#bit more simple in terms of theory

[forevergulag]

We all know trains are much more efficient and productive than cars, but if so, than why are cars the dominant mode of transportation in the us, a bourgeois state interested in maximizing production of surplus value?

it comes down to the system American bourgeoisie have for enforcing their competing policies through the state against other bourgeois, being lobbying, a system in which the capitalist with most capital gets to enforce their policy while the capitalist with less wealth does not. it is not "bribery" or "corruption", as that implies that the bourgeois state was not originally a bourgeois state.

oil and car lobbyists have high interests in protecting their field of industry, one which has historically produced extremely high rates of surplus value production, giving them the extra capital to protect their industry, and though trains as the dominant mode of transport would be much more efficient for the capitalist class across the board, it would weaken the oil and automobile industries, so they spend their capital to prevent that through their state.

[mantisgodsdomain]

Now that we're not too thick into things to lose sight of our own... self, things are both more manageable and a bit more embarrassing. It's been a while since we've fully broken down like this, and doing it again is a mixture of Not Fun and Something We Sort Of Feel We Should Have Grown Beyond. Something between the normal breakdown emotions and the awareness that we have the tools to handle this, we should be able to handle this - and yet, here we are again, not handling it. We are aware, in theory, that there's no accounting for irrational thinking, but in practice, we cannot help feeling a bit... something, with ourself. Keeping our own brain stable remains, as always, a full-time job. Awful work, as always. But it has to be done. When it comes down to it, there is no one who can help us navigate our own head but ourself, and it is our responsibility to ourself to make sure that we do not end up making things worse than where we started.

[makelemonade]

THE FATUI’S CUMSLUT

all the male harbingers except Pulcinella

Really it all starts out simple; you were just a simple secretary for the Harbingers who worked directly under Pantalone.

So naturally it starts because of him.

He likes talking to you- not like, actually, loves. You’re the only person who’s actually willing to listen to his constant rambles about his theories of currency and he doesn’t know if it’s out of fear or because you’re actually willing but he still finds comfort in it.

It’s so comforting that honestly, it kinda turns him on…like no one has ever actually sat with him and listened to him with such focus that he’s lining over you, both lovingly and sickingly.

How the stress relief starts…he’s bold.

by bold, meaning you quite literally caught him jerking off to the thought of you as you walked into bring him a few papers to sigh, and he was bold enough to ask you for your help; and of course you oblige!

okay now actually onto the actual smut part;

Pantalone, who is probably the second sweetest out of all of them when he fucks you. As teasing as he is, he makes sure to pleasure you.

Pantalone, who just laughs when you say you want to pleasure him instead, and he’ll tell you that your pleasure is enough to get him off for days.

Pantalone, who sometimes just can’t handle all the stress the others push on him and he’ll come find you, bending you over any near substance and prioritizing his pleasure just for a bit.

Pantalone, who can also just push you against the wall of the castle halls, not caring if anyone sees you. He knows the risk turns you on, and he loves it.

Pantalone, who fucks into you so passionately yet roughly; so obsessed with how your tits bounce he just has to grope them as he fucks you. He might even fuck them too, and let you suck the tip of his cock.

Pantalone, who passes this information onto his good partner Dottore, who decides he has to really test out the theory that you’re as good as Pantalone says you are.

Dottore, who decides he’ll need you for certain experiments. You’re hesitant, but he promised he’d never do anything to hurt his loyal assistant.

Dottore, whose experiments are really just seeing how many times you can cum on a drug, a toy, his hand or his dick.

Dottore, who is WAY more teasing than Pantalone and wants to pleasure you, but makes sure his pleasure is always given no matter what.

Dottore, who loves to try any new kink or idea with you. Whether it be bondage, role playing kink- anything! you’re the only one he will do it with

Dottore, who is just so rough on your poor cunt :( who’ll rub your clit as he fucks into you so harshly, the slaps echoing through his lab.

Dottore, who WILL fuck you in front of the segments or have multiple of them fuck you while he watches

Dottore, who then passes this onto his comrade, Capitano.

Capitano, who is the sweetest out of all of them.

Capitano, who yes, does need you for his stress relief but he doesn’t wanna hurt you. Instead, he’ll go at your own pace- he knows his cock is too big for you and is patient to get you ready.

Capitano, who praises the most out of them all. It’s a shock because he’s typically quiet, but a “good girl” will make you cum on the spot.

Capitano, who will only go rough on you once you beg him too, and he will quite literally fuck you like a monster.

Capitano, who is just so big even his fingers make you go crazy. He’ll wipe your tears as you complain about how big it is and he’ll try his best to soothe you.

Capitano, when rough, goes absolutely drunk on your pussy and fucks his cum into it for hours even if you’re too overstimulated.

Capitano, who’s coat is so big that when the others aren’t using you, he’ll have you sit on his lap during meetings and wrap his coat around you- hiding how you’re warming his cock, or sometimes he might not even use the coat.

Capitano, who passes this information onto his good friend, Pierro.

Pierro, who could be the sweetest if we considered this in terms of how gentle they were when they fuck you.

Pierro, who is actually practically monsterfucking you whenever he chooses to use you.

Pierro, who is sweet because he doesn’t like to use you a lot- he knows how much the others do and how much it makes you sore so instead he’s the king of aftercare, making sure you come to him after them if they don’t take care of you so that he can.

Pierro, who sometimes just can’t help it because he’s too stressed out, and has to bend you over his desk and fuck you for hours.

Pierro, who does care about your pleasure just a bit, but you are his stress relief aren’t you? He’ll remind you as he cums for the nth time in you, you a babbling a mess.

Pierro, who isn’t really as kinky or exhibiting as the others and likes to fuck you in the comfort of his office. However, he may steal Capitano’s idea and slowly and subtly bounce you on his cock while you’re under his coat, hiding from the others.

Pierro, who’s dick is just too big that the moment he even lets the tip in you’re already going absolutely drunk on his cock.

Pierro, who notices Childe’s recent sickness caused by his delusion, and suggests a reason for him to finally relax in certain ways; you.

Childe, who is the last on the list of being the sweetest.

Childe, who sure, he’ll praise you when you do so good and degrade you just how you like- will use you the most out of all the men

Childe, who is just soooo tired and stressed and he needs your pussy to suck his cock in at least once every hour.

Childe, who will have you cockwarm him as he does his work and spanks your thigh when you try to get some relief and tells you to be patient and that he’ll tend to you once he’s done.

Childe, who does care about your pleasure and makes sure to make you cum first, but the real reason is because he wants you overstimulated so you can cry and beg for him to stop- it turns him on because you know you don’t want him to.

Childe, who will fuck you anywhere and everywhere. The lounge rooms? Every couch has been used. The kitchen? You’ve been bent over every counter? The halls? He’ll hold you up and fuck into you.

Childe, who does not care if someone sees or hears you two and will purposely make you scream so the subordinates outside his office can hear and remind them that they can’t have someone as gorgeous as you.

Childe, who even if it seems like he sees you as his cock sleeve, does care about you and makes sure you get good aftercare and will massage you- him and Pierro are great minds alike.

Childe, who is the one to suggest to all of them to use you when they’re all in the castle.

You, who by the end of the day, is a babbling mess; you’re covered in their cum while some of it dropped out of all your holes. There were honestly hundreds of bite and hickey marks littered over you- your neck, thighs, tits, ass, hips. It’s insane. and all they can think about is how they can’t wait to continue using your slutty pussy.

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[galedekarios]

just musing about gale and his parents:

we only have a handful of conversations where he mentions his parents and when he does, it's usually only his mother, morena dekarios.

his mother is mentioned at several points in the game. during a custom protag playthrough, he mentions her in a datamined conversation that appears to be bugged/broken:

and he mentions her at the end of the game as well when he proposes to the player:

i was also able to find another mention in a banter with karlach that usually happens for me shortly after recruiting her:

from gale's origin, this aspect is explored even more deeply:

there's more, of course, and it very clearly shows that the bond he shares with his mother is a deep and loving one from both sides. it's also very interesting that he is called dekarios after his mother and not--even though naming conventions could certainly vary even in waterdeep--after his father.

who he doesn't mention at all.

the only time we do get a vague mention is during a conversation with the protag after saving mirkon from the harpies:

after that, i haven't been able to find any reference, indirect or direct, to gale's father in the game.

so, here we enter theory territory:

i feel that, from a narrative point of view, in keeping with what i think gale's themes are, gale's father may have abandoned gale and his mother when gale was still young.

gale's character is rife with what might be interpreted as abandonment issue and it makes sense to me at least that those weave through his life up until the point where the protag meets him in the game.

another theme with gale is that he appears to have a lot of female figures in this life, who all had a profound impact on him, whether that impact is positive or negative: morena, tara, and yes, mystra.

it feels like to me that he had no father figure--and i use that term a bit more loosely here--until later in his life with elminster. this is already hinted at in a game with a custom protag, but all the more solidified in a gale origin playthrough:

i think without directing telling you, the game does allow you to sort of guess at that part of his background in this way, and understand why gale is as he is as a consequence. you can also understand why he acts as he does with elminster. seeking his approval. yearning for it. being extremely hurt by elminster having to see him like this when mystra sends him to gale to deliver her... instructions. this almost pointed absence of a mention of his father in all his comments (and tara's too, now that i think about it) when it comes to family is glaring to me.

being left, being abandoned, makes it much more understandable to me why he doesn't speak of him at all: if gale's father had died, it would make more sense to me that he would remark on it or share it in some way or another. it might have come up in a banter with wyll, perhaps, who is struggling with the expectations his own father had placed on him.

"he died when i was still very young." perhaps, or something along the lines of, "i barely remember him; he died when i was only a child.", etc etc etc.

YET if gale's father indeed abandoned his mother--who he holds in such high regard, and not to mention his own hurt--i can easily see and understand why he wouldn't waste a word on him.

anyhow yes, this is long and ramble-y, and i 100% might be reading too much into what may be a simple oversight, but it was interesting to me and i still see it as tying in with the theme of abandonment, even though we don't know the reasons for it in this particular case.

was it not wishing to deal with a child with magical talents he couldn't control yet? was it for another reason entirely?

[alwaysshallow]

@bunnyreaper's secret santa thing; I had the pleasure to write for @cooliofango ❤️ I hope you're gonna have the best time reading this, love.

AO3 VERSION

Simon isn't there—that's the first thing you notice, when you wake up.

You think it's odd; he always sticks around, especially in the morning. Either he is reading something in bed, a book or an article, or tries to wake you up, softly, kissing your arm, if it was past nine in the morning.

Right now, even his side of the bed is cold, so he had to leave at least an hour ago, maybe more. You get up with a slight frown on your face, multiple questions in the back of your mind, what possibly could bring Simon out of bed. There's many thoughts, and they aren't really positive; usually if he had to leave, it was something military related. A missile missing, someone to rescue, intel to get or secure.

Being with Riley made you realize how fucked up the world is and how many times it needs to be saved. This time though, in theory, he has vacations that he asked for. Holidays with his girlfriend, he said, which caused you to grin like crazy one, since you loved this term. His girlfriend, his significant other with whom he decided to spend time with, even if he doesn't like holidays.

It's main reason why you aren't really doing anything festive this year; out of respect to him. Sure, you spend more time together, you plan to watch movies tonight, make some food, but nothing really related to Christmas. No lights, no tree, nothing what could possibly trigger his memory with the holidays and make the time worse than it already was.

But now, your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, and your plans are under a big question mark. You don't even know where he is, if he is here, in your shared house that you've decided to buy a few months ago.

"Baby?" you call out, looking around. There's a few boxes laying on the ground, door is wide-open; if you wouldn't know any better, you'd assume that somebody broke in. Knowing your boyfriend though, how he secured the house... hell, it takes only one wrong move and alarm goes off, as Simon said once, shortly after he installed it.

So, door wide-open, bringing in the cold, clear indicator that he actually is here somewhere. And, sooner than later, you'll see him.

You prefer sooner than later, though, so you go through the door, just to see your man with a tree—Christmas tree, to be precise—with shocked expression on his face. Then, he puts it down, just to sneak his arms around you, tight. Just like he loved to do, practically from the start of your relationship.

For a military man, he is very touch starved, and you try every time to give him the love he deserves.

"You didn't wake me," you murmur into his broad chest, at which he chuckles. You look up at him, seeing his brown eyes sparkling.

"Sorry, love. Had to take care of some things," he says, his hand caressing your back delicately. "But 'm here now. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

"Oh, no, no," you laugh, shaking your head. "I want to know why there's a Christmas tree here. And those boxes? Seems like decorations to me, Mr. Riley."

He acts like you caught him red handed on something; Simon looks away and sighs, just to look at you a few seconds later with a semi-guilty look on his face. You have to hold back a laugh; he seems so stressed about something simple, it's adorable.

"I don't like Christmas," he starts, playing with your hair. "But I know you like 'em. Your eyes sparkle every time you see this shit, lights, trees, everythin' and—"

"—Simon, we don't have to—"

"—let me finish." He looks at you, a bit sternly, so you nod. You have to listen to him, especially if he asks you to. "And I just can't do this to you. Take it away from you. 'm a grown man, it's time to change some things. 'specially those hurtful ones."

You gnaw at your bottom lip, silent for a few seconds, as you try to collect your thoughts about this situation. It's hard not to cry right now, given how he overcomes his own weaknesses, just for you. Just for the both of you, so your future will be brighter.

"You are," you cup his cheeks into your hands, "the best man I've ever, ever met. I'm so lucky to have you, you know? A man that's willing to spend Christmas with me the traditional way, to

“You can't say this shit to me,” he warns, his voice almost a whisper. You raise your eyebrow, but you don't stop kissing his jaw, even when he sighs.

"Because that's so bad? Or because that's the truth and you'll blush any second?" you ask teasingly, at which he rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. To see his smile, to see how happy you can make him... you cherish every moment like that, knowing his history. Knowing how hard it was, how hard it still is because demons doesn't go easily.

Yet, you see the progress. His battle, to be more open, to allow himself to be more vulnerable at least around you.

“You’re gonna make me even more addicted," he explains to you, kissing your face a few times. He bangs with his nose against your eyeglasses, but he doesn't really seem to mind. "And I’m already weak. It's like... you're something that I’m not immune to. Everyone will see that later, on that Christmas party.”

He doesn’t say he loves you. That would be crazy, he thinks; every time he told someone he loves them, they died. He doesn't want it to happen with you, not when he didn't think of an idea how to possibly save you, keep you safe and locked, close to his heart.

But he can’t deny that you have him wrapped around your finger and you always will. Task Force 141 knows about you, they even invited you two to the Christmas party later, but the l-word has to wait. You know that he loves you anyway; maybe he doesn't say it, but his actions shows you enough love. And, he has other words—be safe, you know I care about you.

It speaks louder than simple I love you but he knows he's gonna say it. He has to, even for your sake.

"That's good. I love you being addicted." You grin, hugging him even tighter. "Because I'm addicted to you as well. To my big, wonderful boyfriend. Now... about those Christmas decorations."

You wouldn't think that decorating your shared house with Simon would be so fun and chaotic in the same time. Your boyfriend does the lights—since his height abilities are just insane—and you are basically running around with snowmen, reindeers and other creatures that you somehow can associate with winter. Riley also gives you disapproval looks from time to time, telling you to dress yourself properly, as you're just on your pyjamas; it ends up in you being in his big, warm hoodie, since you don't listen.

It's like everything you dreamed for, in domestic matter.

The best is taking care of the tree, though. You two have different ideas—yours with doing it in two colors that compliment each other, red and gold for example, which would give the glamour vibe of the house. Or, Simon's idea which is complete chaos. He looks so happy with placing the ornaments, that you don't tell him about color theory, you don't suggest making it less colorful either.

You just put everything just like he is, with instinct, and when he asks about your opinion, you can't help but smile widely and praise him for being creative. His enjoyment gives you the time of your life, honestly.

"You do it like it's in your blood," you say, laughing happily when he gives your cheek a big, wet kiss. His arms locks around you automatically, his lips dropping a bit lower.

"'st because of you. My girl," he purrs. "Maybe we should take a break and eat somethin', eh? Something Christmas-y."

"Christmas-y?" you repeat, observing with a small smile stomach how he drags you over to the couch, towering over you. He has absolutely no problem with crashing you with his weight, which feels so good considering how warm he is. "What would you like?"

"Anything my woman wants, I'll eat. My civilian woman."

You can't help the sensation of your heart fluttering at this view; at Simon kissing your knuckles, at Simon being so affectionate. You are sure that you haven't seen him like this before, not this open with his feelings.

"Yours. That civilian woman, for a superordinary man," you say, quietly.

“My civilian woman.” Simon’s eyes shine as he repeats your words, a light smirk forming as he gazes down at you. You really are gorgeous, so beautiful as you're there in his arms. "'m not superordinary, but I guess I'll take it."

He reaches over to remote, turning off the light in the room. Now, all that’s illuminated is the moonlight and sparkling, multicolor Christmas lights, casting a pale ray of light in the darkness.

Before he loses himself in your eyes, he leans over and presses his mouth to yours. It’s a slow, quiet, yet passionate kiss—one that sparks a fire in both your souls.

"That sounds very dorky, if you think about it," you chuckle quietly, still keeping his gaze. His brown eyes are fixed on yours, glimmering so gently, you can't help but be lost in them. God, it's even better when he turned off the light. You don't see each other properly, but the dark figures are adding everything to your imagination, when you continue this slow kiss.

You can only hear your lips smacking against each other.

“You’re perfect to me,” he says, his voice husky as he gazes down at you. You make his heart flutter. You always do, but lately, those butterflies have turned into something else, as he told you a dew days ago. "The most perfect woman in the world. Even if it's cheesy, as you say."

"You're such a cheesy man, Riley," you whisper, as you smile at his sudden comment how you are perfect to him. Knowing that he's not the best with words, and still says something like this, was just the most important thing for you. "But I like that in you. Just as much as your soft spot for those romcoms we watch. Even if you call them sappy and cringe," you say, closing your eyes.

"They are sappy and cringe. But it's our type of sappy and cringe," he murmurs into your skin, burying his face in your neck. Right in this moment, he doesn't seem to care about anything else.

And you don't care about anything else either, when you have him right by your side. Safe and secure, far from deployment, far from all those dangerous things probably just waiting for him out there.

"I love you," he whispers.

And you know you have your gift.

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Good Luck Charm

[Arcane] Jinx x Female Reader

Summary: Jinx has been told she's a mistake and a...well, a jinx her whole life, which is why it's such a surprise when you tell her she's your good luck charm.

Word Count: 3.09k Content Warnings: A small breakdown Category: Angst + Heavy fluff || Oneshot

[A/N]: Not proofread. Just wanted a quick break in between characters again. I couldn't stop myself from writing for this dork, especially after seeing the teaser for season two.

Enjoy!

 “Alrighty, toots, I think I’m gonna head to bed. You wanna come with, or you gonna stay up a bit longer?” You turned your head over to glance at Jinx, watching as she repeatedly turned her chair partially back and forth with her eyes fixed on you. Smiling warmly, you shrugged. “Well, I’m not tired just yet, and I wanted to finish this book,” you started, watching from the corner of your eye as she seemed to slump down at your words already. “But I can just keep reading in bed.”

Jinx stood and let out a small cheer, trotting over to you and gently taking ahold of your wrist to tug you toward the bedroom you often crashed in. Ever since you had grown close to the “loose cannon” of the undercity, things in your life had rapidly changed. It started off simple – you would spend far more time hanging out with her than anyone else. Then, as things started to develop between the two of you, you began staying the night almost every night with Jinx cuddled up against you as you slept. Even when she couldn’t sleep, you could feel her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she traced random patterns against your skin.

When Jinx had told Silco of your relationship, you feared the worst, already preparing to write your will or find a way to escape his wrath. Surprisingly, though, he was rather accepting. When you asked Jinx about it in private, she told you she believed it was because he had seen how happy she had been ever since you showed up. A few days later, her theory was confirmed when Silco had called you into his office to set rules about dealing with Jinx and her issues with trust.

He warned you that Jinx could get extremely clingy and would get overprotective of you, which you had already noticed she had begun to do, so you simply nodded. He continued to speak of things such as her hallucinations and wish to keep her past a secret. You agreed to all of the terms he had set to be with his daughter, unaware of the figure stationed above you on her usual platform. Her eyes were trained solely on you, legs swinging back and forth as she let herself rest on her stomach. With her head cradled in her palms, a wide grin made its way to her lips as you calmly agreed to take care of her.

It seemed, however, that she had done the opposite, meaning she seemed to take care of you more than the other way around. More often than not, if you were outside of her hideout, it would come across more as possessive than anything. She’d blurt out insults and impulsively pick fights with people who threatened or flirted with you.

Once they realized who they were dealing with, they backed off instantly. The few poor souls who decided to test their luck suddenly went missing, as well as Jinx for a short time, and then were never seen or heard from again. You had learned to come to terms with her reckless and apathetic behavior towards outsiders rather quickly.

“Trinket? Hello? You in there, or… did ya leave this planet?” You blinked, glancing back over at the blue-haired girl as she waved her hand in your face.

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about what’s going on in my book. I’m near the end, so everything is getting chaotic.” She snickered and hooked her arm around your shoulders as she led you into the bedroom. “Ah, then you’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime. You know I love a bit of chaos. Or a lot of it.” You smiled at her and rolled your eyes, playfully bumping against her and earning another chuckle.

As she plopped down to sit in her spot on the bed, she watched you silently while you flipped your book back open and sat on the other side of the mattress. Once you had leaned back against the pillows, it didn’t take long before you felt a head land gently on your shoulder. A quick look down let you know Jinx had already bundled up under the covers and shuffled over to cuddle against you for the night. With weary eyes, she peered down at the pages of your book, briefly skimming over the short excerpt of the story she could see.

Soon after, she let out a yawn and tucked her head further against your neck. “G’night, sweets. Love you.” You beamed down at her and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too, hun. Sleep well.”

By the time you had finally woken back up the next day, Jinx had already been up for a few hours. She hadn’t left the bed, but she was tracing patterns and words into your arms and back. When you shifted and yawned, she smiled and perked up rather quickly, sitting up in her spot and peeking down at you. Once you had rolled over to look her in the eye, her grin only grew. “Mornin’, toots. Did you sleep well?” You nodded and sat up, yawning again.

“Yeah, what about you?” She shrugged and toyed with the hem of your sleeve. “Eh, I slept okay. I got kinda restless after a while and woke up, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

You nodded at her words. After a while of you trying to keep your eyes open, you felt Jinx lean against you and tug you close. “I don’t wanna leave to go work on those stupid experiments,” she confessed with a frown. “I just want to stay in here with you. I wish I could come down with you to your job instead.” With a small smirk, you raised a brow and glared over at her. ���Oh? And why’s that?” She smirked back at you and slipped her hand down to lace your fingers with her own. “‘Cause I could keep you safe. I could beat up all the pervs that keep trying to get their nasty paws on you.”

A gentle chuckle escaped you as you pulled her further into your side. “Yeah, that’s what makes you my good luck charm. Nothing seems to go wrong for me when you’re near.” You had expected another teasing remark of some kind, though nothing came. Instead, you were greeted with silence. After a while of not receiving any kind of acknowledgment of what you had said, you looked down at Jinx. You blinked in surprise when you saw her gazing right back up at you, eyes filled with a concoction of emotions that couldn’t seem to even out.

Her brows furrowed together. One moment, she seemed confused, and the next, she seemed upset or in disbelief. Similarly to her eyes, her eyebrows couldn’t focus on which emotion to express.

“Uh, hun? You okay?”

“What’d you call me?”

“What?”

“What did you call me?”

You continued to stare at her, unsure of what you were supposed to say. “I called you ‘hun.’” She shook her head and lifted it from your shoulder to be eye level with you. “No, before that. What did you call me before that?” It took a moment for you to recall what you had said a mere moment ago. The confusion of the new situation had made it hard to wrack your memory. “‘My good luck charm?’”

She was silent for a few minutes, which felt like hours with how thick the tension had grown.

“You think I’m lucky? That I’m a lucky charm to you? Do you really think that?”

An uneasy smile and chuckle left your lips. “Well, yeah, of course I do. I mean, I always love being around you, and because of all you do for me, everything seems to go right when you’re around. You really are like a being of good luck to me.”

She seemed troubled at that, which certainly was not what you had expected. Tears welled up in her eyes and prompted them to grow glossy, though she fought them back. “But – no, I’m not lucky. I’m, I mean, my name is “Jinx” for goodness sake! I’m not good. I’m a horrible person. I mess everything up. How could you possibly believe that I’m a good luck charm? I don’t understand.” You felt your nerves spike, recognizing that she was at the beginning stages of another episode. “Woah, hey,” you whispered, placing a hand softly on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her back into reality before she could fly too far away from the present.

“No, I’m not lucky, I’m a Jinx. I’m the opposite of lucky – I’m unlucky. I didn’t – no, please, I’m not. No, shut up! She’s not trying to – stop it already!” Unintentionally, you leaned back, making sure to keep your hand in place. It seemed like Mylo had taken over again, throwing insult after insult at her and flooding her mind with false realities.

“Love, I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She glared at you, eyes fixed on you in front of her, though she seemed to be staring so far away. Her eyes flickered as though she were reading some sort of script, incoherent mumbles rolling off her tongue. “No, you shouldn’t be… you didn’t – shut up! You shouldn’t be the one apologizing!”

You remained silent, waiting for the right time to chime in as Mylo continued to torment her. Although you had no idea what he was telling her, you could get a general idea based on the few words you could make out in her sputtering.

It took forever, but she ultimately calmed down, panting for breath and clutching handfuls of hair. When she came back to her senses, she found you holding both of her hands to prevent her from tearing her strands out again. Sometime in between her episode and her break into reality, she had begun copying your breathing the way you had helped her practice each time she had gone through it in the past. At length, she sighed and let her eyes bore down into her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

Softly, you cupped her face in your hands and lifted her head up to look her in the eye. She shifted her focus away from you, unable to meet your gaze. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not mad.” The feeling of the pads of your thumbs grazing across her cheeks to wipe her tears away brought her a feeling of relief. Her tense shoulders drooped down after she sighed once again.

Moments passed. She finally forced herself to meet your eye. “Did you really mean it?” She whispered with a broken tone. “That you think I’m lucky?” You nodded with a weak grin. Again, tears pricked her eyes, though she leaned forward and buried her face in your shoulder before they could fall. Her arms lifted from her sides, hands grasping at the back of your shirt as she sucked in multiple shaky breaths.

“I’ve always thought you were lucky.”

Weeks had passed since you had started referring to Jinx as your good luck charm, then it shifted into months, and your list of nicknames began to grow. It became a common occurrence for her to hear you call her “lucky charm,” “charmer,” or even “bluebird.” It seemed as though you were shifting to just focus on positive nicknames instead of entirely pinpointing each play on the words “good luck charm,” though she wasn’t complaining.

She certainly wasn’t used to all of the compliments and the nice names. After all, she had been referred to as a jinx, a screwup, and essentially a burden her entire life up until she met Silco. It would take a while for her to accept what you said as truth, but she had started to come around to the loving nicknames. After a while, she even began to look forward to what you would call her for the day. She had started rubbing off on you in terms of nicknames as well. “Trinket” and “sweets” began to creep into your vocabulary, and she adored the way it sounded rolling off your tongue when it was directed at her.

Soon enough, the positivity had worn down part of her insecurity, so long as she was around you. You made her feel safe and secure, which wasn’t something she was used to either. Often, she could be seen practically bouncing down the halls with a cheesy grin plastered on her face, even if she had just left Silco’s office. Silco and Sevika had definitely taken notice of her sudden shift, and although Sevika didn’t understand why she was so much livelier than normal, Silco found himself smiling more often at the sight of Jinx when she’d suddenly remember the nickname you had chosen for her for the day.

When she’d sit up top on her makeshift platform in Silco’s office, she had to be given reminders in between meetings to settle down. Her legs would swing over the edge and kick at the air rhythmically, and her hands would pat randomly at the wooden planks.

She loved the nicknames, to put it bluntly. She absolutely adored them. Since that night, not once had you referred to her as Jinx. Somehow, even though everyone else called her by her known name, the mere mention of what you were calling her for the day gave her a boost of confidence. Whenever a mission would go wrong, she’d come straight to you to talk about it, then listen with a soft smile as you told her repeatedly how things would be okay and how she’s still your lucky charm.

With how suddenly all the flurry of names were thrown at her, she struggled to pick a favorite. Even so, her energy and overall glee grew daily, even beginning to show in her work. Weapons were crafted more cautiously, produced quicker, and had more expressive markings made by her oil crayons. Sevika didn’t enjoy the increase in enthusiasm, Silco certainly appreciated everything.

He still didn’t fully trust you, though it was growing increasingly obvious to him that you weren’t a threat, and in his eyes, you were there for a reason. You made Jinx happy, and that was all he really wanted in the end. As far as he was concerned, you had his blessing. He knew things could change, but after seeing how you treated her during every emotion she expressed, he figured that was a slim possibility.

As he sat in his office one day, he sighed and ran a hand down his face. The door had closed only a moment ago, and still he could hear the tapping and swaying above him. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed up at Jinx sitting on her small platform, biting back a small smile when he saw her grinning gleefully. “Jinx,” he called out just loud enough for her to hear. She finally turned her attention to him curiously. “Hm?”

“You know you need to be quiet when I have people in here. It’s very distracting with you shuffling around up there.” Jinx chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” He finally allowed himself to smile, catching Sevika off guard from her spot on the sofa. “Why don’t you spend the rest of the day with [Y/N]? You’ve earned a break, both of you.”

Instantly, Jinx dropped from her spot above and landed on Silco’s desk. She crouched down and looked him in the eye. “Really? You’re okay with that?” He nodded. “So long as you two don’t cause any major problems,” he added. She beamed brightly at his words and her eyes lit up. “Thanks!” Within an instant, she turned on her heel and hopped off the desk, already out the door and skipping down the hall to find you.

Silco grinned softly with a small shake of his head. He leaned forward again and motioned for Sevika to shut the door as he picked up a few papers to straighten them.

When Sevika returned to her spot on the sofa, she huffed out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. She bit her tongue with what she wanted to say, but a look of warning from Silco made her waver. “What are you breathing so heavily for?” She waited, trying to rephrase her words before speaking them, but ultimately gave up.

“It’s nothing against either of you. I’ve just never seen her this energetic before, and I’ve seen her get energetic in the past.” To her relief, Silco hummed and smiled. “Yes, she’s certainly been in a better mood as of lately. It’s refreshing, in a way.”

Sevika waited momentarily, unsure of what to say. “You think that girl is the reason she’s been so cheery?” “I know she is. Her name is [Y/N]. She’s known Jinx for a couple of years now, and the two of them have grown quite close in such a short amount of time. I don’t entirely approve of that girl, but Jinx has taken a liking to her, and I’d be a fool to take that away from her.”

Even with her disliking of  the blue-haired girl, Sevika couldn’t help but grin at his words. “Yeah, it is nice to see she’s stable with someone. I was worried she’d drive someone away. [Y/N], was it? She’s patient, and that’s definitely good for someone like Jinx. To be honest, I’m glad they met.”

“Yes, I am as well. I suppose I should include a few of the names [Y/N] has been using to refer to Jinx as when speaking to her. It seems to put her in a better mood, as you’ve said, and I’ve noticed an improvement in her crafts and missions.” A chuckle slipped from Sevika before she could stop it. “Yeah, she hasn’t screwed up another task in a while.”

“Pardon?”

Sevika swallowed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, sir. It was nothing.”

All the while, as they chatted away about her improvement, Jinx trailed down the hallway and all the way to her hideout. When she saw you there, sitting comfortably by her desk in the extra chair she had pulled into the room to have you nearby while she worked, she couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her lips from ear to ear. As she grew closer, she wondered what you would refer to her as that day.

[scribe-of-hael]

The complicated life of Starscream

Tw: mentioned of Abuse/abusive Realtionships

I think whats interesting is the dynamic that Starscream has with Megatron in some ways. Because seems like no matter WHAT Starscream does. Being helpful ,loyal, or being backstabbing and sneaky.

Megatron finds a way to abuse him. That comes back around to the idea of , "No matter what you do, your abuser will never be happy and find new ways to be upset at you."

This is shown pretty well in TFP. Where Starscream trys to break free, be on his own. He struggles, even looses his Tcog in the process but he is a problem to everyone. The switch between his loyalty form s2 to s3 is a bit drastic. He is, very clearly, trying to do what Megatron asks of him and never once trys to go behind his back again.

Yet, even for a simple mistake, he is beaten. Megatron is completely incapable of trusting Starscream fully (reasonable) but Starscream is never going to be able to please Megatron fully either. Megatron doesn't know how eles to communicate with Starscream that isn't violent because that's how he responses, to violence and fear.

Starscream isn't perfect in TFP, he's killed Bots (as he told us repeatedly about Cliff jumper) , but everyone was someone before the war. I always wondered what he was like?

That and the fact Starscream mimics Megatron's abusive behavior in order to try and get respect. He HITS people , somtimes with little reason. He shoves and even belittled those who have actively tried to help him and show him concern (Knockout). Somtimes it works, most times it doesn't. He knows fear and violence works on him, why wouldn't it work in others ?

It's kinda a real thing, a friend who has these problems , basically puffing out their chest and bullying people close to them in order to get a sense of power and control that they normally don't have.

It comes down to Control and Safety.

Alot of times, in IDW Starscream does become a leader of Cybertron but almost always finds a way to sabotage himself. Why? He's traumatized. Conditioned to think he can not be anymore than what he was, what Megatron thought he was and what ppl think he is.

Bumblebee even calls this out, and in a fit of emotion, Starscream says its because he is Alone. No one is there to protect or vouche for him. (Which isn't fully true but that's his reality, how he sees it)

In order to keep himself safe, Starscream has defense mechanisms and coping strategies that are built to protect himself. He lies, he backstabs, he starts shit, he is combative even verbally when he doesn't even need to be. These strategies that were once used to help him, now make life difficult when ppl are trying to be there for him. Pushing people away, trying to give the illusion of control and dominance.

Rounding back to TFP, there was a theory i saw, (I think so, but in pretty sure I'm not the only one who thought of this anyway) that in RID, Starscream puts back in his old armor or parts of his frame from before.

My theory was that Starscream in TFP looks alot like Megatron in terms of color. Why go from a blue, white and red color to grey ? And was the armor even off him in the first place ?

My theory is Megatron purposely stripped him of parts of his own body, to make him both smaller and physically more vulnerable. Being a good representation of an Abuser stripping away who a person is, will all is left is the then vulnerable and under their control.

To add intop of it, in s3, its clear Starscream is loyal. The bot trys to go get Megatron or attack the autobots for killing him. Shockwave has to DRAG him away. In the movie, he STILL flinches at Megatron's movement towards him depsite him saying he "now knows what oppression is". FLYS AWAY & LEAVES HIM BEHIND.

This Starscream still has Decpeticon values, has only ever served Megatron for Millions of years, is still clearly afraid of his abuser and atm purpose to keep going. And he just LEAVES. Leaving Starscream to pick himself of being confused, scared and no idea what to do i'm sure.

Not to mention Megatron never once got anything done to him for all the pain and suffering he ever cause ld. He basically got off scotch free. Which to me, reflects the injustice some ppl feel and get when an abuser just leaves you in the mess THEY made and you get NOTHING from it. No justice, no recompense, no apology. You have to figure out how to BE without them.

Point is that Starscream is a complicated character in media. Different versions to show case this behavior. What i hope to see in the future, what I pray for, is seeing Starscream not only be able to break free of this cycle. But become more than what he thinks he is, what anyone thinks he is.

[meazalykov]

invisible string theory

lena oberdorf x uswnt!lyon!reader

part one - part two - part three

summary: you're with her now, but you've known of her for longer than that.

warnings: long chapter since I have to split this up into three parts, changing things that happened irl just a tiny bit for the plot of this, google translated language.

the pathway of your career was never simple, or original. 

growing up in the states, you participated in many youth programs. sacrificing a chance at a normal childhood, you took the chance to fulfill your 5-year-old self's dream. 

before you know it, you’d grow up to be the best teenager in the country– in terms of soccer. 

just before going into high-school, you were called up for the usynt for the first time. your parents wanted to see you happy, so you were sent into homeschooling. 

it wasn’t easy leaving public-school. you barely had time for your non-soccer playing friends and eventually– you seemed to forget about them. your friends and teammates on your club and national teams were your new priority. 

breaking records on the national level, it seemed like the youth team was too easy for you. 

and then 2018 came along, when you were 16 years ol–  

well, not yet. just a day before your 16th birthday, in January 2018, you were having your debut on the uswnt. 

against denmark, you were thrown into the game in the 50th minute, not long after halftime. being an attacking midfielder, you were expected to contribute to any attack or opportunity given for you. 

playing with the current world champions intimidated you. your new mentor, christen press, noticed this when your leg and foot tapped against the grass as the both of you waited to get subbed in. 

“hey! you gotta relax.” christen whispers over the crowd, her tone stricter than usual which causes your leg to stop tapping.

a goal came from mallory pugh that same second, so you were distracted for a few seconds celebrating. 

luckily, this gave you enough time to take deep breaths.. something your sports therapist recommended for situations like this. 

“i will, sorry.” you quickly spoke after, moving your tongue to press on the inside of your cheek. you didn’t notice how nervous you could’ve looked from the outside. 

“you don’t need to apologize, you’ll do great i promise!” she patted your upper back a few times before the ref blew the whistle for the subs. 

after the whistle blew in the 93rd minute, you breathed a huge sigh of relief. most of your older teammates ran to your side to congratulate your contributions to the 5-1 win. 

1 goal and one assist on your senior team debut didn’t happen to players everyday, especially to newly 16 year olds.  

a year later, after 16 more caps, happy tears ran out of your eyes when your coach, jill, called you. 

this wasn’t too long after you made your professional club debut for sky blue fc, or what is now referred to as gotham fc. jill let you know that you were going to the world cup!

now being 17 years old, you were the youngest person on the uswnt roster to play in the women's world cup ever. 

being referred to as “baby blue” by the rest of the team, due to your age and the club you play for, they all made an effort to make sure that you had the best experience for your first world cup. 

you attached yourself to christen, megan, alex and tobin when it came down to needing mentors to guide you in france– and your closest friends mallory, tierna, and rose. 

in the football world, you’re treated like an adult. something you struggled with. 

your parents, siblings, and other relatives came to france to support you on your journey– but due to the everyday training (twice a day), media days, strict meal plans, and mental stress before the tournament– you couldn’t see them at all. 

thankfully, they were able to see you along with the rest of the world during the group stages. 

against thailand, you scored a goal with three assists after you were substituted in the 60th minute. the 13-0 win gave you a rush that would last throughout the entire tournament.

you didn’t play against chile, or sweden. sitting on the bench and observing your team was enough for you though– they’ll call you whenever they need you. 

one moment throughout the tournament, there was a four day break between the group stages and the round of 16. 

adidas, the brand you chose to sign for, wanted to do a photoshoot with many internationals who signed their brand. the world cup is the only chance they’ll be able to do this collaboration– and with fifa's approval– over 20 players from different countries are there in a big conference room, ready to get their picture taken. 

standing in the red uswnt kit, you felt intimidated– unaware that you could’ve been the most intimidating. 

unfortunately for you, lindsey and you were the only americans at this photoshoot. you attached yourself to the blonde before she was pulled away by staff. this left you alone sitting on a random chair– at a random table. 

(i know giulia gwinn is signed for nike, but pretend she is signed to adidas for the plot)

“um– hey?” a girl your age– or maybe a bit older– with blonde hair stands in front of you with a confused, yet amused, expression. 

your eyebrows knit together as you respond back with a smile, “hi!” 

before the blonde could say anything, you turn your head to see a table card in the middle of the circle table. its labeled under germany so your eyes widened before you quickly stood up from your chair. 

“oh my goodness i’m sorry– i just found a random seat to sit in because i’m bored.” you talk a bit more than necessary, afraid that you did something disrespectful.

“its totally okay– i’ve been wandering around myself– i’m giulia!” she reaches her hand out, her german accent strong. 

you reach your hand out to meet hers, “i’m y/n. i’m with the us team.” 

giulia smiles, “i know– its hard to not notice the current world champs in the room.” 

you smile, your social anxiety fades as you engage in a conversation with the german footballer. 

“so when are you getting your pictures done?” giulia asks, wanting to continue the conversation with you. 

“oh i had my individuals and duo pictures with horan done earlier– i’m just waiting for the big group photo we have to take in–” you check your apple watch, “20 minutes.” 

“oh same!” giulia says, looking down at your apple watch too, seeing that it's 11:40am. 

“congratulations on getting on top of group B, i watched a little bit of the game during my lunch break yesterday!” you compliment as you cross your arms naturally. 

“thank you! it wasn’t easy.” giulia smiles.

“i feel you.” you relate. 

before you could talk to giulia more, another girl jogs up towards the two of you. 

she is wearing the same german kit as giulia, so you know she is her national teammate. she's taller than you, brunette, and you figure that she has short hair, since her hair was tied up in a small bun. 

the brunette looked very cute, but you brushed that thought aside. you have no idea what her name is and you need to put all of your focus on the world cup. 

“Da bist du ja! Ich habe dich gesucht, aber ich sehe, du hast einen neuen Freund gefunden.“ (There you are! I've been looking for you, but I see you've found a new friend.) the brunette nudges giulia’s shoulder, looking at her before looking at you with curiousity. 

“relax! this is y/n.” giulia waves her hand towards you. 

“hey.” is all you say, smiling at the cute girl. 

“hey.” she responds, smiling with the same cheeky smile you had. 

“wer ist das? sie ist süß” (who is that? she is cute) the brunette says to giulia. you didn’t understand german, but you could tell that she was asking a question through the tone of her voice.

giulia rolls her eyes before giggling, 

“this is y/n, like i told you. she plays for the united states.” giulia responds in english, which you’re grateful for. the girl looked you up and down for a few seconds before talking to giulia in german again.

over giulia’s shoulder, just 20 feet behind her, you see horan waving her hand for you to come to her. you look back at the german girls, hating to cut them off from their conversation. 

“sorry girls but i have to go. it was so nice meeting you giulia!” you quickly hug giulia, and she hugs you back tightly before you walk away. 

ten days later-- when jill called for you to warm up in the final against the netherlands, your legs felt like pencil lead that could’ve snapped in half. 

in the 75th minute, the united states were up by 2. however, the euro champions against you had a point to prove. they weren’t going to let themselves lose the world cup without a fight. 

tobin heath got injured during the semi-finals and doctors made it clear that she couldn’t play the full 90 minutes in the final, so jill made the last decision to call you up. 

every commentator on broadcasts, radio stations, and television networks were wondering why jill was putting you– a seventeen year old with no world cup experience– over people like carli lloyd who's on the bench.

you couldn’t make a single mistake on the pitch. your mind repeated that sentence back to you as you warmed up with sprints and stretches on the sidelines. 

five minutes go by and you’re on the pitch. focusing on the ball, you made beautiful passes to the forwards and midfielders around you.

when your eyes were on the ball, it was distracting from the neverending stadium around you. 

blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 83rd minute comes along. krieger pushes the ball away from a dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards rose lavelle, the girl who scored the second goal moments before. 

rose, being closed in by dutch defenders, passed the ball behind her to kelley o’hara. kelley saw you were free and there was open space between you and her, so she launched the ball towards you. 

this was your chance. usually, you never tried to seek personal glory. however, something changed when that ball hit your ivory colored cleat.

your feet take the ball towards the goal. veenendaal, the dutch goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position as she sees her defenders failing to take the ball from you. 

as you race closer to the goal, the crowd gets louder. the orange defenders close in but you dribble around them effortlessly, a skill uswnt fans love seeing from your younger self. 

an oranje defender hit your body from the left side but it was too late. your foot was angled on the left side of the ball, making the outside of your right foot clear to launch a powerful shot at the goal. 

veenendaal dived a second too late, the ball hit the lower corner of the net, going in for the third goal of the world cup final. 

you didn’t take a moment to process your thoughts before you lifted yourself off of the grass and sprinted towards the corner of the pitch, the same corner megan raphinoe celebrated the first goal at an hour before. 

your hands were spread out wide as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes in joy. the look of happiness that you’ve never felt until now. 

“Y/N L/N THE YOUNGEST GOALSCORER IN A WORLD CUP FINAL!!” commentators screamed on television broadcasts as your teammates, both on and off of the pitch, ran to you and squeezed your adrenaline filled body. 

one month later, you’re back home in new york city. the rush of winning the world cup is still fresh– along with your popularity in the community skyrocketing due to your amazing world cup campaign. 

you missed france already-- a little too much. the bond you’ve had with your uswnt teammates there was indescribable. 

the world cup distracted you from your unfortunate situation at gotham fc too. 

you’re an amazing player and the world cup showed the world that, but your coach at gotham seemed to have an agenda against you. 

at first, you didn’t think so. you arrived at gotham six months ago and started for the first few games in the NWSL season, but it seems like the coach forgot about you after. 

the defensive style of the squad is something you didn’t prefer as well. your play style fit well with an attacking style of play, but your coach didn’t want that. 

after being benched for the big game against san diego wave, you had enough. 

your agent and yourself filled a request in to transfer clubs or go on loan. 

luckily for you, many clubs all over the world wanted the best U17 player. 

when lyon came knocking on your door, you were happy to accept a year long loan deal. 

at first, moving across the atlantic scared you. your older sister, whos much older than you, agreed to live with you until you’re eighteen that january, but you’ll be far away. 

however, lyon is the best club in the world. you would never say no simply because you were “a little uncomfortable” with the move. oh well, football comes with uncomfortable events.  

the uncomfortable events paid off well, since you're a starter for the champions league final against wolfsburg.

twenty minutes in, and you nearly had an opportunity to have the first goal of the final.

the ball was at lucy bronze's feet. you were free to accept her pass and did so. before you could pass the ball up to sommer-- Alex popp knocked you from behind and you were on the grass.

you were okay, and you got up fine afterwards. in fact-- you felt like that knock helped your nerves from playing your first champion's league final at the age of 18.

minutes later, sakina had the ball which prompted you to push forward. ingrid engen from wolfsburg kept her eyes on you, since she knows how fast and precise you were with the ball.

sakina tried to pass the ball up to kumagai, but pernille harder takes the ball. luckily, you were able to side tackle the ball from her. she fell, but you were at the ball so no yellow card was needed.

the noise around you were coaches yelling and players shouting at others in many languages. french, german, swedish, dutch, you name it.

its 2020, and there was no crowd due to covid. the empty chairs made it easy for your voice to echo.

you were close to being fluent in french after living in lyon for the last year, and having sakina and selma as your closest friends, so you opted to yell out to your teammates in that language instead of english--where the whole pitch might understand you.

renard had the ball with no wolfsburg player coming at her, so she took her time deciding on who to pass the ball to.

her pass to buchanan was clean, but svenja huth takes the ball from lucy as she runs to the middle.

svenja tries to pass the ball but it goes back to the defender in navy blue, renard.

the tall defender launches the ball at you running towards the right side. cascarino and you swap places as your feet quickly get inside of the box with the ball.

your left foot shoots the ball but the ball hits off of repohl-- wolfsburg's goalkeeper's, foot. the ball bounces towards le sommer, who shot the ball into the goal at the 25th minute.

le sommer high-fived you and hugged you as you both ran back into your positions. all season at lyon, you've had the highest number of assist-- and the third highest amount of goals.

the french club hopes to buy you from gotham, if there is no issue. your contract does say that there is no buy option involved, but they hope to try.

in the 44th minute, everyone was struggling to get their feet onto the ball. you were standing directly in the middle outside of the box when the ball was bounced back to you.

your left foot, your non-dominant one, launches the ball into the goal at a lightening speed. ingrid and alex popp didn't have the chance to stop you before your teammates screamed in celebration.

"when it fell-- it fell kindly for the american international who scores the second goal for lyon." a commentator speaks to the television audience as you ran to hug majri.

before the end of halftime, as you're ready to head back out onto the pitch, you frowned in realization.

after this fun season, you'll head back to the united states with a coach who wants nothing to do with you. you tried to stay optimistic and think about everything after the final is over, but the end of the season is in 45 minutes plus extra time.

"y/n bébé, garde la tête haute, tu as déjà marqué" (y/n baby, keep your head up, you've already scored) cascarino says as she places her hands on your shoulders. you relax into her hands as your head turns to face her stressed facial expression.

"ce n'est pas ça, je ne veux juste pas te quitter après ça" (that's not it, i just don't want to leave you after this) you whisper. your head leans back onto cascarino's head as she sighs.

"garde espoir, Lyon est content de t'avoir ici. Peut-être trouveront-ils un arrangement avec ton club d'origine" (keep hope, Lyon is happy to have you here. Maybe they will find an arrangement with your original club) cascarino whispers before you both jog out to the pitch.

"maybe.." you whisper to yourself after cascarino jogs away from you.

nothing much happened after halftime started, until alex popp scores a header. you weren't too afraid, since lyon are still up by one, but it's anyones game with thirty minutes left.

subs were made in the sixty-first minute for wolfsburg, so you stand beside cascarino to talk to her. as you look ahead at ewa leaving the pitch, you spot a familiar face entering.

the girl with a determined look jog onto the pitch, and you continue to look at her as she scans around the field. your mind itches, you know you've seen this girl somewhere before.

as she turns around with her back from you, you see 5 oberdorf.

again, you have no idea on who she is. you haven't played against wolfsburg until now, so maybe you played against her national team before? you had no idea.

wolfsburg had more possession this time around. you made a few tackles and won a few duals, but the german club was hungry to score an equalizer.

lucy got the ball away from pernille and passed the ball up to you.

you ran with the ball up the field. you dribbled around ingrid and alex popp effortlessly and your next move was to pass up to le sommer who was free.

all you heard was sakina yell "derrière toi!" (behind you) before you saw someone's leg coming from under you. your first reaction was to jump as the persons leg tripped you onto the grass.

your arms stopped your head from hitting the ground, but you turned to see that it was "oberdorf" who side tackled you.

"that should've been a yellow." you groaned to yourself as you stood up and wiped the grass stains off of your navy blue shorts.

"it was all ball, so no." oberdorf said back. your head quickly turned to her as she smirked at you.

so she's german.. hm. you thought as you recongized the accent.

a few minutes later, as lucy was preparing to throw the ball in-- oberdorf marked you as she stood beside you, not giving you a chance to escape her defense.

"get off of me!" you quietly said when she tried to hold your arm.

"lena, mark her!" ingrid yelled out as you quickly moved back to where lucy might throw.

you were sweaty at this point, but not too tired. a goal before halftime was what you needed to recharge your motivation and energy.

"you aren't getting another goal passed me." oberdorf says quickly. you shake your head as you look at her. the audacity.

"who are you talking to?" you snap.

"you." she smirked.

"well, oberdorf-- if you look at the scoreboard, you guys need another goal to equal us." you say as you both push back with bouhaddi, lyon's goalkeeper, was ready to hit the ball up the pitch.

"my name is lena." she scoffs as you went to saying her last name instead of her first.

"well, lena. its nice to meet you." you look ahead to see bouhaddi's kick.

the ball goes up to cascarino who heads the ball over to kumagai. you ran closer to offer help away from popp, but lena is chasing you.

the japanese decided to kick it back to renard so you move back to your natural spot. oberdorf follows you since she is assigned to mark you.

"what do you mean its nice to meet me? you met me last year." the german comments.

your mind seems to ease at this, you know that you've met her somewhere, and its fortunate that lena knows.

after a few minutes, you couldn't respond to her since the game is heating up. lucy cleared the ball out a few times, which caused a bunch of throw ins to occur.

fridolina rolfo almost scored after kicking from outside of the box, but the ball came straight to you. your body turned quickly, so her shot deflected off of your back and away from a chance of goal.

"where did we meet?" you ask as you end up near her again, waiting to defend the ball away from a free kick for wolfsburg by their goal.

"the adidas photoshoot during the world cup." she quietly says.

your conversations were quiet, since the empty stadium could echo your voice loudly if you were loudly talking.

the free kick was cleared by renard, but being on wolfsburg side of the pitch made you concerned. if lyon kept this up, wolfsburg might equalize.

luckily, in the 87th minute, lyon had a corner kick.

the kick was taken and it landed at your foot. you shot the ball towards the left side of the goal but it deflected off of janssen's foot.

the deflected landed on the back foot of gunnarsdottir and landed in the goal for the third goal of the final.

the group hug was filled with shouts that echoed throughout the stadium. after hugging dottir, cascarino and sakina patted your back as they jumped up and down around you.

"three goal contributions! you are insane." sakina says with her strong French accent, you smile as the end of the game is nearing. wolfsburg will have to pull of a miracle to beat lyon now.

in the last minute of extra time, oberdorf had you marked again. remembering what she said earlier, you smirked as you looked at her tense body position.

"I might've not scored against you, but I did get another assist." you say.

lena looked towards you with a straight face before responding, "ha ha" sarcastically.

when the whistle blows, you run to selma bacha who was on the line ready to be subbed in. she held you tightly as you repeatedly yelled, "we did it! we did it!"

after ellie carpenter hugged you for your one goal and two assists, you saw lena pulling pernille into a quick side hug.

saying that you didn't look at lena differently than all of the other girls would've been a lie. you found her attractive, and you know she knows she's attractive. that smirk wasn't fooling anyone.

"hey, great game lena." you said as you quickly hugged her. playing all 90 minutes made you tired, but you were okay since you're a champion's league winner.

she hugged you back. not to be weird, but you liked the way she smelled.

"thank you. can I have your shirt later?" she asks. you smirk at the idea of her wanting to swap jerseys with you.

"sure, as long as I can have yours." your eyebrows knitted together as you put your hands on her shoulders. lena smiled through her sad eyes and nodded her head at you.

part two here

<3

[mourningsbane]

regarding the newest comic post, a lot of ppl are saying honeyspring would never harm a kit and that her "gift" isn't meant to be malicious. but, i mean, if it IS mourningsbane, she might be giving it to sweetkit in hopes she will eat it, pass away, and thus be able to join her in her weird limbo afterlife so she doesn't have to be alone anymore. that's a recurring theme that seems to be honeyspring's biggest issue: she doesnt want to be alone.

yes sweetkit talks to her now, but there is still the disconnect that sweetkit is alive and honeyspring is not. honeyspring also cant communicate easily anymore; nowhere near the way that sweetkit and other living cats can. honeyspring is limited in terms of communication with most of it seeming to rely on symbolism or physically visible things.

sweetkit has other clanmates to interact with and a life she has to live filled with responsibilities, events, etc. as she grows up in the clan. she can't give honeyspring her undivided attention and whenever she is away living her own life, honeyspring is left alone, waiting and hoping that sweetkit will come back (which is never a 100% certain thing.)

on the topic of sweetkit growing up, that's the thing: she's going to grow up. while kits may be less judgmental and indifferent to honeyspring's appearance, as sweetkit gets older, she may get more perturbed by honeysprings appearance and/or discover honeyspring's story and make the connection that shes been talking to a dead cat all this time. that being said, she might not want to even be around honeyspring anymore and might even fear her. if she fears her or doesnt want to see her anymore, honeyspring will have lost their only friend, rendering them completely and utterly alone (which, again, seems to be her biggest source of distress.)

on top of this, honeyspring lost her kits (whether u take that to mean they died or they became... Not Kits) so if sweetkit joins them, they can finally be the mother/parent they were meant to be but was denied so cruely. in this case, sweetkit won't get older. she will remain a kit forever, so honeyspring can be a mother/parent to sweetkit and cherish the joys of mother/parenthood forever, making her miserable afterlife a lot more bearable.

dont get me wrong! i adore honeyspring and hold her very dear to my heart (is it weird to say shes a bit of a comfort character to me at this point...?) but they're in a very heartbreaking, complex, and unstable state of being right now and who knows how in control of her emotions, actions, and thought processes she is.

cats make mistakes (obviously 💀) and dont always think abt/realize the big picture or the consequences of their actions all the time. and honestly, it's understandable for honeyspring to be acting "selfish" abt sweetkit; honeyspring did nothing wrong in life (as far as i know) and had all of what was meant to be a love-filled, family-oriented future stripped away from them in a gruesome and downright horrific way caused by such a simple mistake no less. why cant they have this one semblance of control over their existence now that their future is gone.

it wouldnt be the first time a cat gave their clanmate mourningsbane after all.

(sorry if a lot of this doesn't make sense or is confusing! i have a lot of trouble putting my thoughts into words...)

-warriorwhiskers (warrior cat sideblog)

Oh, this is a VERY interesting theory! I like the way your brain works! <3

I cannot say for sure how accurate this theory is due to potential spoilers, BUT I think you have a very valid read on Honeyspring's personality!

If it helps, know that Honeyspring has always been resourceful! LutumClan has no official nursery? That's fine, Honeyspring will make one! Does the clan need more prey for the fresh-kill pile? Worry not, Honeyspring's on the case!

Can't enter paradise? That's okay, Honeyspring will make her own.

[scalefeathers]

Thinking once again about how Nobuo Uematsu and Masayoshi Soken are both completely amazing composers but in completely opposite directions let me explain

Disclaimer I am not a music theorist; most of music theory is black fucking magic to me. I barely know what a chord is and the circle of fifths makes me quake as though before an Elder God. I just really like both of their works and sometimes I have thoughts about things. Also this is all just my opinion, it's fine if you don't agree, etc.

So: Uematsu is first and foremost, in my opinion, an absolute master of melody. I believe it's what makes his work so iconic and makes so many of his pieces so instantly recognizable. The Final Fantasy theme, the chocobo theme, Dancing Mad, Vamo'alla Flamenco, fucking One-Winged Angel--Just from seeing those names, you've probably got one playing in your head already. You could start humming it right now. Maybe you are already.

And it makes perfect sense when you consider the era he was working in, because back in the 8-bit and 16-bit era, the melody was all you had. When you have such a tiny amount of storage space to work with, you can really play only one, maybe two notes at a time. You can't do anything that's layered, because you only have one layer to work with. I think that's why so much video game music from that era is so memorable and iconic. It's not just because you played so much Street Fighter II when you were a kid that the music is indelibly seared into your brain (though that probably doesn't hurt); it's also because Yoko Shimomura wrote really solid melodies that had nothing else competing for your aural attention (apart from the in-game sound effects, which are probably also seared into your memory). (Yoko Shimomura, btw, also composed the music for Final Fantasy XV, the entire Kingdom Hearts series, and like 50 other games over the past 40 years, another fucking icon).

But back to Uematsu: like I said, melodic genius. Even when his work is upscaled into full orchestral arrangements, that core melody is always front and center. And his affinity for melody makes even more sense when you consider that before he got into video game composing, he was writing commercial jingles. (Younger folks may not be aware, but there was a time when practically every product had to have its own theme song, and the best ones were short, snappy, and instantly memorable--and for that, again, you need a strong, simple melody. Ba da ba ba ba, I'm lovin' it.)

Compare: Soken. Soken only started at Square 12 years after Uematsu, which isn't that long in human terms (to me at least, cos I'm old), but it is a long fuckin' time in video game years. By the time he started composing for games, there was so much more you could do with game music in terms of layering, complexity, and sound, and you can tell from his work that he takes full advantage of that. His work is complex and dense, a rich layer cake of themes and motifs, all beautifully merging and weaving together, often to extraordinary effect.

And again, if you look at his pre-music career, it makes a lot of sense that he'd have that approach to music, because he first got into the games industry as a sound designer; I believe that he is the sound director for all the FFXIV expansions, as well as being the composer. So of course he'd be very aware of not just how a sound (or piece of music) works on its own, but of how it fits into the greater whole, and of how to layer and balance lots of different sounds to create something greater than the sum of its parts. And of course it makes sense that he'd bring that approach to his compositions as well.

As a consequence of this approach, though, his music often lacks the memorable melodies that characterize Uematsu's work. Like, I ground (grinded?) Dun Scaith a lot the last time it was on the Mogstone rotation, I know all the boss themes extremely well and can recognize each of them instantly. But if you asked me right now to hum one? I don't think I could. (This isn't a deficiency, to be clear; music doesn't need a prominent core melody in order to be good.)

And that's also not to say that all his music lacks iconic melodies. His vocal tracks, pretty much by definition, have to put a single melody front and center; and then on top of that (or rather, behind it), you have all that trademark Soken richness and depth. Which is probably also why his vocal tracks go so fucking hard.

I think that's also why, out of all the expansions, I like Heavensward's music the best. Most of Heavensward's score is written by Soken, but the main theme is Uematsu's, and you may notice it's basically a tasting menu of like 5 or 6 excellent, very recognizable melodies, one right after the other. And basically every piece on the Heavensward soundtrack incorporates one or more of these melodies. So it really does give you the best of both worlds, and gives the overall score a cohesion that I don't see as much with the other expansions.

TL;DR, Uematsu and Soken are both amazing composers with very different and complimentary styles that reflect their differing backgrounds and the different eras of games in which they have worked and I just think that's neat.

[autumnshighlady]

Yes, sir

Eris x female!reader

part of The Professor Series

summary: you've been trying to impress Dr. Vanserra for weeks, and an opportunity presents itself when he offers you private study sessions ;)

warnings: smut, power dynamic, name calling, oral sex (f receiving), thigh riding, face sitting, fingering, inappropriate use of mirror, tw: Ianthe

word count: 6.7k

request/prompt: Eris would undoubtedly be a history teacher, sarcastic at times and rigid

a/n: i got my degree in medieval history so there's a bit of rambling in this fic about my area of study since Eris is a history professor, figured i spent 4 years researching it so may as well incorporate it into this fic lmao feel free to breeze past the reader's monologue about the study material (or read it if you're interested hehe)

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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“Does anyone know why this manuscript was significant to political theory at the time of its creation?”

A few hands raised around you in the lecture hall, yours included. Political history professor Dr. Eris Vanserra paced slowly across the floor, his amber eyes scanning the rows of students for someone to pick on. His red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a look that had more than a few of you swooning. His red button up shirt complimented the brown tweed jacket on his shoulders, an outfit that no doubt cost you more than you made in a month. Dr. Vanserra always had the nicest outfits out of all your professors, never coming to class with a thread out of place.

Over the last few weeks, you had come to terms with the fact that you were harbouring an intense crush on him. You couldn’t help it – he spoke with such elegance, explaining the most boring concepts in a way that had you utterly entranced. Frequently, you found yourself staring at his slender hands, which he often gestured with as he spoke. He was a strict professor, who had no patience for any fooling around during class. But his dry jokes were laced with sarcasm, adding to his charming wit. Everyone tried to impress him – Dr. Vanserra was a distant male, often brushing off students in his office hours as if he wanted as little interaction as possible. He never complimented their work either, a simple head nod being the closest anyone has gotten to positive feedback. He was quick to point out what you did wrong, never beating around the bush.

And so you moved your seat from the back of the class to the front, always making sure to be the first student in the door and the last one to leave. It was tough, with other students just as eager to gain a minute of his attention. But you welcomed the challenge, craving to be the one who broke his rigid exterior and get him to show that he at least had a heart. That included always being ready to answer any questions.

Eris’s glowing gaze landed on you, and your heart fluttered. For a moment, you were sure he would call on you to answer the question. But his gaze came as quickly as it left, landing on the blonde female two seats down from you, Ianthe.

“They’re important because they were written by a woman,” Ianthe said proudly, her annoying voice raising three pitches higher than what you knew was her normal voice. “The only one of its time, too. Proof that women in the elite class were learning to read and write just like the men.”

Ianthe proudly lifted her chin up, satisfied with her answer. Dr. Vanserra took a single step towards her, and she crossed her arms together and leaned her elbows on the table, her big eyes wide as she batted her lashes at the professor. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her lack of subtly, noting how ridiculous she looked trying to push her breasts together to show off her cleavage.

“A weak and shallow take, Ianthe, as per usual.” Eris said, sarcastic disappointment lacing his voice. 

You had to cough to conceal your laugh. Ianthe was always trying to suck up to Dr. Vanserra, always humiliating herself along the way yet failing to recognize how foolish she looked.

“Is there anyone who can answer my question with a point that’s actually worth my precious time to listen to?” He continued, surveying the hesitant class.

Your hand shot up once again, and this time the professor’s gaze landed on you. He nodded, his stoic face revealing nothing as he waited for you to make your point.

“It’s the only manuscript we currently possess that’s written by a woman in its time,” You began. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only one to have existed. And the author being our only example of a body of literature written by a woman in its era doesn’t mean all elite women were doing the same. Her husband was a close friend of the emperor’s, acting as one of his closest counsellors. It’s highly likely that her husband’s unusually high status is the reason she was able to read and write.”

Dr. Vanserra nodded. “Carry on.”

You tried to ignore the intensity of his gaze as you scrambled to remember your information. “Well, the manuscript itself gives us insight into the political strife of the realm. Many of our other sources from that era never address the problem because they don’t want the history books to remember the bad times. Not only does she directly address the political issues at hand, but she also inserts herself into the narrative, something no other source from its time does. So while it’s written as a book of advice to her son who’s a political prisoner in an enemy court, it gives us insight into 3 aspects of family in that era: feelings, authority, and consciousness. Which also links back to what we talked about last week regarding the connection between the theme of consciousness within this era’s literature.”

You let out a breath, trying not to shake. The professor continued to stare at you, expressionless, leaving you unsure if your points were completely bogus or not. Finally, Dr. Vanserra dipped his head. “Good.” He said plainly, and Ianthe audibly huffed. “Now speaking of last week’s material…”

Dr. Vanserra continued his lecture, and you felt Ianthe shooting daggers at you with her eyes. But you didn’t care, you were too busy riding the high of your first ever praise from the instructor – anyone’s first ever praise from him, now that you thought of it. You happily scrawled down your notes for the remainder of the period, until the clock struck 9am, indicating class was over.

“I will expect the first draft of your midterm essays in three weeks, do not forget.” Dr. Vanserra said as students began packing up. “It’s going to take me a hundred hours to go through them all, so make them worth the headache it will cause me.”

Students began scurrying out the door, and you were grateful that you had no classes for the rest of the day. You packed up your things more slowly, your books and notepads stacked in an organised pile, just how you liked it. You stepped around the front of your desk and scooped them up in your arms, but quickly collided with a blonde female carrying a very full mug of coffee.

“Oh my goodness!” Ianthe squealed, her voice sweet as honey. “Your notes! I am so sorry hun, let me help you clean that up.”

Anger boiled in your blood, and it took everything in you not to yank her by her blonde hair and drag her face through the spilled mess. “It’s ok,” You forced yourself to say through gritted teeth. “It was an accident.”

“Oopsies!” She chuckled, her blue eyes glittering. “See ya!” She skipped away, miniskirt bouncing with every step. Gods, you hated her.

You looked down at your fallen pile of notes, now drenched in caffeine and completely illegible. Kneeling down, you tried to see if anything was salvageable, but nothing remained. Tears welled in your eyes – weeks of hard work, just gone. You felt your white t-shirt sticking to your chest, now strained with brown.

You hadn’t even noticed Dr. Vanserra approach. His pale, slender hand appeared next to yours, picking up a drenched piece of paper. You looked up, seeing him crouched down in front of you.

“Can any of it be saved?” He asked, her voice still stoic but slightly softer.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak without crying yet.

Dr. Vanserra clucked his tongue. “Unfortunate. You’ve worked very hard on those.”

“Those are all my notes from the last few weeks,” You said quietly, lip wobbling. “Sir… I have nothing to work with for my essay draft now.”

He merely hummed as if deep in thought before grabbing the soaked papers from your hands and standing up. You heard him stride over to the trash bin and lift the lid, tossing the remains of the material inside. His expensive shoes clicked on the floor as he walked back over to you. His hand reached out, coming into your lowered field of view.

You looked up at him through teary eyes, confused. 

“Come on, get up.” Dr. Vanserra said, sighing. “She wins if you sit like that, just sulking. So get up and come with me.”

Trying not to tremble, you grabbed his hand. He pulled you up with surprising strength, his hand warm despite the freezing temperature of the room. Wordlessly, he grabbed your bags along with his own, walking out of the lecture hall with long strides. Puzzled, you scrambled to follow, too nervous to say a word. This was the most Dr. Vanserra had ever spoken to you, you didn’t want to risk screwing it up by saying something stupid. 

You followed him all the way to his office, shutting the door behind you as you entered the space. Rich tones of red, amber, and green adorned the room, expensive looking furniture and decor scattered everywhere in an organised manner. The office was filled with more candles than you could count, their orange flames flickering gently. Dr. Vanserra set your bags down on one of the chairs before finally speaking.

“Twelve lectures worth of your notes are gone, and you cannot do anything about that.” He said sternly. “So do not cry over it. However, I do not want to see you fall behind and try to redo the notes off of memory alone. You will fail the course if you do so. Therefore, for the next two weeks, we will meet in my office every day at 5pm. Each session we will go over one lecture, and you will redo your notes. We can go slow to ensure you do not miss anything, and you may ask me any questions you need. That will give you only a week to complete your draft, but at least you will not be lacking half the material needed for it. Does this work for you?”

Your jaw went slack. One on one review with the professor? It was the golden ticket you needed to succeed in this course, and you were going to make it count. “Yes, sir, absolutely.” You replied quickly, letting out a breath. “Thank you, Dr. Vanserra, thank you.”

“We are going to be spending a lot of time together over the next two weeks, my dear. You can call me Eris.”

Your heart flipped. “Eris.” You corrected yourself, testing his name on your tongue.

He smirked. “Excellent. Now that we are on a first name basis, I can comfortably tell you that the coffee has rendered your shirt see through.”

The blood drained from your face, and your arms shot from your sides to cover your chest. As luck would have it, you weren’t wearing a bra that day, meaning your nipples were likely visible through the wet white shirt. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You stammered, cheeks flushing red.

“It’s quite alright.” Eris strolled towards a small dresser in the corner of the room, opening up the middle drawer and pulling out a cream coloured polo sweater with a v-neck. “Put this on, I won’t have my student walking around campus with her tits in plain sight.”

You blushed deeply, taking the fabric from him. It was the softest thing you’d felt, and smelled strongly of the cologne you frequently caught a whiff of whenever the professor walked by you. The plainness of his words made your brain go haywire, and you stood there dumbly.

“Unless you want to give me a show, I suggest you turn around and change so I can put your shirt in a bag for you to take home.” Eris said, a hint of mischief behind his amber gaze.

You turned around, reaching down and pulling the ruined t-shirt over your head. You shivered, feeling those eyes burning into your bare back as you carefully held your arm out behind you with the shirt balled inside your fist.

Eris took it, and you heard him turn around and walk away, presumably to grab a bag. You quickly pulled the sweater over your head, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach that danced happily at the thought of wearing your professor’s sweater.

“All done.” You said, turning around. “I’ll get this dry cleaned before I give it back.”

The male only shrugged as he tossed your shirt into a spare grocery bag. “Clean it, keep it, shred it, it matters not to me. I have three more identical to that one.”

“Uh, ok.” You muttered. The idea of keeping his sweater felt wrong, but you were secretly thrilled that he suggested it.

Eris took a seat behind his desk, pulling out books from his briefcase. “Now be gone with you, I have research to do. And remember, 5pm tomorrow. Do not be late.”

“I won’t.” You promised, grabbing your bags and making your exit.

Maybe it was a good thing Ianthe spilled her coffee on you.

************************

ONE WEEK LATER

You tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep hours after your study session with Eris. At first, they had been gruelling. Eris would grill you for every answer you gave him, making sure you could confidently back up your claims. Your brain was exhausted by the end of it, but you were happy. Eris had also given you helpful anecdotes that he hadn’t mentioned to the class. You had twice as many notes as before, and they were twice as helpful.

He was different than when he taught in class. More patient, less demanding. He spoke slower, allowing you to catch up if you fell behind. His strict persona was as rigid as ever in class, but you found he was calling on you more and more to answer questions. It delighted you.

At first, you had sat in the chair in front of his desk. But today, the chair was moved beside his. More than once, your leg knocked against his muscular thigh, and you’d murmur an embarrassed apology. Eris never acknowledged it, only smirked before returning to the material at hand. You still felt the tingling sensation on your own thigh from earlier when he gently squeezed it. You had gotten a tough question right, and Eris had reached down and put his hand on your thigh, quickly squeezing it before retreating.

Your face had gone bright red, and there was no way he hadn’t noticed. Just that one simple action had made your core throb with need. It didn’t help that he had begun calling you pet names, such as ‘my dear’ and ‘love’. You drank them up, his silver tongue making the nicknames sound just right. Every time he said them, it went straight to your core. 

Studying with your professor had suddenly become incredibly hard.

You rolled over in your bed once more, hoping that perhaps this side of the sheets would finally bring you sleep. But every time you closed your eyes, all you could think about was Eris’s touch on your thigh, and how it would feel if his hand was higher up, right where you had dreamed about it being. You imagined his slender fingers pumping inside you, filthy words falling from his lips like the first snow of winter, red hair falling in your face was his body moulded over top of yours–

“Get it together.” You scolded yourself. “He’s your fucking professor. It was nothing. Stop overthinking.”

But that didn’t stop you from sneaking your hand between your legs in a last ditch effort to ease yourself into sleep.

************************

A few days later, you checked your outfit in the bathroom mirror at 4:55pm before heading to Eris’s office. You hadn’t slept well last night, so you opted for a casual pair of soft, flowing green pants paired with a simple cream coloured button up. You’d be lying to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t deliberately chosen the pants that seemed to be Eris’s favourite shade of green. It was hard to sleep when all you could think about was how close you were going to be sitting to him the next day.

At 5pm on the dot, you opened the door to his office. “Good evening, sir.” You greeted him, locking the door behind you. It was something he insisted on, claiming he didn’t want his other students barging in thinking you were getting special treatment.

“Hello, my dear.” Eris said. “We’re covering lecture 10 today, I assume you brought the material.”

You nodded, setting your bag next to the desk before making your way around to Eris’s side. You paused, noticing something was missing. “Where’s my chair?” You asked.

“Oh, that thing,” Eris tutted, lips drawn into a faint smirk. “I gave it to my brother for the week. His office chair broke, and he has fifty students lined up outside his office every day who need it more than I do.”

Your mouth was dry, unsure of what game he was playing. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“I think there’s enough room over here for you.” Eris’s voice was velvety and laced with smugness. His brown eyes glowed, like a viper approaching a small creature to make its first strike.

“Oh, do you want me to stand?” You tried hesitantly. No way this was going where you think it was going, right? 

“For two hours? I wouldn’t do that to you. Come here.” He beckoned you forward with a come here motion and spread his legs ever so slightly, making your stomach do a somersault. Your body obeyed him without question, stepping forward until Eris grabbed your hand and pulled you down, causing you to fall onto his lap with a yelp. Strong hands gripped your hips, adjusting you so you were perched on his right thing, one leg on each side.

You bit your lip so the whimper that had built in your throat didn’t slip through. Your throbbing core was pressed right into the hard muscle of Eris’s thigh, emitting a heat you were sure he would feel.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He purred, his lips dangerously close to your ear. His breath was warm, sending shivers down your spine.

You stuttered something incoherent in response, but Eris cut you off casually, reaching forward and opening your book. His knee hiked up a bit, pushing his thigh further into your core. This time, you couldn’t stop the noise you let out.

“Are you alright, love?” Eris asked innocently. You gritted your teeth – he knew what he was doing, and was trying to get a reaction from you. As much as you wanted him, you were stubborn.

Two could play this game.

“Just fine.” You quipped, attempting to keep your composure.

“Wonderful. Let us begin.”

************************

An hour later, your lip had indents on it from your teeth. It was the most torturous study session you’d ever had in your life. It was less than 10 minutes in before Eris took it up a notch. He had rested one hand on your hip, a simple gesture as if to steady you. But his thumb found its way underneath the fabric of your shirt and began to rub small circles above the bone. 

The more questions Eris asked you, the closer he leaned into you. His lips began grazing your ear as he spoke, driving you wild. He didn’t sit still either, casually moving his leg from time to time, causing you to slide forward, clit grazing the sinewy muscle.

It was a slow torture.

“You seem distracted.” Eris murmured in your ear, readjusting himself again and sending another wave of pleasure through your core. You couldn’t help it, a quiet moan leaving your mouth as you felt yourself giving up.

He chuckled darkly, sliding the rest of the hand under your shirt fabric and resting it on the skin above your hip bone. “You’ve been working so hard my dear, I can’t have you unfocused.”

The rest of his fingers began tracing lazy, teasing circles against your flesh. You arched into his touch, tears from the lack of stimulation to your cunt threatening to form in your eyes if he didn’t touch you soon.

“Please.” You murmured quietly.

“Please what?” Eris asked, feigning cluelessness but letting his teeth scrape the shell of your ear. “If you need something from me, you need only ask. And I will be happy to oblige.”

The bastard was really going to make you admit it. He knew what he had been doing for the past hour, teasing you subtly to the point where you’d beg for more. Your earlier determination was gone, replaced by a pathetic neediness for his touch.

“Touch me, please.” You whined, not caring how weak you sounded.

Eris paused for a second. “No.”

Your eyes shot open in surprise. If this was some sick game to humiliate you, you were going to kill him. “What do you mean–”

“You know what you want to do right now,” He cut you off, his voice low. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at my thighs for the past few days. This is your chance to take what you want, sweetheart. Only once you grind yourself into my thigh to show me how desperate you are for me, will I finally touch you.”

Humiliation burned through you. No matter how stubborn you were, it was no match for Eris’s. There was no way you’d be able to convince him to put his hands on you without first doing what he asked.

You leaned forward, placing your hands on his knee for support as your clit finally made contact with his thigh. You began rocking your hips, moaning at the relief it brought you. 

“Come on, I know you can give me more than that.” Eris remarked from behind you.

You groaned and ground your hips harder into his thigh, pleasure intensifying. You swivelled your hips back and forth and in circular motions, trying to find a path to the release you had been craving.

“Fuck.” You moaned, glancing sideways at the mirror that was propped against the wall adjacent to his desk. The sight nearly made you gasp. Your face was flushed, blissed out as you grinded into Eris’s thigh, a small wet patch having formed on his light brown trousers. Eris was leaning back in his chair, his eyes hungrily drinking in the view from behind of you riding his thigh. His face was dark with want, and his knuckles were white as they gripped the side of the chair.

You continued your motions, grinding into your professor’s thigh in his locked office, coming so close to building that familiar coil in your stomach but never quite getting there.

“Eris…” You moaned.

“Yes, my dear?” Came his reply.

“I need you. Please, sir, I need you to touch me.”

One glance in the mirror and you knew you were victorious. Calling him ‘sir’ seemed to have softened his determination to make you grind into him until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Aw, can you not get yourself off on my thigh without help?” He mocked, stroking your hip again. “You need me that badly, don’t you? You know how unsatisfying it would be to cum without my touch.”

He spun the chair around, lifting your hips with one hand and peeling your pants and underwear off at the same time. The two of you were now facing the mirror, able to take in the sinfulness of the situation in full view. Eris adjusted you on his lap so that you were sitting atop his bulge, legs spread over each of his legs. Your needy cunt was on display, and you leaned back into his solid chest.

“Such a greedy little thing.” Eris said. One of his hands reached down and stroked your clit, while the other wrapped around your other hip and began to tease your entrance. For a second, you thought he was going to cruelly pull away, leaving you high and dry. But moments later he plunged a finger inside you, increasing the speed and pressure on your clit as well.

Your entire body twitched with the sudden wave of pleasure, ten times more intense than anything you had given yourself. Your moan this time was loud, echoing throughout the vast space of the office. His hands worked you in all the right places, confidently finding the perfect pleasure spots as if he had been given a map to your body and spent years studying it.

“Is that better?” Eris cooed, running his lips up and down your neck. “Is this what you’ve been fantasising about, being completely at my mercy as I make you feel good?”

“Gods, yes.” You cried out, arching into him.

“There are no gods here to help you, my dear,” He chuckled darkly. “Only me.”

Eris bit down on the juncture between your shoulder and neck, causing you to gasp. But you welcomed the sting of it, sighing as his silver tongue caressed the indents in your skin. Your legs began to tense up, feeling the orgasm you had been so desperately craving building up. The wet squelching sounds of Eris’s fingers on your cunt sang in harmony with your moans, as you watched the scene in the mirror through half-closed eyes.

“That’s it, love.” Eris murmured, sucking your neck just below the curve of your jaw. “Cum all over my hands.”

Your body obeyed, erupting into a burst of flaming pleasure as your orgasm hit you hard. Eris’s fingers continued to work you through your high, intensifying it tenfold. You were a whimpering, twitching mess in your professor’s lap. Finally, he removed his hands from between your legs, giving you a merciful break. You slouched into him, panting.

Your professor had just given you the most intense orgasm of your life.

After a few minutes letting your body recover, Eris picked you up with ease, bridal style in his arms. He settled you both down on the couch, placing his hand on your inner thigh and slowly sliding it back towards your core. You whimpered as his fingers grazed your sensitive slit, causing him to chuckle.

“Oh you poor, sweet thing,” Eris mocked. “You didn’t think that would be it, did you? I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Your mind reeled as he adjusted himself, laying back flat on the couch and pulling you on top of him. Luckily, you caught yourself with one arm on his chest so you didn’t land flat on his body. Eris’s hand reached behind your neck, grabbing you firmly and pulling your lips into his. You groaned, shifting on top of him so you were straddling his waist to get more comfortable. Eris’s grip was tight, putting you at the mercy of his kiss as his lips consumed your own. You melted into his mouth like butter, sighing as his tongue danced with your own.

His other hand reached down and squeezed your backside, pushing your hips into his crotch and causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths. The noise that emitted from Eris’s lips was the most delightful thing you had ever heard, you decided. It filled you with determination to see what other sounds your professor could make. So you ground your hips into his bulge again, causing him to groan.

“Careful,” He growled, nipping at your lip in warning. “You’re playing with fire here, my dear. Did I say you could grind on my cock like a desperate whore?”

You paused, heat rushing to your core at his filthy words. You’d always loved the sound of Eris’s voice, and hearing him say such sinful things to you brought a fresh wave of arousal.

A hard smack landed on your ass, making you yelp in surprise.

“I asked you a question.” Eris said sternly. “Did I give you permission to grind on my cock, yes or no?”

“No.” You answered sheepishly.

“No is right. Sit up. You’re going to make it up to me.”

You frowned in confusion, but did as you were told, propping yourself up and sitting back down on Eris’s hips, trying to ignore the way his cock dug into your backside. You took a second to admire Eris’s form laying on the luxurious couch beneath you. His red hair was fanned around his face like the morning rays of sunshine, a beautiful contrast with the dark green of the sofa. His expression was relaxed, but calculating as always – angular cheekbones made more prominent in the light of the candles, his amber eyes glowing with desire. It was a sight you wanted to commit to memory forever.

“Remove your shirt, and come ride my face.” Eris said plainly. You baulked, having expected him to tell you to get on your knees and take his cock down your throat. You were supposed to make up for disobeying him by… letting him eat you out? Most males you had been with had been selfish, only going down on you if you sucked them off first. But Eris was different.

“I would suggest you listen and do as I say, unless you want to be bent over my knee and spanked until you cannot walk, and are ordered not to cum for a week.” Eris’s voice was less patient this time, noting your hesitation.

Something dark in his eyes told you he meant it, so you obeyed, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it off your shoulders, followed by your bra. You were now completely naked on top of Eris, who remained fully clothed. Under any other circumstances, you’d have insisted he at least partially undress first. But you knew his patience was wearing thin, and as much as you secretly wouldn’t mind being spanked, the thought of not coming for a week was something you couldn’t do.

You crawled your way up his body, seating a knee on either side of his head. You lifted your hips, core inches from his face. The male was practically salivating beneath you as you gingerly lowered your cunt to skim his lips.

“I thought I told you to sit.” Eris said.

You gawked. “But I don’t want to suffocate–”

Your sentence was interrupted by a frustrated growl from your professor. He gripped your hips firmly and pulled you down hard, seating you fully on his mouth. You cried out as his tongue expertly stroked your folds, flicking your clit as he ate you out with precision that made you weak. Instinctively, one hand came down to grip Eris’s red locks, causing him to moan into your cunt. His hair was soft in your fingers, and you relished in the feeling of it.

You felt Eris’s hands guide your hips back and forth, encouraging you to rock them against his face. Moans left your lips as you obliged, grinding into his face like you had on his thigh. Evidently, this pleased Eris and he groaned, which sent delicious vibrations through your core.

You let your head fall back, shamelessly riding Eris’s mouth as you pulled on his hair. If your grip caused him any pain, he gave no indication of it. Whenever you tried to lift your hips to let him breathe, his grip only tightened and firmly held you in place. It wasn’t long before you climaxed again, letting out a choked cry as your juices covered his face. After catching your breath, letting Eris wipe his face with his fingers before sicking the digits clean, you climbed off of him, collapsing into a sitting position on the couch as Eris sat up next to you. His skilled fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt, and you hungrily drank in the sight of his bare chest as he pulled the expensive material off.

“You did so well, my dear.” Eris purred. “I think you can cum one more time for me. Ride my cock this time, love, make a pretty mess all over it just like you did with my face. And my fingers… and thigh.”

Your mouth went slack. After two orgasms, you weren’t sure if you could handle a third. But the desire to please him outweighed any reservations you had about your sensitive body, so you reached down and unlaced his breeches, making eye contact as you did so. Eris smirked, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion as you pulled out his long cock and stroked it once. The tip was red and needy, leaking with precum and making your mouth water. You swung your leg over his hips, straddling them. One of your hands reached towards Eris’s cock, grabbing it and lining it up with your entrance. You took a breath, and began to sink down.

You stopped after getting just the tip in, trying to catch your breath. The stretch stung, and you weren’t sure how you were going to fit the rest of it in, especially being so oversensitive still. Eris simply watched with his hands behind his head casually, a smug look on his face. He did not help you, seemingly content to watch you struggle to take his length.

You forced your body to relax, sliding to about halfway down before stopping, moaning dizzily. All of your senses were completely overwhelmed, and you felt so full with only half his cock inside you. 

“Aw, are you finding it difficult to take me, love?” Eris mocked. “Maybe you can’t handle it–”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, for his teasing tone filled you with sheer determination and you slammed yourself down onto him. Eris was cut off in a strangled moan, eyes widening as you impaled your cunt on his cock. The force of it knocked the wind out of you, but you didn’t let it stop you. You swirled your hips, pulling yourself up his length before falling down on him again, bracing your hands on his shoulders for support. Gods, he was so deep inside of you, touching places that made your head spin.

“Fucking hell.” Eris groaned, his voice rough as you slid up and down on his cock at a relentless pace. You twisted and swivelled your hips as you did so, your cunt squeezing his cock at new angles that made your professor gasp. You threw your head back, and Eris took the opportunity to lean forward and wrap his arms around your back, pulling your chest closer to him and taking your breast in his mouth. 

The new sensation made you cry out, but you refused to let your pace falter. Eris’s teeth scraped your nipple, sucking harshly before moving to your other breast. His hips began slamming up into you to meet your own, making the coil in your belly tighten.

“Eris…” You whined, tangling your hands in his hair again.

“That’s it, love, say my name,” Eris reached one hand down to roll your clit with his thumb, while the other gripped your throat and squeezed. “Let everyone know who’s fucking you dumb right now. Let them hear you scream for me as your tight little cunt takes my cock.”

You rode him with a vigour you didn’t know you possessed, shamelessly moaning his name over and over again. “Eris… Eris…. Eris!” It was overwhelming, your professor’s cock slamming in and out of you, his hand rolling your clit while the other held you by the throat. You kept your grip on his hair, yanking as you climaxed one last time, the action of your fingers pulling his red locks making Eris cry out too. His hips stuttered as his cum shot through you, your cunt clenching around him as you rode out your own orgasm. It was the most intense out of all the ones you had so far, the warmth of Eris spilling inside you making you dizzy with pleasure. 

You leaned forward, dragging your lips up Eris’s throat as he moaned with you clenching around him. He cursed, the slip in his control filling you with pride. His skin tasted like rich autumn spices. You pulled his cock out from inside you and collapsed into his chest, panting. You didn’t realise how exhausted your body was until now. Every cell in you was completely spent, leaving you unable to move. You fought the sleepiness, but the warmth from Eris’s chest was too comforting and darkness overcame you.

************************

A few hours later, you opened your eyes. For a moment, you expected to be in your own bed, the whole thing having been a dream. But you took in your surroundings, realising you were still in Eris’s office. The professor was sitting at his desk, quietly grading. You scrambled upright, the blanket that had been draped across you falling onto your lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You stammered. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Eris looked up at you, smirking. “You have nothing to apologise for. I take pride in your passing out, actually. Means I did my job well, not that there was any doubt based on the noises you made.”

You blushed furiously, but then looked down at your body. You expected to be sweaty and gross from the sex, utterly naked and exposed. But you felt clean, as if you had been wiped down with a wet cloth and then dried. Your old clothes were neatly folded on the ground next to you, and you were dressed in a pair of soft, forest green sweatpants and a white crew neck sweater. They definitely were not Eris’s size. “You keep women’s clothes in your office?” You asked, confused.

“I keep a spare set of attire for all the female students I fuck in here.” Eris’s voice was dry, and you whipped around to stare at him with wide eyes. “That was a joke, my dear. I had them picked out last week. You know, in case Ianthe decided she wanted to spill more coffee on you in the future.”

You snorted, heart fluttering at the surprising thoughtfulness of his actions. While you had hoped he wouldn’t just toss your clothes at you and send you on your way without a word, given the professor’s rigidness it hadn’t been entirely out of the question. “You’re not funny.”

“On the contrary, I am terribly funny.”

“You got these clothes last week, was it really because of Ianthe or was your plan to fuck me all along? Is that why you offered to help me in the first place?”

Eris rolled his amber eyes, giving you a stern look. “No. My offer to help you was, and is, genuine, and with your best academic interests in mind. I may be a prick, but I am not cruel. Fucking you was a delightful bonus, not an expectation.”

His words reassured you. Despite his strict reputation, it seemed Dr. Vanserra had a heart after all. You checked the clock, realising it was almost 9:30pm. “Shit, I have to get home now. My roommate is going to think I fell off the face of the earth.”

You hastily grabbed your things, giving Eris a quick kiss on the mouth before hurrying to the doorway. You had no idea what this meant for the two of you, if it was a one time thing to satisfy both your needs, or something more. Regardless, you didn’t want to think too much about it, content to bask in the aftermath of the best sex you’ve ever had.

“Same time tomorrow.” Eris piped up right before you opened your door. “Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir.” You smirked at the twitch of his face at your words.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

A sadistic grin crossed Eris’s face. “When you get home, I’m positive you will be reminiscing about the mind blowing orgasms you just had. But you are not to touch yourself until I see you tomorrow night, am I clear? There will be… repercussions, if you disobey me.”

You baulked, embarrassed that he had seen right through you, but nodded anyway. As the door closed behind you, you wondered if you were going to last the next 20 hours without breaking his rule.

[hoperays-song]

A Theory About Sing's Animal Genetics

Throughout both Sing movies, we see a lot of different animals of all shapes and sizes. From Black Widow Spiders to African Elephants, the sheer range of species is remarkable. However, one thing stands out, the genetics of it all.

Part 1: The Apparent Genetics Behind Sing

Now, that might not make sense at first, but throughout both movies and all the shorts, we see no “extreme” hybridization. Like no random horse with scales or wings, or a spider with fins, etc etc. Every animal looks realistic. There are no extreme hybrids at all (trust me, I've scanned these movies scene by scene). And yet despite this, we see all kinds of interspecies relationships ranging from a cow and giraffe to an iguana and a crocodile or a snake and bull. Which to me means that genetics can work one of two ways: random species selection or hybridization.

Now, both of these are popular kinds of genetic species determination in anthropomorphic pieces of media. But I actually want to talk about random species selection first. Namely, how this is not what we see happening in Sing.

See, basically, how random species selection works is this. If the biological parents of an offspring are different species, the child will be one of the two species, but not a hybrid of them. An either-or situation. However, while I am willing to admit we do not see many children in the series, the few we see do not come from wildly different parents, in fact they all come from same species parents or parents who are from very visibly similar species, making this seem rather unlikely.

However, that isn't the only form of random species selection. Some variations of random species selection include certain species dominance, where some species will always be more likely to appear, a kind of dominant recessive type of deal. However, this is also not what we see happening in Sing. See the issue with this type of genetic species determination can lead to the over presence of certain species in the population. But we don't see that happening. We instead see what one would expect in terms of species prevalence based on their real-world animals.

So, if those two have not a lot of evidence going for them, that just leaves hybridization. And all of you are likely going "wait, but I thought you said earlier there were no visible hybrids in the series?" And you would be partially correct. There are no visual extreme hybrids. Regular ones that we can see in real life, however? Well, that's a different story.

See, there are animals we see that are likely hybrids. Heck, even a named character is all but confirmed to be one in my opinion. But how? What are the rules? Simple, like with species prevalence, Sing based its genetics off the real world.

What exactly do I mean by that? Well, Sing appears to follow real world hybridization rules in animals. Meaning two species must be extremely closely related in order for a hybrid offspring to occur. Think of some great cats, hoofed animals, and any animal with subspecies. Things like ligers, mules, and golden-crowned manakins are real world hybrids.

So, hybrids that exist in the real world are able to exist in Sing, what's my proof? I said there were characters who appear to be hybrids after all. Which ones? Well, there's four, namely: a background equine in the first movie, a background bear from the Sing Thriller Short, Johnny, and most noticeably, Porsha Crystal.

Let's go in order of least plausible evidence to most, starting with a character that shows up for less than twenty seconds in the first movie, an equine animal I have been dubbing Jack.

I will admit that this is a bit of a stretch primarily due to the lack of screen time. However, as we see both donkeys and horses in Sing 2, Jack here seems to be a mix between the two with the ears of a donkey and the longer mane of a horse and a white muzzle that we only see on horses. They also have what I have always heard be called a “classic mule colourations” aka what a mule looks like in most art I’ve ever been around. Here’s some photos to illustrate my point here.

So yeah, Jack looks a lot like what a mix of Sing horses and donkeys would look like, though they could just be one or the other as we do not really get another look at them.

Next is our lovely bear friend from Thriller, who I've been calling Terry in my notes.

See our friend Terry here does not look like the brown bears we have seen in the series in the slightest. But! They do not look exactly like the other species of bear we have seen in the series either (polar and panda).

But what do they look like then?

This is a grolar bear. Also known as a brown bear/polar bear hybrid. And the first thing that sprang to mind when I laid eyes on Terry here. With a similar build to both polar bears and brown bears that have appeared in the series before, combined with the similar coloration to a grolar bear, Terry seems like a genuine candidate for being a hybrid species. The only reason they are not higher on my list is the existence of Syrian brown bears, which could also fit them though I do not believe to be as likely just due to the bear species distribution we have seen.

Which is also why we come with more than one example for evidence! Our next candidate is.... the world's worst rebel, Johnny!

Now, Johnny being small is a topic I've touched on before. Because well... it's really noticeable when you put him even remotely near other gorillas. Which is further compounded by the fact that Johnny is called a mountain gorilla. You know, the second largest gorilla subspecies in the world?

So, there's a chance that Johnny is so small because he's not solely mountain gorilla, and instead is part or even half western lowland gorilla or cross river gorilla. Not only has he not had proper nutrition, but genetics are at play. This would also explain the more prominent brownish hue to his hair than the hair of his father and uncles.

However, like I mentioned and posted about previously, there is also a lot of evidence that Johnny likely has stunted growth due to malnutrition as a child, which often has permanent effects. So really, Johnny could be either of the two possibilities, or even potentially both a hybrid and stunted in growth.

And last but not least, the most obvious, all but confirmed hybrid (in my opinion), Porsha Crystal.

See, everywhere I check, I see Jimmy Crystal being described as an arctic wolf. And honestly? That checks out. He has a stockier build and solid white fur, as well as a smaller head. Very arctic wolf, down to the design of his fur.

But Porsha just isn't. She has a larger head, slender build, and most noticeably, coloured fur.

Arctic wolves have to have, despite being shades of brown/grey when they are born, solid white fur. It typically turns that way within about a year, with some patches occasionally sticking around a few years longer. But nowhere near as long as Porsha has seemingly been alive. And her colourations are pretty obviously part of her natural fur pattern, not tufts of baby hair sticking through.

"So what, she has a patterned coat? We’re seen character’s use hair dye before, that can't be the only reason-" Her build does not make sense for an arctic wolf. We see one due to her father. And the other children of the series that we are 100% sure are likely not hybrids look like their parents in terms of builds (think the piglets). Porsha does not. She looks more like the wolf bodyguard in that sense than her own father. She is much willowier with a notably different face shape that aligns with a different wolf subspecies than an arctic wolf, along with the coat pattern.

But which one?

Meet the northwestern wolf. A wolf that is a bit willowier than the arctic wolf, with a larger head shape, and most times, coloured fur. And a dead ringer for Porsha.

Which would make it seem like she is just a northwestern wolf right? Well, except one thing. Porsha is the same size as her dad, and arctic wolves are smaller than northwestern wolves. Which could be evidence of the arctic wolf dna. Same with the identical ear shapes. Those things are exactly why Porsha seemingly screams hybrid in terms of design, as well as the fact that she is simply called a wolf, with no subspecies designation. Because she's more than one.

Part Two: The Conservation Posters Theory

I promised a theory at the start and a theory you shall receive.

So throughout Sing 1 and 2, there are a ton of background posters. And only a few of those are fully legible. However, two (one in each movie) really stand out.

What can we see in these posters? Well, simple. A small build, light yellowish, feline with green eyes, round ears, compact head, and a rosette spot pattern. Besides this character, are the words "Love, Respect, Protect".

And that is super interesting. Because that cat? It's surprisingly hard to identify in terms of species. Now from the rosette pattern with the spots, we can immediately assume that this cat is a jaguar along with the proportionally large ears.

What makes that assumption weird though, is the head.

Jaguars have broader heads than what we see on the poster. And notably broader heads than leopards. However, the poster cat has a narrow head. Which reads like a leopard in all but shape, with the head being slightly more round than a leopard's is, but still far too narrow to be considered a jaguar's. It looks like a mix of the two.

The leopard similarities don't just end there either, as we look at the eyes. See, jaguars don't have green eyes, but you know who do? Leopards. Notably so even, with yellow-ish green being the primary colour seen in leopard eyes. (Yes, I understand Sing does not care about eye colour genetics. It also doesn’t care about physics or proper medical treatment. I’m ignoring all those factors rn lol.)

All of this leads me to one conclusion: that cat is either a jagulep or a lepjag/leguar aka, a hybrid of a jaguar and leopard of some kind.

This animal being a hybrid makes this poster make a ton more sense than a just standard predator species. Because we don’t see any discrimination between herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores. Seriously, within the cast we see, there isn’t any of the Zootopia type of discrimination at play. What we don’t see a lot of however, are likely hybrids.

If that poster is in fact about hybrids, it raises a new question about the lack of hybrids we see, which is, why don’t we?

A lot of animals can create hybrids. Any animal with a subspecies, a lot of canines, all the big cats, the list goes on. You would think that we would see way more than the four I mentioned above. And sure, we could count all the dog mixes (not really but we could try), and a lot of subspecies hybrids would look just like a regular one of that species to explain the low numbers, but the word choice of “protect” adds a weird taste to that story.

Because it implies that this is a reminder that needs to be said. A reminder to love and respect hybrids, fellow members of your community, needs to be told to the other community members. What’s more, it has to be added on that they need to be protected as well. Protected from what? By the looks of it, the community as a whole.

These posters are very similar to real world conservation and anti-bullying posters/billboards that are aimed at the general public in order to spread awareness. So, the fact that these posters are seemingly specifically about hybrids makes it clear that hybrids are likely not treated the best in the Sing universe. And while we don’t see this explicitly on screen, we can see potential effects it might have had, namely here: what an “acceptable” hybrid is.

See, the wording of the posters show that this group is discriminated against right? Well, we see Porsha and Johnny in particular not being treated differently from anyone else, so why? Well, let’s look at the hybrid on the poster.

Like I mentioned earlier, you have to look twice to realise that that cat is likely a hybrid. You have to know what you’re looking for. Same with Johnny. If he is a hybrid, it isn’t extremely noticeable besides his size, which again he can dismiss as just being small. Porsha is the only really noticeable hybrid of the three and the fact she is in the upper echelons of society should not be dismissed. She is not going to be treated the same as people not in that social class. So, her treatment in society as a whole is likely not going to be that different from a non-hybrid.

So, are they ideal hybrids? Well from what we can see in the movies and in the posters, it seems to be hybrids that are not noticeable are the least likely to face issues, hence the hybrid on the poster being legitimately the poster child for being a hybrid. In the Sing universe, hybrids are alright, but only when you don’t know they are there.

This would explain the small amount of them in the movies and shorts, not only are there not many possible ones, but the most noticeable ones would also likely be heavily discriminated against. So much so that groups are having to put up posters in order to hopefully raise awareness to stop this from happening. They are having to beg with these communities that the hybrids amongst them deserve love, respect, and safety just like everyone else. And we as viewers? Well, we don’t know if they are listening.

----------

Disclaimer: It is important to note that we do not see much of Porsha’s life or any of these character’s lives outside of a few snapshots from work. We do not see if Johnny had to deal with issues at school or if Porsha had to deal with issues online or with the media. We do not know. So they could have faced issues for potentially being hybrids that we just did not see on screen. Also, we do know species discrimination does exist, Buster and Mike in the first movie, as well as Jimmy in the second make several comments that are discriminatory. However, these do not seem to be widespread ideas in the Sing Universe, and it is nowhere near the level of predator/prey divides we see in other anthropomorphic media like Zootopia and Beastars. In fact, none of the remarks are even about a predator/prey divide at all.

[seeker-ophelia]

Ophelia’s Review, Part Three: The Lore

Man. Thank you to @senseandaccountability ’s post for sparking this brainwyrm because I was at a loss for words on how to start this post, and I could not put my finger on what was actually bothering me.

Again, let me just say, emotionally, this game wrecked me. I enjoyed it. I (am probably one of the few who) liked the combat. I liked the companions (basic as they are). And I liked the story. I liked the locations. I liked the quests and the loot system and the companion banter. But.

The Lore.

[Part 1:Emotion]   [Part 2:The Dragon Age System]

If you’ve read my Part 2 Review, you know the end of it is actually its own little fic-let on the Veilguard realizing the veil needs to come down.

And I’m just going to straight up copy a paragraph from @SenseAndAccountability ‘s post (I strongly recommend you go read it, its fantastic).

Replaying really emphasizes how incredibly little the game convinces me of its original main quest - to prevent Solas from doing his ritual. This is a problem as a long-term player because for three games we’ve had build up for a great crescendo tackling the overarching themes of the (restrictions and oppression of) magic, of tears in the Veil, of religious tyranny and oppression based on myths about the Black City and the temptations of flawed humans, we’ve seen and deconstructed the elves quite a bit, we got started on the dwarves and in DAI your Inquisitor can openly ask Solas if it wouldn’t be better if the Veil came down because then spirits wouldn’t be separated from the living and risk becoming demons. Cole, whose function is to reflect the plot, talks endlessly about the old songs wanting to be sung again, about how it hurts to be cut off from part of yourself, how the templars feel it, how the mages feel it, how the elves and the dwarves feel it. The Veil as a prerequisite for life has been deconstructed, the Fade demystified, the gods have mostly fallen. The Veil as an actual wound inflicted on this earth has been presented as a theory and not been convincingly rejected by the narrative. 

Let’s recap, just a little bit.

In Origins, we are introduced to the Dragon Age World. Its politics, its magic physics, the races, and its religion. We are introduced to the concept of the Chantry and the Templars and the Circles (*wiggles my eyebrows at you). We learn about demon possession, and about spirits in the fade. And maybe most importantly, we are introduced to the concept of The Blight.

The unstoppable, indiscriminate zombie-plague that sweeps Thedas once a century or so. And maybe more importantly, thanks to the sacrifice of the Grey Wardens, how to stop it.

In 2, the Thedas lore is even subtler. We were introduced to Dalish Gods in Origins, but because of Merrill we get a little more. We start to become curious about the Gods of the race that has been subjugated and enslaved throughout the common Ages. We learn the tense political atmosphere surrounding the Templars and the Mages, and the Chantry’s weakening hold on the politics and structure of Southern Thedas as a whole. We learn about slavery in the north, about the basics of the Qunari, and we have a Terrorist (potentially our lover), hit the religious organization in our city.

In Inquisition, we learn all about the magic. We learn about the fade, about the veil, we learn all about the Elvhen. We pick a side in the Mage/Templar war, we learn about this strange process of Tranquility, the only power templars have to control mages (thanks to Cassandra), and we also learn what that control costs (thanks to Cullen).

And because of Solas, and Cole, we learn about spirits. About how the Veil turns them to demons on their passing into the real world. About how all they want is to stay true to their purpose. They are simple, pure things, and while there are demons, of course, its not all bad in the fade as maybe we might have believed before. After all, Solavellan’s first kiss happens in the fade.

In Descent, we learn about titans, about memories, about songs, about lyrium, about isatunoll.

In Trespasser we learn about why the Titans even matter. Orbs. Power. Greed. The creation of the Veil, and what it really means.

*Insert Kronk Oh-Yeah-Its-All-Coming-Together.gif*

We had 10 years to scheme. 10 years for theories. 10 years to datamine.

So what did we learn in Veilguard?

Well, in the grand scheme of things, nothing.

We have theories confirmed. Which Evanuris hat belongs to who, how the blight was created, how the blight is spread, and how the blight is controlled (kinda-not-really). At least, we learn how the Evanuris are doing it.

What did we learn that was NEW?

We learned about the Morn Watch (but I mean, did we really?) Emmerich has a good relationship with wisps and spirits. We learn about his distinction between a spirit and a soul.

We learned *a little* more about Qunari culture.

We learned it was a blood magic ritual that was holding the veil up, tied to the life force of the Evanuris, now tied to Solas.

We learned about the Evanuris’ Dragon-Thralls and the strong connection between the two, a connection strong enough to get their souls out of Solas’ Fade Jail.

We learned that the Evanuris could not only control The Blight, but had relics to give to others (the Venatori) to control blighted things. We learned their greed for power was so vast, so consuming, they were willing to Blight the world to achieve it.

But we fought an archdemon, in Origins and in Veilguard. We see and know the terror and horror of the Blight.

This makes any action Solas commits understandable, and even necessary. Would we have done anything different? If my leaders were bent on blighting the world, wouldn’t I go to extreme lengths to stop them? Compromising my own morals, dignity, and values to do so?

I think I would.

Having such a terrible evil, having such an indiscriminately bad thing, The Blight, leaves absolutely no room for nuance. No room for complexity. Just good versus bad. Destroy the bad thing at all costs.

So we do. Wham, bam, Evanuris dead.

And the only thing stopping us from tearing down the Veil, is the Blight.

Because Solas tells us that the Blight is in there too.

But, he made a new Prison for the Evanuris, one without a veil, before Rook & Co. interrupted his ritual. Why can’t we move the blight into there and still tear down the Veil?

What is stopping us at this point?

Solas says: Thousands would die

(You’re trapped in your regrets)

This is why you had to use me to escape the prison. It’s made from regrets. And you’re trapped in yours.

You cannot understand -  

Destroying everything won’t erase your mistakes.

You have a chance right now to save the world. Bind yourself to the Veil and stop it from falling.

2. (Do this the right way)

You’re right, you do need to make up for the damage you’ve done, but breaking the world again is the wrong way to do it.

Letting the veil collapse –

Is what YOU want. Making amends isn’t about what YOU want.

You have a chance right now to save the world. Bind yourself to the Veil and stop it from falling.

3. (This won’t help anyone)

Who does this help? A lot of people are going to die… So you can fix something they don’t even see as wrong.

It is not just people, spirits –

Will be destroyed when you do this, too. Won’t they?

You have a chance right now to save the world. Bind yourself to the Veil and stop it from falling.

Listen. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but there's more to Dragon Age than Solavellan.

This, in the end, was an emotional decision. The decision to leave the veil up was tied to emotion, and not logic.

So, what does all this mean?

Well, for players new to the series, nothing. They were always fighting for the Veil to stay up. The opposite of what the antagonist wants, pretty much. Easy enough to follow along.

But for returning players? Lavellans who stood in Fade-Haven? Players who walked Vir Dirthara? Mages who made the Descent, and saw how horrible it was for the dwarves to be sundered from their dreams, and made the horrifying connection that the Veil did the same to them?

Trespasser Solas: You must understand, I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people’s conscious connection to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of Tranquil. (We aren’t even people to you?) Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong… again. That does not make what must come next any easier.

When I learned about the rite of Tranquility in Origins, I was disgusted. The first thing that popped into my head was lobotomization. They are one and the same to me. Turning a person into a husk of what they were. Separating them from their emotions. From hard emotions, yes, from things that are not easy, even painful, but at the cost of themselves.

We walk with Harding through her decision to, although the Titans are angry, and what was taken from her people was great, not reunite Titan and Dwarf because…

Lace: The story of their end is the story of our beginning.

Mythal releases Solas from his journey to reunite Elvhen with the Fade.

Harding releases angry Titans from their quest to reunite with the Dwarvhen.

And so the Veil stays up. The Titans stay sundered.

But… at what cost?

Lest we forget, it was the sundering of the Titans from the Dwarves that CREATED THE BLIGHT. The Titans created the blight as a weapon to infect the Elvhen as punishment for their death, their tranquility.

This Tranquility Ritual, be it in the form of keeping Mages from the fade, be it of Titans or of Elvhen, is WRONG.

I’m a Blue-Collar Journeyman, and we have a turn of phrase we use with old fellers who don’t want to change the way they do things.

Just because you’ve been doing something for a long time, doesn’t mean you’ve been doing it right.

You can do something for years, and still be doing it wrong.

And both Lace and Rook decide that this is the way things have been done, for AGES. We’re not going to change now.

And I’m just… Solas. As John Travolta playing Vincent Vega in Pulp Fiction, confusingly standing there, looking around with my arms out.

Did we learn nothing from the Lessons of Origins? Nothing from the Lessons of Inquisition?

Maintain the Status Quo? That’s the answer?

At what cost?

One of my favourite lines in in my Part 2 Post is this;

Veilguard, is shallow. The essence is there, beneath it's Veil, pressing and bursting at the seams to escape, but is being held back by a gentrification of Thedas.

This decision, the decision to keep the veil up, is shallow. Its basic. Its Easy. It is pre-masticated, lunchable drivel. It was spoon fed to us in easy dialogue and groupthink.

What about every other thing we learned in the other games of Dragon Age?

If Weekes et al. want me to forget about how horrible the Rite of Tranquility is, they’re going to have to come out with a hell of a companion novel between now and DA5, because this makes no sense to me.

I ask you. If sundering Titans created The Blight, what did sundering the Fade create?

Or should I say,

If separating Dwarvhen from their Memories created the Blight (out of Titan anger),

What did separating Elvhen from the Fade create?????

Lets talk about Ser Dave.

If you read my part 2, you’ll know that Ser Dave is my name for the ‘?????’

Not only is it so insulting to my intelligence to call something ‘?????,’ because of course then I’m going to pay more attention to it, but its so lazy. Let it introduce itself to Rook and say “call me the wicked witch of the west,’ ‘a concerned party,’ ‘I am the Batman,’ ‘I am No One,’ ‘I am Daivd Gaider,’ ffs.

An I excited at a new villain? Yes. Am I happy to learn there was a shadow organization pulling the strings behind all of my villains throughout The Dragon Age? Abso-fucking-lutely not. Am I happy Southern Thedas, Treviso, and Minrathous are essentially razed after the rise of the Evanuris? No.

Nothing we did in any of our previous games mattered. Nothing I did mattered. Ser Dave was there the whole time, controlling, balancing, guiding, whispering.

I was doomed to fail from the start.

The moral of the story in Veilguard is to not assume the burden of others actions:

And yet its Ser Dave and the Nazgul Band that assumes responsibility for my villains?

What in the Actual Fuck?

So what is going to happen in 5? I don't know. Will I find true agency? How do we have a villain worse than a God? How do we live in a Tranquil’d world, knowing the alternative? How do you bring back the dark, heavy, realness of Thedas, after the gentrification of Veilguard? After blanding Thedas, making it easier for more palates, needing to feed the EA Machine.

For the record, I have yet to complete my second playthrough. I have yet to find all the codices. I have yet to get all the companion banter. I have yet to play as every race. I have yet to make every decision. And if Inquisition taught me anything, its how one little piece of information can change everything. So, for the record, this whole post could be wrong.

In fact, I hope, and pray, that I am missing a big piece of something in Veilguard. That I just haven’t found it yet. That one little thing that’s going to shift my worldview. And I’m going to play until I find it.

Because these messages Veilguard is sending? They’re too contradictory. Too opposite to be coincidence. Too Different to simply be Bad Writing™. I said that Veilguard is a Tranquilized Version of what DA4 could have been. Inquisition, 2, and Origins, were too deep, for Veilguard to be this shallow.

And… Maybe its copium, but I’m kind of hoping that it was on purpose.

[buggywiththefolkmagic]

Hello!! I was wondering if you have any book recommendations for Appalachian folk magic? Especially for a beginner, I’m familiar with our local “old wive’s tales” but I’d love to learn more!!

Hello there! I have answered this question before but I have some new resources so I'll list them here!

It really depends on which part of Appalachia you are looking at! And if you want to dig deeper the ancestral roots of the family you are looking at. For example my family has a lot of Welsh and British influence because that was our family source so a lot of those beliefs lingered and changed throughout the years!

Someone from Pennsylvania would likely have a lot more German roots for their practice. But despite the root differences for the folklore these practices stem from they do still share a lot of connecting points!

But having babbled all of that here are my favorite books on AFM specifically. (Mind you Christianity takes a super huge part in the practice so a lot of bible and doing things in threes for the Trinity is involved!)

Authors to check out:

H. Byron Ballard- A pagan who also practices AFM, from the NC side of Appalachia, a lot of people hate her writing style which is a bit ramble-y. I also dislike the term she uses for her own practice but that is a super simple and small complaint honestly. I own all of her books on the subject, which should say something.

A NOTE ON H. BYRON BALLARD: I no longer support her work after discovering she is a TERF. I will no longer be suggesting her as an author to follow.

Jake Richards - From Eastern TN like me! A lot of what he talks about are things I have seen before, and he breaks down complex concepts like burn blowing into something relatively easily understood. HOWEVER HAVING SAID THAT the author is partially Melungeon, so he does have some Hoodoo mixed in from his grandmother's side iirc? He does label these things in his works and explains that they are not for everyone which I do appreciate.

Rebecca Beyer - While vaguely Wiccan toned, which I attribute to her publishers/raising, she's a transplant to Appalachia and if you're looking for herbal information on Appalachia and to wax poetic about how even with a ton of people settling there SO MUCH of the natural herbs and plantlife still survive, read her work! Her work on foraging safely and environmentally is so SOOOOO good.

Brandon Weston - For Ozark Mountain range/German/Dutch Appalachian work! He has written quite a few books on the subject and all of them are a treat!

Roger J. Horne - For how to dig into folklore and apply it to your own practice! This author is pagan and does blend in some traditional work with the Appalachian but I do enjoy his work and how he applies folklore. This author is also FROM Appalachia which is nice to see.

INDIVIDUAL BOOKS TO READ:

Appalachian Folk Healing by Jake Richards - A republication of a very old book on remedies and 'spells', while kitschy and stupidly worded, after all it was a popular book created just for sales reasons, some of these remedies are things I remember having done to me! Good for both a giggle and actual information. TW for mentions of animal parts, hunting, illnesses, the G slur, period specific phobias and racism.

Albertus Magnus - These books all supposedly written by an ancient guy, were actually mildly common on traveling salesmen's trucks and wagons. So as a result a lot of people in Appalachia had access. Like the book above it is very stupidly worded and definitely of their time. Same TW as above.

Pow-Wows or Long Lost Friend - Another Pennsylvania Dutch book! Very good and very clear.

Southern Folk Medicine - A book that breaks down a lot of common medicinal beliefs in the South which does include Appalachia! Sadly not just Appalachia but a very good book regardless. THIS BOOK MADE ME UNDERSTAND THE THEORY BEHIND BLOOD ISSUES MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE EVER HAS.

Moon Eyed People - A collection of Welsh folktales that brewed within Appalachia from Welsh immigrants. Very good book imo!

Granny Buck's Dibs and Dabs - This book is so worth the price tag! One of the more expensive books in my collection, but I'm fine with that. Granny Buck covers a lot of topics and I can feel the accent through the wording!

Signs, Cures, & Witchery - More German Appalachian stuff! This book and it's interviewees are from the Kentucky side of the mountains!

Witches, Ghost, and Signs - This book is based more in the Southern Appalachian area! Georgia, SC, NC, and TN specifically! Lots of folklore here, but does mention some not so great bits of the lore, but that is expected.

The Foxfire Books - What began as a school project exploded into a collection of true to life stories and idioms from Georgia elders within the mountains. SO SO GOOD OKAY? For everything. How to plant, hunt, make musical instruments, anything from the mountains? They cover.

[1000sunnygo]

Trafalgar D. Water Law: Whats the significance of Water?

Gonna be a long one, you can scroll down to TLDR below.

Many of us know that the spelling of Water in Law's name isn't the actual katakana spelling of the liquid water, ウォーター (Wo-ta-), which follows the classic British pronunciation. Instead, it's a new word ワーテル (Wa-teru), which combining with "Law" (written as "Ro, ロー" in Japanese) makes the correct Japanese spelling for "Waterloo (ワーテルロー)".

Big Mom's hat is named "Napoleon", the irony.

For the sake of separation from water, let's call it "Watel" for now.

It may not be that deep. "Waterloo" could be a simple pun Oda came up with on a whim, but the scene leaves a bit of mystery. Law was abruptly cut off while talking with Baby 5 and Buffalo. And the pun only works in Law's name; it wouldn't work on, say, his sister Lami's name.

Also, for Law to uncover the mystery of his checkered fate, it'd make sense that his character arc is leading to finding the history of his own bloodline.

Trafalgar family happens to be the only family of Ds with an extra hidden name so there's something going on. Unfortunately, Law is the only surviving member of Trafalgar family and he knows nothing about it. Now it's up to him to restore his family's lost knowledge.

Law says "Watel" is 忌み名, a "secret name."

The word 忌み名 (imina) is an uncommon word, Japanese readers needed to do some dictionary digging too. "Imi" (忌み) means abstinence, taboo, religious purification; "na" 名 means name. Imina can be defined as a pure name, or a taboo name.

There's an old Japanese article speculating about Law's name, here's a passage from it:

The term "忌み名" encompasses meanings such as "given name for a person of high status," "title bestowed based on achievements during one's lifetime," and "name used for the deceased person." If Watel is a "忌み名" meaning a "given name for a person of high status," it might trace back to Law's ancestors, possibly connecting to nobility. Therefore, online discussions include speculations like "Were Law's ancestors individuals of considerable status?" or "Could they have been part of the royalty?"

To clarify what it meant with "the name given to a deceased person", I've read some articles about "imina", so let me share what I understood. It's an additional knowledge unrelated to Law's name, I'll explain why afterwards.

Names are often believed to be linked to spirituality, like how you can't exorcise a devil without its name, or use voodoo dolls on a person without knowing their name. In old Japan and China, sometimes two names were given to a person. One is the name that is shared with everyone, other is their taboo name 忌み名 'imina' - that is kept hidden within the family. This name relates to the person's spirituality.

忌み also means pure. As spirit world is linked to deities and gods, and dead body is considered impure. A person would be called in their imina or pure name when the person dies and become a spirit. It was forbidden to call a person using their imina during their lifetime, and to refer to them in their human world name after their death.

The parents gave their children a good 'imina' for their better future. A child with 'imina' has a connection with their spirituality, and by knowing that name, they were believed to have some control over their future.

According to this classic definition, a living person is never called in their imina which is their spirit's name, and it wouldn't be tucked into their real name. For Law to have an 'imina', rather than as his spiritual name, it is implied that his family carried Watel as a secret title that become part of a name over the generations.

From the theories I've read about Law's name, here's a common ground most of them agreed on:

D is a name shared among many people from The Ancient Kingdom, whereas the name Watel specifies a title given to a specific bloodline, for a yet unknown reason.

The theory that D's aren't a single bloodline became more apparent over time, it's now believed to be a codename that was passed down regardless of their ethnicity and family history (ie. Queen Lily who didn't belong to ancient kingdom) - only thing common among them is that they're the enemies of "gods", aka Celestial Dragons.

So who were the Watel? Throwing in my personal theory....

I think Trafalgar family didn't belong to the Ancient Kingdom. Rather, they were affiliates of the Neferteri Family that took the name "D".

There are some similarities between Trafalgar and Neferteri families.

Both of these families are the only D's that kept their names hidden, implying that their ancestors could retain some knowledge of the void century (unlike other Ds who seem to know nothing of D's significance, which means the truth of their bloodline was completely suppressed from being passed down). How could these two families survive the complete purge of knowledge? By never belonging to the ancient kingdom.

Both Neferteri and Trafalgar families are loosely attached to the classic "D" characteristics, to the point you can't immediately associate them to being D's. Rather than bringing a wave of change themselves, they're particularly interested about learning the history. Notably Cobra and Law.

Here's the headcanon territory.

The two families probably had connections in the past through two people: Queen Neferteri Lily and a Trafalgar who we don't know yet.

How were they connected? Couldn't be marriage, as the family names weren't exchanged.

Doctor and Patient, perhaps?

Watel was a title given to the Trafalgar by Queen Lily. That's where the 'title connected to royalty' of imina comes from.

The word Watel (ワーテル) doesn't have a meaning per se, but I can push it a little in meta direction.

The more convincing theory is that it's a wordplay, Watel = War Tale (in japanese it only needs a space in the middle of the word) similar to Raftel = Laugh tale. Probably a title given for the heroic activities of Trafalgars during the war between the Celestials and the Ancient Kingdom.

A less convincing theory is that Watel's close alternative "Water" goes in combination with "Lily" to form Water Lily. We know that Arabasta is based on Egypt, and Water Lily in Egyptian culture has a great significance and connection to sun. Maybe the Queen's gesture of respect was to give a title that would combine with her name.

Reminder that Law's name also has a 'combination pun', Waterloo.

This is the only ancient doctor that has been mentioned in One Piece. Possibly the same doctor - that'd tie up most loose thread together. Too convenient? hasn't stopped Oda until now, has it?

Doctor Trafalgar possessed the power of ope ope no mi and performed many miracle operations, Queen Lily hired them for their skill and talent, giving them a royal title. Both Lily and the doctor took the codename "D" to support the people from Ancient Kingdom who were rebelling against Imu and the Celestials.

Doctor Trafalgar discovered the fruit's potential of performing a perennial youth surgery, an information that was intercepted by Nerona Imu. The doctor was kidnapped and forced to perform the surgery on him, the process taking thier life.

Alternative could be that Watel was the given name of the doctor and Trafalgar family simply carry it as a tribute to them, remembering their connection to a royal family and an inevitable sacrifice.

The fruit returning to the same family, to another Trafalgar who has yet to confront Imu as a D to find the history of their family - would truly affirm that Law's life is "checkered." It'd be poetic for Law to play a key role in Imu's downfall. lHopefully without putting his own life at risk.

Rosinante believed Law is kept alive as if by a divine force. He must have a role to play.

TL;DR

- Law's secret family name Watel is an 'imina', in his own words, which signifies that it's a secret title passed down by his ancestors.

- Similar to Neferteri Family, Trafalgar Family are D's who didn't belong to the ancient kingdom and thus survived the purge of knowledge, able to withhold some knowledge and keep the D in their names hidden over generations.

-The ancestors of both of these families took the codename 'D' like people from ancient kingdom to support their action against Imu, even though they didn't belong to the ancient kingdom themselves.

-Watel was either the royal title or the given name of a Trafalgar who worked under/with Neferteri Lili, and was likely a doctor who possessed and discovered the immortality operation of Ope Ope no mi.

-The said doctor was forced to grant perpetual youth to Imu, dying in the process. Trafalgar family carry 'Watel' in their names as a tribute to the fallen ancestor.

-Law having the same fruit as his fallen ancestor is the truth of his checkered fate. It's possible that he will be involved in taking down Imu.

[pennylime]

been on that world trigger brainrot fr (also a theory below the art) (long post)

I have a whole au living in my brain abt if yuma lives lmao. Maybe I'll sketch or talk abt it if anyone's interested.

Also, a theory I've been keeping to myself for years bcuz it's probably wrong:

Amo is the black trigger assassin. HEAR ME OUT !! I can't be the only one who's thought abt this at least a bit, right????

1. We haven't seen Amo's black trigger yet.

For triggers being so prominent, why haven't we seen Amo's? During Afto's invasion, we could have seen Amo's trigger, but we only got to see the aftermath. We also have no idea how he came into possession of it. We know it's VERY strong and VERY destructive. Kind of like an assassin we've heard of, yes? The assassin tore Yuma apart in a second, but it was only in like, small blasts? for lack of a better term. So the two are different in that aspect, but it's also been years since then, so Amo could have the room to improve.

2. Yuma hasn't met Amo yet.

Yuma has met like, almost everyone? Or has heard or seen them in passing? We've seen most of the squads, and were seeing more in the away missions test right now, and how they fight, their motives, and their skill level. Like, Yuma knows Amo exists, I'm pretty sure Amo knows Yuma exists, and yet they haven't met. Somehow. Seems kinda sus to me.

3. Kind of stupid, but Amo's hair and the assassin's is a little similar lmao.

Self explanatory. They do look different, but there's a three year difference, so yea.

4. We know next to nothing abt Amo.

We know his age, what he looks like, that he's anti-social, and doesn't really know how to reign in his power or that he really cares to. BUT we have no idea who is parents are, or WHERE he came from, or even when he joined border (that I can remember). He could be a neighbor, but he very may well be not.

5. We don't know what the assassin looks like.

We could chalk it to Yuma's memory, having the flashback being from his perspective and only seeing the assassin for a split second, but it also leaves a TON of possibilities of who they can be.

All of these put together COULD be deliberate. There has to be a reason!!! Like, waiting for a big reveal. Amo's mysterious nature really puts him up to be anything. But it really could just be that they haven't met yet because of simple reasons, and Amo is just some normal kid with a black trigger.

Like, this theory popped into my head one day as a what if, and since then, I've been running with it lmao. A lot of it is speculation. But I know that it can fall apart pretty easily, so I won't be surprised if it turns out I'm completely wrong.

But I also won't be surprised if I turn out to be right 😎

I hope I explained it at least somewhat coherently 😭