#but also something about it feels forced or not thought through

[wonderjanga]

So Ive had this prompt stuck in my head, dunno if you've done it before, but:

Billy unexpectedly powers down due to a villain's weapon. But instead of being, well, scruffy little billy, he ends up looking like a greek child with the toga (?) and all. What would the JL reaction be?

This whole incident started half a year ago with the divine beings in his head arguing about something. Arguing was a surprisingly common occurrence despite the fact that most of these guys were over thousands of years old. He tended to normally tune them out whenever this was happening.

Achilles: “BILLY!”

Marvel: *startles* “Yes, Achilles?”

Achilles: “Chiton or toga?”

Marvel: “Huh?

Mercury: “Chiton or toga? We’re making you a gift. Aren’t we like so kind?”

Marvel: “A gift…?” *sounds weary* “I don’t like the sound of that. What are you planning?”

Zeus: “Nothing!”

Marvel: “Solomon?”

Solomon: “It really is nothing. This will actually aid you in case of any accidents while in field.”

Marvel: “Okay then…”

Hercules: “NOW PICK!”

Marvel: “Alright, alright, dang. Uh… What’s a chiton?”

Zeus: “What’s a- What’s a chiton? I’ve never felt such a shame for one of my children before.”

Marvel: “I’m not your kid, but okay.”

Solomon: “Billy, a chiton is a tunic that was worn traditionally by the Greeks.”

Marvel: “Oooh. Uh… okay then I pick that one.”

Zeus: “Ha ha, suck it Atlas!”

Atlas: “I also wanted him to pick the Chiton…?”

Zeus: “I know. I just don’t like you. I thought that was obvious by now.”

Billy didn’t know that Robin was like five feet away and watching this entire interaction go down. To Damian, this grown ass man was just having a full conversation with himself, oblivious to the world. He reported this behavior to his father later.

Batman: “That’s normal.”

Robin!Damian: “Pardon?”

Batman: “That’s normal for Marvel. Think nothing of it.”

Anyways, fast forward six months. Billy forgot about the gift thing the Gods were talking about. Mostly because they hadn’t even given him the gift. Then the time came when Billy was forced to be detransformed. All because of a stupid villain’s machine going haywire. Sivana could do better. So now, Billy was standing in front of the JL who had surrounded him in a half circle.

(Ancient Greek is in italics)

Billy: “Uh… Hello?” *doesn’t even realize he’s decked out in the Ancient Greek drip, complete with the chiton from earlier*

JL: *staring in befuddlement*

Supes: “He’s been de-aged?”

WW: *steps forward* “Brother?”

Mercury: “Okay, Billy, stare at her for like three seconds and then be like you’re Zeus‘s kin?”

Billy: *doesn’t even know why he’s doing this but does the three second stare* “You’re Zeus’ kin?”

Mercury: “You’re my favorite champion now.”

WW: “I am. I am Diana Prince. It’s a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?”

Solomon: “Thavma is a nice choice.”

Zeus: “So is Keraunos. Which is arguably better because it means lightning.”

Billy: “Thavma, or Keraunos. Either is fine.”

Flash: *whispering to Batman* “Spooky, what’re they saying?”

Batman: “I don’t know. I’m versed in Greek, not Ancient Greek. I can just barely make out an eighth of the words they’re saying.”

Soon after all of this, he was taken to the Watchtower. The JL dropped him off in a rec room and assigned Robin to watch him so the team could go to a meeting room to discuss the whole ordeal.

Robin!Damian: *looking him up and down*

Billy: *can feel the judgment through Robin’s mask* “What is it?”

Robin!Damian: “What?”

Billy: “I said what is it?”

Robin!Damian: “Tt. A language barrier.”

Billy: *frog blinks* “Language barrier…?”

Solomon: “I’ll just turn off the Ancient Greek for you.”

Billy: *clears his throat* “Can you understand me now?” *slight Greek accent still there*

Robin!Damian: “More clearly. Yes.”

Billy: “Cool, now what is it?”

Robin!Damian: “Pardon?”

Billy: “What is it? I can tell you’re staring at me judgmentally through that thing on your face.”

Robin!Damian: *visibly bristles* “I am not.”

Billy: “Yes, you are.”

Robin!Damian: “I am not.”

Billy: “You are.”

Robin!Damian: “Am not.”

Billy: “Yuh huh.”

Robin!Damian: “Nuh uh-” *realizes he let that leave his mouth* “Why are you acting like a child?

Billy: “I am a child.”

Robin!Damian: *stares at him for a couple moments* “The reason I am staring at you judgmentally, is that I had previously assumed you had been born an adult.”

Billy: “Who told you that?”

Robin!Damian: “Nightwing.”

Billy: *remembers he’s not supposed to know who that is* “Who?”

Robin!Damian: “He’s someone you’ll meet when you’re an adult.”

Billy: “Okay…?”

*silence*

Somehow, the two ended up crawling in the vents together. You couldn’t even ask Billy how it happened.

Robin!Damian: “Crawl faster.”

Billy: “I’m trying.”

They spent a while up there, crawling around, eavesdropping, stopping every now and then in the kitchen for snacks.

Robin!Damian: “This is chocolate.” *hands him a chocolate bar*

Billy: *eyes literally shining as he looks at the bar because he rarely gets to have chocolate*

Robin!Damian: “You open it like so.” *opens his own bar* “Now come. We must continue on the move. Back to the vents.”

This went on until the JL started to look for them.

Flash: *searching the rec room frantically because they should’ve been here*

Robin!Damian and Billy: *descend from the vents*

Robin!Damian: “What do you need speedster?”

Flash: *screams*

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

 Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh.  “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too.  “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @mami-veracruz @salemslostwitch @karencaribou @princesstarble @dirtylittlefairytales @hbwrelic @mosscrissfemmefatale @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones @silversprings-mp3 @lokidovahkiin

[theoncomingchaos]

Who loves Rook: Spite or Lucanis

I've been seeing a lot of discourse about this, and I just want to add my thoughts.

I might be totally wrong about this, but here we go. When Spite was put into Lucanis, he was still Determination. The fact that he changed throughout the torture, forced insertion, and imprisonment suggests to me that they have been put into a speedrun of a similar situation to Anders and Justice/Vengeance where they have started to meld. (As Anders put it, you wouldn't know where one begins and the other ends). Just like Anders and Vengeance, Lucanis and Spite can have separate consciousnesses and even disagree about things, but their core values have started to influence one another and become a part of one another- heightening certain aspects.

I think this melding is why we see some dialogues where Rook tells Lucanis that he sounds like Spite and similarly it's also the reason for the shared attraction- which I fully believe is coming originally from Lucanis.

I'll be honest my first time through I romanced Lucanis and was very disappointed. I didn't even see him and Neve ever flirt (she only ever encouraged us!) But still, it seemed to go from 0 to 60 with him. Now, I am on my second playthrough and I only just met him, but I am starting to see some really subtle looks and dialogues that suggest that Lucanis wasn't lying later when he said he was attracted to Rook from the beginning, but was afraid to really pursue anything or even acknowledge the possibility of being with them. With his fear of trusting people, ptsd from the prison, failed history in romance, and his new situation with Spite that he still hadn't worked out yet, he never thought anything would or could ever come of his feelings. We know Lucanis loves romance stories and likely longs for one of his own, but in such a situation it must have seemed truly impossible and terrifying to let someone else in. Especially someone you really care for and are starting to trust. So, he pushed it all down. Rook flirts? Maybe a small smile, but then quickly lock it all up with everything else he can't handle. Focus on work. Don't think about Spite, or Rook, or anything difficult.

However, if the melding has already happened as I suspect, then the feelings Spite is expressing are shared with (and likely sourced from) Lucanis, he's just better at expressing it directly- which makes sense for a spirit that was once Determination. When you first talk to Lucanis after the rescue, the thing Spite says about Rook changes accordingly to your tone, but to me the responses still sound like they come from Lucanis and are then echoed in Spite: "He doesn't want to hurt us." Even the "He's more fun than you" is something Lucanis seems to think about himself as he is fully aware that much of his life has not been his own and believes "all he knows is death."

Leading back to the main point, Lucanis's trust and interest in Rook would be heightened by Spite the way Anders' anger towards the templars was heightened. Even though they are finally free from the prison, their is a sense of constant suffering from still feeling trapped by fear, regret, and pain- Spite feels that suffering too. The elements of determination are still within him the same way justice is another side to vengeance. Both spite and vengeance are the results of failing to achieve their goals of Justice and Determination. Spite sees Rook as a way to free them from pain and restraint, a glowing and beautiful key to the prison door, and he is determined to do what needs to be done to solve the problem. That's why he doesn't hesitate. He has no fear. He wants to talk to Rook. He wants Rook to come in and free them.

After Rook has freed them, they become a source of comfort and safety, once they encourage Lucanis and Spite to find a way to cohabit comfortably, the two continue to meld, and the need to protect Rook, to love Rook, to keep them, is very deeply shared. Now, IF Spite was somehow removed or even somehow restored (Both of which I think are impossible) that would likely change. Determination outside of Lucanis would likely become more like Compassion. He would likely forget the horrors he experienced to return to his original purpose.

So, that leaves some final questions, particularly one Hawke helpfully asked Anders- Is Spite an unwilling party in the threesome?

That's up to everyone's own morality. While both Spite and Lucanis didn't have a choice to become like this, it is the situation they are in and the way they have to find a way to accept and live with because there really doesn't seem to be any real way to change it. Through their time together, Lucanis and Spite have influenced each other and grown into something new. Part of that is Spite also loving Rook. In that way, for those who are feeling (rightfully) underwhelmed by Lucanis's romance, Spite can almost be seen as a symbolic expression of Lucanis's love.

All that being said, I think there were some small things they could have done to make the romance more satisfying over all...but I'll save that for another post.

[thef1diary]

omg dirtbag!daniel is so good I can’t stop thinking about it! also your writing style is to die for. Was wondering if there was any more fuel in the tank for more dirtbag!daniel?

thank you, nonnie! I always have more dirtbag!daniel thoughts 🤭 this is what’s been on my mind lately: spit kink, marking + a bit of bratty reader. it turned out longer than I initially intended. drop some thoughts and I’d love to chat

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

Dirtbag!Daniel doesn’t own you. He never asked to, he never pretended to. But that didn’t stop him from treating you like you belonged to him, like your body existed solely for his amusement. Maybe it does, because no matter how filthy, how degrading his words get, you let him. You always come back for more.

Perhaps that’s why you were weaving your way through a packed bar, the dim lights flickering overhead and the bass of the music reverberating through your chest. The air is thick with humidity, the cloying scent of sweat and spilled beer clinging to every surface. It’s the kind of place where anonymity thrives—a place where you could disappear into the crowd if you wanted to.

But you didn’t come to disappear, no, you came because he called, and you were too far gone to resist.

You spot him almost immediately, leaning against the bar like he owned the place. One elbow rested lazily on the counter, a drink in his hand, his fingers curled loosely around the class. His head is tilted slightly, his dark eyes scanning the room, but there’s no mistaking the moment he sees you.

A smirk spreads across his face, slow and smug, and you feel the pull of it like a hook in your chest. It’s infuriating, that smirk. It always is. It’s the way he tells you—without words—he’s two steps ahead, already planning how to leave his mark on you, both physically and mentally.

The bar is too crowded for you to think clearly, the press of bodies around you amplifying your nerves. But as you approach him, the rest of the room blurs into the background. All you see is him, the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shirt clings to his frame, and the glint in his eyes that promises trouble.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Daniel drawled, leaning in to speak to you over the din. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every inch of your body. It’s not fair, the way he makes you feel exposed without even touching you. Like he’s already imagined all the ways he’s going to break you tonight.

You force yourself to shrug, to play it cool. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a clink. “Figured you had more self-respect,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut.

The grin that followed is demeaning, the kind that made your stomach twist in equal parts anger and want. “Guess not,” he added.

Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, the sharp edge of his insult cut deep—but not in the way they should. His insult only added to the simmering heat in your stomach, a twisted, shameful thrill curling low in your belly.

You hated how much you craved it—his mocking tone, the way he could peel you apart with a single look. But you won’t admit it. You opened your mouth to snap back, to tell him that you did have self-respect, thank you very much.

“I—”

But Daniel didn’t even give you the chance.

“Relax,” he said smoothly, interrupting without hesitation, his voice dripping with mockery. His fingers brushed against your arm as he leaned in closer, close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear. “I wasn’t looking for an argument, sweetheart. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Your breath hitched, and you hated the way his presence overwhelmed you, how his tone left no room for you to gain the upper hand. His smirk widened as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement, like this was all a game to him.

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t craving something,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “And we both know exactly what that is.”

Daniel didn’t even wait for you to respond, his smirk widening before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer. Before you could catch your breath, his mouth was on yours, the kiss filthy and unapologetic. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue parting your lips with ease.

You melted into him, your resistance crumbling the moment he pulled you against his chest. The sheer force of his presence made your knees weak, and you hated how easily you gave in, how much you wanted this.

He almost chuckled into the kiss, the vibrations teasing against your lips, but he didn’t pull away. No, Daniel kissed you like he had something to prove, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue hot and insistent. It was consuming, like he wanted to claim every part of you here and now, and he didn’t give a damn who saw it.

You dimly registered the press of bodies around you, the muffled gasps and sidelong glances from strangers who couldn’t help but notice the spectacle he was making of you. But Daniel didn’t care, not even a little. If anything, the idea of an audience seemed to spur him on, his hand gripping your hip possessively, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead brushing against yours as he smirked down at you, his breath fanning over your lips. His gaze was molten, full of arrogance and something darker, something that made your stomach flip.

“See? You’re too easy,” he muttered, his tone low and mocking, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he loved every second of it. His thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, smearing the remnants of his own claim on you, and you felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny.

Daniel looked back, the smirk on his face growing as he signaled the bartender with two fingers. “Whiskey for me,” he said, his tone relaxed, almost bored, before his gaze slid back to you. “And for her…” He looked you up and down like he was appraising you, his lip curling slightly. “Something sweet. She needs it.”

You bristled at the condescension in his tone, but the bartender was already nodding, turning to make the drinks. Daniel’s attention shifted back to you, and he leaned his hip against the bar, his stance casual but his gaze piercing.

The drinks arrived moments later, and he slid it toward you, his fingers brushing yours as he handed it over. “Go on,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, the words laced with challenge. “Show me just how good you are at taking what I give you.”

Your fingers closed around the glass, but your grip faltered as his words sank in, their double meaning curling around your chest and tightening like a vice.

“I don’t take orders from you, Daniel,” you managed to bite out. Daniel raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, “don’t you?”

His eyes dropped to the drink in your hand, then back to your face, challenging you. “C’mon, I know you can be good for me.”

Your grip tightened around the glass as you raised it to your lips, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away. Daniel’s gaze stayed fixed on you, intense and unwavering, his smirk deepening as if he could feel the fire burning under your skin.

The drink was just as he’d ordered—sweet and cloying, the kind of thing that lingered too long on your tongue. His eyes flickered to your throat as you tipped the glass back, watching the subtle motion of you finishing the drink. The heat in his gaze made your skin prickle, and your breath hitched as you placed the empty glass on the bar with deliberate finality.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice like silk, but there was a dangerous edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without another word, he picked up his whiskey and downed it in a single smooth motion, the glass hitting the bar with a quiet clink. His hand found yours before you could react, his fingers firm but not rough as he tugged you from the bar.

“Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You followed as he guided you through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. He maneuvered you effortlessly, weaving through the bodies pressed close together until you reached a dark corner of the bar. The music was quieter here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that seemed to swallow you both whole.

Daniel turned to face you, his smirk growing as he backed you up against a wall. His eyes raked over you, dark and predatory, and for a moment, you felt like a cornered animal under his unrelenting gaze.

“Drop the act,” he murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only you could hear it over the muffled thrum of the music. “We both know why you’re here.”

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” His eyes dragged over you, taking in every detail—the way your dress clung to your frame, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His gaze lingered, unapologetic and ravenous, and you felt the heat of it searing into you. “Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and cutting. “All dolled up, hoping I’d notice. Hoping I’d take one look at you and decide to ruin you.”

Your breath caught as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His smirk deepened, cruel and knowing, like he could see right through you

“You’re not even trying to deny it,” he went on, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. “The second I called, you came running, didn’t you? Like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Danny…” you murmured, the plea barely audible, your voice trembling under the weight of his words. Your cheeks burned, humiliation mingling with the thrill that coursed through you, leaving you lightheaded.

He simply chuckled, watching you squirm in place as he had you exactly where he wanted you. His grip was firm, his thumb pressing down just enough to part your lips. “Ah, ah,” he chided, his voice a mockery of sweetness. “Don’t get shy on me now. You wanted this. You wanted me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, desperately, the act slipping away as soon as he called you his slut—which was exactly what you were, what you’d always be for him.

“There it is,” he murmured, satisfaction dripping from his voice. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His smirk widened, his thumb tracing the edge of your lip before dragging it down your chin, a slow, deliberate motion that made you shiver. “I can see it, you know. The way you’re squirming, the way your eyes keep flicking to my mouth like you’re imagining all the filthy things I could do to you.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words wrapped around you, tightening the coil of tension low in your belly.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dipping even lower, the edge of his accent sharpening his words. “Say you came here for me. Say you came here to let me ruin you.”

Your lips parted, the heat of his gaze pulling the words from you before you could stop them. “I did,” you whispered, voice trembling as your cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “I came here for you. I want you to ruin me.”

His hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “That’s my obedient little slut,” he murmured, a grin breaking out on his face.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, smudging your lipstick further—his kiss earlier already having ruined it—leaving a streak of red across your skin. His grin widened as his eyes followed the smear. “Such a pretty mess already. Let’s make it worse.”

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “Stick out your tongue.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you obeyed, parting your lips and letting your tongue peek out, feeling utterly exposed under his watchful, predatory stare.

He tilted his head, letting a slow stream of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you held still, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Close,” he instructed, and you did, your lips sealing around the weight of his demand.

“Swallow,” he said next, his voice sharp and deliberate, the edge of his accent making it sound even filthier.

You swallowed, the act leaving a warmth in your belly that had nothing to do with the heat of the room. His smirk grew, impossibly smug, as his thumb returned to your jaw, tilting your face further toward him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “You take orders so well, don’t you? Makes me wonder what else that filthy mouth of yours is good for.”

You whimpered under the weight of his words, your knees threatening to give out as his free hand slid down to your shoulder, then lower, fingers toying with the strap of your dress. He tugged it down slightly, just enough to bare your skin to him—revealing a few more marks he left behind a couple days ago.

“Mine,” he muttered under his breath, leaning in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, biting down gently, then harder, until you gasped. He pulled back to admire the mark blooming on your skin—a deep red imprint of his teeth.

“You look so much better when you’re marked up,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Everyone who sees these will know exactly who you belong to.”

His hand wandered back up, fingers brushing the column of your throat before tightening just enough to send a wave of heat coursing through you. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch. “Being claimed, being ruined. You’ve been craving this all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned into his touch. “Please, Danny. I want more.”

His grin turned almost cruel as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Oh, you’ll get more, sweetheart,” he promised, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Perhaps you did belong to him, but the realization wasn’t as terrifying as you’d expected. In fact, it felt strangely natural, even comforting, as you found yourself agreeing with him without hesitation. Not that you ever had the strength to resist him in the first place. You were already a goner from the first time he degraded you like no other.

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[arceus-insanity]

Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

[follows-the-bees]

When Castiel learns that it's Claire's birthday he decides to buy her something.

Angels didn't celebrate birthdays; they live for too long, and don't have the same sentimentality that humans do. But humans are built differently, their lifespans are short and there is a tendency to throw parties for the smallest of things.

Castiel didn't understand why at first, but having lived among them and not just observing from afar, he experienced firsthand the pain and suffering, but also the small moments of downtime in between. Celebrating birthdays gave humans a chance to recalibrate, enjoy their lives, the good.

Castiel once told Dean he only saw pain, but Dean talked about the world through his experiences, about how he would take all the pain, guilt, and suffering. That people, families are real. And then Castiel understood.

He has no idea what Claire would like. He was forced to posses her for only a short time when she was a kid, but time has passed and she has grown. A few years back, when Dean was mad at him, he knew mostly what to buy him, because he knew Dean, knew every inch of his body when he rebuilt him, knew his whole soul when he grabbed it tight and raised him from perdition. But his memories of Claire are more fleeting. Children's minds are slightly different than adults: both of them are just a series of emotions and moments but kids have more room for random thoughts while adults are jumbled and weighed down by all the years. Sometimes regret, anger, anxiety ruled the mind of adults, while kids had a happier disposition.

After mulling it over and not coming to any real conclusions he asks Dean where he should go to get Claire something.

"I don't know, man, she's an angsty teenager, let's go to Hot Topic."

"Will you drive me there?"

"Yeah."

They drive over and Cas stops in front of the store, taking in the faux darkness radiating out of the space. The neon colors offer a distinct otherworldlyness that perturbs him. It fits perfectly with Claire.

Dean puts a hand on his shoulder, gives a quick smile and says, "ya all right?"

Cas looks slightly up at him a crooked smile creeps on his face. "This place is perfect."

They walk in together and start browsing the shelves, Dean doesn't even notice his hand is still on Cas' shoulder, it creeps down his arm and comes to rest on his lower back.

Cas gravitates to a stuffed cat. One of Claire's memories is of a similar stuffed animal that she slept with every night. And in the morning she would tell it her dreams, kiss its nose, and tuck it back into bed to sleep longer.

He turns toward Dean. "Claire is a lot like you, both of you hide yourselves with anger. Do you think she'll like this when she's alone and allows herself to feel her emotions?" he asks, holding up the stuffed animal.

Dean takes his hand off Cas's back and moves it to cover his mouth and his blush. A nervous gesture Cas has observed. His voice is thick. "Yeah, Cas, I think she'll love it." Cas beams.

As they leave the store, Cas puts his hand on Dean's shoulder, a comforting gesture since Dean still looks sheepish. "Thank you, Dean. This is perfect."

[cryptid-killjoy]

Everything was going wild. Everything seemed fun and pretty typical until they couldn't decide if they should try and cover up the body or not. The Laveaus weren't the types to let a little crash and burn disrupt their fun. It was all part of it. Anywhere else they understood the usual rules though. They knew the aftermath murder code. Autopilot had a way of taking over. Still, if they could get away with not doing things the methodical way they'd take the out.

Scout was focused on her phone waiting her dad's answer out. Grinding someone down and eating them up was a messy and time consuming task. If they could get out of it they'd like to know for sure. Logic was telling them maybe in Feral where rules were lax it might just be okay to not go through the usual precautions. They also didn't want to do anything wrong and upset their hosts either. They just weren't used to the Feral rules, if there were any.

While all these converstions were going on between Koda, Chip, and Dale, and Jetsam not giving two shits all hovered over the stranger digging one of their eyes right out of it's sockets. Old habits died hard. He might have been dead but he noticed they were a cool color and couldn't help but want to harvest them as if he might add them to the collection he didn't have anymore. Maybe he'd start a new one?

"Weenie-balls." He was laughing. "That's the name of my new collection. I'll get a new set every Halloween. Keep 'em at your place, Chipper."

Scout broke in, "I can do it. I can keep them for you, Dad." She was trying so hard to be a part of it still wanting to be a part of his life as she watched Jet shove the wet thing into Chip's hand.

Then there was Koda who was trying to hold up under Chip's arm since he'd just been through a wreck. Chip was also still in slow-mode. Zombie-ish mode. His reflexes weren't back. He was looking at Scout like he wanted to respond but nothing was coming out. Jetsam took his silence as a yes because his hand held onto the eyeball unable to do much more quite yet.

Then there was GoGo. She came in and Dale was gazing at the sky when she came in out of nowhere and Smack!

Incoming.

Thack!

"Hey?!"

GoGo went off. She was practically barking at him. She kept going.

Dale's sore arms went up trying to protect himself but it was too late. She'd already hit him before he managed to sheild himself at all. A bloody third WOMP.

"Damn it!" Dale's body rolled and cringed away ready to jump up and ... and do... do something... he wasn't sure what... stop her he supposed but she stopped herself as he managed to roll over onto his side.

Scout stared at her as Dale managed to push himself off the ground holding his ribs, covered in the dismembered arm's splattered blood, and got his feet. It happened so fast. It had every hair on the back of her neck standing straight up. Then GoGo even yelled it out. Something about loss. It was bone chilling.

Once Dale was on his feet he limped over, red faced, wide eyed.

Dale's initial reaction was anger. Pain and anger.

Then he saw her face.

Okay, maybe he was still angry, but fuck. Then he just pushed through the pain, stormed through it actually. He hadn't wanted to move at all. The adrenaline had made him jump up and next when he saw her face, he rushed forward and forced a hug on her.

"Fuck you. Are you trying to finish me off, GoGo?"

Damn, the hug hurt. Yelling hurt. Breathing hurt. He didn't care. He squeezed her in.

"Fuck you so hard."

He groaned over her shoulder, "You push me away. I'll squeeze harder. So fuck right off. I'm staying here."

All Scout could see was the fragility of human life, something she wasn't anymore. It was scarier than it used to be. It was the sort of subject she never thought about until her family fell apart. They used to feel so indestructible. Thomas built it back up so strong. She wasn't sure what this feeling was watching her brother and GoGo. Next to them was her zombie bit brother touched by death who caused the crash. Next to them was her actually dead parental who she'd been dying to see for years now, missing him, and conflicted feelings were still stirring. She watched him not pay attention fully focused on gouging out that second retina from the socket.

Before she could get much deeper in those thoughts her phone went off and Thomas's text came in. It shook her back to the present.

"Okay guys. Dad says it's not a big deal to just dump it here. GoGo's probably right. We can just blame it on a zombie. Looks like we don't have to take the time out for disposal here. We're good guys." She said taking the lead on the situation which under normal circumstances would have been a much bigger situation had they been anywhere else.

Jetsam stood up with his second eyeball in his hand grinning, "Told ya guys. Fuck it all." Then he kicked the corpse's eyeball-less head.

She saw Koda looking behind him and she gave him a little peace sign with her fingers, bursting the bubble with her tongue. She watched her own rearview mirror and playfully moved to swerve next to the VW, her open window meaning that she could reach across and ruffle Dale’s curls.

After that, GoGo sped on ahead, feeling her groove the same way that Kuzco did when he had a guitar in hand, the same way that Valerie did with a microphone, the same way that Delta did when she had her wings out, the same way Frank did as he kicked at a suspended reporter, making his body sway on the hooks while he read.

GoGo had been a girl who fell in love with cars, a real engine geek, and didn’t have much love left over for people. Not even her family. Once it was clear that they weren’t going to understand her, that they were going to try to dictate her life as if she was anyone else, she had given up on them. They became roommates. They didn’t do family dinners, or going out together, or even celebrations of birthdays.

It had taken a while for the Laveaus to permeate through that. It wasn’t even as if Go-Go had big walls up, the way that Elsa did, trying to protect herself or thinking that she was protecting others. She just hadn’t even realized that there was a door that they could even knock on. But it had opened and - now, she couldn’t imagine a world without them, the same way she couldn’t imagine a world without cars.

Loud music coming out of stereos, the noises blending together during the split seconds that they were near one another. Her eyes would dart over to see who it was, and would make faces over at Scout if it was her, and then would chuckle to herself. Her heart was beating with the engine, almost feeling like they were one. As she went up in speed, plowing through a zombie or two, only flipping on the windshield wipers as her reaction, she thought to herself, ‘This is better than masturbating.’

Unlimited speed. No cops. No sirens. No one telling her to slow down. If someone got in the way, hit them. This is just what the Autobahn must be like.

The sounds of gunshots weren’t even unwelcome. They echoed through the empty streets, with no one looking out windows, or running for cover. They would be heard up from the tower, where Frank and Delta were busy, but weren’t bothering them much either. As long as it wasn’t pointed towards them, or their people, Frank didn’t give a fuck. He was too deep in … well, a fuck.

She would have kept going when Dale was out of the window, but realized a moment or two later when there weren’t any more headlights in her rearview mirrors. Curiously, she turned her own car around and encroached on the scene. She had her own window down and climbed out through her window, exactly like Dale had been sitting when he had been ejected.

It was rough seeing Dale laying on the ground, like a piece of roadkill. It was rough seeing Chip behind the crumpled hood of the car, the windshield broken, pieces of glass. It triggered something in her. She couldn’t move for a moment. It felt like she was underwater. She could just about hear the garbled voice of Dale talking to Scout, and Chip’s eyes being open as Koda got him out of the car.

Tadashi. The outline of him, the silhouette, against the fire as he had run in like he thought that he was fireproof. Like he was immortal. Like he was a goddamn hero. The situations were different but the feelings were the same in that moment, a clenching around her heart and her stomach, a sense of loss. Everyone was, thankfully, preoccupied with the twins and the body and texting while she had her moment or two of panic before she felt like she was able to breathe again.

She wasn’t thinking the clearest though. She climbed off of the car door, walking around the glass-littered ground, the blood-soaked asphalt in her bare feet, and approached Dale, still on the ground. The panic was still in her eyes, the tenseness of her bones, all of it. And what she did was lean down and gave Dale’s head a smack.

“You don’t get to come close to dying, do you hear me?” She said, and then realized that her own little hand was barely going to do anything to Dale’s head, not through those curls anyway. She took a short march towards the dead body, picked up an arm that had been driven over, detatched at the shoulder, and then used that arm to hit Dale again. “You stupid, egg-headed shitpuddle!”

After hitting him a third time with the arm, she threw it down and then ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it out of her face to try to calm herself, taking deep breaths. “I’m not losing another friend,” She said in a quieter tone this time. It was only then that she seemed to realize what she had done. That there was a detatched arm beside her that had been attached to a body only seconds ago. She leaned down and then wiped her hand on Dale’s shirt because she wasn’t going to do it to her own dress.

While this was happening, Scout’s phone would get a text. Thomas was paying attention to his drunk wife, but also to his phone because he had meant what he had said when he offered to pick Ches up, all she had to do was text. Same with Scout, but that went without saying.

‘If Chip doesn’t want to eat it, I’m sure just tossing it into a sewer or something is fine? Just don’t leave a big mess.’

Go-Go was coming down from that short-lived panic attack. It hadn’t gone full blown, just enough for her to go full-throttle rather than her more subdued self. She was a bit embarrassed so decided to gloss over what she had just done rather than address it, and move onto the next topic.

“If anyone asks, zombies did it?”

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Wicked the movie thoughts - spoiler version

I went to see Wicked today! If you want to read a spoiler free edition of what I thought you can do that here but otherwise below the cut I am going to talk in a lot of detail about the show and share my thoughts - they're overwhelmingly positive!! I loved this movie, I love this musical, and I have a lot of thoughts to discuss, I'm welcoming conversations about things I say or about stuff I didn't say but that you want to talk about let's absolutely chat, and this is all the way through going to contain spoilers for the plot but also for specific details, scenes, acting, etc, of the new movie so be warned if you don't want to read that

First of all, the genuine love and care that was put into the show and that can be seen not only in the acting but in the set, the music, in every aspect the care and the adoration for the theatre production was so clear, it was so lovingly crafted from the word go. I also felt like not only Wicked the musical but also Oz, in the original Wizard of Oz novel, in the Wicked novel, in the world and in everything that Gregory Maguire brought to the world, and so on and so forth was being treated with such care and being genuinely revered whilst also balancing well enough that I didn't feel like I was only ever seeing rehashes of existing material or a carbon copy of the past

Even as I was watching and thinking this, and thinking how well they had captured the feeling of watching something on stage, I was still wondering how they were possibly going to execute the Emerald City and the One Short Day performance because it's so iconic and so distinct in the musical but genuinely I was so impressed with the success of that scene. It both captured the essence of One Short Day on stage and added something new to it without taking anything away from the original and they deserve so much praise for that. I'm going to talk a little bit about the nail salon scene later when I discuss propaganda in Wicked (this is gonna be a looooooong post y'all buckle up) but other than that for One Short Day I just need to address, because how could I not, IDINA MENZEL AND KRISTEN CHENOWORTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't know they were going to be there!!!!!!!!!! I was losing my goddamn mind you guys omg

I was genuinely astonished. Like I'd seen them doing press and stuff but I assumed that was just because their names are so synonymous with Wicked I didn't realise they were actually going to be there!!

I really enjoyed the small stage production about the Wise Ones and the Grimmerie it was brilliant in concept and execution for worldbuilding and lore but KRISTEN AND IDINA OMG wonderful oh my gosh. Now was it on the nose? Absolutely. But I don't think that it felt forced, I thought that if you didn't know who they were then even when Chenoworth was singing to Grande and Menzel was singing to Eviro then it still wouldn't have felt strange or out of place, but of course I'm looking at it through the lens of a fan receiving fan service so generally speaking even though I know it's fanservice I'm still going to enjoy it and it's possible that through another's eyes it would feel different. I thought it was brilliant though and nothing will take that away from me

I think it's fair to say that the pacing of Wicked is kind of messed up and I have heard concern that because of that the act 2 movie will struggle; pacing of act 2 does get messy, but I cannot fault them in any way for splitting it into two movies ok because this was spectacular and I would not want to cut a single thing from it so yeah that's kind of all my thoughts on that point; I think that even if act 2 is harder to bring to screen that it can still be done in a high quality and successful way and especially after watching part 1 today I absolutely trust that this production can do that

I'm gonna now hop right back to No-One Mourns the Wicked (the pacing of this post is gonna be worse than the pacing of wicked). I was slightly concerned that Ariana Grande's intense recognisable-ness was going to take something away from the show because it would be hard to see the character she was playing rather than just Ariana Grande singing, if that makes sense, but from as early as No-One Mourns the Wicked my concerns were alleviated. Glinda is not an easy character to play, in my opinion, and she's not an easy character to play because she acts incredibly melodramatic in everything she does whilst her genuine emotions are incredibly subtle. What I saw in both Grande and Erivo was how fantastic their micro-expressions are and how much they can tell the audience with one or two features, often the eyes, alone. In No-One Mourns the Wicked , Galinda genuinely believes and will presumably continue to believe for the rest of her life that Elphaba is dead. And throughout her performance of the song, I more than once found it visibly notable that Glinda was on the verge of tears. She was smiling, she was singing, she was moving gracefully with her typical accentuated and dramatic movements, but the pain in her eyes was remarkable. This was a woman who believed that the only person she had ever had a genuine emotional connection with was dead, a woman who had lost not only someone she had manufactured a relationship with (Fiyero) and convinced herself that she was happy with what she knew was a false pretence of love to receive from, but also the only person in the world who had ever shown her real love and was finally being confronted by the fullest extent of the choices she had made but having to keep everything light and cheerful because of those very choices. Did that make sense? I hope I'm not just spouting nonsense. One of the most emphasised moments of this for me was when this massive effigy of Elphaba and one of the munchkinland residents hands Glinda the torch to light it; there's this blink and you miss it moment where Glinda looks at the torch, at the effigy, then back to the man who held it out to her, who's watching her expectantly, before she turns and tosses it on with a sense of urgency. Not only is this alone powerful, but I also think it's powerful that she throws the torch instead of standing at the effigy and taking care to set it alight firstly because she may not be able to bring herself to do so but also in a way that may be reflective of their relationship and the story: Glinda does not outrightly attack or harm Elphaba but she makes the choices that she makes, she throws her torch and whatever burns will burn.

I also felt that she captured the comedic elements of Glinda fantastically, with one of my favourite moments being when she melodramatically collapses kneeling in front of the bed as though she is sobbing into the quilt but just sits there perfectly still and the camera just stares at her for a few moments before she peeks up over her shoulder to see if Elphie's looking. The difference we can see between these two sides of Glinda's character was very well executed and I think we also see something of her more vulnerable side in some of these comedic moments, because ultimately she does (I'm going to talk about this later) feel unloved because of how shallow all of her relationships are and even in melodramatic, foolish or naive moments like the throwing herself on the duvet cover she is actively seeking attention because she equates attention to love - she so desperately claws her way to attention and popularity because she feels unloved and she thinks that this is love, so when it doesn't give her the feeling she was searching for she becomes convinced that it was because she doesn't have enough of it yet and she needs more. I thought that she was incredibly well captured and presented from all angles with her very many layers being well laid out.

Again with the insane jumping around but let's just dive headfirst into a couple of little details that I noticed whilst I'm thinking about them - during the Wizard and I when Elphaba is imagining her success and her dream she runs through a cornfield!! As though she is running towards Fiyero!!! I loved it. Like it's so tiny, but I love it. Another tiny one - loved the silver shoes for Nessa as a hark to the original book wherein the magic slippers were silver, but then in Popular when Glinda is going through her wardrobe and pulling out all these different options she gives Elphaba a pair of ruby red slippers and then decides against them and throws them away again!! Loved it as a teeny little reference. I also really lovedddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd and this one is more meaningful to the story but when Elphie has her magic outburst at Shiz right at the start where she sends Nessa into the air and stuff gets thrown everywhere, there's a statue on the wall of the Wizard that gets smashed. When it smashes, it's briefly visible that beneath the statue the wall was originally painted with a mural of animal scholars!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVED this detail, I was BUZZING. Like you saw it long enough to see what it was, there were three animals with a bear in the middle and I think the bear was wearing maroon robes and they were all clearly scholars

My personal theories on this is that either they were highly valued intellectual alumni of Shiz or that they founded the school, however there mya be lore standing on them that I am unaware of I started reading the book a long time ago and never finished it (I really want to read it but I haven't got around to it yet. I read enough to know what happened to Dr Dillimond in the book but I don't remember a lot after that)

Speaking of Dr Dillimond, I'm not sure if I just missed a detail or something implicit but I wasn't sure that they gave any real explanation as to why the poppies didn't knock Fiyero out????

On Fiyero: Johnathon Bailey understands Fiyero so well and it was brilliant. His performance very much took in the different layers of the character and the split between what he presents to the world and the intensity of the emotions he hides. Fiyero experiences emotion so intensely and feels such an intense response to others' emotions as well, and I think that you could really tell that whilst not feeling like anything was being taken away from the charismatic charming persona that you knew he was putting on. One of my favourite moments between him and Elphaba in this was when she siad something along the lines of 'you aren't as shallow and self-loving as I thought' and he replies something along the lines of 'how dare you? I genuinely love myself and I am deeply shallow' and I love this not only because his humour is enjoyable and his defence mechanisms are interesting but also because she immediately breaks through and says no, you're unhappy.

I promised thoughts on Dancing Through Life so whilst we're on Fiyero -> I don't at all intend to say that Bailey isn't a good singer because he is, I just thought that to some degree his voice didn't stand out from the chorus' voices in the same way that Erivo's and Grande's do and so the song did necessarily have the same bite to it as some of the others did/ That isn't to say that it wasn't a fantastic scene, because it was, and I loved the choreography and I was obsessed with the spinning bookshelves and all of it, the bringing the beat of the song in through the movement of the books was brilliant, and again he is a good singer and I think that having the actor's own voice in the movie is almost always the right decision

Okay I am going to make a post on its own about this as well because this is really long and I am so deeply obsessed with this I want to give it a chance to get proper discussion but one of my favourite propaganda-related details of this movie was Elphaba's nails. Yes, you read that right. Her nails.

In all of the imagery and posters of the 'Wicked Witch of the West' she is very often leaning forwards with her hands strangely position in the foreground and then her face behind them so your focus is drawn very quickly to the hands. In these images, her nails are always presented as extravagantly long, sharp, and claw-like. So in a world where animals are discriminated against and being used as the common enemy long before Elphaba is used as that enemy it's so fascinating that the dehumanisation of Elphaba has emphasis on her hands appearing strange or 'unnatural' and it makes me think of the line in Something Bad 'It's enough to give pause to anyone with paws' because that's where the emphasis on this distinction lies with no-one but humans having limbs that resemble hands - having Elphaba presented effectively as though she has claws in a world where animals are discriminated against and actively silenced, especially since she advocated against that silencing. And something I really enjoyed after having noticed the long nails in the posters during No-One Mourns the Wicked is that throughout the movie Elphaba has unapologetically long, beautiful nails that in a truly wonderful subtle aspect of Erivo's acting we get the sense she cares about even though they are never discussed. When she and Glinda go to the Emerald City we see this montage of their day during One Short Day and one of the things they do is go to a nail salon and we see Elphaba excitedly showing off to Glinda her long pretty nails that she loves so much and that make her feel pretty. Again this is such a massive testament to Erivo's acting skills because there's no dialogue about it but we know that she is so excited and we know that this is one of very few times that Elphie has felt pretty, she loves her nails. And they get used so horrifyingly against her. The nail salon is such a brief, subtle moment but it's so very well executed. There's also an earlier scene where she's alone with Madame Morrible practicing magic and when she reaches out to make the hand movements the camera cuts to show the shadow of her hand and it creates this emphasis on the length of her nails and how because of the shape of her hand midway through the movement the image looks like a claw or like a very stereotypical evil witch hands sort of thing. I also think that this moment is particularly powerful bc she's alone with Morrible and everything that Elphie does under Morrible's instruction is perfectly natural but what is seen on Morrible's stationary on the desk below her is representative of the propaganda that Morrible will turn the actions that she forced Elphaba to do into.

Also more propaganda stuff I could talk about the use of the word 'witch' for all goddamn eternity so I'm not going to hark on about it now but I will say that a piece of media like this one cannot be created today without acknowledgemnt of the difference between the word 'wtich' and the word 'wizard' and how they are presented, and I think that this was really interestingly handled in the word 'witch' not being said in the prequel aspect of it until Morrible labels her 'this Wicked Witch'.

Okay I think this is going to be what I finish off with but if you know this account you know that I LOVE a parallel and I was obsessed with the parallel drawn between family dynamics in Elphie's relationship with Nessa and her father, and then with the family that she's looking for and briefly thinks she could find with Morrible, the wizard, and Glinda. Yeoh said in an interview that Morrible's betrayal is realising that the mother figure isn't who you thought she was. Madame Morrible becomes Elphaba's maternal figure, and to her living memory realistically her only maternal figure, from very early on and this maternal view of her that we have through Elphaba's eyes is very much existent by the time we reach Sentimental Man, wherein the idea of the Wizard being able to offer her some kind of paternal love, that she has never felt because her relationship with her father is so fraught, is brought forth. Sentimental Man was very well performed in my opinion, it was the right decision to keep it low and subtle and close because it created this very specific closeness between Elphie and the Wizard and we felt what she felt, which was the exact manipulation that the Wizard wanted her to feel. When Madame Morrible enters the scene we then have both of these parental-style figures present telling Elphaba how precious she is, how amazing she is, how much they believe in her - essentially all these different things that she has been denied her entire life. What I find particularly fascinating about this is that what gets created here is exactly Elphaba's existing family dynamic - because Glinda is there too. This is what Elphaba always wanted - a motherly figure, a fatherly figure, and a sisterly figure - but it still comes at the expense of the sister. Glinda is being actively diminished and put down whilst Elphaba is raised and complimented for the purpose of manipulation and to be used for their purposes rather than existing for herself, just as her father diminishes and hurts her whilst complimenting and idolising Nessa but also manipulating her & never allowing her to live her own life. There's a moment where they're all stood around the grimmerie to get the four of them in shot with Elphie looking over the book, Morrible encouragingly at her side, the Wizard watching on from behind, and Glinda leaning over Elphie's other side to try and squeeze herself into the picture and I think that this still alone captures the entire thing so very well.

In a way, this is why Glinda turned round - without Elphie there, she gets love. When Elphaba had parental figures over her and no Nessa present to be better than her, she felt loved; when Glinda has parental figures over her and no Elphaba present to be better than her, she feels loved. The fundamental difference between them in the moment of choice is arguably that Elphaba's love for others, primarily Nessa, will always be stronger than her need for love from others, whereas Glinda's need for love from others will always be stronger than her love for others, primarily Elphaba.

In this moment, Glinda's warped distinction between love and popularity, as I discussed it earlier, is finally put to direct test and even though she loves Elphie and is loved by her in a way that she has arguably never been loved (we saw just how shallow her relationship with her parents was upon the arrival at Shiz. It's as shallow as her friendships at Shiz and romance with Fiyero.) she chooses popularity because she has somehow convinced herself that superficial love from many is better than genuine love from few. Elphaba's love for Glinda is probably the most genuine affection she's experienced in her entire life - but it doesn't come from authority. Elphaba's love isn't coming from someone who can raise Glina up or give her advantages and ultimately she is always seeking the approval of authority, possibly because she felt like she never received it from the authority that was her parents when she was a child, and she finds that feeling in Morrible and the Wizard, and arguably in the power that Fiyero's family could give her as well.

Okay super quick additions that i just remembered:

I loved loved loved the addition of her falling from the palace and seeing young Elphaba in the reflection and once again so freaking much could be said about the strength of Erivo's acting here it was truly beautiful and I found it like genuinely nerve-wracking even though I knew she obvs had to make it and the song wasn't over yk but yeah it was fantastic

When Elphaba's running from the soldiers & the flying monkeys just after the monkeys have been told to attack her and Glinda is chasing after her. They go through a narrow corridor of the palace lined by windows, and the wall are made of green brick. The sunset beyond casts pink light through every window. Every window is pink, all the walls are green. Elphaba is running and Glinda is following, trying to tell her to come back to the Wizard. As they run the flying monkeys start smashing the windows, so for every pace that they take THE PINK SHATTERS AND ONLY THE GREEN IS LEFT BEHIND. They are running towards Defying Gravity and for every step closer to it they become the less intertwined the colours are. The pink shatters and the green is left behind. It was visual poetry.

Okay I hope that this insane rambling made sense, I was partially transcribing this from voicenotes I sent to my friends when I got back after the movie and they actually got more than this so apologies to them and thank you for indulging me, and thank you to anyone who has bothered to read this lol I hope it was interesting - overall, excellent movie and I loved it!! Already can't wait for part 2

[eponymous-rose]

Some (many) thoughts on Arcane s2 while it's still fresh in my mind:

(tw: discussion of fictional depictions of suicide)

I'm gonna do some nitpicking here, but only because I really did like it overall - I think for me s1 was a solid 10/10 and this season was an 8.5/10, so I'm certainly looking forward to rewatching it! The animation was a big step up from s1's incredible work, the music was great, the performances were fantastic. I do think the overall writing/story fell down a bit, though.

It's weird, because my go-to when character arcs feel rushed is to want more episodes, but I don't think that necessarily would have solved my issues with this season.

Cait turned on Ambessa on a dime - we love to see it, but I think we maybe needed a few more overt hints of her discomfort with her position, maybe a sense of wrongness in their adoptive relationship and some parallels with Jinx & Silco given what Vi says early on ("why are you the one acting like her?"). Ambessa believes her daughter to be lost, and Cait has lost a mother - they were certainly playing on that substitution, but the eventual turn, while fun, felt a bit quick and unearned. I saw someone joke about the word "Cupcake" flipping Cait back like a sleeper agent, but that's kinda how abrupt things felt.

I think Mel's plot largely hung together okay, although it was pretty disconnected from everyone except Ambessa - would've loved to have seen some acknowledgement that Cait was filling her shoes as Daughter for a while there.

Isha was sweet and I liked the parallels with the Powder-Vi relationship (LOVED Jinx running with the pink chalk and Isha with the blue), but I think the sacrifice metaphor got a little muddled. The parallels with Powder charging in and killing everyone around her, versus Isha charging in and saving everyone but herself felt a little forced and I struggled to see how they served the greater narrative. The whole point of Powder's failure was a messy combination of bad luck, overcompensating for what she perceived as a lack of confidence in her, etc. Isha had Jinx's confidence on her side, I guess, and now of course we have the foreshadowing of Jinx dying to save someone else, which she's been trying to do since Act II.

Suicide was a pretty heavy concept throughout the first season. We had the parallels of Jayce and Viktor, we had the little-remarked-upon moment where Viktor hesitates before cutting the wire on Jinx's bomb. I actually think this season did pretty well with those two (although I'll talk about a couple things that irked me below), but the concept that we can't escape the things that we've done and we instead have to find salvation in those around us felt kind of contrary to Jinx's finally finding a way to die for her sister. I don't know that Jinx's story was necessarily supposed to feel satisfying or complete, but without another season there's not much to dig through there.

And that brings up the main reason I don't think more episodes would have resolved my quibbles with this season: it was pretty prone to overexplaining. To me, one of the most exceptional things about that first season was how little it explained. You had these gorgeous, evocative flashes of Vander trying to kill Silco, Silco stabbing him and fleeing into the night, and that's all we needed! That's it! We didn't need to know the specifics, we didn't need more backstory than that - the whole point of the season was that these kids are trying to make their own stories, and these guys have set the stage and are in the process of bowing out. Much as I loved the glimpses this season into the past generation's adventures, it felt like it was pinning something down that was more effectively left to the imagination.

There were also some weird fumbles with discussions of disability, especially in that last episode. I loved so much of what season one did with it - the older generation of Zaunites almost all had some form of disability due to the way they'd been systematically poisoned and their constant exposure to danger, and that was a really in-your-face way to challenge the early "why can't we all get along" stuff. And so much of Viktor's and Jayce's arcs are tied in with the sense of time running out and how Heimerdinger's long-term goals are incompatible with helping the people suffering right now. But instead we get this weird "you didn't like your imperfections so you tried to eliminate all imperfections", which doesn't quite ring true.

We just fundamentally didn't get to a resolution that I think was heavily implied, especially in Act II. "No one in power is innocent" is a great, raw line, but we didn't really see it play out. Instead, we have everyone stopping from othering each other in order to band together against an even bigger Other. As a side note, I don't think that Sevika's ending is meant to be a positive thing - we see from the skeptical looks of others that she's got a long road ahead. The revolution we saw coming just sort of fizzled out, and I think it's still on the horizon, which makes things feel incomplete.

There were also a lot of notes that repeated instead of echoing or harmonizing. We had variations on the theme of Vander dying three different times. We had Vi being unable to kill her sister several times. The repetition felt a bit like it was filling time instead of moving things forward the way s1's plot kept pushing.

This season is also the first time I felt the hand of League of Legends Canon shoving the plot into place. We knew Vi was heading for that enforcer uniform, but after the initial conflict it sometimes felt more like we just unlocked a new skin for the character. The Vander-as-Warwick stuff was kind of silly and out of left field, although it was executed pretty well and certainly pulled at the ol' heartstrings. Ekko getting his time abilities was fun and impacted the final fight, but I feel like we were missing something there as well that I'm having a harder time putting my finger on. Some of Viktor's lines felt designed to make the League players in the audience go "HE SAID THE THING". And I hate the feeling of setting up the Next Installment in the Cinematic Universe, probably just because I'm exhausted with Marvel stuff - I'd love for an adaptation like this to be able to really and truly stand on its own.

Overall, it just felt less like the characters were driving the story and more like they were ticking off boxes, which is just something that any good finale has to contend with one way or another.

Anyway, that's a lot of nitpicking. Fundamentally, this felt almost like it was a really strong fic that did a surprisingly good job of wrapping everything up and was stunningly put together in places... but still lacked the spark of the original.

Stuff I loved: Vi/Cait getting a pretty strong arc and certainly the first lesbian sex scene I've ever seen in a TV-14 cartoon. Animation and score was stunning. I did love the what-if of episode 7 - something I've been waiting for them to acknowledge is that literally everything that happens in the show follows from that one break-in during episode one. I actually think Vi and Jinx's reunion and reconciliation felt earned.

I'm curious how I'll feel on subsequent rewatches - the first time I watched s1, I remember being blown away but not in a "this is the best thing ever" way, and it wasn't until the second time that it really clicked for me.

[prncssie]

TWO ⎯⎯ ★ s. ryomen m. list

content warning minors and trump supporters do not interact. neither are welcome here. in this specific chapter, it gets suggestive towards the end but there is no on page smut. you can expect consensual groping in a public setting and "dick" is written once. also, the bouncer is described as creepy and acts as such but his appearance is short

WHEN I GROW UP

you thought when you strolled through the glass doors of an acting agency, — a grand building lined with glass walls, allowing the sunlight to filter into the lobby — you’d be greeted with warm smiles and maybe even a mint. this is not what you were expecting. it smells clean, citrusy, like fresh squeezed lemons and pine. the hardwood flooring, tan and matte, are smooth beneath your new balances. it’s nearly glittering a pathway guiding you to the front desk. your resume, shielded behind the manilla folder, is tucked tightly to your chest. you’ve even worn your best off-duty outfit, aiming for something simple to show off your spark. a black tube top and black jeans, perfect for forcing focus to your face full of sweet features, dollike and docile enough to render a certain impression on camera, you hope.

“hi,” you speak soft at first, a smile gracing your mouth when the receptionist lifts her head. “yeah, um, my name is ⭐︎ and i heard you had an open call today.” you can’t help the way your shoulders inch up towards your ear, a subconscious way of making yourself smaller, biting away at the ball of white hot nervousness rolling in the base of your tummy. “i was hoping to get in on that.”

it’s a shame her blonde bun is pulled so tight, straining what little polite receptors she has in her system because all the receptionist does is size you up with so much of a twitch of her glossed lips. she doesn’t smile when she slaps the clipboard atop the reflective material of the black desk. “sign here,” for a millisecond, if you'd even count it that, her lips pull tight upwards before she’s returning to whatever she was doing before, nails clacking against the keyboard. “head down that hall to the left. they’ll give you a number. wait for it to be called.”

as soon as you’re finished scribbling the black gen pen down on the white sheet, boxes full of signatures, pages stacked on over the other, she takes it back with a flat palm, dragging it over the open space. “break a leg.” and then it’s as if you were never there. you fade into the background. perhaps in her eyes, you’ve dissipated into light particles. “thanks so much,” is all you can say, lifting your eyebrows with an unamused grin, “brenda.” you catch her name off the nameplate as you leave.

this has to be normal, right? it’s not like hospitality comes with the service, if you can even call it that. people are snobby, thinking their proximity to the stars gives them some sort of privilege or immunity. sure, you wouldn’t normally take such disrespect or disregard for you as a person but maybe you could consider it as a good thing. a blessing in disguise, a side effect of success. this is the closest you’ve been to being in something bigger than yourself, an open call for anything other than a commercial for whole milk or sponsorship from some website.

you have to believe it. otherwise . . .

down the hall and the left, right? you couldn’t miss it if you tried. the bodies milling about give enough clue as to what was going on, numbers taped and pinned to shirts, pants, skirts. the jitters that you swallowed, or tried to, threaten to break free, itching just below the surface of your skin. your mouth is dry but far too wet at the same time. are you drooling? but when your hand lifts to your lips, disguised as checking for lipgloss rolling too far out of place, you don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. still, with each step  closer to the check-in table, your brain cannot stop formulating new possibilities of embarrassment. you could trip, you could forget your lines, you could throw up. none of it’s helping, especially when they’re looking at you with such expecting gazes. getting the number is the easy part, though. all you have to do is write your name down and pick it up. alike many of the others, you opt to tape it, pressing the sticky adhesive into the denim of your pants.

you find yourself in your own desolate space in the hallway, stuck between warm bodies rehearsing their lines and casting sparing glances at the competition around them. you’re unsure where to look. there’s nothing particularly beneficial about staring down the other wannabe actors around you but the idea of focusing so hard on the tiling doesn’t seem too idealistic, either. you’ve always been told it’s best to stand tall anyway, pushing an aura of confidence, even if it’s fake.

and so you do for as long as you stand there. you push your shoulders back and force all that tension between your shoulder blades, straightening your posture for as long as the situation demands. evidently, until your casting is over and you get to return home.

it’s a slow process, slower than you think it would be. you were sure when you left work a few hours ago that you’d have enough time to rinse the smell of fryer grease and burgers off your skin — you’ve since replaced it with silky strawberry lotion and powdery vanilla perfume — and arrive with more than enough time to spare. of course, you did hope it wouldn’t take too long, maybe an hour or two to finish the whole thing. however, when you pull your phone out of your little black prada shoulder bag, you learn that more than three hours have passed.

that’s a ridiculous amount of time to stand, waiting as others go into that room and leave with smiles on their faces or tears in their eyes. sometimes, they don’t have an expression at all. they simply open that heavy door and wander down the hallway, leaving an air of mystery as to what could have happened. you like to fantasize, making up stories about each person and what they could have possibly done to fail. it’s your only entertainment, one that sends you into a trance-like state as you watch and eye each passerby.

it works for a while, dulling your boredom while you wait for your turn. you would have missed the sudden whispery uproar if it weren’t for the girl beside you. her hair brushes against your arm when she turns her head to whisper to the person next to you. instinctively, you cover the tickled area with your palm and look over, bringing your attention closer to the chatter. it’s bit unexpected how suddenly it rises. in just a few minutes, the dull crowd, tired of standing and waiting, begins to buzz with excitement. around you, people whisper, eyes gawking and following figures moving through the hall.

at first glance, it doesn’t take you long to identify just who is attracting all this uproar. even if people weren’t damn near pointing at the hulking figure disregarding his attention, you’d recognize him regardless. it’s hard to miss the dyed pink hair, black roots peaking just below the tufts. his undercut is just as crisp as the pictures, fresh from recent maintenance. there’s a smirk tugging at his lips, arrogant and knowing, like all the attention he’s receiving simply strokes his ego, filling up his head with pride. he walks in a saunter, fingers wrapped around his phone and tilting his head in the onlookers direction. you can get glimpses of his iconic black gel polish, catching the glimmer of the overhead lighting.

sukuna ryomen, one of the greatest stars in the industry at this very moment. the it boy, the icon, the muse of most directors. you could be seeing too far into things when he passes you, but for a second, when your eyes make contact, there’s a particular . . . tension. perhaps you’re imagining it, a warped notion in your head that blended reality with fantasy, but his eyebrows furrow, just slightly. they twitch, jumping upwards before letting you become one with the rest of his admirers.

“ – role in another movie,” it’s a whisper coming from beside you, a comment made in his wake, after he had already made his appearance and left a notable impact. “that’s what i heard, at least. i think it’s a thriller. some psychological shit.”

a thriller? the sukuna ryomen in a thriller? it’s been a while since there’s been a movie you’be been genuinely excited to see but the prospect of such a big name with an equally big aura taking on a role like that? you’re already itching with anticipation at the thought. you wish you could be there, watch him rehearse his lines, see how he prepares for the role. there’s endless lessons you an take out of his book but you’ll never have the chance. not as long as you’re just someone auditioning and he’s at the top of the ranks.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

“no, cherry. i’m not getting the role.” you’re shoving airpods into your ears as you dejectedly make your way out the building. you pull your bag even farther on your shoulder, ignoring the harsh squeals your shoes make when you don’t entirely lift them off the ground. it’s what they deserve anyway, this whole company, after throwing you to the side like that. it contrasts with the clicks of heels and draws judging glares towards you but you ignore them. they’re nothing and they mean nothing after setting up such a massive event, one that you spent weeks preparing for, just for it to be pointless. “turns out, they already had someone in mind. it’s such —,” you pause, just long enough to step outside the glass doors, “such bullshit.”

“aw, honey,” her sweet southern drawl does little to comfort you as warm as it is. if anything, the empathy dripping from it riles you up further. she means well, truly. cherry is as disappointed as you are. in the short span of working together, she’s become something of a confidant, the only person who knows your goals of reaching the stars. it’s not a secret you hold close to your heart for any particular reason. it’s just . . . well, it’s just this. no one wants people to know about their setbacks. you wouldn’t find any joy in sharing your worst failures.

cherry is different, though. she’s kind about it. she has a big heart, keeping in negative comments she might have to herself. besides, cherry has a dream, too, to walk in fashion week. it was a drunken confession, sitting on the floor of your studio apartment after consuming enough white wine to send you both into fits of giggles. you considered it a housewarming.

“how do you know that? did they tell you?” she has to raise her voice over the beeping fryer alarm and the rustling around her. of course in normal cherry fashion, she picks up the phone during work hours when business is slow and she has time to waste.

“they don’t have to tell me for me to know.” you want to press your hands into your eyes, perhaps lay down beneath your sheets and hide away from the world until the fury building inside withers away. “i went in there and did my audition. they were all like ‘oh, ⭐︎, you did so good. you look so cute on camera, you’re so talented’,” you raise your voice a couple octaves to mock the casting directors, rolling your brown eyes in tandem with your words. “that’s not what they actually said but whatever. the point is, some girl walks in and they’re all over her.”

you click your tongue in a fluid motion, scrolling through the app library in search of whichever rideshare app you’ve downloaded since moving out here. with what little income you make, there’s no way you’ll be able to afford a car for the next couple of months, or even years in this economy. a ten minute ride back to your home is nothing compared to the cost of car payments and gas. “i’ve never seen her before, which is the crazy part. i don’t remember what they said her name was. edamame, uraume, whatever the fuck.”

“wait, no. i’ve heard of that name before. i’m pretty sure she was in that show with that guy.” for a moment, you hear her pause, presumably directing her attention to someone else. “yeah, honey. i’ll be right with you, m’kay? listen, ⭐︎, i gotta go, but i’ll see you tonight. we’re still on for tonight, right? i’ll take you out to this place i know. you’ll love it. i hear lotsa famous people go there. maybe you’ll meet someone who can get you a fancy role.”

your eyes settle on the dark colored sedan underlined with an identifying combination of letters and numbers. it’s only a couple dollars and you have the money to spare. you didn’t feel particularly inclined to walk those couple blocks, anyway. you find her words sort of . . . comforting, now. as optimistic as such a small possibility seems, the idea of simply running into someone worthwhile all while dancing the night away excites you. as unlikely as such an easy shortcut to success is, you still consider the small chance to be a chance at all.

“yeah, okay,” you respond with a distant sounding voice as you navigate through the nine dollar payment. it takes a few seconds for the screen to reload, proposing you begin to make your way to the pickup location. “i’ll see you later.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

the club cherry took you to, it’s everything and nothing you expected it to be at the same time. you scrolled through pictures of the three story building on google reviews while cherry showered, filling up the small confines of her bathroom with steam and the scent of dove cucumber body wash; she insisted on you getting ready at her place after seeing the lackluster apparel hanging in your closet. you didn’t think they were that bad and yet, she parroted on and on that the bouncer would not let you in the clothes you planned on wearing. and she was right, he wouldn’t. here he stood, scrutinizing and slightly predatory gaze across each clubgoer. he took his time with the women, eyebrow quirking when someone particularly piqued his interest. gross, but expected.

it’s just as lively as you thought it would be, people milling around the entrance with id in hand. occasionally, the cars driving by would slow down and glance at the pedestrians, some gathered in groups and drunkenly skipping down the pavement. the lights are flashy, the people are giggly. it's exactly as a club scene should be. the only thing that’s missing is . . . well, the music.

you make note of it as you stand in line, arms wrapped around your body and shifting your weight from leg to leg. there’s no music, at least none you can hear. back in your little town closer to the rural edges of the countryside, you spent quite enough time at the club. you treated it as your own personal spotlight, finding great fun in putting on different personas to enchant men for the night. it could be considered where your love for acting really started, or maybe not. maybe you just sound crazy.

“okay, when we get up there,” cherry leans into you, ducking her head to get her words more clearly heard in your ear. she’s already a couple inches taller than you and with the heels on her black boots pushing her up, those inches became more than just a couple, “don’t say anythin’. well, you can speak but i’ll handle most of it. mike is real fickle. he likes to flirt with the girls and if you don’t make him happy, you don’t get in.” 

“you brought me to a place where the girls are forced to be creeped on by the bouncer for admission?”

cherry clicks her tongue at your words. she follows the flow of the line and takes a step forward, momentarily looking over her shoulder to meet your eyes. “sometimes he doesn’t make us pay.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

you’re drunk. you don’t have to ask someone to know. there’s no need for a breathalyzer, no need to hang of cherry’s shoulder and smile that pink-lipped, sugar-coated, loopy smile. the confirmation is in the way you walk. it’s in your tingling hands and your tingling lips. it’s in your airy laughter and your slurred words as you teeter across the dance floor. it’s in the way you sit now, perched on the edge of a chair and drunkenly kissing . . . someone. a girl, a guy, you don’t know. it wouldn’t make any difference really.

they’re probably just as drunk as you are, hands gripping and pulling at  your dress, or rather the dress you borrowed. in the back of your mind, you’re scowling and making note to check for snags later, considering how ungracious they’re being. so much so that you’ve been tasked with the responsibility of tugging your dress up every so often as the constant threat of your boobs slipping out. 

you’re not enjoying this, not as much as you want to be. you’re meant to loosen up, get out there, “make connections, whatever that means to you”, as cherry said in her honeyed dialect. that’s what you hoped to do, connect your mouth to another’s in a way that enthralled you in a more lustrous way, with tensions that weigh heavy in a bubble that surrounds you and makes you hungry for more.

you kind of sit there while they begin to mouth along your jawline with more tongue than you prefer. the distaste hits you strong enough you to put your hands on their shoulders after minutes of kissing starving lips. with a firm grasp, you push just slightly, politely even. you still give them that drunken smile even with the sudden detachment and rise to your feet. the base of your shoes knock against the metal leg of the chair and you stumble a few steps on your way up. “i will be right back.” you doubt your voice carries over the bass-boosted music. the beat alone vibrates the floor and rattles your brain in your skull. you both know this isn’t true, or at least you know and that’s enough for you. your toothy smile is concealed as your face falls to rest and you turn, purposefully taking a winding route through the crowd.

you lost cherry a while ago. in retrospect, she’s a bit of a terrible friend for vanishing like that so suddenly with the assumption that you’d be fine. the fault really lied in the decision that you should both drink tonight, as if two wasted girls were ever a good idea. however, it’s too late to be playing the blame game. you’re already taking wobbly strides under the strobe lights while a mixture of house and electronic plays in the background. there’s no real destination you’re heading towards. you follow the movement of the crowd, swaying and leaning. left, right, left, right.

in the moment, staying just where you are is appealing. it calls to you like a siren’s song, begging and pleading with you to stay. have another drink, kiss someone else, live under the colored lights. before you know it, you’re dancing to the music. it’s not what you’d typically listen to but when you’ve had this many shots in those cute little glasses, anything will do. your eyes are still closed as you dance, pulling moves from your mental catalog of video vixens and pop icons. it’s a mess, a flurry of arms and legs. your hair becomes an accessory, an extension of yourself, an object of seduction when you brush it out your face. your hips find the beat with ease and you find enjoyment in being alone, despite knowing you probably should be apprehensive.

it doesn’t take long before there’s a hand settled on your hip, hovering at first, waiting for permission to make contact with your skin. you spot it somehow in your drunken haze and take a hold of it without hesitation. you stamp the hand against your hip, ruffling the dress you adorn beneath their light hold. you only have a short moment to glance over your shoulder and assess the stranger you have welcomed into your one person party. he’s a pleasing sight, although slightly obscured by the blinding overhead lighting, constantly moving and flashing shades of blue, purple, and red. you catch tufts of black and pink lips upturned into a smirk.

it’s good enough for you so you turn and bend at the waist, dipping your head and letting your soft curls toss over your crown. you push the clothed and plush fat of your ass against the stiff fabric of this stranger’s jeans. you both move in an enthralling whirl. you just, met, or rather just become aware of each other’s presence, but somehow you mesh together in a balanced blend of bodies and flirtatious glances.

his hand is firm on your chest. he can feel the warmth of your bare skin where the dress leaves you exposed. he’s pleased to discover he can also feel the swell of your breasts and where they begin to deviate from your otherwise leveled skin. he has to bend at the waist to get to you, but once he does, you’re back to standing, chest to back and a grin on your face. his breath is hot on your ear and his voice is deep. it warms your drunken insides like a warm cider, thoroughly spiced. “are you here with someone?”

your feet tangle with themselves as you turn to face him. you’re careful, slow, calculating each step and maintaining your balance with a strong grip of his forearms. you squeeze and hum at the strong muscle relaxed beneath. “maybe, probably. if she’s still here.” you’re moving again, languidly resting your arm over his shoulder. “what’s your name?” you have to place a hand over the top of your head to cover your eyes from the glaring color changing lights. he looks familiar, extremely familiar. however, you’re drunk and it’s dark. you aren’t so concerned with placing a distinct name to a face and more concerned with what you’ll be calling this person you presume you’re going home with tonight.

sure, it wasn’t what you originally believed yourself to be doing. the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, nor would you do this on any other occasion but it’s your first night out in a new town. you’ve had the letdown of a century and your boss is absolute shit, never showing up to do anything but complain and order you around. with a pretty boy right at your fingertips, why should you deny yourself? just for one night, at least.

it takes him a second. you assume he doesn’t quite hear you over the music bumping in the background because he blinks, dark eyebrows drawing together just slightly, and that smirk is returning right back on his pink lips. “kuyo,” his hands downwards, smoothening under the crease of your butt.

“unusual name but whatever you say.” your eyes track him low-lidded and just barely disguising the hearts beginning to form in your eyes. he moves close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. it reeks of something strong, something like henessey cocktailed with a flurry of drinks downed without a second thought.

kuyo can only chuckle, one that goes unheard in your ears. he ignores your little comment, experimentally grazing his fingers along your body, both clothed and unclothed while gauging your reaction. and when he finds none, just your sweet smile, he continues pulling and squeezing and groping with little regard for those around you. you’re in a club. people should expect to see a little frisking. “i don’t like beating around the bush and i’m sure you’re a smart girl so you know what i’m gonna say. do you want to go back with me or not? we’d have to go to yours though. roommates.”

you almost laugh. there’s already a giggle building in your throat at his sheer audacity. kuyo didn’t even ask. he didn’t suggest, didn’t pose a question. he simply invited himself over, granted, that’s if you let him. usually, you’d pull back. you’d scoff in kuyo’s face, shake your head and disappear, never to be seen again. but his hands, they’re so strong. and his shoulders are so broad, and his chest is so firm, and his smile is so— “this better be the best night of my life, pretty boy.”

he gives one final squeeze to your midsection, savoring that feeling of plush skin molding around his fingers. the next time kuyo feels it, he knows it’ll be without these silly restrictions such as clothes and peering eyes. not that he’d mind, but he does doubt you want to be split on his dick in the middle of a club. “oh trust, it will be.”

©️ prncessie | do not repost on to other platforms, plagiarize, modify, translate, or use for any ai platforms. my work is my own and it comes from my brain so you’ll have to use yours too

taglist — comment to be added

@excedr

[jules-ln]

Ok you guys I went to sleep at 1 am and woke up at fucking 5 am to watch arcane so here are my thoughts/review:

After I finished it, first of all, I was mad lmao, then I thought about it for a moment and I started crying, but like ugly crying with sobs and everything because holy shit Jayce and Viktor, then I stopped crying, thought about it a bit more, and I got mad Again lmao

Now spoilers

It was a fucking mess lmao

Like seriously what the fuck fortiche, what the fuck Riot, it was such a fucking mess, it was all over the place, the story was rushed, the characters arcs were rushed, there was a lot of things that felt very forced because they didn't have time to let it happen naturally and I can tell a lot of things that would've been good were left in the inkpot

About Cait and Vi: I truly and honestly couldn't have care less about them lmao

I know I know

But I already fucking knew they were going to end up together that Vi was going to forgive Cait for being a fascist etc etc, for me their arc was already finished and I didn't have time to care about them because I was more worried about what the heck would happen to the other characters and how in hell would they wrap up that mess. If they would've cut all their scenes and gave that time to Mel or something, I would've been so fucking happy

Also, the sex scene annoyed me so much lmao, I was thinking "IF YOU WANTED A SEX SCENE YOU SHOULD'VE ADDED ANOTHER SEASON FORTICHE! WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT NOW!" lmao

Mel: I liked the concept of her arc, I like the theory, I can see their vision, what they were going for

But in reality it wasn't fucking that

Like, I like the idea of having Mel realize that she was much more than the daughter of her mother, that she had her own value for who she was instead of simply being the blood in her veins. But boy, it didn't feel at all like she realized that lmao

It just felt like she was "now I'm confident enough about myself to confront my mother because the writers said so" like what? This is what I mean when I say that a lot of things felt forced

Viktor: ok, ok I'm just like *heavy sigh*

To be honest part of why I was mad at first was Viktor's character, I was like "So what? You stop being a humanity loving pacifist to become a fucking control freak who hates free will and emotions just like that?" But then I thought about it, and if you frame his arc through Jayce, it actually made sense, because you see, everything he did was for Jayce. When he came back and went to build his cult, I mean, Commune, he was doing their hextech dream, the thing they always wanted, the thing Jayce always wanted

When Jayce went and rejected him by shooting him in the chest (thanks Jayce) he was hurt, he lashed out and wanted to get rid of all emotions, ironically it was a very emotional reaction. So then as soon as Jayce was back with him, he realized his mistake and stopped

So yeah, it makes sense, the problem is that I shouldn't have to stop and piece together a character motivation like that Fortiche what the hell. I know some people say "let the audience do some work!" But I feel like I'm doing all the fucking work here

What they did was great! Good! But just like Mel, give it more fucking time please

And the machine herald design was a bit ugly lmao, like his design in the game looks better, but thinking about it, and looking at the other robots design and how Viktor dresses in the series. I think it makes sense that this specific Viktor would design something like that

EDIT: Oh! I Also forgot to add:

My favorite scene of him was when Jayce was taking out all of those things one by one and Viktor waited until he was done to push them all back LMAO he didn't need to do that

Jayce:

Jayce, what the hell

Like, I understand why Viktor acted like he did, but like, what was up with you?

I mean, the end implied that he knew all along what was going to happen (machine herald, save Viktor etc), but like, why did he acted so angry at the commune then? He seemed so erratic and Angry like he didn't know what was going to happen, but he knew, and then he switched back to normal but like, what was up with all of what happened before? If anything, why didn't just he let Viktor get to the hexgate peacefully and then talk to him? Idk, it just seems to me like Jayce was the character the most affected by the crossfire of the plot happening because the writers had a very specific ending in mind and no time to get to that ending naturally

Also "hextech is bad" Then proceeds to let everyone keep using it lmao

Ambessa and Singed: of all the characters I think these one were the worst of all lmao

Like the plot completely changed Jayce and forced Mel, but like, these two just were put aside? Lmao

Everyone at Fortiche was like "Fuck Ambessa and Fuck Singed" which is a shame because these two were really interesting

Ekko and Jinx:

I think of all the other characters, these two were the best ones

I didn't feel like their arc was forced, it felt like they were given enough time, but you know why? Because their arc started in season 1, in this season they just finished it

The only thing I will complain about is Isha, because it just feels like they used her and completely discarded her after like a broken toy. Like Silco was waaay better handled than her

Heimmerdinger: I mean, I didn't care much about him lmao, he was only there because the plot needed him, and when he wasn't necessary anymore they got rid of him lmao

But it was less obvious than Isha at least

Viktor and Jayce: now, this is the part that got me fucking crying so much, and this along with Ekko and Jinx are the things that make me feel conflicted about this ending and not hate it as much as I would otherwise

It was all left ambiguous, and the cynical part of me thinks "of course they can't make it any more obvious because then the dude bros who main Viktor and Jayce in LoL are going to cry about how they don't want to play as a man who wants to kiss another man"

But if I take it at face value... Ngl guys, it was good

Like how Jayce chose Viktor after everything he did, how Viktor tried to push Jayce away to protect him but Jayce refused to leave, how all they wanted wasn't progress, or fame or power, but simply be together. And they got to be together in the end

Damn, I'm crying again

I JUST FUCKING WISH EVERYTHING AROUND IT WASN'T A MESS!

And I wanted to add, when everyone in Zaun went to help everyone in Piltover to deal with Ambessa, I wouldn't have done that, fuck them, they put a fucking fascist dictator on power, probably made a lot of people "dissappear" and just like that they are like "Guys, we're sorry, we need your help now :(" fuck that

In the end, it doesn't feel like Fortiche earned this ending. Season 2 should've ended with Arc 2, and Arc 3 should've been a whole season

And I can't give it a rating, because I don't know, I didn't like a lot of it, but there were some parts that I really fucking loved

But if someone asked me if it was worth to give the series a try, I would say yes, but don't get your hopes up for the ending lmao

[ganondoodle]

honestly i dont know how many times i can keep trying to like and engage with things if they always end up disappointing me so badly i cant like what came before it anymore

im not trying to center this around me or something, but im having a hard time coping with arcane doing it too (to me)

few things can catch my attention and all interests in media i have ever had fumbled everything later so badly i often never want to see or think about it again

its happened with transformers (prime specifically, i think the ending of season2? i dont remember everything but after the fucking new guys show up and it killed my hyperfixation on it back in the day), one piece (stopped since whole cake island and anything new i see of it only makes it more clear i cant stand it anymore), zelda (ahah .. totk, fuck that game, basically killed my hyperfixation on the franchise and im only holding on for some projects and cool people i met through it), (edit; how could i forget fromsoft/elden ring and what the DLC did.....), arcane/league (arcane, lore retcons, and now its ending, but it happened before it turned into a hyperfixation so theres that bit of mercy lol) and those were only my super special hyperfixation ones i still clearly remember im sure im forgetting some, its happened with movies and other series i gave a try too (even mob psycho ... the series i thought couldnt disappoint me ...)

i feel so bad about it, i feel like i am somehow wrong to dislike or even hate how media goes, and bc it happens every time i feel like .. theres something wrong with me .. theres gotta be soemthing wrong with me right?.. i SWEAR i do NOT find joy in hating or disliking things, it is not fun for me, i hate hating things, especially when i once loved them, even if it may seem like there is nothing i can ever like i am NOT doign it on purpose, i feel the same, i feel like theres nothing i can ever just like, and i hate myself for it .. but also cant help it, i cant force myself to like thingsi dont either, i just want to rip my hair out and cry

[cosmicjoke]

Okay, I've got one more bone to pick about the way people mischaracterize Levi's refusal to tell Jean that killing is right as Levi actually making some sort of moral statement and expressing his belief that killing is wrong. I really do wonder how people come up with this stuff.

Levi saying he doesn't know whether Jean choosing not to kill is right or wrong isn't the same as him saying he thinks killing is wrong. It’s Levi allowing Jean to decide that for himself, based on his own, personal beliefs and the objective reality of the situation, while acknowledging that for himself, Levi is able and willing to kill dependent on the circumstances. It's Levi NOT making a moral judgment on killing, or trying to convince anyone else of the moral rightness or wrongness of killing, and to try and frame it as such is pure projection. It's projecting ones own moral beliefs onto Levi and trying to twist his refusal to moralize this issue as some sort of proof that he's morally against it.

Again, though, for Levi it's not even a moral question. It's a question of objective reality. He doesn't try to justify killing to himself through some moral framework, nor does he condemn himself or others for killing in and of itself. Again, it's not about morality to Levi. It's just about objective reality. As in, if I don't do this, then this other thing will happen, and I have to decide which choice sits most right with me, which course I feel is correct in the moment. Either I let myself and my comrades get killed to uphold some static, black and white moral standard and worldview, or I kill the people trying to kill us and save lives in the process. Again, it's not a question of morality, it's a question of practical, objective reality. It’s about objectively acknowledging action and consequence and then weighing, based on that, which choice you feel is best. Where the morality comes in is in which of those options you believe most aligns with your own personal sense of right and wrong.

Also, this repeated claim that Levi is morally grey is wrong, because again, Levi's entire philosophy of no regrets is based on moral conviction. Do what you FEEL is right in the specific situation you're in, whether the outcome proves it to have been the right choice or not, and that way you'll have no regrets, because you'll have not compromised your moral values. I've said it before that Levi is the most morally consistent character in the series. He never compromises his moral values, something perfectly demonstrated in his choice during the RtS arc. When he does something quote on quote "bad", like killing or committing acts of violence, it's because he believes it's the best course of action in any, given scenario.

What people just don't get about Levi is that his moral values aren't static and don't adhere to one, single school of thought, i.e. "killing is always wrong". Levi's morality is fluid depending on the situation. That doesn't mean he has no moral conviction, it means he understands that morality itself is a complex and multi-faceted concept that isn't easily defined or pinned down.

And he doesn't try to force his way of thinking onto anyone else, as demonstrated, again, during the Uprising arc and his exchange with Jean and Armin. People seem to take that to mean that Levi is making some sort of statement as to the wrongness inherent in the act of killing. But again, it's got nothing to do with how he views killing morally, it has to do with Levi respecting the agency of others and allowing them to choose for themselves what they think is right and wrong, or what they think is best. Levi clearly doesn't view killing as "wrong no matter what" or he wouldn't do it. There would never be a circumstance, then, in which he felt killing was the best course. There would be no situation in which he chose to kill, or in which he didn't regret killing. Just because Levi doesn’t deign to tell Jean that he was wrong for not killing doesn’t mean Levi himself views killing in and of itself as wrong.

Again, it’s just him respecting Jean’s agency and acknowledging that he himself doesn’t know for certain what the right and wrong choice is. That doesn't mean there aren't circumstances in which he views killing as wrong though, either. He clearly does view killing in certain circumstances as wrong, just like he views it as right, again, depending on the circumstances, like what Zeke did to the people in Ragako village, etc… Killing innocent people who pose no threat to you is clearly wrong in Levi's eyes. See his disgust at Zeke, or at Kenny for killing members of his squad. Obviously Levi has his own moral standards. He’s just not a big enough dick to try and tell others that his personal beliefs should also be theirs. He’s not so arrogant or egotistical as to try and impose his personal beliefs and feelings on anyone else. That’s why he says he “doesn’t know” what’s right or wrong. Because he doesn’t. Nobody does. He can only go by what he personally feels and dictate his own actions by that. What everyone else does is up to them. He can form personal opinions about their actions, but he doesn’t try to tell anyone one way or another what they should do, again, because he actually respects other people and their choices.

Honestly, so many of these bad takes come down to people's inability to view anything free from the constraints of their shipping goggles. They always approach their understanding of Levi's character from the premise that their ship is canon and work backward from there. In particular, you see these takes coming from the eruri fandom, where some people in that community want to believe that Levi has compromised his moral belief that killing is wrong because he just looooves Erwin so much and is willing to sacrifice everything for his beautiful blonde hunk, lol. So they have to re-frame Levi's refusal to make a moral judgment to others on the act of killing as him actually making a moral judgement on the act of killing. That way, they can then claim that Levi sacrifices his moral values for Erwin because he just loves him so, so much, instead of approaching it from an objective viewpoint, which would then lead them to the obvious conclusion that Levi follows Erwin's orders and is willing to kill people because those actions, dependent on the circumstances, fall in line with what he personally values morally, i.e. doing what's best for humanity, i.e. saving the lives of the people he's directly responsible for.

Those are actions taken and guided by Levi's morality. It's why he's so upset when he learns that Erwin's main goal isn't to secure humanity's victory, but to discover what's in Eren's basement, because it throws into question whether Levi's been making the right moral choice all these years in following Erwin's orders. Levi chose to follow Erwin because he believed Erwin's own intentions were pure and it would allow Levi to help people in the most effective way possible.

Just to lay out further why saying Levi thinks killing is wrong is a ridiculous take, I want to reiterate that it's not about Levi choosing what he thinks or knows is "right" in the moment, it's about Levi following his heart. Following ones personal, moral beliefs won't always lead to the "right" outcome.

Levi doesn't know if ANYTHING is the "right" answer, and that's what his entire philosophy is predicated on. Not knowing whether his actions will lead to a desirable or good outcome, being able to accept that he doesn't know what the outcome will be, but not allowing that uncertainty to instill doubt or hesitation in him and his choices.

He follows what he FEELS in his heart is right, but he won't and can't give a definitive answer about whether it absolutely is or not. The way Levi is able to live with no regrets, as he says, is because, regardless of the outcome, whether good or bad, he knows he did what his heart told him to do in the moment. And yes, that includes killing in certain situations.

It has to do with practical reality. If your life is being threatened, and you know, if you don't take the practical action of killing the person threatening you first, it means your life or the lives of others will with certainty end, then you are absolutely, 100% justified in killing that person.

I've said this a million times already, but there's a very GOOD reason there's a distinction made between "murder" and "justifiable homicide" within the actual law. Like I said before, to criticize Levi for failing to be a pacifist, when his pacifism would have led to him and others being killed, is the definition of cruelty and ignorance and exposes those giving the criticism as having led breathtakingly pampered and privileged lives.

Isayama's story isn't meant to lead the reader toward condemnation of the characters for engaging in acts of violence and killing, or to make you think of them as "bad people" for doing these things. It wants to lead the reader toward understanding that it's the circumstances that force one into a position of having to kill to protect themselves and others that should be condemned.

Killing is "bad", yes, but that doesn't mean a person who kills is bad themselves, or morally wrong. Circumstances like war, like prejudice and persecution, like social ostracization and disenfranchisement are the real villains of AoT. It's why very few, if any, of the characters in AoT are framed as purely villainous. We aren't meant to think of any of them as "bad guys", per say, we're meant to think of the circumstances that led them down a specific path as bad. That's not to say there aren't bad people in AoT. There very much are. People that kill for pleasure, people that revel in violence and in hurting others. People that use their circumstances in life as an excuse to hurt others without there being a practical or understandable reason for it. Just like there are good people in AoT, too. People who, despite their circumstances in life, still extend great compassion and kindness and love to others. And yes, Levi is one of those good people.

These people also try to take Armin's statement that they're all "bad people" now as the narrative somehow trying to tell the audience the same, while never acknowledging that Armin's statement here is taken out of context, without regard to Armin's own bias against himself.

Isayama doesn't say Armin and the others are "bad people" for killing, he simply says they're troubled by having killed because there's this idea conditioned into them from the lives they've led that killing is wrong, no matter the circumstances. Whether one believes that or not though comes down to individual perception and moral belief, which in itself proves that morality isn't a static concept, but rather one that operates on a sliding scale, determined upon ones individual and personal views. Views which can be influenced, of course, by ones environment and societal norms and pressures. It isn't a definitive statement as to ones moral worth as a person, as to their morality or immorality, or a declaration on whether any of these characters are good or bad.

I could just as easily argue, and I have, that it's worse and more morally ambiguous to refuse to kill to uphold ones own sense of moral righteousness if that refusal leads to other people being killed. That kind of rigid moral standard shows a refusal to understand that morality is a complex concept with no, clear definition and could easily be seen as prioritizing ones individual sense of self-righteousness above the lives of people. It's why Armin later refuses to sit out the fight at the docks, despite Reiner's offer for him and the others to do so, because he refuses to put his own sense of moral comfort above what he feels is the right and necessary course of action. Armin's perception of their situation and of himself morally isn't 100% objective on any level. Yes, Armin feels he's a bad person for having killed, but that doesn't mean it's objectively true. Seeing killing as wrong, no matter the reason, is a dangerous and entirely unrealistic and impossible standard to live up to.

One more point. Levi is very firmly "morally good" based on general standards of moral goodness, because every action he takes extends out of a place of kindness and compassion, and as I stated before, he never compromises that morality. His compassion is his defining trait as a character and it dictates his every action.

Once more, it's what Levi's "no regrets" philosophy is predicated on. As long as you make the choice that you genuinely believe is the best course at the time and so long as it's rooted in and coming from a place of genuine compassion and kindness, (which again, Levi's actions always are), then even if the result is horrible, you still won't have any regrets because your decision was made by following what you felt in your heart was right. Not "knowing" what's right, but following what your heart tells you is right, according to your own, personal beliefs. It's about not beating yourself up for things out of your control.

Of course, this is probably what certain people in the fandom mean when they say Levi just does what he wants without concern for the consequences, but that's not what Levi is doing at all. He's simply acknowledging that he can't predict the outcome of anything, no matter how much knowledge he has, or how prepared he is, and so all he can do is make the choice he feels is the best one at the time, depending on the circumstances. Of course Levi would hope that it turns out alright, and that's what making the choice you feel is best is all about. Doing as well as you can and hoping it turns out good, but accepting that if it doesn't, it doesn't reflect on who you are as a person. The way some people frame it though, in typical fashion, is that Levi just does what he wants and doesn't care how it turns out. It's literally the most ungenerous and negative interpretation one could have of a genuinely honorable and wise philosophy.

It's also absurdly disingenuous to claim that Levi doesn't care about the consequences of his actions. He absolutely cares. He cares more than anybody. That’s why you can say, objectively, that Levi is a good person, because he genuinely wants everybody to be okay. He feels genuine compassion and empathy for others and makes every decision he does out of a pure desire to protect people and save lives, or out of a genuine desire to honor those lives or bring comfort. He just knows and accepts that no matter how hard he tries to get it right, no matter what precautions he takes or knowledge he brings to bear on any situation, no matter how sound he feels his judgment is, it could still all turn out wrong, and there's no point in dwelling on that, because all it will lead to, in the end, is a paralyzing fear which helps no one.

[l0serg1rls]

today i wanna talk about the big brawl.. season 6, episode 10 and the sekai taikai.. basically how eye would change some things.

this is gonna be an extremely long post .. i like to yap. clearly. so yeah.

initially, when i first watched i loved it.. but rewatching that specific scene. it’s giving lacklustre? i mean the choreography was good that’s for sure but i don’t know.. i feel like it could’ve been done so much better .. also feel like it didn’t really have to end in kwons death either.

the reason why it fell short for me and felt a bit anticlimactic was because it was just random? russian dojo came back and punched gunther in the face, everyone else started fighting.. like okay💀

the thing is there was no reason too really. (have the massive brawl breakout THAT way) a brawl is fine, but the way it was carried out isn’t. also the actual tournament way too short.

i have an idea; so gonna share it here for you all! this might be dumb but i don’t like a lot with this season 6 part 2 after initial thought. anyways here we go 😖:

start off by saying sekai taikai was too short. like a world tournament only being around 30-40 minutes. i would’ve had the episodes longer with a runtime of an hour or over an hour.

i think CK could’ve benefited from longer episodes and more episodes anyway and better writers. but i digress

each international dojo is introduced through short videos or flashbacks as the teams all join together in the arena or whatever, showcasing unique abilities and talent.

cobra kai and miyagi do both face frictions with other teams in the tournament. an aggressive and brutal dojo accuses cobra kai of being frauds who can’t live up to their intimidation tactics (blame kwon for that one, him intimidating others outside of the mat.) leads to that sort of confrontation.

miyagi-dos defense style is mocked by other dojo who sees it as way too soft. tension brews between alllll the teams. it isn’t just a cobra kai and miyagi do thing against all, all dojos have issues w each other.

several preliminary matches are shown, including standout fights featuring (sam, hawk, devon) and (tory, yoon, kwon) other cobra kai teamates deserved to be mentioned more.

tensions rise between tory and another dojos female fighter. tory isn’t balanced and dealing with the grief of her mother still. this girl from the other team is aggressive and fast. forcing tory to become the same. letting out her anger and almost gets disqualified.

johnny and daniel struggle to keep the peace between miyagi do. they’re fighting well, but not as good as they possibly could be. they’re losing a lot of matches and the team becomes completely divided. one side saying to fight aggressive; other side saying to defend

things begins to get a lil heated OUTSIDE of tournament.. rival dojos begin sabotaging each other outside the matches. a lot of street fights if you will. or just them fucking with eachother. an example: miyagi do member is ambushed completely by another dojo.

sam is targeted by a rival fighter in a dirty off the matt attack. causing noticeable, bad injuries, miguel jumps in to defend her and makes himself a target for specific dojo.

the brawl: a rival dojo manipulates tensions between miyagi do and cobra kai. possibly spreading a false rumour. like cobra kai plotting to sabotage a miyagi do fighter by injuring them with an illegal move they could disguise as not an illegal move lol.

yada, yada, yada. something happens, someone could hit someone else, the big brawl happenes!

during big brawl, tory could intervene to protect devon and takes a severe hit leaving her threatened with life changing injuries.

let’s get to kwon real quick: instead of him being an asshole and just getting killed. it’s established that kwon is one of the best fighters on the tournament. during brawl kwon gets ambushed by a jealous rival dojo or just a rival who wants to quite literally take him outta commission 😵.

kwon could also have a personality, so just not an asshole.. or not an asshole all the time , so he’s NOT a bad person and his team actually fw him.

say the ambush is so bad it triggers people from cobra kai to try and rescue him.. another way tory could get critically injured trying to protect him.

‘why tory?’ you may ask.. and why not? kwon was just introduced. it gives off more shock factor that a main character got hurt instead of him.

the impact of tory’s injury:

shock factor- tory being critically injured instead of kwon would exceed expectations.. like NO ONE could’ve seen it coming. her injury would create an emotional gut punch for characters like devon, sam, robby.

next, a full tournament arc. this would give the series time to delve into each fighting style, all the dojos. here’s how they could do it:

establish rivalries. cross-dojo friendships and betrayals .. this one could be interesting. inner team drama.

different fights during the sekai taikai:

tag team matches.

weapon kata demonstrations

survival matches

free for all battles

team relay matches

speed challenges

lastly, activities that the captains of each dojo would have to do or all the kids in the comp:

1. leadership seminar; captains are required to give speeches or participate in discussions about their dojos philosophy, training style, discipline, skills.

2. demonstration matches; captains are required to participate in matches to show their skills and set an example.

3. coaching workshop; leadership skills between the captains would be tested. captains would have to try and coach fighters from the other dojos.

as you can see if you’ve read up to this point, there’s A LOT .. i am a professional yapper. relaying back to my point. all this couldn’t fit into 5 episodes between 30-40 minutes, that’s why everything should’ve been bigger, longer.

CK doesn’t have the budget im aware so most of these are just headcannons unless someone wants to write a fic and do a whole rewrite.. which I might be up to do.. however i cant write for shit😭

uhm yeah 👌

[wheel-of-fics]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you for the tag, @kotaka-kun! I'm trying to get back into writing and am forcing myself to get in a better fic-writer mindset.

How many works do you have on AO3?

14 (but more on FFN, from the olden times)

What's your total AO3 word count?

209.294 (442,145 on FFN)

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Unsung

Out of the Woods

Old Haunts

Turnabout

Restoration

(If we're considering legacy FFN stuff, By Starlight would fall just after Unsung, and The Ivory Tower would probably be on the list, but since it's forever unfinished I like to pretend it doesn't exist.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Usually! Although they sometimes fall through the cracks. I am really, really appreciative of comments and try to respond earnestly, but I feel like my replies start to sound like a broken record and it's awkward.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

IIIII don't know. Maybe Burn? I almost always turn angst into a happy ending by the end of the story. It's self-preservation.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

See previous answer—can't pick one!

Do you write crossovers?

I have not attempted to yet!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I've received several passive-aggressive comments and seen some not-nice things said about my work elsewhere, but I'm not sure I've gotten any straight-up hate comments, thankfully.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do; it's usually a part of a story and not the sole reason for it (though I have done that, too).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, Unsung and maybe something else (?) (it's been a while) has been translated into Chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I think I would drive a co-author insane.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Uhhhh I can't pick, actually...I'll come back to this later (I won't)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Red Death Riding JUST KIDDING but it does feel like that sometimes. Still, we persevere.

What are your writing strengths?

Ughghgh I don't know. I’ve been told I'm good at pacing, and that balance between like inner thoughts and external goings-on. (There is a better way to say that, but I'm tired.) Um...I think I'm pretty good at sentence flow? And...punctuating correctly? I sure hope I'm decent at character development. And I like to think I bring original ideas to the table.

What are your writing weaknesses?

The ideation of it all (though this hasn't always been the case—it's a work in progress), and honestly just getting words on the page. It's so hard to turn off the editor brain I use for work, and I feel like I'm always editing myself before, during, and after every sentence. I also wish I could delve deeper into the thoughts and reactions of characters who aren't like me.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Not a huge fan. It can be OK if done well, but it often takes me out of the narrative.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I have enough trouble focusing on my current fic/fandom as it is! Don't make me think about other things!

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I honestly don’t have one. I see each fic as a stepping stone in the course of my writing journey—a challenge that I issued to myself and completed—and I'm usually looking forward to the next challenge instead of back.

I haven't been around much lately and don't know who all has done this! I'll try tagging @musicalhell @les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques @emotionalmotionsicknessxx and @rienerose (but please feel free to ignore!).

[thcophagy]

sully had chalked up to what had happened after the party as one big misunderstanding, something that he couldn't be mad at lana for considering the rest of the events of the night. if anything, he'd felt a wave of pity for her, assuming that she was only trying to come onto him because she thought had to thank him for defending her. if he were a worse man he might've taken advantage of her vulnerability in that moment and let her touch him as she claimed to have wanted to but he was trying not to be that man, especially at the cost of disrespecting lana. it was easy to turn her away then because she gave up so easily, however the same couldn't be said for the version of his nanny that sat in the passengers seat, seemingly desperate to grope at his cock like it was the air she needed to breathe. he was trying to be that noble man, the one who saw how inappropriate the situation was and put a stop to it but he was also too soft to properly put his foot down and say no. with each flickered glance sent in lana's direction, he was met with the sight of her big eyes glimmering with mischief as she giggled at her blatant objectification. not only was it almost too much to hear her using such language, to be the subject of her dirty talk made him hyper-aware of his body in a way he hadn't been for a long time. he opened his mouth to formulate some kind of reply but nothing came, there was nothing he could say that would make any difference to the situation, not when lana was set so in her ways. as much as he wished he was, sully wasn't immune to that sickly sweet lana put on as she cooed fake sympathies about his abstinence, that was until she began to dive head first into the absurd and sully was forced to bark out a laugh. "are you serious? lana that's- you're being ridiculous. i'm fine, i'm not- jesus christ." she was insatiable, for a brief moment he thought he'd finally managed in getting her to keep her hands to herself but like clockwork, another dainty hand reached out and gripped the heavy weight of his cock through his pants once more. parking did sound like a pretty good idea, though not for the reason that lana seemed to be rallying for. the last thing either of them needed was for sully to somehow manage to crash the car on the empty road because he was too flustered by her advances, he only had two hands and she clearly needed them both in order to be held back from groping him like he was a piece of meat there for her pleasure. unable to move her hand away without letting go of her wrist or taking one off the stirring wheel, sully let out a shaky sigh and took a sharp turn to the right, pulling onto the side of the road. the second the car screeched to a stop, he was forced to once again grab at the hand stimulating him and pull her away with a sharp yank, though his grip was harsher than before. if she wouldn't listen to him then he'd have to apply some force, physically restraining her wasn't ideal and made him feel a little crazy but it was the only thing that he thought could work. "listen to me. you need to stop this. all of it, alright? i'm going to take you home and you'll sleep this off and tomorrow we can forget this ever happened but i won't tolerate your misbehaviour any longer. understand?"

this side of lana wasn't exactly out of character, though for mr. landry, it was likely a jarring switch. she'd taken great pains to craft an alternate persona to suit the nanny gig; a more polite, carefully censored version of herself that wouldn't corrupt the kids or scandalize their parents, and she'd prided herself on her ability to seamlessly maintain that act the whole time she'd been living with the landry's. sure, the way she dressed left little to the imagination even after her attempts to tone down the sex appeal, and she had a bit of an unpolished manner of speaking, but she always remembered her manners, she hardly ever swore and, the biggest difference from her usual self, no sex talk whatsoever. by then she'd slipped up once or twice with an innuendo or two— never in front of the twins, of course— and then, most damning of all, her attempt to initiate something that night after the family's holiday party, but it was nothing that could've cost her her job, she thought. at least in that case she'd been mostly sober, and had the good sense to pull back when he challenged her. this time, her inhibitions were thrown out the window, and there was no stopping her as she felt his cock stir to life beneath her soft palm, gasping in response as her eyes widened. "oh shit!" she couldn't resist giggling uncontrollably. "i forgot you had such a big cock, mr. landry..." had she been in her right mind, lana would've at least attempted to go about things with a tad more finesse, but there was something about blatantly objectifying her much older, wildly unavailable boss that gave her a rush like no other, almost like another shot of tequila or a hastily snorted bump, and all she had to do was say and do exactly what was on her mind. now that she could feel him hardening, she was sure it wouldn't be long until he caved just as long as she kept applying pressure. "oh, but i am concerned... it's very concerning." her voice became an exaggerated coo, the front edges of her brows turning up and her eyes widening to give her a sympathetic look. for a moment after he grabbed her again, she didn't fight him, playing nice just to get his guard lowered a little. "it's not healthy for a man to be pent up like that mr. landry... you've gotta get what you need from somewhere. i mean, who knows? if you don't get that release now, you might just go buy a gun and release it all over the family in a fit of blind testosterone fueled rage! i'm just looking out for you. don't you think you deserve that?" her brief period of peace now over, lana went right back to trying to wiggle her way out of his grasp, only realizing after a bit of struggling that she had another functioning hand. she stopped fighting only to grope him with her free hand, a sly grin on her face like she'd just experienced a stroke of genius. "let's park somewhere, c'mon..."