#and they also share the argument that not everything is black and white

[siren-of-fire]

So one thing I think I am a little certain about is Ace views the past memories made by Pili 1 and Pili 2 is a third person perspective. The way he perceives them all is interesting. Empathy, Sympathy, Understanding and Compassion all differ and and in regards with Ace all of them apply in different degrees and time. While before when the merge with Pili 2 still existed the line was falling somewhere in the empathy-sympathy area (because Pili 2 was adding his own things to the merge) but now its a mix of compassion (less influencing) and understanding (more influencing) and maybe something else as well :smile:

Talking more in context of the Realm lore and relationship with Pangi and Lukey atm. Like i said in a previous post Ace sees the bigger picture because he has vast memories and seen different sides of each person on this Realm plus he is logically very smart...and selfish and egoistic but he wears that like a crown.

Pangi and now even Lukey gave Ace a very flawed and selfish logic and Ace quickly picked up on it. They both wanna play the good guy but also wanna dabble in chaos/revenge, but playing both sides is not really possible and they both want Ace to do the dirty work, yet both of them manage to act like they are doing Ace a favour by letting him do this.

Who really needs to who here here? Who has more to lose here? Because the answer isn't Ace.

Just like Ace said if you wanna play the villain atleast have the balls to do it out and about, commit to it. Both Pangi and Lukey are just wanting to be in the middle of the gray area never fully wanting to lean towards anything, and in a way that's selfish because there want of not leaning towards either black or white comes with the cost of Ace being used. He is the one taking the blame and leaning on a side so they both don't have to. Pangi and Lukey both are playing the puppeteer, or atleast that's what they think. Too bad the puppet is Ace who is playing the entire game of chess in which they both are the pieces.

"I care about people, but I am also working on destroying and ending the same world the people I care about live in" two contradictory things

"I want to get revenge on keepers but not all keepers because there is one who i care about" so how do you know that the keepers that end up getting hurt are bad? How do you know all of them wronged you? What about the ones that never wronged you? Sounds like flawed and selfish logic

"I am destroying the world but I also don't want the people i care about to find out" "I wanna get revenge and hurt the keepers for what they did to me but I also don't wanna get my hands dirty" so they both wanna play villains from the dark and Ace gets used yet they don't trust Ace and are angry at him. And when he shares his plans of wanting to corrupt the world it is somehow more wrong or asking in return to "beg for him it" then is turned down.

Why does Ace need to help them? With Pili 2 it was the feelings but that's not the case here. Does Ace really need Pangi to be a villain when he already had 3 really powerful people behind him who can do that for him. The "Pili can't do shit without me" argument doesn't really stand when he has been doing fine even without them for months now.

Does Ace have friends he is scared to lose? Does Ace have any problem with picking a side like they both are having, no he is very upfront about everything. So if Ace is the one getting used here and getting clearly nothing in return then that is already not fair. Ace hasn't even directly done anything to them yet but they both are refusing to acknowledge him as a equal in there plans, wanting to treat him like a card in there games. Just because goals aligning of wanting to end the word or wanting to hunt the keepers isn't enough for Ace to start working with them. If he is getting his hands dirty shouldn't he get paid and get his fair share of return?

Wanting to be the good guys when they both know they are not, they are equally twisted as Ace. Yet the refusal to acknowledge him as equal and just treating him like a pawn in all this hasn't stopped... atleast so far.

[starkholme]

Oh but the amazing multi-talented tall blonde with a dead brother also has my heart

[transmutationisms]

I love your takes, but I feel super, super lost with what you were trying to say about the natalism one. I feel like you're saying that there is no contradiction on wanting more babies, a higher population number and punishing mothers, but can you elaborate on that a bit more, because it does seems contradictory. I'm not disagreeing with you, I just want to understand it better.

alright there's a perennial debate (on here but also in a wider cultural sense) that goes on where people start noticing that some of the ways in which we socially and economically de/value children, parenthood, and specifically motherhood are internally contradictory. how can it be that there is immense social and economic pressure to heterosexually partner and reproduce, and yet most public and social infrastructure is also profoundly hostile to children and their guardians? why is it that this person couldn't find a doctor to perform a voluntary hysterectomy because their bodily preferences were subordinated to the medical valorisation of their fertility, and yet this other person was forcibly sterilised or coerced into using contraception because the prospect of them reproducing is framed as socially destabilising and degenerative? how are 'family values' touted by politicians who openly and explicitly also hate real existing families? do they want people to have more children or fewer? is it more counterculture and rebellious to have children or to not have children? to have sex or to not have sex? to partner off? to be polyam or monogamous?

the answer broadly speaking is that the oppositions people see here are only surface-level. the bourgeois state's interest is in biopower, and this produces competing demands: for some people to partner off and reproduce, and for others to be exterminated. the valorisation of the white middle-class nuclear family is the same as the devalorisation of its negations: racialised people, disabled people, family arrangements other than nuclear and heterosexual, etc. you can't understand the demand that people reproduce if you don't understand it is necessarily also accompanied by the demand that other people don't. these aren't actually contradictory once you understand that what the bourgeois state wants has nothing to do with your individual behaviours and everything to do with how many 'desirable' bodies it has at its disposal. that economic consideration is what creates both the natalist policy meant to encourage [some people's] reproduction, and the exterminatory policy meant to suppress and eradicate [other people's] reproduction.

usually this kind of conversation very quickly devolves into a privilege framework argument, where people are trying to find some kind of social hierarchy that is hegemonically applied top-down and that rewards, universally, certain behaviour choices over others. again, the "people who marry and reproduce are privileged and socially rewarded over me #childfree" versus "actually some people still have to fight tooth and nail to even get medical support / approval to have children, let alone actually get access to the kind of economic and social support necessary to raise them" debate. it's smoke and mirrors because there is no universal privileging of the choice to have children or not have children. what there is, is a privileging of certain people on the basis of the economic assessment of them as biological assets, and the inverse (and mutually constitutive) devaluations of everyone else. really over-discussed examples here but to give them anyway: this is why, for example, french natalist policy and the USA's constant efforts to strip back welfare-net policies in order to harm (primarily) black families are both arising from the same basic impulses of two imperialist nation-states. obviously there are different histories and contextual factors that have resulted in france and the US trying to skin the same cat in different ways. but what they share is an underlying interest in trying to shore up their population in both size and 'fitness', understood here in its full racialised and eugenic meaning.

[anthroposeen]

i feel like so many people are kinda missing out on one of the takeaways from MAG200 (spoilers!!) because people tend to water martin's character down. he and jon both believe that the ends can justify the means, and thats one of their central arguments in 199, because fundamentally they have the same values. and up until then, they're main conflicts with each other was over which actions to take, though they both agreed action was in order. jon believes that the 'end', a universe where the fears have died, is justified by the 'means', killing everyone on earth and forcing everyone to remain in fear domains. martin was on board with their freedom fight at first, having reservations that jon shared, but still choosing to spare people or command jon to kill them whenever he saw fit. as much as he sheugged off making his own decisions, he still chose to combat avatars and even ally with annabelle. throughout s5, we see him prove again and again that the end, presumably killing elias and ending the apocalypse, will be worth allowing people to suffer in the meantime. but when jon is included in the suffering people category, martin cant include that in his world view.

that is the major distinction in their philosophies- the value they place on jon's life and the amount they each blame him. jon blames himself for everything, and from the beginning he has allowed himself to be put in danger and risk his life. initially, he doesnt want to die, but as s4 progresses, we see him grapple with valuing his life as he recognizes hes becoming less "human"- in the coffin, he even makes the gamble that he'll did there. martin also has very low self worth, but holds jon on a pedestal (he always did), and once the ends can only be achieved through the means of killing jon or watching him suffer, martin struggles to fit that into his black and white philosophy.

it isnt that martin or jon are "weak" or have deeply contrasting world views, but they are unable to agree which exact actions are inexcusable, as murder never seemed to be an issue until it was martin holding the knife.

[ssentimentals]

socups or minghao soulmate au where they have soul animals that only the soulmate can touch and the soul animals are really intelligent and end up leading them to each other?

hi anonie! ooh, this is such an interesting idea, thank you so much for sharing it with me :') hopefully you will like it and sorry for taking so long :(

prompt: soul animals

seungcheol huffs, watching his eagle spread his wings and take a leap without even looking back at him. lately, his soul animal has been restless, flying off more often than usual, leaving seungcheol alone for hours. he supposes it's a normal thing for eagles to do once they're in the new territory, but he can't help but feel incredibly guilty. bond with soul animals is a unique one: all feelings and thoughts are transparent between each other, so there's no way kkuma didn't feel seungcheol's nerves regarding moving to a different city. he's a bit terrified of the prospect of not knowing anyone and starting a new job, but he's also strangely hopeful in this naive way, when everything inside you wants to believe that something good will happen. he knows kkuma can feel it all, just like he can feel deep longing from him. 'what is it, buddy?' he asks once his eagle returns. kkuma is huge and sitting next to cheol with his claws grasping the bench, he attracts attention of everyone in the park. 'what's wrong?'

kkuma doesn't answer, not really. but the feeling of longing intensifies, paired with giddy excitement. cheol raises his eyebrow questioningly, reaching out to gently ruffle dark brown feathers. last time he felt same emotions from kkuma was when he met minghao's owl and they became best friends. chances of kkuma hitting off with another animal in past few days are slim, but seungcheol asks anyway: 'have you...met someone?'

kkuma nods. with a loud gurgle, he points towards the small lake in front of them. this park is right next to cheol's new apartment and they've been coming here for the past few days since moving in. 'someone on the lake?' he asks and kkuma nods. 'oh, nice. like.. a friend?'

their bond shivers and sings with a different emotion. one that cheol thought he'd never feel after he broke up with his ex. with a dry throat, he turns fully to his eagle, finding kkuma looking right at him with his piercing black eyes. cheol's ex wasn't his soulmate - she couldn't touch kkuma, but he thought it didn't matter at that time. he generally never really cared for soulmates, but the possibility of having one leaves him breathless. 'kkuma.. are you sure?'

his eagle nods. through their bond kkuma sends him strong sense of confidence and calmness, willing his owner to calm down and trust him. cheol smiles, petting kkuma's head. 'i do trust you, buddy. lead me to them, yeah?'

and lead kkuma does. in the most unconvinient time though - three days later seungcheol is in the middle of a loud argument with house manager due to lack of heating in his apartment, when kkuma suddenly barges into the room through the window, clawing at cheol's shoulders in a rather violent way. 'shit, that hurts- kkuma! i can't right now-' cheol stops, feeling urgency that rushes through the bond. 'wha- what's happening? what's wrong?'

lightly flapping his wings, kkuma cried out, physically dragging cheol towards the window. huffing in annoyance, seungcheol tries to fight against it, but to no use - his eagle only cries louder and digs his claws into his shoulders deeper. 'fuck- okay, i'm going, i'm going!' turning to house manager, cheol mutters: 'i'll be back and this heating issue is not over.'

he's annoyed and frustrated, but all these feelings vanish when he realizes that kkuma is taking him to the lake. seungcheol instantly spots the reason of kkuma's urgency - the most beautiful white swan he's ever seen is waiting by the water, a picture of grace and beauty.

'whoa,' seungcheol breathes out, stopping short of the swan. 'what a beauty.'

kkuma seems to think the same if the way he spreads his wings to show off is any sign. swan lets kkuma come closer and seungcheol gasps at the intense feeling of joy that surges through the bond. it's overwhelming; he barely manages to stand upright, watching as swan and eagle circle around each other. he turns when light footsteps echo close to him and when he sees you - he knows. it's crazy how he instantly knows that it's you. his soulmate.

'he's incredible,' you breathe out, your eyes locked on kkuma.

his eagle preens under the praise and steps closer to you. seungcheol watches in awe as you reach out and your hand settles gently at the top of kkuma's head. it doesn't go through it - you actually touch him. only soulmates can touch soul animals, seungcheol's heart skips a beat and yours does too - you look up at him in shock.

'hi,' he breathes out. surprised, awed. 'wow.'

'hi.' you sound just as breathless as him.

there's beat of silence and then you laugh, more out of shock than of anything else. seungcheol gets it, he really does; it's unbelievable. yo are unbelievable.

'they like each other,' you say, motioning to your soul animals.

seungcheol looks at them and then looks back at you. 'yeah.'

there's hope unleashing in his chest, his bond with kkuma sings with anticipation and excitement. you smile at him hesitantly and seungcheol reaches out for your hand. there's beat and then your fingers close around his too. he has a feeling that you two will like each other too. he has a feeling that he will not be lonely.

a/n: what an idea that was, loved it!! hopefully you did too <3 - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[akajustmerry]

first of all I boycotted and continue to boycott captain america brave new world so pls don't tell me to watch it. second of all, what I'm about to say is obviously not the mcu's biggest crime in the grand scheme of things, but I have big thoughts so here it is anyway: there is actually no excuse or explanation for making Walker "Captain America" in Thunderbolts that doesn't boil down to anti-Black racism. And I mean that on both a narrative and production level. On a narrative level, Sam is also a "rogue agent" which was established in tfatws, and a veteran (literally first thing we learn about him). There's no plot point or character arch written for Walker that couldn't also fit Sam and even be more compelling with Sam there. One of the weakest points of thunderbolts is a lack of any significant established relationships or commonality (except for Yelena and her dad) between the characters, having Sam there balances this more and gives Bucky a more compelling reason to join the team at all. On a production level, it's nuts. Especially when the studio knew how much audience racism there was towards Sam: to further undermine him with the racist villain from his series (Walker) getting a whole movie where he "redemptively" becomes the "official" Captain America only encourages more racism directed at Sam, ESPECIALLY when you have even Bucky siding with the racist guy, going against everything established in tfatws. I know this is a tale as old as time at this point wrt Disney and Black characters. but Disney shouldn't cast Black people in these roles if they aren't going to a) protect them b) take them seriously or c) actually write culturally considerate and inclusive stories. Even if it's intended to be a commentary on anti-Blackness (which to be clear thunderbolts doesn't make that textually obvious enough for anyone to make that argument) it's done badly. You can't say "they're doing racism to critique racism" when there's no actual critique or pushback within the narrative against the racism. On a production level, it's truly crazy how the MCU has undermined Sam as Cap at every turn. He had to share his series with everyone's favourite white dude, he didn't get a movie for years, and when he did it was an ethical shitshow set up to fail. Not to mention, the incident at Comic con where Anthony Mackie was told ca;bnw would be Marvel's main event only for the trailer drop to be entirely overshadowed by the RDJ doctor doom announcement. And they announced Chris Evans return to the role before Sam had ever got his own film. I'm not asking anyone to feel sorry for millionaire actors or billion dollar companies funded by the military. However, it is very much worth considering how virulently and consistently anti-Black that studio is to this legacy character, and how these are for better and worse the biggest most watched films on Earth. That matters. Unfortunately, how the MCU portrays marginalised people matters because the reach of their impression in pop culture is unbearably massive. It is racist in every possible way how Sam's tenure as Captain America has been handled.

[foreingersgod]

could you do paige w a black gf hcs??

A/N: i wanted to say real quick that i am white and have also not been in a relationship with a black woman before! so please feel free to give me feedback or let me know if i wrote something that was inappropriate! the last thing i want is to make anyone uncomfortable <3

Paige Bueckers x BlackGf!Reader Headcannons

quite literally obsessed with you

will not let you go out alone, always wants to be with you

like i mean everywhere, whether it’s to go your hair done or to go grocery shopping, she’s always asking to go with you

hell, even if you just want to shower, she’s asking to join you

always sends you things that remind her of you

“saw this makeup look on instagram and i think you should try it”

you literally can’t buy anything because she’s always paying for you

“put your card away, that’s my job”

matches your attitude 100%, she’s so sassy with you

“fine, i can pout too, you know”

loves little touches of affection, she loves when you hug her from behind or hold her hand under the table

worships the ground you walk on, everything about you drives her crazy

you’d buy her a promise ring or matching necklaces or something like that and she’d never take it off

she’s a sucker for when you wear her jersey

loves kissing you: lips, cheeks, forehead, thighs, literally every inch of you

always finds you after her games

“can we just go home? i really need you right now”

the most jealous person you’ve ever met, always sneaking kisses and dangerous touches just so that people know who you belong to

she’s also such a good listener

if you’re having a bad day or get in an argument with someone, she’s always there to let you rant

she makes sure you always feel comfortable talking to her about everything

if you ever ask for her to teach you how to play basketball or for her to really talk about anything she likes in general, she goes all out and gets so excited to share it with you

she’s tough on the outside, but with you? she’s the softest, cheesiest person you’ve ever met

[okayrudemuch]

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛t 💋

Roomates (Quarterback) Abby x Fem!Reader (who is an early 2000's y2k baddie)

Chapter 1 - I really hate you

Chapter 2 - Whatever I do, it's always wrong

Chapter 3 - You can shove it

Chapter 4 - That girl just drives me insane

Chapter 5 - Better leave the beret here

Chapter 6 - She´s pretty

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Chapter 4 - That girl just drives me insane

contains: roommates; modern AU!; maybe some grammar mistakes, english is not my first language; slowburn?? (that wasn't planned but hey why not); a gala??; abby being a bit mean

word count: 2,8k

Flashback: The Last Two Weeks

The fragile truce that had formed between you that night lasted about twelve hours. Maybe fourteen, if you’re feeling generous. The next morning, Abby accidentally stepped into one of your handbags on her way to the bathroom, a bag you'd pretty carelessly left lying around a few days earlier. She muttered something annoyed like, “This room’s more of a minefield than a dorm,” while trying to shake the bag off her foot.

“Hey!” you complained from your bed, still half-asleep. “That’s my new designer purse, could you maybe watch where you’re going?”

Propped up on your elbows, you shot daggers at her back with your eyes.

“Then don’t leave your crap lying around,” Abby shot back, before disappearing into the bathroom without another word.

You dropped back into the pillows, already annoyed.

So yeah, everything was back to how it was before. Except not really. It hurt more now.

Her annoyed looks, her snappy tone, the way she crossed her arms when she didn't agree with you, somehow, it all hit harder.

Maybe because you'd hoped something would be different after that night. Maybe because she'd said things that had actually touched something in you. You’d felt like, for a moment, she actually saw you, like, really saw you. Not the version you put on, not the act you play.

But now it was all back again. Her biting comments, your sharp replies, and both your egos clashing like clockwork. Only now, it was harder to pretend that you just straight-up couldn’t stand her.

Because Abby had shown you a side of herself that night, something real. Something honest. She’d said things that made her seem... almost vulnerable. Since that apology, she no longer fit so neatly into the little box you’d shoved her into, the one labeled insufferable, cold, emotionally stunted know-it-all.

Your little black-and-white war suddenly had shades of grey. And you had no idea what to do with them.

Every snarky comment, every passive-aggressive jab, suddenly carried this new kind of tension. It sat somewhere deep inside you, buzzing painfully under the surface.

For whatever reason, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t care anymore.

The two weeks following the party night were... rocky.

You and Abby spoke about as little as before, and when you did, it was mostly eye-rolls, arguments over the disaster that was your shared room, and the occasional sarcastic exchange. Nothing worth writing home about.

Somewhere between the unresolved tension with Abby and the usual uni chaos, there was also Dina.

Dina, who’d only been your best friend since the start of the semester, but who had already climbed alarmingly high on your priority list with that golden heart of hers. And she knew it.

A few days after the party, she started cornering you daily with her painfully effective combo of charm, humor, and pure persistence, trying to rope you into some student council project.

“I’m not even on your stupid council,” you’d argued.

“That’s completely irrelevant,” she’d laughed. “We need all the help we can get.”

“Ask Ellie,” you’d tried to weasel your way out.

“She already said yes. Didn’t even put up a fight like you,” Dina had snapped right back while you groaned in defeat.

You held out for about a week, saying no every time. But she didn’t let up.

“Extra credit, hon,” she finally promised. “And you need it.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong. Your academic performance was... well, it existed. Barely. Your motto had always been bare minimum gets the job done, but you were starting to realize that motto wasn’t gonna get you anywhere career-wise. So yeah, at this point, you were willing to jump through a few hoops for half a GPA boost.

“Come on,” Dina whined one afternoon. “I literally saved your ass with that stats project. You owe me.”

You’d rolled your eyes and finally agreed, just to get her to shut up.

How much work could one student council project really be?

Oh. How wrong you were.

Flashback ends.

“What even is this?” you ask Dina, as she practically drags you down the hallway toward the student council room.

“You’ll see,” your bestie chirps, picking up the pace.

“Move it, or we’re gonna be late,” she huffs, and you’re already regretting every life decision that led you to this moment.

You’re trying your best to keep up, tip-tapping behind her in your burgundy kitten heels, until you finally reach the door.

Dina pulls it open and peeks inside.

“Perfect! We’re not even the last ones,” she grins, but your brain is too busy short-circuiting to appreciate the silver lining.

Because sitting at the head of the long-ass table set up inside, dead in your line of sight, is none other than your roommate.

Lucky for you, she hasn’t noticed you yet, her gaze is focused on the notebook in front of her. Perfect. You can still bolt.

You yank Dina back into the hallway.

“What the fuck is Anderson doing here?” you hiss, sneaking a quick glance at Abby, who’s scribbling something into that dumb notebook of hers. Her braid falls neatly over one shoulder, brushing against the collar of a navy sweater layered over a white button-up. Of course.

“Well, the gala’s being organized by the football team and the student council. I told you that,” Dina replies, not even phased.

“You absolutely did not tell me that,” you groan, running a manicured hand through your carefully styled hair.

“Well, now you know,” she says with a grin and bounces into the room to greet her fellow council members, and give Ellie a quick kiss.

“What gala, even?!” you call after her, but she’s already too busy.

You groan again. Loudly.

This is a nightmare. It was already more than enough having to survive Abby in your room. Or whenever Dina and Ellie forced you into doing stuff as a group, because of course, Abby had to be one of Ellie’s closest friends.

You were already maxed out on Abigail Anderson.

And now you’re supposed to organize a whole-ass gala with her?

Hard pass. No thank you. Absolutely not.

"Are you planning to take root out there or are you coming inside?" a warm voice tears you from your desperate thoughts, and you need no time to match it to its owner. Abby. She’s leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, eyeing you from head to toe with a less-than-enthusiastic look. Well, at least the feeling is mutual, you think bitterly.

Luckily, you're standing sideways to Abby, so you're just able to force a fake smile before smoothing down your pleated skirt and striding into the room with your head held high, ignoring her stupid comment. Your shoulder brushes against hers as you pass, but the contact throws you off more than it does her. Thanks to her annoying muscles, she remains standing like a wall.

You don't need to look at her to feel her amused smirk as she closes the door behind you. You hadn’t even noticed the room had filled up in the meantime, and after Abby heads toward the second-to-last free chair next to Dina, the same one she’d already been sitting in, you're left with no choice but to sit directly across from her next to two girls you've never seen before.

You smile at them more forced than genuine, still trying to grasp the absurdity of your situation, before crossing one leg over the other. Dina gets up from her chair and presses a button on a small black remote in her hand, and the projector behind her springs to life.

“Welcome to the planning of the annual fundraising gala. It’s great to see so many of you here,” Dina greets the group, there must be about fifteen people, including herself. “This year, we have the special honor of not organizing the gala alone, but with the generous support of our women’s football team, the Silver Lake Falcons.”

“Go Falcons!” a guy yells from somewhere up front on the right, and you can see Abby’s faint grin, which she tries to cover up by biting her lip. “There’s a reason why the gala isn’t just being organized by the student council this year, and that brings us directly to this year’s theme,” Dina continues, smiling, and clicks the remote again.

“Annual Fundraising Gala – For Future Female Athletes” appears on a new slide.

“This year, we want to advocate for more support for girls and women in sports, because what many people still overlook is how poorly women are supported in sports, especially in those dominated by men,” Abby explains from her seat, and Dina nods in agreement behind her.

“We’re going to donate the money to an organization that offers sports and self-defense classes exclusively for FLINTA* individuals and supports them in finding themselves through sports,” Abby continues, while Dina shows some images of the organization in the background. At least it’s a meaningful project, you think.

“We’re going to start by introducing the different planning areas for the gala, and you can already think about which one interests you and where you could imagine working,” Dina goes on, and that’s your cue to tune out. You're only here to get your extra credits, even though the gala’s theme genuinely speaks to you.

You lean back in your chair with your arms crossed, letting Dina’s words wash over you as you occasionally shift your gaze from the projector to study the people around you. You recognize a few of Dina’s student council colleagues and a handful of football players, but you can hardly name anyone.

Ellie catches your eye and winks at you, before turning her full attention back to Dina as if she was preaching some life-changing prophecy. You can’t help but smile briefly, those two are just too cute.

Unfortunately, next you meet Abby’s gaze, and it’s amazing how quickly that woman can plunge your mood to freezing point. Her ice-blue eyes are fixed on you, which, given your seating arrangement, isn’t surprising, but she doesn’t have to stare so offensively. A good way to make sure the last person in the room also knows you can’t stand each other.

You raise a perfectly arched eyebrow questioningly, earning only Abby’s typical eye roll in response. You shake your head and turn your attention back to the projector just as Dina ends her presentation.

“Alright,” she claps her hands. “We’ll take a ten-minute break now, and afterward you can come up to Abby and me and tell us what task you’d like to take on. If a task is too full, we’ll draw lots. Okay?”

Chairs scrape and excited chatter about the tasks fills the room. You take your time until everyone around you has gotten up and then slowly wander over to Ellie, sitting down on the now-empty chair next to her. “Hey,” you greet her. “Did Dina also chew your ear off to get you to help with this?” you ask, grinning.

“Oh, absolutely,” Ellie groans. “And Abby took the other one.” She glances at the two girls standing together over Dina’s laptop, discussing something probably related to the gala.

“I didn’t think this kind of gala thing was Abby’s thing,” you mumble. “With Dina, I get it.”

“Oh, Abby was all fired up when she heard it was about supporting FLINTA* and women’s sports,” Ellie says with a smirk. “Couldn’t stop her.”

“Ah,” is all you say in response, casting another look at your roommate. She’s laughing at something Dina just showed her on a list, and the warm sound fills the room. Her blue eyes sparkle and her cheeks have taken on a soft rosy hue over her freckles. She’s pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows. She looks like she’s in her element. You’d figured she was the kind of person who lives for sports and nothing else, but apparently Ms. Anderson also has organizational and leadership skills. Of course she does.

You chat a bit more with Ellie about this and that, and then the break is over and you say goodbye to her to return to your seat. The two girls you had to sit next to at the start greet you again.

“Hi,” says the girl directly beside you. She has long, straight, dark red hair that reaches almost to her waist, a striking but still very attractive face, and brown eyes looking at you through her false lashes, which still manage to look natural. Her skin is lightly tanned as if she just came back from a summer vacation, large golden hoops dangle from her ears, and her outfit is not unlike yours: a dark blue mini skirt, knee-high boots, and a strapless crop top.

She holds out a perfectly manicured hand in greeting. You’re a bit surprised she’s speaking to you so suddenly, but you shake her hand in return. “I’m Lindsey and this is Jessica,” she continues, pointing with a decorated acrylic nail to the black-haired girl beside her, who waves at you.

“You can just call me Jess,” she smiles.

Jess is a little less styled than Lindsey but equally stunning. Long black braids fall over her shoulders, and her gaze makes you feel like she already knows more about you than you do yourself. Her outfit is simple: light baggy jeans and a soft pink tank top that beautifully complements her dark skin.

You introduce yourself. “You’re not one of the football players, are you?” Jess asks curiously, twirling a braid around her finger.

“God, no,” you say, waving dismissively. “They can roll around in the dirt without me.”

“Girl, for real,” Lindsey agrees. “We’re in the student council with Dina,” she explains. “We’re responsible for the uni’s social media presence, so we didn’t want to miss the gala.”

“Ah, I get that.” You nod in understanding. “And why are you here?” Lindsey asks curiously, but before you can answer, Abby’s voice snaps you back to reality once again.

This time, though, you’re not all that mad at her for it, because you weren’t exactly eager to tell the girls that you’re only here because you have to be and would leave the second you could.

“If the three ladies in the back could also give us their attention, we could continue with the planning.” Her voice cuts through the room straight to your table, and you don’t need to look up to know she means you, Jess, and Lindsey.

You lift your chin and meet her gaze, which is already fixed on you. Then she glances at Lindsey beside you, and something in her expression shifts. Just for a split second, you think you see… confusion or irritation. Before you can be sure, her eyes are back on you, her expression hardening again.

“You can now come up and tell us which task you’d like. Dina and I will assign you accordingly,” she announces, once again the picture of a professional organizer, when she’s not being celebrated as the quarterback of the football team, anyway.

You take your time, you don’t even know what tasks are available, nor do you particularly care. You’ll just take whatever’s left. The line in front of you gets shorter, and more and more participants return to their seats, excited about getting the tasks they wanted.

You lean your hands on the table behind which Abby and Dina sit with the lists. “What’s your choice, hon?” Dina asks cheerfully.

“Uh, I don’t have one,” you reply. “I’ll just take whatever’s left.”

Abby raises an eyebrow but studies her list without making the snarky comment you expect on her tongue. “We’ve still got spots in catering or decoration,” she offers.

“Decoration would suit you perfectly,” Dina exclaims happily, clapping her hands before you can even answer.

“Okay,” you agree, barely suppressing a yawn. Your roommate doesn’t miss that, of course. She leans forward on her strong and veiny forearms across the table and studies you intently.

“Let me make one thing clear,” she says sharply so no one else hears. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, you better leave now. I don’t need your attitude, I’ve already got enough on my plate.”

“God forbid a woman is tired, Abby,” you snap back. “And what exactly are you so busy with, huh? So far, all you’ve done is sit at this table looking important and snapping at people. What do you actually do that’s useful for this gala?”

“The finances,” she replies dryly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Got a problem with that?” Abby snaps.

“Oh, more than one, but please,” you wave her off. You accept your list with an overview of your tasks from Dina, but before you can leave, Abby speaks again.

“The finances are, by the way, important for your decoration. I’d take it seriously if I were you, otherwise, I’ll just swipe every one of your suggestions off the table,” she grins smugly.

“Fuck you, Abby,” you mutter and click your heels as you walk back to your seat with your head held high.

“Was that really necessary?” Dina asks Abby quietly.

As soon as Abby’s eyes are off you, her façade crumbles.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, running a hand over her forehead and through her blonde hair. “That girl just drives me insane.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

a/n: I'm sorry for posting so irregulary, uni stress is insane rn, we had a death in the family and it's overall just a lot rn BUT that is what we have Abby Anderson for right?? She is my lil escape when everything gets to much 💋 (I'm coping VERY hard) anygays have fun with the chapter

taglist: @vangoes @modernvenuss @oatmatchalatte @starlockheart @mila-a-fanfiqueira

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (IX)

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Hi! Here is another chapter! Saoirse is back, and our babies are making some evil plans…

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 1798

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Lilies

I have been thinking about living like the lilies that blow in the fields.

They rise and fall in the edge of the wind, and have no shelter from the tongues of the cattle,

and have no closets or cupboards, and have no legs. Still I would like to be as wonderful

as the old idea. But if I were a lily I think I would wait all day for the green face

of the hummingbird to touch me. What I mean is, could I forget myself

even in those feathery fields? When Van Gogh preached to the poor of coarse he wanted to save someone--

most of all himself. He wasn't a lily, and wandering through the bright fields only gave him more ideas

it would take his life to solve. I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river--

where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues-- where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss, just rises and floats away.

Mary Oliver

So, this was Pr. Hozier- Byrne…

H-B, or Hozier like everyone on campus seemed keen to call him. Saoirse understood the hype around the man though.

His voice was soft and lulling, his explanations clear, his love for his work evident. He seemed nice, answered all the questions, had something a little shy about him that seemed to quieten when he was teaching. He exuded confidence then, on the contrary, and despite the softness in his tone, it was impossible not to listen to him babbling away about Yeats. The fact that he was handsome was also a strong argument in his favour, Saoirse couldn’t deny it. Ridiculously tall, curls falling over his shoulders, trimmed beard and glasses over green eyes… She sighed as she stared at him, sporting a grey tweed suit, turning to write something over on the board. And that deep voice… damn…

She shook herself, focused on the lecture again, took note of the date her teacher was writing on the white board. The first class was an introduction to Yeats’ life and work, the study of his texts would start next week. For now, Saoirse was carefully writing down dates and historical events and the name of the woman he would spend most of his life pinning over. And she wondered if Hozier was pinning over a woman too, if he was married, if he longed for love, if that was why he seemed to love poetry so much, because he saw his own longing in other people’s words…

She shook herself again, wrote down something about Lady Gregory and the Abbey Theatre. She was projecting her own feelings over that tall stranger, she reckoned. A dangerous activity, if there ever had been one.

Apparently, more students had chosen the class about science-fiction, but Saoirse had definitely no regrets. If the topic seemed more complicated, her teacher was determined to pass on his love for poetry. She was grateful to Gabi for convincing her to choose this class, was already happy to have chosen his lesson about modernism for the second half of the year.

Indeed, she could see that Gabi had done well in recruiting for this class. Most of the students Saoirse had seen with Gabi during orientation week were now listening to H-B explaining the use of theatre to create a common Irish identity that worked hand in hand with the growing anger that would lead to revolution. And indeed, Sean and Donald were there too. If Donald had settled a couple of rows behind her, Sean was sitting next to her, actually. He had recognised her as soon as he had entered the room, had headed straight towards her and asked if he could sit next to her. And Saoirse was happy to have someone she knew in this class too, even if they had spoken but a few hours during orientation week. She hoped they could become friends, she felt a little lonely in this new adult world.

 The lecture went on and was over too soon, a feeling Saoirse had not been expecting for any of her lectures. As she packed up her things, she noticed that Gabi was at the door, eyeing the students inside, and she gave Saoirse a wave when their gazes met. Sean and Saoirse hurried out of the room.

“Hey! How are my wee students doing?” Gabi asked with a grin.

“Doing okay, so far!” Saoirse answered with a smile. “Didn’t even get lost this morning!”

“What an achievement!” Gabi laughed good-heartedly. “Saw that you were having a class with H-B this morning, my next lecture starts in fifteen minutes, just down the hall. Thought I’d come see you all, check on you.”

“We’re fine, thanks,” Sean nodded with a smile.

Donald joined them as well, and they chatted happily for a couple of minutes.

“There’s a party planned at the end of the week, to celebrate the beginning of the year. You should come!”

“Huh… sure! Sounds good.”

If Saoirse was feeling a little shy, Donald was already asking questions about the drinks and the music.

Gabi was about to answer him when she was distracted by someone walking behind Saoirse and Sean, and she immediately grinned.

“Good morning, professor!”

The younger students turned around and politely smiled at their teacher, while he beamed at Gabi.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t our favourite troublemaker…” he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. “How are you doing, Gabi? How was your summer?”

“It was good! Busy, lots of things to plan to make sure I can turn all our new recruits into proper menaces!”

Andrew laughed, shaking his head playfully.

“Oh, I bet you have tons of ideas for that… but don’t scare our students away too soon, alright?”

He quickly checked his watch.

“Gotta run, but it was nice seeing you. Will I see you on Thursday then?”

“You know me… how could I say no to a class about protest poetry?”

Andrew’s smile brightened even more.

“Grand. I’m glad to have you as a student again this year.”

He excused himself then, bidding all four students a nice day, and they stared as he walked away, his long legs devouring the distance between the classroom and the exit of the building in mere seconds.

“He’s so nice!” Saoirse sighed. “Thanks for recommending this class to us.”

“He is. And Christ… he’s a sight for sore eyes.”

They all laughed at that, and went on to chat for a while longer, until Gabi had to head to her own class.

Saoirse could feel it, it would be a good year.

Andrew hurried back to your office, knowing that you were waiting for him. And indeed, when he arrived, you had already taken your sandwich out of your bag and were focused on your computer screen.

You greeted him with a smile when he quickly stepped into the room.

“Sorry, ran into a student I know well. Okay… what are our options?”

Andrew took off his vest, took out of his bag his own sandwich and his water bottle, before pushing his chair next to yours so he could look at your screen as well.

Frank was asking for advices about flower arrangements, for the wedding but also for a party they wanted to organise a few weeks before the wedding, some kind of huge get-together with family and friends to celebrate their engagement. Sam and Frank seemed to treat the event as some kind of rehearsal for their big day, and wanted to decorate the place in a similar way they would use for the ceremony.

A perfect occasion to raise chaos and mayhem…

“Frank has already narrowed down our choices… meaning that he took out anything with carnations or calla lilies, he doesn’t like those. I’ve tried to probe to know Sam’s taste, but he seems clueless.”

“Are we surprised by that?” Andrew mumbled under his breath, something bitter in his tone. “Sam’s favourite flowers are white lilies, and she hates pink and yellow roses.”

“Okay, so… can we find any pink and yellow roses in those…”

Andrew chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“You’re kind of terrifying, Machiavelli…”

“One of my favourite books is about getting stuck in hell and watching people being tortured,” you reminded him, making Andrew laugh and glimpse over at the picture you had hung on the wall.

“Right… my bad. I shouldn’t underestimate your evil nature, clearly.”

“Unless you’re ready to face the consequences…” you added with false threat in your voice, while you were clearly struggling to hold back your laughter.

“Don’t turn me into anything… unnatural.”

You froze, turned to him.

“Was that a Lord of the Rings reference?” you asked with utter surprise evident on your features.

“Obviously,” Andrew smiled, something cheeky and cute at the same time, clearly pleased with himself.

“God… I love the Lord of the Rings!”

“Who doesn’t?!”

“Frank.”

Andrew huffed, but said nothing. He thought the words all the same… what a tasteless gobshite…

“Why am I not surprised?” was his answer instead, and you chuckled at his words.

“Yeah… he does have a few red flags,” you conceded.

“Hmm… but the fact that we’re plotting together against our exes is kind of a red flag, isn’t it? A scarlet one if I’ve ever seen one…”

“Is it worse than not liking the Lord of the Rings?”

Andrew couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his mouth.

“Nah, we’re good,” he joked, making you laugh.

And he liked the sound. Almost three weeks had passed since Sam and Frank had announced their engagement and Andrew and you were spending more and more time together. You had planned some things to get to talk to your exes, or just as you were doing today, to mess up with their wedding. Which meant seeing you outside the university, eating his lunch with you, talking over the phone sometimes…

And Andrew liked it. He liked that your dynamic was back on a friendly rhythm instead of something merely professional. You were nice, and hilarious, and so fucking smart. He hoped you would remain friends after all this. He hoped you would become good friends, with a bit of time.

“Oh, this one is so ugly…” you giggled at the picture on your screen, something pink and over the top, with a lot of roses…

“Oh, yeah… that’s the one. Send him this one.”

“Frank asked me for a favour by the way… he wanted me to go fishing for information about Sam’s tastes in flowers.”

“You mean… asking me about it?”

You nodded, and Andrew let out a wry laugh.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask you today as our classes would keep us busy. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to play the perfect boyfriend and come to the rescue, and offer to use her favourite flowers.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course!”

You both laughed, eating your sandwiches. And then the conversation drifted away from Sam and Frank, settled on your classes, on work, on the movie he had watched on Sunday, on the walk you had taken with Siobhán and how much you would miss her when she would be gone.

And Andrew still felt a hole in his chest, the weight of something hollow, of a piece missing, because of Samantha. But when he was with you, the grief didn’t seem so heavy, the pain so aching. The emptiness in his heart seemed a little less empty when you were around. God knew he missed Samantha, that he wanted her back. But at least, you made him feel human again. He reckoned you were the only one to make him properly laugh these days.

[dsireland86]

Can i request a Noah Sebastian x fem reader fic? I was thinking maybe she reader is a good friend of the Bad Omens crew and she wants to give Noah a special gift while on tour since he's been so burnt out and Maybe it's set a little after Keaton Pierce passed away and he hasn't really had time to grieve and gifts him a Photo of him and Keaton with a note written by him on the back of it maybe? and he gets emotional and they confess feelings?

Oh man.... this hits hard. Okay, I think I can do this. 💔🖤 I've never written anything regarding Keaton or his passing. I've kind always felt scared to. But when this request hit my inbox, it made me realize that maybe I've never given myself the proper time to mourn his loss. It will be 3 years he's been gone, and yet every time I listen to Too Close Too Touch, it feels like he's still here. I still miss Keaton every day. Writing this story has been healing. Thank you to the Anonymous who's asked me to write something so beautiful. I hope I can capture the emotion of what Keaton really meant to us all.

*Author's Note: I waited on posting this story, given the fact that none of this story is factual, but it involves something that's really personal to not just me, but to others, I'm sure. In no way shape or form is this story meant to disrespect Keaton or his death. It is just something I thought about when thinking of how it affected Noah. I know, it's silly. But for someone like me who didn't know Keaton personally and was affected by his death, I can't imagine what his friends and family felt. Again, this is just a fictional story based on actual people. If you're offended by the idea, then please don't read it, not just for me, but also for the Anon. who requested the story.*

Her Special Gift

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly  @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

The months that followed Keaton's death become different. After Keaton's funeral, things between Noah and I shifted from being just casual friends to almost like best friends. We started hanging out together more and playing video games, watching old black and white movies, or diving into sometimes deep, theological discussions that always ended with an argument about who was right. Late night pizza and anime dates and tea and book lazy days started to become a habit for us when he wasn't working with the band, and I grew to love them more than I ever thought I would. It seemed that Noah and I had traded our friendship with Keaton for a friendship with each other. We became part of the healing process for each other, sharing stories and memories that only we knew. Spending time with Noah was the best. He was the best, but the way I started to feel about him was getting harder for me to deny and I knew if I ever confessed anything regarding the way I felt, it would ruin everything Noah and I had built in the last few months.

"You feeling okay?" Noah's hand on my shoulder startled me. I was sluggishly slow today, exhausted from the last two nights of the tour. "Yeah, I'm good. Just tired. Still trying to adapt," I chuckled. Noah smiled, taking the box of shirts from me. "I'll help." "Thanks," I said, returning his smile. We sat the boxes down on the table, and I turned to head back to the truck and get one more when Noah gently grabbed me by the arm. "Hey, wait." I looked up at his tall frame, a little alarmed. His chocolatey brown eyes softened. "Are you sure you're okay? You're usually not so puffy around the eyes like you are today." "Oh what, you're keeping up with my skin care routine now?" I was joking, but Noah seemed more serious about it than I was. "Have you been crying?' Noah turned me towards him a little so he could examine my face better. What was I supposed to tell him? That the truth was I really had been crying myself to sleep the last two nights because I'd found a photo of him and Keaton together? Yeah, no. I pushed Noah's hand away gently, reassuring him I was okay. Walking back to the truck, I broke down, sneaking around a corner to quietly sob alone.

Three weeks into the tour, everyone seemed to be doing alright; tired and sore, but okay. I was feeling better, too, but Noah wasn't. He was looking a little worse for wear. If there weren't puffy bags under his eye, then there were dark purple circles under them, painting the clear picture of pure, straight-up exhaustion. Noah was burning out.

"Matt, he needs a day off. He needs to rest. I mean, look at him for god's sake," I cried quietly, throwing my hands in Noah's direction. He was sitting on one of the equipment boxes, leaning back against the wall, his head laid back, arms folded across his chest and eyes closed. He looked as if he was actually asleep.

"Fuck. I know he does," Matt sighed. But we have a show to do tonight, and one tomorrow." "Matt, " I said, shaking my head, "I don't think Noah's going to last one more show. Tonight, maybe, but tomorrow," I glanced over at Noah just as his head fell to the side, catching himself quickly and sitting up right only to close his eyes again. "Fuck!" Matt yelled. "Alright, let me see what I can do about tomorrow. Do you think you could pep talk him into doing tonight's show?" Noah sat up and stretched, yawning and beckoning me over to him. "Yeah, okay, I'll try, but don't get pissy with me if Noah refuses," I demanded with a finger pointed at his chest. Matt chuckled. "Deal. Hey, thanks." I shot him a quick grin before walking over to Noah.

He reached for me before I was even close, which wasn't really like him at all. But I gave in, letting him pull me in between his legs and hug me. Noah's body was so warm despite the white tank he wore, showing off so many of his colorful tattoos. I thought about the stories I knew of some of them, and wondered about the others, tracing them as they wrapped and curled over his bicep and towards his back. I felt him hum in approval of my touch, the vibration coming from deep in his chest as he softly laid his head in the nook between my neck and shoulder. I caressed his back, guiding my hands slowly up and down, and feeling him relax against me. "Feel good?" "Mmm," he mumbled his answer. Noah's arms dropped, falling to his sides. His fingers, so long and slender, gripped my leggings, pulling me closer. "Noah," I whispered, unsure of what to say or do. "Yeah?" "What are you doing? People are looking at us." I spoke softly into his chest, scared to look around. "Only Matt." I looked up, glancing behind me, seeing that he was right. "Does me holding you like this make you feel uncomfortable?" I focused my sight back on Noah, my eyes clicking back and forth over his face. "No," I answered honestly. The small smile that lifted the corners of Noah's mouth made my heart skip a few beats.

"You look really tired." Noah nodded while locking his hand together behind my back, allowing me to rest mine on his chest. The faint smell of his deodorant mixed with the lingering scent of his cologne swept over my nostrils caused me to breathe in deep. Noah smelled fresh and clean even though he hadn't showered since the night before. "I'm pretty exhausted. I didn't sleep right last night." "Why not?" Noah sighed letting me partially go to fun a hand through his hair. "Noah, what's wrong, what is it?" I tipped my head, straining to make eye contact with him.

Finally, I turned his head to look at me. "Talk to me. I'm here." A vacant stare suddenly took over Noah's face, as if he were reminiscing something. "I had a dream," he admitted, quietly, "about Keaton." His almond shaped eyes shifted to mine and the pain that engulfed them was overwhelming, shattering my heart.

"Noah, I'm," "Don't," he sighed heavily, shaking his head slightly. "You don't have to say you're sorry or anything like that. I think it's a sign, like maybe Keaton himself is trying to tell me something." "What do you mean?" I wasn't following as easily as I thought I should be. "I never gave myself time to grieve for him. I mean, it all happened so fast, I barely remember everything." "Like what? I was there for pretty much all of it." Noah smiled, running his finger down my cheek. "Yeah, you were, weren't you? My little moon; always follows me even when there's light." I shrugged. "That's what friends do, right?" Noah cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

"Friends?" "Yeah," I replied, my heart thundering against my chest. "We're friends, right? I mean at least we were five seconds ago." Noah reassured me with a smile, pulling me against his chest. "Yeah, little moon, we're still friends." "Is that your new name for me now? Little moon?" "Why? You don't like it?" "No, love it," I replied with the hint of a smile in my voice. Noah didn't say anything, only squeezed me tighter.

"What was your dream about?" There was a long pause. "A mix of random stuff, but it all had Keaton in it." More silence. "I wish he was still here. I fucking miss him so damn much that it hurts." The pain in Noah's voice hurt. I looked up to find him squeezing his eyes closed, finger and thumb locked in them "Come with me," I said, taking his hand and pulling him out with me to the bus. "What are we doing?" "You'll see."

We climbed in, throwing out mumbled greetings to Nicholas and Folio who were eating bags of chips and talking, laughing hysterically after one would say something to the other. I rolled my eyes, grinning from knowing why.

I got to the bunks and stopped. "What's this about?" Noah asked, a bit annoyed. "I have something for you that I found recently; something I was meant to give you a long time ago, but apparently completely forgot about." "Okayyyy, what?" I stared at Noah for a moment, wondering if this really was the right time to do this and as brief memories of him and Keaton flashed through my brain, I was reassured.

Bending down into my duffle bag, I grabbed the book that had the picture in it, and handed it to Noah. The moment Noah saw it, his eyes welled up with tears.

"Read the back; alone," I told him, knowing it was going to gut him. He didn't argue. He just turned and walked off into the tiny bathroom and closed the door.

I heard the faint clicking sound of the lock turning and took a deep breath, hoping to prepare myself for what came next.

When Folio and Nicholas eventually left, I seized the opportunity to sit and wait for Noah. There was no way I was leaving without knowing Noah was okay. And then I heard it. The low, almost inaudible sound of weeping.

My heart hit the bottom of my stomach. Noah was finally letting out all the pent-up sadness, pain, and hurt for his friend he'd silently been carrying all these months. I waited a moment before going over to the bathroom door. I quietly knocked. "Noah... I'm here," was all I could say. "He's gone. Keaton's really gone, and there's nothing I can do to bring him back," Noah said through gritted teeth and tears. "Why? I don't understand! Why him!"

"Why anyone? Why is death even a thing," I said gently. There was silence on the other side of the door. "Keaton had a great life. He was in love with life. He loved taking pictures and performing. He loved his fans and followers of the band, always making it a point to tell them on his Instagram." "Yeah, that joker loved posting stuff on there, didn't he," Noah chuckled through a stuffy nose. "I went through it, and it's what reminded me of the picture you're holding in your hands. I'd completely forgotten about it until packing and I picked up my touring book and that picture fell out. I'm so sorry I forgot, Noah. I really meant to give it to you sooner." "Maybe that was meant to happen because the universe knew his death was coming." The idea gave me chills.

There was more silence. "I fucking miss him. I miss my friend." "I know you do. Me, too."

The bathroom door finally opened, and Noah appeared with cheeks stained with tears and puffy eyes. I looked up at him as he looked down at me, tendrils of his recently cut short hair falling over his eyes. He reached down for me, taking my hands and pulling to my feet, sliding his arms around my waist as he did so. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face against him so he couldn't see my own tears. My lips grazed the colorful skin of his neck, so I took advantage and lightly kissed it, and I could hear the slight gasp he made as he barely lifted me off the ground.

"I wouldn't have gotten through any of this without you, Little Moon," Noah muttered into my hair. I climbed him like a tree and wrapped myself around his slender yet strong frame as his large hands slid over my bottom, squeezing it as he held me up. With our faces so close, I could feel Noah's warm breath cascade over my face. His lips were so close to mine.

He walked us toward the back of the bus, closing the sliding door to the back lounge as we entered, sitting me down on the closest table. He pushed my legs apart, respectfully putting himself between them, and just stared at me. Noah was one of my closest friends. He'd seen me through some of my worst moments, made me feel beautiful even when I didn't feel it, and stayed up with me when I used to have nightly anxiety attacks. Yet, here I was feeling so insecure, so out of his league that I was blushing.

"Tell me we're gonna get through this together," Noah said, taking my face in his hands. I rested my forehead against his chest. "Of course we are, Noah, I'm not going anywhere." He lifted my face. "I don't mean as friends." I could hardly bring myself to look into his eyes. "You don't?" I asked barely above a whisper. Noah shook his head. His thumbs glided along my cheekbones. "Look at me." I dragged my eyes up only to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I mean as an "us". I don't think I can be just friends with you anymore, and just the idea of your perfect heart belonging to another guy terrifies me." A small laugh escaped me, and Noah grinned. "What? It's true. I don't want to be jealous, but I am."

I gave Noah a half smile. "I wouldn't call it jealousy, but more like selfish." "Selfish?" "Yeah, you demand my attention almost every time we're together. And when you see me talking with," actually the more I thought about it, Noah only got that way when another guy was involved. "With another guy," "yeah," I huffed a laugh. "Well, I guess I'm a little of both." "Since when?" Noah's eyes darted between mine. He brushed some loose hair out of my face and kissed my forehead. "Since the moment I trusted you with parts of myself I'm afraid to show anyone else." "And how long has that been?" Noah's lips were almost touching mine. I wanted this, wanted him to kiss me so I could kiss him back. "Always." I forgot to breathe the moment he bent his neck, and brought our faces closer together. A wave of heat, unlike one I'd ever felt before, crashed through me. Noah's arms wrapped around me, and he drew me into a kiss I never thought we'd share. His tongue pushed into mouth slowly yet needy as his large hands slid lazily up my spine. I gave into him completely, feeling every ounce of love pour from his kiss.

My fingers trailed up his chest until I cupped his jaw between my hands, feeling the slight hum of approval vibrate deep inside his chest. I felt like everything about Noah was going to consume me, and I was entirely okay with that. We finally broke apart, pulling our magic back into ourselves as we tried to catch our breath. "You're going to be the death of me," he growled against my cheek, leaving a slight wet kiss on my cheek. I pushed against his chest just enough to look at him. "Not if you destroy me first," I breathed, painting the lines of his jaw with my fingertips. "I never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now. And if you do, I swear I won't stop making it up to you until your legs are shaking and the neighbors know my name."

I about died in Noah's arms right then. He pulled me into another deep kiss, touching me without any hesitation. He touched me like he owned me. I guess he had for a long time, and I just never realized it. I trusted Noah with my heart, knowing he'd take care of it forever. "So, does this mean there's an us?" I smiled, taking a deep breath while wrapped up safe in Noah's arms. "Yeah it does. I like the sound of "us". "Me too, I guess we have Keaton to thank for it." "Yeah, I guess so," getting lost in a memory of him. He'd be happy; for both of us. "I miss him, Noah. But even now, I can still feel him around." "Me, too," Noah sighed, laying his cheek on the top of my head. "Me, too."

[tikiki05]

The way I screamed in absolute JOY when I went through your blog seeing you were anti timebomb

Oh my God ily 💔

THE SHIP CAME OUT OF NOWHERE

Maybe I missed something? I probably did, but

It's just?? Not?? Good??

Good morninnnng and tysm for this ask! Ilyt🫶🫶

But AAAAHHHH full disclosure, i actually kind of have mixed feelings on timebomb as a ship itself? Like i really do see both sides of the arguments a lot of the time. Granted I would say I edge a bit more on the side of anti-timebomb just because ALL of the ships in Arcane are handled poorly to some extent. And I tend to share more anti-timebomb posts anyways. ALSO the timebomb section of the fandom can be a little annoying and ABSOLUTELY racist

GRRRR i also hate all the comparisons made between timebomb and ghostflower! Are there some similarities? Yes, I’m not denying that, but also be fr it’s just because it’s a kind and artsy Black boy being shipped w a mentally ill white girl w dyed hair, and the sitting scene. Which like wow,, two people who like each other sat next to each other overlooking a nice view? That neeever happens /s

Also other people have said it better but JINX AND GWEN ARE NOTHING ALIKE,, Jinx was a terrorist and Gwen’s just sad and homeless and cringe (said with love) 😭🙏

Sorry, side tangent, but point being I honestly like,, wanna like timebomb? I’m even kind of (in a more platonic way) planning on having them together in my upcoming arcane fanfiction (will be posting very soon!)

Idk, I wanna like it and sort of do but there are also sooo many reasons to dislike it. I’d probably understand everything more if i, get this, actually finished this awful show lmao. But as I try and be open about on my blog, I have no intention of finishing watching Arcane because it’s too upsetting and I really don’t wanna support this show with its creators. First five episodes of season 1 and that’s it im all good i dont want no more👍

Another side tangent my bad lol, tysm for the ask though!! Ily mootie💞💞

[ballsandbabes]

More Than Gold Pt.II

authors note: y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

series: part.I // part.II

pairing: Reo Mikage x fem!reader

summary: Reader and Reo are daiting, but once reader finds out about him being super rich, insecurities and problems arise. How does this new information changes their relationship???

genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU with canon elements I guess??? Maybe a little spice at the end ;)

word Count: ca. 4000 words maybe a little more

After you found out that Reo was a very wealthy corporate heir, your world had changed drastically. Your small, rancid but cute apartment, for which you could barely pay the rent, had a water pipe burst and you had to find something else. Reo, however, was faster. He had already cleared out the second closet in a cute little apartment near the city he had bought for the two of you.

Moving in with Reo felt like a dream — and not the kind where you wake up sweating. It was like your prince had guided or should I say invited you to stay at his castle. Your now shared castle. The kind with late-night pizza on the floor, toothbrushes side by side, and him dancing like an idiot while brushing his teeth (sometimes he has his crazy five minutes). Your shared apartment wasn’t one of those penthouses his family liked to parade — it was warm, cozy, filled with music, laundry arguments, and a ridiculous number of throw pillows (his idea, ironically).

You’d met his parents a few months ago.

His mother was warm in that elegant, practiced way. She complimented your hair, asked you genuine questions, and hugged you goodbye without a second thought.

His father? A complete different story. Stone cold. All firm handshakes and silent evaluations. You’d never forget the way his eyes had scanned your clothes, your posture, your every breath — like you were a business pitch he’d already decided to decline.

Still, Reo had held your hand the whole night. Afterwards, he kissed your forehead and said, “I love you. That’s all that matters. Not him.”

You believed him. You had to.

___ _ _ _

The chaos that was all to unfold, started with a question over morning coffee. Reo, still shirtless (you secretly loved that he would casually walk around the flat like this) and groggy, asked casually,“Hey, my parents are hosting a Mikage Corp event next weekend. Black-tie thing. Fancy. Mom wanted to see you again. Want to come?”

You hesitated,“With… them?”

“I won’t let them breathe fire,” he promised. “I’ll be your personal dragon slayer.”

You smiled at him, heart thudding. “Okay. I’ll go. But if anyone hands me caviar, I’m running.”

He laughed. “Deal.”

___ _ _ _

The evening of said party came faster than you expected. The venue was straight out of a movie: chandeliers, champagne fountains, and guests so rich the air they were breathing probably cost more than your first car. You felt like you’d stepped into another universe.

Reo, in a sleek black tuxedo, looked like he was born for it. But his hand never left yours — grounding you, reassuring you. He looked so fine. Of course he always dressed up for your dates, but this…this was something completely different. The white suit shirt was so tight on his body that it showed his defined muscles under the suit jacket, but not so tight that it looked strange. It was custom-made. Tailored to his perfect body. Designed to highlight everything about him. The trousers were also cut in such a way that they fell perfectly on the elegant leather shoes, which seemed to shimmer almost purple in the light from the chandeliers. He looked stunning. Almost magical and out of this world. And then...

“You look incredible,” he whispered, visibly impressed with your look, “I’m proud to have you here.”

That meant everything. You weren't sure what to wear. You had nothing in your closet that could be worn to such an expensive event. So you had done what you always did in such situations. You called Kiko. She was your best friend since childhood. Kiko had parents who could be considered upper middle class, which is why she was always the “rich” friend. She understood immediately and was there in front of your door within an hour, clothes bags left and right in her hand. You had tried on countless dresses that afternoon and you didn't think any of them were good. But then Kiko pulled the dark, almost black dress out of one of the garment bags. it was crisscrossed with purple, glittering threads. Slim-fitting with a high leg slit. It fit like it was made for you. The halterneck strap made you look sporty and elegant at the same time. And ended in a daring but tasteful cleavage. Your mother had lent you her good jewelry and also the silver pumps that you loved to wear as a child whenever you played dress up.

You made small talk, nodded politely, and did your best not to look overwhelmed and out of place. Reo’s mother greeted you warmly. His father gave a tight nod, like acknowledging your existence was a tax write-off. he was definitely not the parent, that wanted you here.

But Reo was by your side the entire time — laughing with you, sneaking bites of chocolate truffles from the dessert table like a rebellious prince. You even caught a few other guests complimenting you behind fans and wine glasses.

And then… the reporters showed up.

They were supposed to be "invited press." A few snaps for magazines. Background fluff. Nothing major. Selected media, who knew the family and knew how to respect boundaries.

But one of them, a sharp-faced woman in red, took a particular interest in you.

She asked for a photo. Then another. Then an interview — "Just a few questions, dear. You seem very close with Reo Mikage, I assume you to are dating. What’s it like dating the Mikage heir? Where did you two meet? What do your parents do?"

Reo stepped in quickly, brushing her off with a practiced smile,“Sorry, we’re just here to enjoy the night. Whether I nor she will answer questions tonight.”

But it was too late. You’d become a point of interest. A narrative waiting to happen.

___ _ _ _

The end of the world and some seriously ugly headlines dropped the next morning.

“Who is the girl dating Reo Mikage?” “From Paychecks to Penthouse: The Cinderella Story of the Mikage Heiress poor girlfriend” “Not Born for This: Does She Belong in Reo’s World?”

Another article titled, “Gold Digger and Liar: Why he kept her hiden all the time”

They dug into your past. Hard.

Old photos, your high school, your family’s debt. A blogger even posted a breakdown of your outfits with captions like: “Its like H&M in a Chanel closet. Some things just dont belong together.”

It got worse.

Trolls flooded your socials. DMs, comments, fake profiles. Some accused you of being a gold digger. Others pitied you like some kind of charity case.

You didn’t cry until the third night — when your mom called to ask if the reporter camped outside her apartment would leave if she gave them a quote. Not them too. Your father worked hard for the skin and a comfortable life for you and your mother. He needed his sleep. That was definitely not possible if you had to be afraid of being photographed every second.

When reo came home from practice, on the way to your apartment, taking a few detours to avoid the paparazzi, he was so exhausted. When he came into the living room, he found you curled up on the floor, clutching your phone with trembling hands. He was scared...what in gods name had happend???

“They went to my mom’s house,” you whispered, “They’re everywhere. I can’t even go outside without being followed.”

He knelt beside you, eyes wide and horrified,“Darling, I’m so sorry for all of this. I didn’t think they’d go this far.”

“I can’t live like this, Reo.”,Your voice cracked,“I’m not you. I didn’t sign up to be a public figure. I wasnt trained to withstand the media, unlike you.”

He pulled you into his arms, fiercely protective, “You shouldn’t have to. I’ll shut this down. I’ll sue every paper. I’ll—”

“—They’ll just make me out to be worse,” you interrupted,“Like I’m silencing the press.”

And in that moment, for the first time, you wondered: Could love survive a world like this? A world where it wasnt just the two of you, but rather you two plus the whole world. It meant pressure, no peace and constant hate towards your persona. It was all too much.

___ _ _ _

It came to a head a few nights later.

Reo came home late from practice once again, exhausted from Blue Lock media obligations, his jaw clenched from some backdoor conversation with his father. He’d been trying to control the narrative. But his father wasn’t helping. He didn't want you by his side anyway. After all a poor, pitiful girl was no match for his son.

As Reo got into the door, you asked him about his day.

“He said if I want to be taken seriously in the company, I need to stop ‘embarrassing myself in the public eye.’”, he stated, after you had asked him about his conversation with his father.

You flinched,“He means me?!”

“Yes, I am afraid he does. But I don’t care what he means,” Reo growled,“He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know us. Not like I do.”

You paced the room,“But he owns the company. And the press listens to him. And the public— Reo, they think I’m a walking scandal!”

“So what?”, His voice rose, “Let them talk! They don’t get to decide if and who I love..because I do love you! Never forget that Y/n.”

You turned, eyes brimming,“But what if I can’t handle it? What if I’m not strong enough to live like this? I’m tired, Reo. I’m tired of being picked apart. Hell, I am tired of not being able to step outside anymore, being followed everywhere....and being hated on, picked apart, being the villain in your fairytail.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, “Do you want to leave?”

Your chest ached, “I don’t know.”

___ _ _ _

The article dropped like a bomb. And set your life on fire. Shattered everything you had ever hoped to dream of.

“Power Couple in the Making? Mikage Heir Rumored to Be Engaged in Arranged Alliance with Marlux Tech Heiress, Lia Ayazawa”

The photos were glossy: Reo in a tux, standing beside a striking woman in crimson, Lia, daughter of his father’s oldest business ally. They looked perfect together — two heirs, poised and smiling at a recent charity gala. A gala you weren’t invited to.

You’d known he was going. He’d said it was a formality he had to attend, part of the business image his father still pushed. You trusted him. You always did. Reo always told you the truth. Except this time, he hadn’t told you Lia would be there. You knew that their fathers had been trying to bring the two of them closer for several months. And you didn't like it at all. You weren't jealous of Lia, but she was everything you wouldn't be, or could ever be.

You stared at the article, hands trembling. The headline wasn’t the worst part. It was the quote, straight from Lia:

“Reo and I have known each other since childhood. There’s always been an understanding between our families. Some connections are simply inevitable.”

She was right. So you made up your mind.

___ _ _ _

You waited for him that night. When Reo walked through the door, you saw it immediately — the tension in his shoulders, the guilt in his eyes. He knew. He knew that he should have told you...that he souldnt have attended this soiree.

“I can explain,” he said, before you even spoke.

“I’d love to hear it Reo, but there is nothing to explain” you said, voice sharp enough to cut steel, yet soft and understanding.

He sat on the edge of the couch, like it would burn him if he relaxed. “What do you mean? My dad set the whole thing up. Photos, quotes, the guest list. He wants to merge Mikage Corp with Marlux through a marriage. He thinks Lia makes me ‘marketable.’ It’s business. That’s all.”

“Shes perfect for you, thats what I mean. You didn’t think to warn me? Thats okay, because she does perfect by your side...” You stood in front of him, arms hanging loosely by your sides, “But you could have a least given me a heads-up that the press would think you’re engaged....”

“I didn’t know it would blow up like this—”

“You knew Lia would be there. And you let the cameras eat it up,” you said calmly but with a broken heart.

His voice broke, “I was trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you finally snapped. “From the truth? Or from the fact that maybe they’re right — maybe I don’t belong in your world after all.”

He stood suddenly, eyes blazing, “Y/n...Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that again!”

But your words kept coming, fueled by panic, betrayal, pain. “They all think you should be with her. heck even i do! She's perfect, rich, powerful — someone your father actually approves of. And me? I’m just the girl who keeps getting dragged through the mud while you smile for the cameras. The girl who hinders your potencial.”

Reo’s jaw clenched,“You think I want that? That I enjoy being paraded around like a trophy by a man who only sees me as a pawn?”

You swallowed hard, tears burning,“I don’t know what to think anymore, Reo. I’m tired. Of fighting. Of being your scandal in tabloids.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he said, but his voice cracked like glass.

“Thats not what i meant Reo,” you whispered. he didnt seem to understand your point.

And when he didn’t say anything — not right away — that silence was your answer.

Ans so you moved to Kiko for a few days, needing a place to sleep and more important a friend.

___ _ _ _

The media turned fast. #TeamLia trended within hours.

The public opinion adored her — she was graceful, camera-trained, and polished. She gave soft, polite interviews about respecting Reo’s relationship while adding just enough ambiguity to stoke the flames:

“I only want what’s best for him… and for the company.”

And the public? They were eating it up.

“Lia’s so much more refined than that civilian girl.” “Reo needs to think long-term — love doesn’t pay the bills.” “Why would he throw away an empire for some girl who shops at discount stores?”

They didn’t even say your name anymore. Just “that girl.”

The pressure mounted like a vice around your chest. Your work life suffered. Paparazzi waited outside your apartment again. Your parents were hounded. Every time you turned on your phone, your life was up for debate.

So you did the only thing you could.

You left. You wrote a short note: “I can’t breathe here anymore. I love you, but I can’t drown beside you.”

And thats how you disappeared out of his life.

___ _ _ _

For the first time in years, Reo was alone in silence. No family around him nor your gorgeous laugh filled the air. Just pure silence.

He came home every night to your empty side of the bed. Your slippers still by the door. Your toothbrush still in the cup. The hoodie you always stole from him, still on the couch. It felt like you where still here, but he knew that want the reality.

You were gone.

He called. You didn’t answer. He drove past your mom’s house. Lights off. He texted every day. No response.

Lia reached out once, with a gentle offer:

“If you ever want to talk, I understand how hard this is.” He blocked her.

Because Reo didn’t want understanding. He wanted you. But maybe, he realized, loving you wasn’t enough if the world kept trying to break you apart — and he didn’t protect you better.

___ _ _ _

A few weeks later, it rained. Hard, seemingly endless. Reo stood under the awning of a bookstore you loved, drenched and unmoving. You didn’t know he’d come looking for you there — he just remembered how often you’d disappear between its shelves when the world was too loud.

And there you were.

Hood up. Umbrella low. Coffee in hand. You almost didn’t recognize him through the foggy glass. But he looked up.

You froze.

He stepped forward slowly, water dripping from his sleeves, and whispered your name like a prayer.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked. You nodded, wordless.

You sat in the back of the bookstore’s café, hidden from the world, hearts laid bare on the table. “I know I failed you,” he said quietly. “I should’ve shut it down. I should’ve told my father no. I should’ve fought harder. For you.”

You stared into your cup. “I didn’t leave because of Lia. I left because I lost me. I stopped recognizing who I was in your shadow.”

“I don’t want you in my shadow,” he said fiercely. “I want you next to me. Always.”

Silence. Then you whispered, “You didn’t chase me.” He looked shattered. “Because I thought I’d already lost you.”

You met his eyes. “You didn’t.”

Reo reached across the table, his hands shaking as he took yours. “I don’t care what the world wants. I don’t care what my father wants. I’ll leave the company. I’ll disappear with you. Just say the word.”

You blinked. “You’d give up everything?”

“No,” he said. “I’d be choosing everything that matters.”

Reo thought about all the nights he didn’t sleep with you in your shared bed. He tought about how the world was always going to be loud. Cruel, even. But Reo had never treated you like a project or a performance. He’d stood by you, lifted you, protected you. He’d loved you fiercely — not despite your past, but including it. But he forgot showing you this. Showing you how much you meant to him.

___ _ _ _

You had just finished putting you stuff back into the places they belong to. You had decided to move back into your apartment. You had decided to try this life. For him. No matter how bad the scandals and magazines would be. You wanted him. So the moment the door clicked shut behind Reo, as he came home, seeing you on the couch like nothing happend, it was like the air changed.

Heavy. Electric. Full of everything unsaid.

Reo turned to you slowly, still soaked from the sweat of the training, his hair dripping, jaw tense. His violet eyes didn’t leave yours for a second.

“You’re here,” he said hoarsely, like he didn’t believe it yet.

You nodded, heart pounding. “I’m here.”

He moved first. Not fast — just… sure. Certain. Like every step toward you rewrote every second he’d spent missing you. When he reached you, his hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were fragile.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered.

“You almost did,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was slow — desperate, reverent, full of every broken moment patched together with touch. His lips were soft but insistent, mouth warm against yours like he needed you to believe he was real.

You gasped slightly when his hands slid down your sides, grounding you to him. “You’re shaking,” you murmured.

“I haven’t touched you in weeks,” he said into your skin. “Don’t expect me to be composed.”

You pulled him closer by his shirt, wet fabric clinging between you,“Then don’t be.”

That undid him.

The second kiss was deeper, hungrier — mouths moving in sync, breath mingling. His hands roamed your back, slipping beneath your damp jacket to feel the heat of your skin. You melted into him, like the space between your bodies was a lie you no longer wanted to keep.

He pressed you gently against the nearest wall, lips never leaving yours. His tongue flicked against your bottom lip, asking — not demanding — and you gave in willingly, opening for him like you’d been waiting to taste him again forever.

The sound he made was low. Rough. Like losing and finding you all at once.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.

“I missed you so much,” he rasped, forehead resting against yours,“Every night. Every second. I’d have burned the world just to hold you again.”

“You don’t have to burn anything,” you whispered, trailing your fingers down his chest, over the line of his abdomen,“You just have to take me back to bed.”

His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide,“Say that again.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw,“Take me to bed, Reo.”

He didn’t need more. He scooped you up effortlessly, bridal style, pressing heated kisses to your neck as he walked. “I’m not letting you go again,” he murmured against your skin. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

You curled against him, heart pounding, skin already lit with anticipation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back. “Make me feel like I’m home.”

And he did. Slowly. Thoroughly. Passionately.

With hands that trembled in reverence. With kisses that asked for forgiveness. And with a body that spoke what words no longer could.

That night, you didn’t just make love. You reclaimed each other.

___ _ _ _

Months passed. The storm quieted.

You didn’t disappear together. You reappeared — together.

Reo gave a public statement:

“I’m not marrying Lia. I’m not merging companies. I’m not making decisions for headlines. I’m with the woman I love, and I won’t apologize for that.”

It went viral. Half the world still judged. The other half cheered. But this time, it didn’t matter — because you’d built something stronger than PR, wealth, or bloodlines.

You’d built resilience. You didn’t go back to Reo’s world.

He came to yours. And stayed.

You stepped away from social media. Reo hired a PR team that knew how to protect your privacy — and weaponize it when needed. Thats how the narrative shifted slowly towards headlines like: “Modern Romance: How Reo Mikage Stays Grounded with His Longtime Girlfriend.”

You didn’t go to every event. But when you did, you held his hand without fear. And when the reporters asked how you handled it all, you smiled and said, “With love. And excellent toast.”

Reo grinned beside you, squeezing your hand.

Because no matter how loud the world got — You’d found your home in each other. Still standing. Still choosing. Every day.

Because this love was so much more worth, than gold and money.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dan Rather at Steady:

Of all the complaints, grievances, and gripes coming from the White House, the great majority have been directed at an aspect of 21st century America that Donald Trump just can’t seem to handle: diversity, equity, and inclusion. These three words tie him in knots. DEI raises his IRE. Several of the executive orders he’s signed since taking office are aimed at eliminating DEI programs within the federal government, in education, and in the private sector. Trump has weaponized DEI in the ever-worsening culture wars. It has become the go-to for killing any program that enables a diverse workforce or student body, studies underserved communities, or tackles institutional bias. He also uses it to absolve himself. Midair collision? Blame DEI.

For Trump, rooting out any and all DEI is fulfilling a campaign promise to end “wokeness” and “leftist indoctrination” in education. Some might call it a blanket excuse to blow up programs he doesn’t like. Just tag it DEI and be done with it.

This White House wants everything to be “merit based.” Trump has convinced his supporters that DEI stands for “didn’t earn it.” This is hypocrisy, especially when you consider some of his Cabinet appointments. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth pretty much kills their argument for merit-based hiring. Let’s take a step back for what’s known in television as the wide shot. Here’s what this is really all about: white men whining. You can’t call it a dog whistle, because that would suggest Trump is trying to hide his derision for DEI. He is not. His executive orders are announcing that it is open season to be brazenly, unapologetically racist, sexist, homophobic, ageist, xenophobic, ableist — pick your bigotry. The MAGA backlash to DEI is an outgrowth of the identity politics that have taken a greater hold in the United States over the past 10 years. The reaction has been building for a while but has recently grown deeper and stronger.

The 2015 Supreme Court decision legalizing gay marriage could be seen as the start. The #MeToo movement, which was partly a response to revelations about Harvey Weinstein’s sexual misconduct, took hold in 2017. The police killing of George Floyd spurred the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020. White males have had a disproportionate share of power in the United States since its founding. But the country’s demographics are changing, with the U.S. becoming less white. In the year 2000, 69% of the population was white; just 20 years later, that percentage was down to 58%. The group making the biggest population gain is Latinos. Is it any wonder Trump still wants to build that wall on the Mexican border? And recent trends will continue. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, white people may still be a plurality but no longer a majority in America by 2045. Trump is desperately trying to stop the clock, and even reverse it, with his executive orders.

So far the orders have:

Put all government DEI employees on administrative leave and ordered each federal agency to eliminate their positions.

Ended all diversity programs in the U.S. military and federal agencies.

Rescinded a 1965 executive order prohibiting racial discrimination in federal contracts.

Directed his Cabinet secretaries to “prepare up to nine civil investigation targets” along with “other strategies to encourage the private sector to end illegal DEI discrimination and preferences.”

Required all federal contractors to eliminate DEI programs, which includes all grant recipients.

Cumulative far-right outrage over programs seen as helping and promoting people of color, women, the LGBTQ+ community, and immigrants, combined with the fear of straight white men losing status and power, has brought us to this crossroads.

[...] Trump’s anti-DEI bent is more than a bigoted policy. It is anti-science, anti-education, and anti-American. The country cannot afford to have this covered over or forgotten.

Love this column from Dan Rather: Donald Trump’s war on DEI isn’t about “merit”, but about protecting White male entitlement who see their standing threatened.

[john-get-the-salt]

Awakening (w/Edward Cullen)

Imagine: Waking up in a strange place and coming to meet a very strange family; the cullens.

Contains: not Bella, cause fuck Bella

Warnings: Mentions of past injury, past assault

The search for a missing local ended last night in tragedy. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a Forks native, was out celebrating her 25th birthday last weekend when she got separated from her friends. Her body was discovered down by the river just last night, 4 days after her disappearance. A cause of death has not officially been released but police have confirmed that they do believe foul play was involved. Police are asking anyone with any information or tips to call immediately at the number below.

Carlisle turned the news report off, his stomach uneasy. His family sat around him, sharing in his discomfort.

"We don't know for sure it was one of us," Emmett was the first to speak.

"We can’t know for sure it wasn't." Edward countered.

"We'll be extra careful. Go hunting in groups or all together. For all we know it was a human."

"And if it was? Will we still ignore It?" Edward hated the idea.

"What the humans do is none of our business," Rosalie spit.

"Even if one is going around killing innocents?"

"Please, not this again," Esme begged.

Edward turned away from his family. It wasn't right, but he never won that argument.

—

Cold.

That was the first sense that came back to you.

A startling cold that seeped into your skin and chilled your bones. You felt like you were frozen solid, but a wiggle of your fingers and toes quickly dismissed that idea.

Your eye open–at least you thought they did. You saw nothing but pitch black and wondered if you'd actually opened your eyes at all.

Maybe you were in hell.

You wanted to reach up, to feel for your eyes and make sure you were all still there, but your hand barely raised an inch before hitting something hard. Your knuckles ached something terrible as a clang filled your ears.

Metal?

You raised your hand again, slowly, and let your fingers brush against the surface.

Metal.

The panic began to set in as your hands felt nothing but cold and smooth metal all around you, encompassing you. A swift stomp of your foot found you nothing but another loud bang. It was as if you were laying in a small metal box.

You wracked your brain, desperate for any memories or clues as to how you get there.

And then you remembered.

It was your birthday. Your friends took you out downtown to celebrate. Barhopping, karaoke, way too much food. It was fun. But you also remember losing your friends in a crowded bar, getting hot and overwhelmed and anxious. You remember stepping outside for some fresh air, hearing something behind you and–

You remembered everything now.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath. Falling apart could come later, once you got home and felt safe.

Kicking your feet again you paused at the creaking of metal that seemed to follow.

Bingo.

You kicked again and again and again with both feet, giving it everything you had, until finally the metal gave away and your prison was flooded with din light.

Nearly crying in relief, you stretched out your legs and hooked your feet onto something so you could pull yourself out. Thankfully you rolled out relatively easily, the metal underneath you sliding out without problem.

Once free, you sat up slowly. Your body was stiff and sore, and you rolled your shoulders in an attempt to loosen up. Looking down at yourself you were taken aback. Your skin looked filthy and blood was caked underneath your fingernails. New scars peppered your arms and legs, though they were all faded and appeared to be old. Your hair hung loosely and you were in an itchy white medical gown. You couldn't identify anything that belonged to you.

Swinging your legs around you tested the floor with your feet, slowly standing. As you did so you looked around at the room.

It was large, lined with beds covered in white sheets. You turned to the box from which you escaped and couldn't contain the gasp that left your lips. The wall towered above you with rows upon rows of small metal doors. You had just crawled out of one of these doors, luckily, on the ground level. But they reached up, almost to the ceiling.

You reached out with a a shaky hand, pushing back the tray you just climbed off of. It slid back into the wall and the door closed behind it with a quiet click.

A morgue. You had just climbed out of a morgue.

You needed to get out of there now.

Your bare feet slipped on the clean floor, making you curse. Where were your shoes?

You hurried past the beds, trying not to think about what could be under them. You stopped at a hallway, whipping your head to the left and right. How were you supposed to know which way was out?

You were about to go right when something stopped you. A small whisper, a tug. Left it seemed to murmur, as a breeze blowing past your ear.

You didn't have time to investigate or worry about hearing strange things. You had no clue which way the exit was so left you went. It ended up being the right choice as further down the hall you could see a set of doors leading outside. You took off into a sprint, pushing the doors aside like they were nothing.

You took a deep breath of the fresh air, wincing again at the ache in your throat and pounding in your head. It was nighttime out, the only light coming from the moon and flickering streetlights. You stumbled away from the morgue, disoriented.

Where were you? How did you get home?

Your house. Home. Did you go home? What were you supposed to do? Were you dead? Why were you in a morgue?

Your head pounded as you pushed your feet off of the hard pavement and took off down the street.

Into the woods, a whisper curled around your ear.

You weren't sure you wanted to be seen running down the street covered in blood, and this mysterious new voice had been right once before. So at the first break in buildings you took off towards the woods that surrounded the town.

Scared and alone you entered the forest. Your bare feet tripped on rocks and roots as you ran but you kept going. You just kept going and going, naively hoping you could simply run away from whatever was happening to you.

You weren't sure how long you ran. You weren't even sure if you were still breathing. It didn't feel like it.

You began to cry, wishing you could forget again. Wishing you could forget the feeling of their cold hands all over you, the whispers and sharp smirks and pain. Just constant pain for days. You remember feeling relieved when they finally dumped you down by the river, left you barely clothed and empty inside. You thought you were finally free to die in peace.

You slowed your pace, pushing through bushes and past trees while tears continued to stream down your face. You wanted to stop, wanted to collapse and curl into a ball of the forrest floor. But the new voice inside your head whispered you on, told you to keep going. And you weren't about to stop listening now.

So you continued on fumbling in the darkness. Occasionally there would be a break in the tree line and the moon would shine down upon you, illuminating the woods and shadows at your heels. The moon seemed to guide you somehow, seemed to pull on your shadows and help you move through the underbrush, commanding your feet to just keep going.

You were so tired. But you kept moving, never stopping, never faltering. And the night got darker and darker as you disappeared into the heart of the woods.

—

"Edward."

The young vampire turned to his adoptive mother who stood behind him.

'We're all going hunting tonight. Carlisle thinks it would be best to keep up our strength, just in case."

Just in case we need to take care of an unruly vampire, was the rest of Esme's unspoken sentence.

Edward nodded, standing to join his family. The Cullen's gathered themselves and were nearly out the door when Edward froze, causing Rosalie to nearly run into him.

"What are you-" Rose cut off her annoyed remark at the look on his face. "Edward? What's wrong?"

"There's someone outside."

"Who?"

Alice gasped, eyes going wide and unblinking. Jasper grabbed her hand, holding it softly as she went through her vision.

"Edward, who it is?" Esme was worried, grabbing for Carlisle's hand.

"The girl on the news.....(y/n)."

"The one who was murdered?"

Edward nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he was bombarded with thoughts. "She's confused and scared. She woke up in a morgue-"

He sucked in his breath just as Alice broke from her vision.

"We were right," she confirmed. "It was a group of vampires. They...did terrible things to her."

Alice was on the verge of tears and Rosalies face got stone cold, her fists clenched.

"She's turned?"

Edward nodded at his father figure. "But I don't think she knows. She needs help."

"We'll help her, right?"

Dr. Cullen nodded at his wife. "Of course. We'll help her with whatever she needs. Edward and Alice, you two have the best chance of peacefully and safely bringing her in. Go, and call if you need help."

The two nodded and slipped out of the house quietly.

--

You walked for what felt like hours, the woods never ending.

But finally, finally, you finally saw a bit of light up ahead. You felt a push and you hurried, diving under some brush and finding yourself in front of a large house.

It was mostly made of glass, light pouring out from every clear wall and window. It was like a beacon as you stepped closer. There seemed to be no one home, no one around but you. You took this opportunity to finally rest and sink to your knees in the clearing around the house.

This would all be a lot easier if you had just died like you were supposed to. You didn't want to be here, you wanted to be dead. You wanted to be somewhere you could no longer feel the ghost of hands of all over you, of pain and screams and blood spilling.

You rested your head in your hands, shoulders shaking as you finally unraveled and began to sob.

"Hello?"

You jerked up, feet moving you back towards the woods.

"Wait!"

You froze a few steps away from the cover of the trees. You refused to turn around, terrified of who or what you would find.

"I'm sorry for trespassing, I'm leaving now."

"Are you ok, (Y/N)?" The voice spoke again, sounding like a woman.

You still didn't turn around.

"I-how do you know my name?"

"We can help you."

You shook your head, taking another step towards the safety of the trees. "I don't want any trouble, I'm just going to leave."

"Please don't leave, (y/n)."

You stilled at the new voice. It was a man, but it was...different. It was soft and seemed familiar.

him him him him him, your new voice whispered over and over again, nearly frantic.

You turned, finally looking back at the voices. A young man and woman stood in the clearing, lit up by the house behind them. The woman was short with a dark pixie cut, and the man-

him him him....that's him

You locked eyes with the man and the world seemed to still. He had piercing eyes that you swore looked right through you, eyes you could stare at forever. Everything seemed to get sharper, more in focus, and the light coming from behind him got brighter. His whole self seemed to call you. Your feet itched to push towards him, your soul seemed to sing, which you didn't even know was possible and-

edward

"Edward?" You tested the name on your lips and instantly liked the way it felt to say, the way it rolled off your tongue like it was always meant to.

The man seemed frozen as he looked at you. He looked vulnerable, his eyes wide and lips parted just slightly.

edward cullen, the voice continued to whisker and you found yourself wishing it would say more.

"My name is Alice Cullen."

You tore your gaze away from Edward and to the young woman. As soon as you did the world seemed to get a bit duller, the clearing seemed darker somehow, unfocused again.

"And this is my brother-

"Edward Cullen," you spoke softly, "right?"

Alice nodded slowly, "How did you know?"

"I-I heard it, I think. There's a voice, telling me things."

alice cullen.....she see's things she shouldn't....ask her

You gulped. "Do-do you know what's wrong with me? I thought I was dead. I-I was laying down by the river, it was so cold." You sniffed, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

"I prayed for it to be over, I thought I was finally going to die but I woke up and I don't know what happened. I just wanted to die and forget. I just want to die."

Your legs wobbled and gave out under you. You waited for your knees to hit the ground below you but the impact never came.

You looked up and found yourself face to face with that man, Edward. He'd caught you and had an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. You opened your mouth to thank him when you caught a glance at your arm.

Your lips parted in surprise and if you'd been breathing before you definitely stopped now. Your skin, under a patch of moonlight coming through the trees, was glistening. Though glistening hardly did it justice, it looked as if crystals had been ground up and painted onto your skin carefully. Your hands, your arms, your legs. You were....sparkling.

you are different now.....just like them

You swatted at the air by your ear, growing tired of the voice.

"You have a gift," Edward spoke softly.

You met his eyes once again, "A gift?"

"You said you hear things, right? Things you shouldn't?"

vampires.......he's a vampire

Your lips trembled. You wanted him to be wrong, you didn't want to be glowing or hearing voices or be different.

you are just like them...just like him

"No!" You cried at the voice, stumbling away from Edward and falling back to the ground.

“Make this voice be quiet, I don’t want to know!”

once you hear, it cannot be unheard

“When did it start?” Alice asked softly as Edward approached you again slowly, as if you were a frightened doe.

“Right after I woke up. It….led me here.”

Here is where you were meant to be

“I don’t understand!”

You felt a peace flow over you, and another man with shoulder length hair appeared behind the girl, Alice.

As Alice sees, you hear

“Is it still speaking?” She asked.

You nodded and repeated it’s last sentence.

As the girl furrowed her brow and muttered behind her shoulder to the man, you turned and met Edward's eyes. "I feel like I know you. Have we...met before?"

He shook his head, kneeling down to your level. "No, we haven't. But I can help explain everything, we both can. Would you like to come inside?"

Safe. He is safe. The Cullen’s are safe.

You thought for a moment, before nodding. What more could they do when the worst had already happened to you? You allowed Edward to reach for your hand. You took it, standing up with him.

Edward's eyes, you noted, shone like molten gold. You wondered if your eyes would ever shine again or if they would remain dull and lifeless as you felt now.

His grip on your hand tightened as you two walked over to Alice and the nameless stranger.

"I swear that I will do anything and everything within my power to help you."

And looking into his eyes, you believed every word he said.

him.....he is yours and you are his

"I know."

[misc-obeyme]

what are your thoughts on the cheeky lil cow boy (belphie)

Ah yes, Belphegor, a bit of a polarizing character in general, I think. People seem to either really love him or really hate him.

Generally speaking, I think he's deceptively cunning, but not in a malicious way. He's pretty chill most of the time, but he'll do stuff like manipulate his brothers to get them to do his chores for him. Except for Beel, of course. And really they are a unit. Belphie is always ready to fight for Beel and vice versa. But I also really like how they just quietly support each other. Someone will say oh Belphie fell asleep in this weird place and Beel will immediately be like I'll go get him. Or Belphie will be like we need to make sure we bring food to this thing because Beel will get hungry. Like they're just always thinking about each other and I think that's really sweet.

Belphie will also call people out if he wants to. If he has no reason to keep it to himself, he'll straight up tell you if he thinks you're doing something questionable. And his issues with Diavolo indicate to me that he has a problem with authority, like he would be more defiant if he wasn't also lazy lol.

Inevitably, though, we can't really talk about Belphie without discussing the Lesson 16 Incident. At this point, I think most people are aware of those events, but just in case, I'll put the rest of this under a read more. And also it's kinda lengthy, so be forewarned lol.

First of all, I have to say that I was honestly so confused about what was happening in Lesson 16 that I didn't fully understand that Belphie had killed MC. I had to read it multiple times and then read what other people were saying about it. So I never had an intense reaction to it.

But to be fair, it wasn't like we didn't know there was something weird going on the whole time. I knew it was the youngest brother locked up there and it seemed like it was wrong, so that made Lucifer out to be the bad guy of the situation. Then it turns out that wasn't the case at all.

Belphie is manipulative. That's just part of his character. And when he has something that he's trying to do, he's going to use that skill to get it.

Some people are still mad at Lucifer for locking Belphie up at all. Some people are obviously quite upset that Belphie killed MC.

But here's what I think.

It isn't that black and white. Aside from the confusing time travel shenanigans, this event is one of the most realistic things that has ever happened in the story.

Belphie shared Lilith's love of humans. Together they wanted to learn more about the human world. It would be easy for him to blame himself for her interest and what ultimately led to her death. But even if he didn't, he saw the way that it tore his entire family apart.

It wasn't just that his dad got mad at his sister and they had an argument or something.

It was that his dad was going to end his sister's existence and in defiance, his older brother rebelled. And there was a war. This was not some squabble. This was siblings fighting siblings.

Belphie watched his brothers and sisters fight and hurt and kill each other and it all came back to Lilith falling in love with a human.

And then he fell with his brothers, cast out of his home, losing everything he's ever known. His brothers are changing and suffering just like he is.

They don't talk about it. They clearly all keep secrets regarding it still, things that don't come out until MC comes along. Which is supposedly thousands of years after the fact (at least in OG). That means Belphie has had all that time to let that trauma fester. To let it twist inside him. To let it morph into the one thought that became most dominant: that humans are bad.

Is that a fair assessment of what happened? No, of course not. But we're dealing with a war traumatized fallen angel that clearly hasn't worked through any of these feelings in thousands of years.

And then he defies Diavolo and Lucifer panics.

Yes, Lucifer should have found a better way of handling it. But remember what happened to him when he defied authority? He is trying his best to protect Belphie. He is trying not to lose another sibling. He is also still traumatized and therefore overreacting out of fear.

And so was Belphie.

Imagine being locked up like that and a human comes along. A human is free among your brothers to do whatever terrible things humans do while you're powerless to stop them. Of course he's going to try to manipulate that human into setting him free. Of course he's then going to eliminate them because humans have been historically bad for his family.

I read this situation as Belphie being both afraid and angry that a human - the thing he's convinced himself was the main cause of his sister's death - has become so close to his brothers and has the access to his family that could cause another rift among them.

You could say that it was Belphie's idea to get MC to have all the pacts, but that isn't really true, either. By the time MC meets Belphie, they already have a pact with two of his brothers. He sees them already starting to worm their way into his family. And he knows that the only way to get out of the attic is to encourage it. He doesn't really have a choice.

Maybe everyone can now call me a Belphie apologist. But I'm always coming at this from an outside fictional standpoint. I'm like listen he's a flawed character and it's actually pretty realistic of him to react this way considering the circumstances.

However, he did kill MC. And that's why my own MC, Ciaran, has issues with Belphie for a while. It's also traumatic to have someone kill you, so it isn't like I'm saying MC should just forget about it or forgive Belphie immediately. I think it probably should have taken a lot more time for MC to trust Belphie again. Certainly that part of the story was a bit rushed.

But they're dealing with lesson format constraints and also it's a silly otome game so I guess fully formed character arcs can't be expected. Especially since we aren't dealing with routes and they have to cram everybody into the same set of lessons.

In the end, I think Belphie is an interesting and complex character. I think there's a lot of space to explore more about this particular aspect of him, but due to the format of the media and the lack of routes, his more in depth character arc just doesn't exist.

I personally have no problem with Belphie as a character, but I also understand why people don't like him. I am always of the opinion that everyone is free to love or hate or have any emotions at all about fictional characters lol. This is just my personal opinion.

[theromanticscrooge]

Lord Boxman, the Lonely Tyrant of Boxmore

Note: I've been wanting to return to writing beefy character essays for awhile and I was finally able to start back up after rewatching O.K. K.O.

Lord Boxman started out wanting to build a robot army strong enough to defeat POINT. Look at his early interactions with his first sapient robot Mr. Logic. This was his original business partner; someone he 'invented' to help fill in what gaps and blind spots he might have. Someone he wanted active feedback and suggestions from. Boxman himself was a lot more open-minded, patient, and collaborative at this point in time. He immediately called Mr. Logic his 'best friend' and treated him with warm, open affection.

Mr. Logic advised Boxman that he shouldn't immediately jump at his goal because he didn't yet have the manpower or resources to pose a legitimate threat. Instead, Mr. Logic proposed using Boxman's inventing abilities to tweak and improve upon his current inventions, to sell these inventions to other villains, and build a villain supply chain store. With time, hard work, and concentrated efforts, Boxman would eventually have the resources and power to successfully launch an attack later. It was a big-picture, long-haul plan. The Mr. Logic-Boxman team led to building the main Boxmore company headquarters and establishing Boxman as a trusted robot minion supplier.

Unfortunately, Boxman isn't a big-picture man. He didn't stop to consider that heroes could also start up and maintain a hero supply chain. Suddenly, POINT wasn't an abstract, 'someday' goal-post anymore. The heroes were right in Boxman's backyard with the presence of Mr. Gar and the developing Lakewood Plaza Turbo. Boxman thought he had ample time to become an indomitable powerhouse, but if the heroes had the same advantage, he'd never be able to catch up and had to address that problem now. When Mr. Logic said to "ignore Lakewood Plaza," Boxman was too lost in himself to listen. He felt threatened and intimidated enough that it stoked his insecurities and anxieties.

When Mr. Logic ventured out to investigate Lakewood Plaza, it could be seen as someone talking to the "other" that their parent, friends, or whomever painted with broad strokes and demonized. Boxman told Mr. Logic that his role was to fill in the "logical inconsistencies" with his plans, but he never asked Mr. Logic what he wanted to do with his life. With Boxman, everything was tailored to realizing Boxman's dreams and ambitions. When Mr. Logic spoke to Mr. Gar, it was a partly about what the Plaza was for and what Mr. Gar hoped for the future with the other part inviting Mr. Logic to share his plans for the future; plans about and for himself, not just the sustainability of Boxmore.

After Mr. Logic had his perspective broadened and returned to Boxmore wanting something fundamentally different from Boxman's new "Destroy the Plaza!" direction, it was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Boxman was already knee-deep in plans to stop this new existential threat; to have full control over his environment and his life. When Mr. Logic challenged Boxman's worldview, Boxman saw it as a challenge to him personally. Seriously considering Mr. Logic's arguments here meant that Boxman would have to self-reflect in a way he wasn't equipped to. So if Boxman had to shave down Mr. Logic's personhood to a black and white concept of "obstacle in my way" to safeguard his ego, that's what needed to be done.

GIF by zevzevarainai

The episode "Lad & Logic" is a fantastic launchpad to unpacking Boxman's screwed-up dynamic with his other children. His creator-robot minion dynamic is an allegory for an emotionally abusive parent that sees their children as extensions of themselves rather than full, autonomous beings with their own wants and desires. Mr. Logic was fully self-actualized and wanted something different than Boxman. Despite what he said out loud, Boxman knew that Mr. Logic was on even footing with him. Everything came down to power dynamics. So, when Boxman invented his next set of robots, he opted to be their "parent" because of the power imbalance he could exploit.

Shannon, Darrell, Raymond, and others strictly and obediently follow their father's wishes because they were deliberately conditioned and threatened to. Boxman pits them against each other to vie for his favor. The only TV they're allowed to watch at home are movies he carefully filmed to reinforce his "father knows best" agenda. It's similar to strict Christian parents banning their kids from watching certain shows or reading certain books because they may contain "undesirable" properties. Anything that encourages their child to question Christianity or endorses more critical thinking about their household values period is a threat to their authority and maintaining a "functional" household.

While Darrell, Shannon, and Raymond seem satisfied with their lives, unconditionally love their father, and gleefully attack the plaza, every time Boxman threatens them with the "furnace" or yells at them for failing, it's an exaggerated, blunt example of bad parenting. The "furnace" is a catch-all punishment for not being able to meet or exceed Boxman's expectations with anything and everything. He leaves some amount of ambiguity in his demands so that he can tug the proverbial leash every time he feels he needs to.

Granted, it's important to look at everything that led up to Lord Cowboy Darrell. Boxman's most egregious display of favoritism was when he built Boxman Jr. and refused to acknowledge how stung Darrell was. He kept pushing how much stronger, more competent, and better Boxman Jr. was overall. Generally, Darrell's respective relationships with Shannon and Raymond were strong enough to buffer against Boxman's picking favorites tactic. They'll fight each other for Dad's affection, but there was always an implicit understanding that they had each other's backs under normal circumstances. Jr. is different in that he had no significant relationship with his other siblings, only Boxman. And Boxman blatantly showered the newest addition with praise and affection the others never received.

Pushed to his limit, Darrell took matters into his own hands and staged an effective coup d'etat against Boxman. Through his disillusionment with his father, Darrell stepped up and became the focused, tight-knuckled business operator that Boxman could never be. Boxman tried to fill the mold that Mr. Logic helped him create and focus on appeasing his board of directors. But his all-consuming obsession with destroying the Plaza was always his true life's goal and work. This was such a core part of his character that he was miserable and hollow if he gave up on that goal. In contrast, Darrell can follow orders and do what needs to be done with whatever task he's given. The result of Lord Cowboy Darrell was one potential future of Darrell as a self-actualized villain without Boxman putting him down and actively demoralizing him.

After K.O. convinces Boxman to talk to Darrell and tell him he's proud of his achievements, it leads to the pivotal moment that Boxman couldn't give Mr. Logic. For once, Boxman looked at one of his kids and saw them as a separate, autonomous being rather than an extension of him. For that brief moment, he placed Darrell on equal footing. Darrell took over Boxmore partly out of spite but also out of an earnest interest in following in Boxman's footsteps. Without Boxman, he's a better Boxman; with Boxman, he's a co-conspirator that's as eager to destroy the Plaza as Boxman is.

GIF by the-green-sailor

Enter Professor Venomous. In stark contrast to Lord Boxman, Professor Venomous and Fink call themselves "boss" and "minion" respectively but it's really a father-daughter relationship. Venomous makes a point of bringing Fink along to important events or letting her tag along where relevant. He brings along what extras are needed to accommodate Fink whether it's a high chair, crayons, or even glorbs for a high-powered attack on some heroes. At their best, Venomous makes a point to talk to Fink on her level and she speaks very highly of what kind, affectionate gestures he does for her. Where Venomous trips up is discipline. Fink can do whatever she wants. Babysitters are run over by her reckless energy and disregard for other people that aren't Venomous. Any sign of a complaint or a tantrum is pacified with an expensive gift. When Venomous starts getting overwhelmed, the gifts replace all usual attempts at parenting or communication period.

After re-watching O.K. K.O. recently knowing that Professor Venomous was K.O.'s biological father from the jump, perhaps the "boss" and "minion" labels were Venomous' coping mechanism for knowing he abandoned one of his kids. It was easier to interact with and care for Fink as long as she was his "minion." That's a different enough relationship that he can compartmentalize it and distance it from what guilt or regrets he had from his past as Laser Blast.

When Boxman became business partners with Professor Venomous, it led to obvious shifts in his approach to parenting. After his night out with Venomous and Darrell and Shannon babysitting, he gave them T-shirts as rewards for their efforts. No pushes at playing favorites or nitpicking for once.

GIF by loser-jpg

With Professor Venomous in the picture, Boxman finally had the business partner he wanted and needed. While Mr. Logic's approach worked beautifully for kickstarting Boxmore, Boxman needed Venomous to cultivate it into exactly what he wanted vs what it was when tied to a board of directors. For a short time, Boxman and Venomous were building a blended family that was more successful together than separately. Boxman encouraged exercises and attempts towards Fink and Darrell getting along better. The Boxbots all received personalized upgrades from Venomous to improve and augment what weaponry or abilities they had. Fink now had access to what 'toys' Boxman could invent that were several grades above what Venomous could just buy. In short, Boxman dating Venomous led to him becoming a more proactive parent in a surprisingly organic way.

Venemous' intense self-destructive and literally destructive stint as Shadowy Venomous further elucidated what impact he had on Boxman. When Boxman had to step up as the responsible parent, the first problem he addressed with Venomous was how he'd been failing Fink recently with the "You missed Fink's recorder recital" comment. He was also emotionally strong enough to realize that Venomous was causing enough problems in the household that things had reached a boiling point and he had to leave. Breaking up would be emotionally devastating for him but Boxman was prioritizing the emotional well-being of his house and kids overall.

Even the devastating scene where Boxman leaves his kids to go off on an ambiguous "finding myself" quest was meaningful improvement on his part. Similarly to his confrontation with Lord Cowboy Darrell but with all of his kids this time, Boxman told them that they didn't need him. He was cutting the dependent and toxic grip on his apron strings. The Box kids are resilient and capable enough that they could carve out their own path.

There's a quote that Boxman brings up in another episode: "I'm a villain. I'm not a monster." In context, the quote was a punchline for a dark joke about Boxman potentially being a cannibal. Though, it interestingly applies when looking at Boxman's actions during his confrontations with Shadowy Venomous. Shadowy was the kind of monstrous villain that wanted mindless destruction and to see the world burn. Seeing the absolute lowest his partner could reach led to Boxman establishing what lines he wouldn't cross.

He wants to destroy the Plaza, not the world, and a pretty face isn't enough to convince him otherwise when he finds the self-assurance and confidence he needed. It's the pique of his character development as a father. While there is a lot more room for exploring this part of Boxman's character, there's enough substantial story here that it's an interesting look at a "bad dad" that was actively working on becoming better. Boxman and Venomous get back together later but only after Venomous proves that he's working through his bigger issues in a meaningful way with real, tangible results.

Over the last several years, there have been several stories tackling generational trauma that include parents realizing their failings and working on course-correcting with those failings. This has been a point of contention about a recurring to the point of tired stories in recent Pixar animated movies and the core of what made Everything, Everywhere, All at Once the powerhouse that it is. It's not too far of a reach to include Boxman as another one of these stories or even a decent starting place for digging into stories or characters dealing with generational trauma.

In Boxman's case, he could be seen as an example of an insecure parent that uses their role as a parent to reassure themselves in a constantly changing, unpredictable world. He only starts to get better when he starts changing and adapting to fit into that unpredictable world rather than trying to make his little corner of the world continue to conform to just him alone.