes literally a mix of flesh and machine, influenced by the Hexcore.

Going further, posthumanist thinker Bernard Stiegler writes:

(...) the pursuit of the evolution of the living by other means than life - which is what the history of technics consists in, from the first flaked pebbles to today, a history that is also the history of humanity. (Stiegler, Technics and Time, 1)

Evolution's course is always directed by technology and tools. Stiegler asks: ‘Who’ or ‘what’ does the inventing? ‘Who’ or ‘what’ is invented?.

Jayce and Viktor invent Hextech. Piltover, City of Progress, is made by the development of Hextech. Hextech invents Piltover’s identity, makes its citizens and government free, rational, innovative and progressive, in opposition to Zaun, which supposedly lacks these traits. Is it really Viktor who causes the calamity in the end? Or is it Viktor and Jayce’s invention of Hextech that caused the end of Piltover? Was it humans using technology, or was it technology influencing humans? Technology can be human’s progression in evolution (as Viktor represented) but it can be the destruction of the world (as Jayce saw in the apocalyptic Piltover). There is no predestined essence or course, there is only the potentiality.

Viktor’s arc with the transhumanist/posthumanist Messiah plot fits a subgenre of these philosophies which states there’s a possibility of a Posthuman God. It means that humans, no longer limited by nature, flesh and emotions, will be able to grow into a god-like state of intelligence. It’s not about ascending to a literal god like Viktor did, but more about posthumans being so advanced and intelligent that modern-day humans wouldn’t be able to comprehend it. It is tied to Nietzshe’s Overman ideal, but that’s another long story.

Summing up, the writers butchered Viktor’s character and did something typical for the general transhumanist discourse. That our problems are technological, not political and social, it’s about science that changes our embodiment, and we need this change because the world is unfair. But why is it unfair? Too difficult of a question for the writers apparently… I'll be dissecting it further below.

* Interesting to add, transhumanists of today go as far as suggesting we’ll be able to upload our minds into computers/certain devices and this way live forever. Viktor sorta reminded me about that with his astral plane self. There was a movie with Johnny Depp with this idea, Transcendence. This movie is bad tho (*Wendy Williams voice* Guess who’s jealous of Viktor Arcane? … JOHNNY DEPP!)

DISABILITY

In The capacity of contract Stacy Clifford Simplican distinguishes two ways of thinking about disability: medical and social. Medical model means that people have a medical problem when we compare their state to fixed diagnostic norms. The social model is about how society creates disability by making the world adjusted to able-bodied people, while disability is an exception to the norm, an anomaly. 

What the social model explains is that the problem isn’t the disabled person’s body, the problem is that they didn’t have a chance to design the world that would accommodate everybody. Medical model is appealing to able-bodied people because it allows them to dismiss their anxieties connected to disability and the possibility of acquiring it. People would have to then face the fact that society is actually unfair, so the medical model allows thinking there’s a distinct difference between able-bodied ‘normal’ people and persons with disabilities. There is ‘us’ (able-bodied) and the Other.

The idea of a cultural Other is key in various theories, especially in post-colonial critical theories, disability studies, social stigma theory ect. It basically means that the dominant group considers everyone who’s an outsider or lacks certain attributes essential to the group, as inherently different, oftentimes meaning lesser, therefore considered ‘other than us’. The Other needs to be distinctly alien to the normative group or culture. In case of people with disabilities the line marking the difference is located in their bodies.

In season 2 Viktor literally crossed the line (haha see what i did there) by rejecting his disabled body and changing into the Machine Herald. By rejecting his embodiment, he wished to fit into the ‘perfect’ embodiment represented by the people of Piltover. However, I consider Machine Herald Viktor as the epitome of what Piltover society considers as the Other. At the end of S2, for people of Piltover the line between what’s worth saving and what’s dangerous yet again locates itself in the body of the Other. The body that originated from the embodiment of the disabled Zaunite.

Viktor’s body is central to his character. We see his embodiment is an experience of pain, struggle, not only physical (he feels his body eroding) and emotional, but also social, he’s a Zaunite in Piltover. He’s double stigmatised as an undercitizen and a disabled person. Theory of stigma tells us that problems disabled people experience oftentimes aren’t connected to the disability itself but to the unequal, negative approach, harmful representations and institutionalised practices that cause the stigmatisation. It all reveals itself in ableism. One of the most important authors of disability studies, Rosemary Garland-Thompson wrote at length about these topics, notably in Extraordinary bodies. I’ll be referring to her work a lot in this post.

Viktor changed his body in S1 and then again in S2, he became Machine Herald, what he thinks is ‘the most he’s ever been’. But Piltover still thinks of him as the Other, a threat - and we know that in their worldview ‘Zaunites’ equals ‘danger’. And here’s the thing - ‘disabled’ is a position you get in a concrete socioeconomic context.

Viktor’s Jesus arc and commune activities focus on ‘fixing’ people and allowing them to live on the outskirts, away from the stigmatising society. Paradoxically, he fixed Zaunites to be able-bodied, like Piltover’s society accepts, but Zaunites can’t join that society, they’re still on the outside. Arguably, they’re trying to create an alternative for the stigmatising society, a new ‘Herald’s vision’. But why does this vision involve getting rid of disabilities? 

‘Overcoming limitations’ isn't really about transforming the body. As Abigail Thorn said: ‘You're not gonna fix homelessness by turning homeless people into inspector Gadget’. Arcane S2 Viktor took the wrong angle on the whole ‘helping the Zaunites’ thing. The show for sure states that. And that makes me sad and mad because it’s just.. idk stupid? Viktor as he’s established in S1 is fiercely intelligent, has very strong morals and convictions. He acts recklessly and crosses ethical limits only when it comes to saving himself from literally dying. I don't see how he would go from ‘In pursuit of great we failed to do good’ to complete opposite and being SO misguided in act 2-3 in the 2nd season. They character assassinated him so hard it’s almost unbearable. Still love him, but gods, look how they massacred my boy. Anyway-

Viktor’s disability makes him significantly different from the rest of the cast - as Garland-Thompson wrote, the figure of Otherness is a result of interpreting and giving meaning to bodies. It gives categories and paradigms, which then give us identities. By making Viktor a person with disability the creators had the responsibility of understanding that their writing has real life consequences. Representation in art and media is a means of identification for real life people who relate to Viktor’s embodiment.

Disability is not only a physical state of being, a form of individual embodiment, but also an economic one. It’s true for Viktor - he self-described in S1 as ‘a poor cripple’, using the language of his oppressors, clearly to pinpoint how he’s perceived by the normative majority of Piltover. I’d argue this doesn’t tell us how he actually feels about his disability. We don't really get his thoughts on it. I see many people assuming he thinks of it as an imperfection from the start and point to S1 when he shies away from the spotlight and then more obviously in S2 Jayce basically confirms to the audience Viktor’s internalised ableism in The Speech.

But I’m not so convinced. Viktor in S1 strikes me as someone who hopes his work will talk for itself, so he doesn't crave the spotlight, but it absolutely could be argued that the reason he hides in shadows is to protect himself from the scrutiny of onlookers. It might be an argument for him thinking poorly about himself and Arcane is known for ‘show don't tell’, but I sort of… wish they told us?

Viktor talks about his disease and focuses on his incoming death, which is central to his character in S1 after act 1. Disability and actively dying are different things though, but in sociocultural contexts are often considered almost the same. It seems to me that the writers made such an assumption - treating Viktor’s leg and his disease interchangeably.

Viktor’s internalised ableism wasn't prominent, I'd say nonexistent, in S1, his focus was on preventing his death, not on getting rid of his disability. He experimented on his leg and tested its durability when running. Season 1 already established that it was the wrong choice (although the running scene is contradictory with its message because of the ‘victorious’ framing and music). Viktor changes his mind at the end of S1 and asks Jayce to destroy the Hexcore. Never, not once, in S1 Viktor declares that he wishes to help people of the Undercity with getting rid of disabilities or that he wants his own to go away. He only speaks about his general health deteriorating.

But then we get Jayce saying Viktor ‘always wanted to cure what he thought were weaknesses; his leg, his disease’. Um- no, not true? Viktor always wanted to invent things to make a change for the disenfranchised. He couldn't do so because of his terminal illness and Piltover’s politicians not giving a damn about Zaunites. We don't know how he feels about his disability apart from recognising it as a part of his social status as a Zaunite in Piltover. We get the scene when as a child he shows Singed his leg, meaning he can’t play with kids and is lonely. This could mean he’s either shunned or can't access places where kids play. That's an issue of accessibility and how disability is created by alienating disabled people. It’s not enough proof to argue that Viktor dislikes his disability to the point of wishing to fix it when he becomes an adult.

I argue that Viktor’s internalised ableism was forced onto him by the writers. This way they put the responsibility of dealing with ableism on the disabled individual instead of asking the real question: why is Viktor experiencing ableism in the first place? Why is it Viktor who has to bear the burden of injustice and feel bad about himself? Apart from the positive sentiment of ‘disability is a part of humanity and doesn’t mean you’re broken’, the message of the ending seems to be: 'it's sad you feel bad about yourself, you need to hear you’re valid and get over your internalised ableism or you’ll doom everybody, but we won’t be addressing systemic oppression you'd experienced'.

The feminist, lesbian, poet, mother, warrior and an icon Audre Lorde pointed out the issues that stigmatised people face, especially having to be representatives of their marginalised position, having to use their intellectual and emotional labor to address oppression. I can’t agree that Viktor taking on the labor of realising his internalised ableism thanks to Jayce’s Speech is amazing writing. His humanity was denied by the oppressors so much he ended up rejecting it all together? The framing of Viktor’s motivation after becoming Machine Herald is extremely detached from his original character’s. I can’t- it seems like they made him self-loath and cause harm just because the final battle would look cool?

I like Arcane’s message that erasing disability is like erasing humanity and love wins in the end. But it's so naive, because it’s done at the cost of the disabled character’s entire arc and positions him as the villain to a society of mostly able-bodied people. I don't vibe with that writing choice. If the writers had the guts and we didn't live in capitalism, maybe we’d get more seasons and something truly revolutionary.

Feminist scholars pointed out how people’s standpoints shape politics, how identity, personhood and body are cultural constructs that need to be questioned. Standpoint theory suggests that representation is always a political act and thus disability representation needs to be treated as such. I don't think Linke and others thought about it this way while writing Viktor. They created a great character though, so allow me to open my ao3 tab and look up canon divergent fics.

Because of Viktor’s arc in S2 becoming about having his autonomy revoked and his supposed internalised ableism, we unfortunately got an interpretation that Garland-Thomson notes as widely accepted - that physical disability is a part of lower social status and a personal tragedy. We could have had Viktor as a transformative example of a physically disabled person who exposes social institutions of power and questions the notion of othering as a rule that permeates the Zaun-Piltover conflict. For that to happen, it wouldn't be Jayce who affirmed Viktor as valid - it would be Viktor affirming himself.

And we know he had the capacity to do that. In S1 act 1 he’s self-confident and we know he got to Piltover thanks to his intellect and resilience. Why would he lose these parts of himself so radically in S2? I understand that he was severely depressed and dying, that did change his perception of self when his health deteriorated. Yet, I believe in S2 the acceptance Jayce talks about could have come from Viktor seeing his own value. Garland-Thomson calls it 'speaking with one’s voice’. To be seen and accepted means having autonomy and possibility to speak about our embodiment with other people. We don't get to see/hear Viktor do that. He speaks of his mortality and deteriorating body in the context of disease, not disability. And he doesn’t really react to Jayce’s Speech.

If the creators wanted a really empowering story about a disabled character, they needed to address that. According to Garland-Thomson, the body is a text that needs interpretation by their owners. Giving meaning to his body, affirming it (maybe choosing to change it only to stop himself from dying) would mean that Viktor frees himself from symbolic and systemic violence, and rebels against fantasies and anxiety projected onto him by the normative society. That would have been based as fuck.

I ship JayVik, but it doesn't mean The Speech is all fine. Jayce might understand some of Viktor’s struggles but he’ll never understand him fully. It’s true that Jayce experienced horrors beyond comprehension, saw how his dream destroyed the world, he starved, had to reflect on his decisions sitting in a dark cave and injured his leg. Him acquiring a disability to parallel Viktor is a very important moment, yet it’s not the same as knowing Viktor’s experience of embodiment.

Jayce didn't live with a disability all his life in the society that considered it as something inferior. Jayce didn't live with despair and desperation of struggling to prevent himself from dying of an illness caused by the actions of an oppressive state. Jayce’s speech is emotional and important for his relationship with Viktor, and I did get teary eyed when he expressed how much he adored Viktor. But they lost me with ‘fix weaknesses, your leg, disease, and there’s beauty in imperfections’.

The Speech is sweet on the surface level but it rubbed me the wrong way, because not only it didn't make sense with Viktor’s arc, but it also feels weird to say that disability and terminal illness are an imperfection in which there's beauty. Imperfection is a tad insensitive of a term in this context... Having Jayce - who was more privileged socially, essentially able-bodied all his life and acquired his disability only recently - say this to Viktor, is kind of an odd choice. I do see what they’re trying to say: such experiences shape us but they don't define us. That Jayce loved Viktor as a whole human being with every part as integral to who he is.

At the end Jayce frees Viktor from his loneliness. Lovely stuff and I like it on a personal level, altho the Speech was poorly worded. Narratively, it tells me that the disabled character needed another person to say he was all he needed to be from the start. But it ignores the social context of why Viktor was lonely. Jayce's speech shifts focus from systemic oppression and inaccessibility to interpersonal connection he had with Viktor and the emotional side of it. It's possible to both establish a loving bond and acknowledge the discrimination Viktor experienced. But that didn’t happen in the story.

Viktor’s actions as written in S2 seem to stem from an immense need for acceptance and a wish not to be lonely. Of course he has Jayce in the end. My JayVik side is kicking its feet in the air and giggling, but when I look at it from a representation perspective it's kind of bad. Jayce is after all a privileged man who has never experienced life long marginalisation, chronic pain and despair of accepting his death when there's so much work to do for a good cause. And he might have understood how lonely Viktor was, how Jayce neglected his partner but still, Jayce cannot fully get it if it's not his lived experience.

Viktor is defined by his body by the unfair society he exists in and it's impossible for him to ignore it, because that's what shapes him every day. It's understandable he’d want to be healthy but I dislike the ‘Magic Cure for disability’ trope they went with in S2 when Viktor merged with the Hexcore. The trope is widely considered regressive and even harmful when it comes to nuanced disability representation. Viktor's case isn't as obvious, so I'm not trying to pass any finite judgement here. But I generally don't vibe with it.

I wish we knew if there were people with disabilities or sensitivity readers at any stage of the creative process of making Arcane.

I’ll be referring to the topic of Viktor’s disability in other sections of my posts, so it’s not really the end of this subject.

THE RADICAL OTHER

As I wrote earlier, the concept of the Other is extremely important in anthropology. There’s a more expanded and emancipatory theory that I'd like to touch upon - the concept of Radical Otherness.

In itself, this concept is disruptive. When we’re faced with the Radical Other, we’re confused. We cannot relate to them, cannot ignore them, our predisposed opinions and structures of understanding are being postponed. It creates a cognitive dissonance, forces us to change perspective, create space for the Other and look for Otherness in ourselves. It can also cause bigger fear and cause us to alienate the Other even further than we initially did.

Experiencing Otherness touches our bodies and senses without us having prior notice of it. This experience disturbs us, it calls on us, it asks us to respond and to react. German philosopher, Bernhard Waldenfels writes in  Bodily experience between selfhood and otherness that people usually either welcome the Other as a guest or exclude the Other as an enemy. The Other is always transformed in a way that the normative society has disposal over them or they're available for the society's intentions. Radical Otherness, according to Waldenfels, is not available to anyone.

Viktor's disabled body is turned into a grotesque fusion of flesh and metal, then into an alien-like creature, not a cyborg which would be more in sync with transhumanist ideas of technological augmentation of the human body. The way Viktor looks in his god-like form is aesthetic but foreign.

What it means for disability visual representation is that Viktor either reinforces or rejects the sociopolitical relations that make the disability a kind of Otherness.

Interpreting Viktor the Machine Herald as rejecting oppressive notions, I’d say he symbolises what’s rebellious, exposing injustice and disrupting social order. He left Piltover behind and came back to cause a radical reinterpretation of the world. He looks absolutely different, strange, magical - and we know people of Piltover fear magic. But because he’s the villain and dies at the end, I'm more inclined to say the writers meant to show his transformation as a symbol of unpredictability, lack of stabilization, anarchy - and that’s both dangerous and brave.

Viktor as Machine Herald can be read as embodiment of personal freedom by rejection of cultural uniformisation. But if it were to be true, he should have rejected conformity while still disabled or at least not transform with Singed’s alchemy. By the time we reach the last episode his arc is a story of Piltover having to tame 'the freak’ as Garland-Thomson would describe it.

The freakiness of Machine Herald’s form is also an interesting choice, because it’s somewhat humanoid but unnatural. It reminds me of the practice of freak shows where people with unusual bodies and disabilities were displayed as freaks of nature, odd creatures. Able-bodied audience gawked at them and while looking in the face of the Others, they’d re-establish themselves as ‘the normal ones’. I hope you catch my drift and see how this is not a good look to have Viktor morph into an alien looking creature that all of Piltover fights in the end…

If I try to find positives in S2’s writing, I can speculate that Viktor becoming the Radical Other in an empowering sense would mean that he embodied an alternative to the status quo. Him leaving and in sense rebelling against domination of Piltover wouldn’t be an intellectual choice but a manifestation of his condition as a person. In this interpretation, his transformation is radical, it’s a positive marker of his individual story.

It’s still a story of oppression though - our Viktor doesn't save himself, Jayce does it for him. I’m not gonna be talking about Old Man Jenkins Viktor orchestrating everything to save himself by having Jayce sent on a mission to save main timeline Viktor. I’m focusing on the Viktor we got to know in S1. It’s beautiful to be seen and supported, the scene at the end was so loving and my AroAce ass relished it. I love JayVik, yeah, though I think the message of Viktor’s arc being so centered on Jayce’s affirmation of him made the message a bit less complex. They’re soulmates, your honor, but they’re so codependent it’s really toxic yaoi.

Jokes aside, it would be amazing if Viktor chose to become the radical Other. He’d make an autonomous decision to use his status of the Other as the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to the system. The system that overlooked him and prescribed him the identity of an undercitizen, ‘an outsider looking in’.

His arc would be even more profound if he recognised his internalised ableism and chose to become the Machine Herald the way he did in the League Lore. In League, his practices aren’t entirely ethical either, but that's besides the point. His decisions were made out of dissatisfaction with Piltover’s corrupt academia and politics, and the moral duty he felt to aid his fellow Zaunites in the face of calamities and everyday hardships. The old LOL Viktor is actually iconic for that.

The Arcane version of the Divorce arc could’ve made JayVik more complex if they let Viktor express disappointment with Jayce’s decision to weaponize Hextech and Council’s lack of interest in the Undercity’s issues. Then the 'our paths diverged long ago' would be more inpactful.

The character arc is a mess but I tried to reach and look for sth more interesting within it. I think the Radical Otherness of Machine Herald is a compelling angle. Not what writers intended, for sure not, I don’t think they taught anything through that deeply.

ENDING PART I...

I think it all could have been more interesting if Viktor wasn't influenced by Hexcore as we’re led to believe, because… this is cheap writing and yet again takes away his autonomy, which he was denied far too much in S2. The magical stuff took away from Viktor’s character and lost focus of his actual motivation.

I think what we got isn’t good enough, but I appreciate bits that can be read as more meaningful, that's where my idea for this 'essay' came from. I just wish the writers had the guts to let Viktor be angry, come back to Zaun, not do the cult stuff and just help people, join the rebellion, basically tell the Pilties: ‘I hope I confuse the hell out of you’.

That’s it for the first part of this analysis. Part 2 coming soon i guess. (Edit: Second paaaart here)

 literally me writing this fucking dissertation: