#but an if things obviously work a bit different then that should be accepted

[quetzalpapalotl]

Gonna play the exrid apologist again, but regarding Optimus and Prowl I think there is this unfair assessment of Prowl's role being to exonerate Optimus from the atrocities of the Autobots and that what Prowl did in relation to OP is never adressed.

While Prowl has much worse on a reputation in Mtmte and Wreckers, exRID plays it as him being dubious but the extent of his antics being genuinely unknown to the likes of Optimus and Prowl.

Now this doesn't mean that Optimus is scott free, he is ultimately responsible for the actions of the Autobots as their commander. There's the implication that he had his suspicions about Prowl but turned a blind eye, and regardless, this is behavior that's explicit of him in other instances, like how he pays lip service to not liking the Dinobots methods but Grimlock calling him out in that at the end of the day what Optimus' wants is results in OP #25.

But again, there is the fact that Prowl's most obvious and nefarious stuff is potrayed in Mtme, like the New Institute, which is what I hear most when expressing disappointment on this topic.I have talked about how I find is something that exists for Chromedome's characters while leaving a lot of messy implications chronologically and for other characters. And the Roberts goes out of his way to specify that the NI was something Orion was unaware of and wouldn't approve, but if Optimus really was still unaware of its continued existence then he looks like a fucking idiot, which doesn't save much face in contrast to giving it the go. This sort of thing shows up a lot in how JRo writes OP.

But the thing is, I don't think is all that fair to criticize exRID's narrative based on things that were happening simultaneously in Mtmte. For as much as Barber is the continuity guy, I think he should get a break to tell the story he wants to tell.

It is fun to try to get a general reading for yourself (and I do have my own explanations for the incongruities), but I don't think it's a failure of exrid's narrative to not adress details from another series by someone who wasn't the primary writer for these characters at the time when it's already much more mindful of this than average.

Point is, I think that when assessing something like the narrative quality of the relationship between Prowl and Optimus in exRid/OP what should be taken into account first and foremost in how it is presented in exRid/OP itself.

[booksfansworld]

James potter x reader

The thing about Hogwarts was that it was easy to be two different people. In class, you were confident hand always raised, voice steady, not afraid to challenge even McGonagall when you were certain you were right. But outside the structured world of lessons and textbooks, where people spoke in jokes and easy camaraderie, you faltered.

You weren’t shy, exactly. Just awkward. Coversations never seemed to flow the way they did for others, especially when James Potter was involved.

Which was unfortunate, considering James Potter had decided today was the day he was going to talk to you.

"Blimey, you were on fire in Transfiguration," James said, plopping down beside you in the common room. His hair was as messy as ever, glasses slightly askew from where he'd shoved them up his nose. "Even McGonagall looked impressed."

Your stomach twisted. "Ohum. Thanks?"

Brilliant. One word. Very compelling.

James, of course, didn’t seem to notice your internal struggle. "I swear, if I had half your focus, I'd be top of the class." He stretched his arms out, slumping back against the couch. "Well, second to Evans, obviously."

You laughed softly—an actual laugh, not the awkward chuckle you sometimes gave when you didn't know what else to do. "You'd have to stop doodling Quidditch plays in your notes first."

James gasped, mock-offended. "You wound me. Those plays are works of strategic genius."

Rolling your eyes, you shifted slightly, hands resting in your lap. Talking about academics was fine. It was the other part the casual, social part that tripped you up.

The conversation lulled, and you bit your lip, feeling the pressure to fill the silence. Before you could think of something to say, James let out a long sigh, stretching again before letting his head fall against your shoulder.

You froze.

James Potter was asleep. On your shoulder.

His weight was warm, grounding, and entirely unexpected. His breaths evened out, ruffling a loose strand of your hair. The common room bustled around you, but it felt distant, like you and James were in a pocket of quiet.

You should move. Should shake him awake, laugh it off. But for once, you didn’t overthink it.

Instead, you let yourself sit there, still and steady, as James Potter charming, boisterous, endlessly confident James Potterslept peacefully against you.

The common room buzzed around you, but James was dead to the world, his head warm and solid against your shoulder. You weren’t sure what to do—what did one do when James Potter, Quidditch star and Hogwarts’ most effortlessly charming student, decided your shoulder was a perfectly acceptable pillow?

Panic? Wake him? Run?

You did none of the above.

Instead, you sat there, spine rigid, as your mind raced. What did this mean? Had he just been that exhausted? Or no, stop, you were overthinking it. Again. It was just a nap. People fell asleep in the common room all the time.

Except they didn’t usually do it on you.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Sirius Black strolled by, stopped, and grinned like he'd been handed front-row seats to the greatest show on Earth.

“Well, well, well," he drawled, crouching to your level. "Didn’t realize you’d taken up a side gig as James’ personal headrest."

Your cheeks burned. "He just… fell asleep."

Sirius smirked. "Mhm. Sure."

James shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible. His glasses had slid halfway down his nose, and without thinking, you carefully nudged them back into place. Sirius’ smirk deepened.

"I like this," he mused. "You should keep him."

Your brain short-circuited. "What?"

"You know, as a pet. Like a very needy, very loud golden retriever."

"I hate you," you muttered, but there was no real venom in it.

Sirius chuckled and ruffled James' hair before standing. "Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Just try not to scar the poor bloke when he wakes up, yeah?" He winked and sauntered off.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the flickering fire in front of you. Your heartbeat had not slowed. James was still leaning against you, oblivious to your internal crisis.

And then, in a voice rough with sleep, he muttered, "You’re comfy."

Your breath caught. "What?"

James shifted again, eyes still closed, a lazy grin on his lips. "S’nice. You should let me nap on you more often."

Your brain stalled completely.

James Potter wanted to nap on you. More often.

You were never going to survive this.

[genderqueerdykes]

here's a tip for folks who want to come out to their parents, friends, or another authority figure but are afraid they'll get talked out of it:

when approaching them about it, your phrasing should be "[recipient], I'm going to start estrogen," instead of "[recipient], i think i want to start estrogen." Replace estrogen with whatever your personal need is, testosterone, wearing different clothing, going by different pronouns, different names, different identities, whatever else you need to change.

phrasing things like "Mom, I'm actually a guy, I need to be referred to as [name, pronouns, etc.]" instead of "I think I'm a guy, I think I want to use [pronouns, name, etc.]" makes you sound far more confident and assertive. there's less ground for the other person to attempt to brick wall you and immediately start questioning you and talking down to you, questioning if you really know what you're talking about.

the unease in the introduction of the concept is what gives them the platform to start biting from. if you start from the get-go with confidence, it makes the other person less willing to immediately challenge you. this works for other queer identities outside of transness, obviously. being assertive about being asexual, aromantic, polyamorous, non binary, and other identities that are harder for people to accept can actually help boost the credibility of it in some people's minds, because you KNOW this is what you are, not what you Think you are.

the distinction is small but powerful. don't say "my preferred pronouns/name", say "these are my pronouns/name." try to close the gap as much as possible so they don't have wiggle room to play with doubt.

i didn't tell my mom or sister until i had gotten my appointment to start T. i was already in the process of doing it when i fully came out to them. i told them "mom, [sister], I'm a trans guy, I'm starting testosterone, I use this name now, and these pronouns." and their responses were something to the tune of

"we kinda figured that things would play out that way."

i'm not saying this will make everyone instantly accept you. it can make some people defensive. my sister still misgenders me and deadnames me to this day. not everyone will accept it easier but most people will. it takes them aback for a second. it forces them to think about how they're powerless to stop you for a bit, because it's already in motion.

it's a little tip, but it goes a long way. good luck coming out, i wish you safety and receptive ears.

[mundanenonsense]

part 3 of biker!simon x learnerdriver!reader.

3880 words

cw: mdni! Simon has some nsfw thoughts, reader is painfully oblivious, but we forgive, right?

[previous] [next]

~ You heard the door shut behind him as he walked into your house, but that was about it. For such a big man, he was practically silent and the only sound that could be heard throughout the house was of you putting all your spare biscuits that you’ve made this morning into the tupperware container that he brought you back. 

There was something almost scratching beneath your skin when you filled the container one by one, your eyes darting to the kitchen door expecting to see him there. Your house was basically the mirror image of his mum’s, surely he worked that out pretty quickly, and if not, he would have followed the noise. 

But no. It took Simon quite a few moments before he was able to move further inside. He was stood right by the door, looking down at the wooden floor, your shoes messily scattered by the door, the cozy living room with plenty of plants and all different types of art hanging on the walls, the warm, but muted colours that filled this space and a familiar looking knitted blanket thrown over the backrest of the sofa. 

He immediately knew his mother made it.

Adorable.

She already liked you. And you already liked her too. 

That made everything so much easier. He always hoped his family would approve of his wife. This genuinely just seemed too good to be true. 

What was the fucking catch?

The house, as far as he could tell, didn’t show any signs of other cohabitants. Even the lack of a ring on your hand couldn’t reassure him in the assumption that you were single. Whatever motherfucker would have had you already snatched up could have delayed what Simon wanted to do since the moment he saw you, which obviously, would have been dumb as fuck in his eyes. A sweet little thing like you shouldn’t have to wait for a ring. Not that it would have mattered anyway. He would get rid of them. Legally, of course. Maybe not so ethically if they posed problems, but for sure he’d do it in a way that didn’t mess anything up for him, or for you. He couldn’t risk you being left alone in case he ended up in prison. But maybe you’d visit him if he did? You were so sweet, so accommodating after all…

Was the world finally doing something for him? Was he deserving of whatever the fuck was happening right now? 

You let him into your space. In his eyes it was as if you willingly just accepted him into your life. 

It was definitely not at all because you felt embarrassed and like you needed to make up for messing up his name. No way.

You wanted him here as much as he wanted it, obviously.

Should he take his shoes off? 

That would mean he’d be staying here for longer. He’d naturally assert it that way. It was harder to try and make someone leave if they’d already taken off their boots. 

And fuck, he wanted to stay. 

For as long as you’d let him.

He could prove to you that he was worth keeping around. Really. He’d be on his best behaviour. Whatever you needed, he’d do it for you, get it for you, or just make it happen. And all you had to do was just look at him, perhaps offer him a bit of occasional affection. He never needed much of it. Never needed or wanted any affection, if he was being honest. Simon strayed away from it, as far as he could. The most he was used to, and would accept, was a pat on the shoulder from one of the lads. That was alright. And sometimes, although rarely, he’d stick his cock into a random pussy in the parking lot of a bar he was currently residing in.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d agree to sit on his lap and run your hand through his hair as he just stared at your pretty eyes. Wherever you wanted too. Right here in your house, on your sofa or your bed, the floor even; maybe in his mother’s house after you’d have a nice Sunday roast that she’d invite both of you to; his office at the base, whilst distracting him from the paperwork after you brought him the lunch he has accidentally forgotten; or even his apartment that he’s never had anyone but Johnny at. He would happily invite you over. Maybe after he dusted a little and made sure there was enough food in the fridge. That would be nice. Simple and nice. Not too much, not too little. A perfect balance. You wouldn’t even have to do it for long, you sweet thing. Just a brief moment for him to take you in, to smell you, to let his shoulders drop and allow a deep, content sigh escape his lips.

“Simon?” 

Your delicate voice called out his name again and he immediately perked up, deciding to keep his shoes on, to give you the choice. You had all the control after all, right from the moment when he lost it, being stuck behind you on that country road. Did you even realize it, sweetheart? He would do anything for you, anything that you’d ask for. 

He walked further in, towards what he assumed was the kitchen, where he could hear all the moving around. 

So. Fucking. Pretty.

Just you. 

Standing by the counter, trying to fit another biscuit into the box, even though it so clearly wouldn’t allow the lid to close. Your expression was focused, eyes zeroed on the tupperware. You tried to shuffle them around, rearrange the pieces. Somehow the fact that your fingers kept touching the bloody food, made it even more enticing for him to eat later on. 

Would it be creepy if he asked to lick your fingers clean off any crumbs that may have stuck to them? Probably. Would it be worth it if you agreed? Definitely.

“Yer alright, pet?”

Your head snapped up, jumping a little startled as you found Simon leaning casually against the doorframe. Although you called out for him, you didn’t hear him walking over so the sudden presence threw you off your game. 

How can someone that size be so quiet! 

It was uncanny.

Oh you jumpy little thing.

First from a simple rev, now from this. Just how scaredy were you?

You nodded, pushing down the lid, cursing inwardly as you heard a snap of a couple of the biscuits. 

“Yeah, just wasn’t sure if you were actually inside or not.”

Oh darling, trust him, you would most definitely know when he was inside. There was no doubt about that. A little smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, but he so quickly stomped it down, when he noticed the adorable, but somewhat… menacing? scrunch of your eyebrows at his reaction. He couldn’t help it though. You did it to yourself. Kind of.

You pushed off the counter and walked over to him, stopping a couple feet away, far enough to put a healthy distance between the two of you. But not close enough for comfort. 

Simon looked down at the box of baked, buttery goodness in your extended hand and then back up at you.

“Y’ not keepin’ any for yourself?” He asked, raising an eyebrow before returning his gaze to you. His eyes bore into yours as if searching for something. Deep. Forceful. Intense. Insistent. What was it though that he was looking for? 

A snippet of fucking recognition perhaps? 

Come on, little, sweet driver, it’s him, for fucks sake. The biker, who helplessly fell head over heels for you during the morning drive. The man, who thought would have to spend all of his time on leave trying to find you, ready to abandon everything else for the sake of you and your pretty fucking eyes that would not leave his head for longer than a few seconds. And when they did, it was only until something reminded him of them (which was surprisingly far too many things including the colour of the damn clock on his mother’s wall). Or until he shut his eyelids for longer than a split second whilst blinking.

The man, who got a fucking boner at the sheer thought of you whilst drinking his morning tea.

The man, who wanted to drop to his motherfucking knees and swear you a life of love and happiness and maybe a snippet of bloodshed, and a smidge of crippling fear whenever he was away. And most importantly total, utter safety. 

Oh, and also a lifelong subscription of chauffeur services, so that you didn’t have to worry about driving. Or personal driving lessons from himself if you wanted to switch instructors. He could drive a fucking tank and possibly copilot a military grade helicopter after all.

Come on… quit your driving lessons, little brave driver, why waste money when he was right there? 

“Not really, I had a few, they came out too sweet for my liking, might have slipped on the sugar.”

He didn’t smile often. Smirks were more common. Not the true, heartfelt smiles that reached his eyes and gave him crows feet. But he couldn’t help one when he saw yours. 

He was practically salivating. And not for the idea of all the fucking sugar that you stuffed in those (quite nice) biscuits, but seeing you smile at him. He hasn’t seen your smile yet up until now. He got used to the worry and guilt and hesitation. This was different and incredibly fucking welcome.

Fuck, sweetheart, he knew it sounded cheesy and cringy, and he knew it was what all the dirty old creeps said, but you really needed to smile more. 

It felt like a cure to all the world problems.

And viagra apparently. Because his cock for sure ached to be seen. (Notice me, senpai!)

Was he just horny? Was that it? The whole fucking reason for why he felt like he was losing his mind over you?

Was it all the testosterone? It was common for the military lads to need to fuck whenever they came back from deployment, find a happy go lucky barracks bunny or a pretty, willing bird at the pub that neared the base, or at least have a pathetic date with their hand to blow some steam off. 

And don’t get him wrong, Simon was grateful for his rank and the en-suite bathroom that came with it, because he was always up to kill two or three birds with one stone. So during his first post mission showed, he not only got to shave his well overgrown beard that grew to be quite uncomfortable beneath the mask, but to paint the tiled walls with long spurts of his cum. 

It was all mechanical though. A problem to be fixed. A need to be addressed and satiated. A cock that pulsed in his hand, gritted teeth, tightly pressed lips that refused to let out any sounds of pleasure. 

He wasn’t embarrassed by it, it was natural after all. When he was younger, right at the beginning of his career, he got used to listening about how much the lads were in need of a shag. Of their plans in how to fill the hunger.

Everyone did it.

But now, he was looking at you, listening as you spoke about the overly sweet biscuits, smiling at him, with an expression that in his eyes was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted before. And he didn’t know whether he wanted to bury is cock in your pussy now or whether to make you promise that from now on, he could do it every single time he came back from the missions.

He should have unscrewed one of the nuts from the frame of his bike as soon as he got to his mother’s house. Or gone to the jeweler first. He always had a contingency plan. Fuck, this man had at least 5 of them. A, B, C, D, E and so on… Just in case the former didn’t work out. 

You name it, he thought of it. Life had a tendency to not quite go how he wanted it to. He had long given up on imagining the best possible scenario. It was always the hard way and that’s what he knew how to handle. Preparing everything, planning things out.

How could he have known that you would be right here though? 

He didn’t have a plan for that. He didn’t expect to see you so soon. He didn’t know how he should act, what could he do, how could he possibly entice you enough to be willing to give him longer than a minute of your precious time.

Simon Riley was out of his fucking depth.

Dumb fucking fuck.

That was the first and the last time he allowed it to happen.

Because what was he supposed to do now? 

You watched as his shoulders have risen in a sigh and he finally took the box of biscuits in his hands, his tongue slowly making its way over his bottom lip, eyebrows scrunching just a tad.

God, Anne passed on some good genes to him, didn’t she? 

Tommy was handsome too, in a more boyish, lanky way. More similar to Anne. They were both slim, lightly built. Had the same smooth looking hands, deep set eyes, narrow shoulders. Simon on the contrary, looked like he could build you a shed without breaking a sweat and then if you weren’t happy with it, he’d tear it down just with the sheer strength of his hands. 

And then he would obviously rebuild it. If his missus wanted the shed, he wouldn’t stop until he built one perfect enough.

It made your stomach turn.

The intensity that surrounded him, which you weren’t sure he was aware of. The way he just stood in the bloody doorway, taking up the majority of it, gave you no means to escape. You couldn’t move him even if you tried. A wall of muscles and meat that you had no chance against. You couldn’t sneak past him either. He filled almost the whole space effortlessly, cutting your way out. But why would you even be considering running? Was it the primal, deeply imbedded instincts screaming at you? Was it the ‘I’ve got a dangerous looking man who literally kills people for a living in my house?’ light twinkling at the back of your head like a warning sign? 

But then you saw the way he was looking down at the box of biscuits in his rough, work hardened hands. As if it was the most precious gift he’d ever received. 

And you may have noticed the similarity in the way he was looking at you, when his eyes once again met yours.

Soft.

So fucking contrasting with how he handled himself.

“I’ll bring the box back t’ ya once I’m done, ‘s tha’ alreet, love?” 

A question only asked out of politeness. Even if you said no, he’d do it. Why would he waste the chance given to him by the universe to see you again? 

He’s not gonna look a gifted horse in the fucking gob.

He decided that if he just let himself settle here, in your house, right now, that may scare you. You were so easy to startle after all. 

He needed to be clever about it. Careful. He was not willing to accept the possibility of fucking up, not when it came to you. You were too precious to lose. Too sweet to withstand the bitterness and sourness that it could have brought. 

And Simon craved that sweetness more than he ever craved anything. He didn’t even crave cigarettes that much whilst him and 141 were in active war zone. And the thought of smoking a cig right after they got out was one of the things that powered him on the most. 

But now he had you. 

And the thought of back home safely to find you waiting for him, happily tucked under a blanket knitted by his mother with a cup of tea, coffee, wine, whatever it was that you drank most often, was somehow a lot more appealing than chain smoking.

So he would have to let you go for now.

Ish.

He listened to the quiet ‘sure’ and nodded, clearing his throat before he physically forced his body to turn and his legs to move. His steps were heavy, finally making sound, feet begging to stop and cement themselves to the floor, heart aching and throat tightening with regret. 

But this wasn’t like the last time. 

He knew where to find you now. There was a sweet promise of return, of keeping your eyes in his life, of maybe getting a refill on the biscuits if you offered more. If you didn’t, he might just be so cheeky and ask if you had more he could take. Maybe he could lie and say that the lads back at the base asked for them? Would that make you more willing to give him more? It’s not like he would actually share them them in the first place. You gave them for him to eat. Only for him. He was going to eat every single. And in all honesty he just wanted an excuse to see you again and if returning the tupperware box was going to be it, then he would beg for biscuits until the day he died.

You watched as Simon grabbed the helmet he left on the cupboard by your front door and held it with the same hand that held the box of biscuits, placing the other on the door handle.

Was he going somewhere? You expected him to stay at Anne’s since he was back. “Do you not live with your mum when you’re back?”

Simon shook his head, meeting your eyes, his gaze once again, searching.

“Nah, sugar, I’ve got me own place, bit nearer to base. Just in case we get called out, means I can get there quicker. Makes life easier, y’know?” 

“Sugar?”

Your voice was soft, uncertain—like maybe you were hoping he’d explain it, or dreading that he might. Simon turned back to you, slow and deliberate, cocking his head to the side in amusement as he watched your puzzled expression

Such a sweet girl.

The fucking sweetest.

Maybe he should just stay?

His eyes met yours, and the look he gave you was full of something warm and yet wicked, playful, boyish even. He looked far too pleased with himself.

“You said you slipped on th’ sugar,” he said, lifting the biscuit box slightly. “Too sweet fer ya, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, a little shy, feeling your cheeks burn up as your eyes travelled between his and the box in his hand. “Yeah… think I overdid it.”

Simon gave a low hum, gaze flicking over you in a way that made your skin prickle. There was that fucking intensity again. The one that threatened to consume you if you engaged a little too much. 

But fuck, if it suddenly didn’t become unbearably tempting.

“Dunno,” he said, voice low and casual. “Tasted just right t’me, good thing I’ve got a right sweet tooth though, sugar.”

Your mouth opened, no sound. Your brain, blank. Your heart, hammering harder than ever before.

Did you hear him right? Was that an intentional compliment about you or was he just talking about those goddamned biscuits he was holding?

“W-what?” You managed to babble out.

He nodded toward the box. “Nothin’. I’ll bring this back once I’ve finished ’em.”

And then he turned, utterly unfazed, opening the door and walking out, shutting it behind him like he hadn’t just flattened you on your own doorstep.

You stood there for a moment, lips opening and closing like a fish out of water, pulling the cardigan you were wearing a little tighter around yourself as if its embrace was going to offer you any comfort. As if a stupid compliment made you need comfort. What the fuck? Pathetic. 

You were imagining things, surely. 

For a moment you just stood there. You didn’t move. Couldn’t move. 

Sugar. Sweet tooth. 

He’ll be back.

The silence of the house somehow felt loud now, as if it was echoing with the ghost of his voice. 

Sugar.

The nerve of that man. 

Shouldn’t he be angry you called him by the wrong name?

Surely he at least should have felt awkward about it, you definitely did.

Sugar. 

Fuck, this shouldn’t make you this giddy. Or flustered for that matter.

Your stomach shouldn’t be jumping. Your cheeks shouldn’t be burning. Your heart should beat nice and steady without the threat of bursting out of your chest. You shouldn’t be smiling right now.

And you definitely shouldn’t be rushing to the window, slapping your cheek repeatedly as if it was going to help somehow, before you brushed the curtain aside and peeked out. 

Because even though you thought you couldn’t get even more flustered, here you were watching Simon Riley leave Anne’s drive on the familiar Harley that shared the licence plate of the one that followed behind you in the morning.

Your smile faltered as you blinked, practically glued to the window.

“No fucking way.” You whispered to yourself.

Simon stopped at the end of the driveway, flicking his visor up, head turning to the window you were stood in. 

As much as you wanted to hide behind the curtain, away from that gaze, as fucking intense as when you kept catching his eyes in the rearview mirror, you were frozen. Holding your breath.

Watching as the now familiar biker nodded at you and, for fucks sake, winked. 

He fucking knew it was you. Through this whole time. 

Slimy motherfucker.

He revved the engine loudly as if to rub it in and then pulled out onto the road.

You let the curtain fall back into place as if it burned your fingers. And then you stood there, hands pressed flat to your cheeks, brain absolutely spiraling.

He knew who you were. He clearly recognized you. And he didn’t say any fucking thing.

What are the odds of him being your neighbour’s son? Surprise, surprise. Pretty fucking good it seems.

Sugar.

Were you imagining things? Maybe he didn’t recognize you at all and it was all just a coincidence that you were now overthinking.

For you, one thing was for sure. 

He seemed damn certain he’d return the damn tupperware box and you’d have to look him in those stupid eyes and confront him. But you had to plan for it. Otherwise you’d say something dumb. Something completely out of your arse that would embarrass you even more than accidentally calling him the wrong name.

Simon on the other hand, he spent his entire journey back to his flat wondering whether you preferred white or yellow gold and what kind of stone would look the prettiest on your slender fingers and match the colour of your eyes the best.

Because his precious brave driver clearly clocked on who he was. Clever thing. Now just let him marry you and that will be it. 

Simple enough, right?

~

Work gets in the way of writing, I’ve got a few busy weeks coming up so might be a lil delayed, perks of having a job which is basically 3 in 1!

Thanks everyone for reading and all the likes, comments and reposts. It’s kinda crazy. Never expected this. So yeah, im grateful (: x

Tag list <3 :

@anonymouse1807 @shesneverreallythere @persephone-kore-law @faggotine @probablypossesedbysatan @yourdaydreamerfan

[xoxocher]

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐘 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

SUMMARY - josh has been unusually handsy all night–lingering touches and whispered jokes against your neck. it’s getting harder to tell if it’s just the alcohol...or if he’s finally giving into what you've both been pretending not to want.

PAIRING/SETTING - fem!reader x bsf!josh washington. no prank au (that timeline hurts too much). no use of y/n. 

WARNINGS - graphic sexual material (porn with plot basically), dubcon(ish?), strong language, & underage drinking.

W/C - 1,876

A/N - hey, hey, heyyy…i’m not exactly “new” to the game, but this is my first work on this page (how exciting)! a full-length josh x reader series is currently in its development stages. until then, enjoy my silly, sappy, smutty one shots ♥︎

joshua washington is a lot of things. persistent, loud-mouthed, and a bit perverted–but ohh does he know how to throw one hell of a party. you hate to admit it, but nothing hits quite like a washington house party at full tilt–too many bodies, not enough boundaries, and the absolute guarantee that you will wake up with glitter in places it should never be. there’s something euphoric about the filthy spectacle. 

you manage to make your way to the kitchen amidst the chaos, converse clinging to the tile drenched in sweat and spilt red solos. there was chris, mystery shot in hand–the two of you had developed this unspoken tradition over the years of ragers–you blithely accept his offer, throwing back the concoction. the faint taste of lemonade and lighter fluid burns the back of your throat. you’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now. you jet to the sink, running your tongue underneath the faucet before swishing and spitting. 

“gahh~ what the fuck is that?”

he brings a wagging finger up to your face, “ah-ah-ah, a magician never reveals his secrets.” 

“i’d hardly call that magic,” you retort, eyeing the empty glass. “eugh~” you shiver.

you reach for a paper towel, dabbing away the water that dribbles down your chin, when you feel an unmistakable shift in the air. 

“annnd there she is…” there stands josh washington in all his smug glory, leaning against the doorframe with a beer in hand and that shit-eating grin he wears like a trademark. “tsk, tsk, tsk–and to think i had faith you’d last at least 15 minutes before making such poor choices,” he tuts, stepping further into the kitchen. 

you don’t bother with formalities. “well you can blame chris and his shitty taste in alcohol.”

josh shoots him a finger gun, “doing god’s work, man.” 

chris brings his hands together in prayer, bowing before his best bro, “always a pleasure.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes, “ahem~ losers,” you cough out before turning on heel to make your escape.

suddenly, josh’s free hand is planted on the counter beside you, boxing you in–not enough to trap you, but just enough to make your breath hitch. “and just where do you think you’re going?” he questions, a tinge of devilry curling around his words. 

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is a party josh. i’m going to dance, obviously,” you patronize.

he furrows his brows, eyes raking up and down your figure, tongue slowly swiping across his lips before perking up. “well, if that’s the case…” he starts, walking his fingers up your arm and down your spine, hands finding solace on your waist, “mind if i ride along?” 

the cool sweat from his bottle drips down your thigh, sending a slight shockwave through your body. you manage to steady your breathing, “not at all.” 

“sweet,” he spins you round, giving you a small push towards the door before turning back to chris to shoot him a two-finger salute.“peace-out cub scout.” 

as the two of you make your way through the sea of bodies, you become hopelessly aware of josh’s grip on your hips. sure, it wasn’t exactly out of character for josh to get a bit handsy with you, but this felt different, very different. “what has gotten into you tonight?” your tone is light, playful, but his touch caries an edge, far from innocent.  

he leans down—lips hovering mere centimeters from your neck—“mm~ wouldn’t you like to know?”

his breath is hot against your skin, laced with the sharp bite of booze. his tone, low and wanton, sends a pool of warmth to the pit of your stomach. what the hell is wrong with you? 

relief washes over you as you spot an opening in the crowd, a brief, fleeting escape from the dizzying heat of josh’s touch. you turn to face him, fingers sharply pressed into the skin of his forearms as he moves the pads of his fingers to brush over your ass. 

you suck in a breath, eyes now glued to the floor. “you keep touching me like that,” you stammer, just loud enough to be heard over the booming bass of the speakers, “people are gonna start talking.”

he chuckles, low and satisfied. “good. let ‘em.”

you narrow your gaze, half-expecting him to stumble, slur, do something to explain his sudden brazenness. this was new territory–for you, that is. josh washington flirted like it was sport, sure–but this? this felt…focused. intentional. like he had tunnel vision, and you were the prize at the end of it. 

he must be drunk, you tell yourself, a futile attempt at rationalizing his behavior. he brings his beer to his lips, taking a quick swig. a sly smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he swirls the bottle around. “second one,” he says, as if reading your mind. “i’m barely buzzed.” 

your stomach flips. 

so he’s not drunk. not even tipsy. which means every longing look, every teasing word–its all him. clear-headed and in total control. 

you must’ve zoned out for just a second too long–snapped back into reality by a rough tug on your waist as he pulls you in. he cocks his head to the side, “what’s wrong? you’d prefer i was?” he taunts. 

the air around you begins to thicken as the sound of your pounding chest fills your ears. 

“josh i-” you murmur, your voice becoming increasingly shaky as he presses his now painfully obvious hard-on against your body. “tell me to stop and i will, no questions asked.” his gaze doesn’t stray, steady and unflinching. 

you persistently shake your head, throat bobbing as you swallow, “no, don’t stop. please.” 

his pupils blow wide, the last shred of restraint flickering out like a snuffed candle.

“upstairs,” he rasps, “i’ll be up in a minute.”

“promise?” you question sweetly–god, what has he done to you? 

he takes your chin between his pointer and thumb, “ohh~ absolutely.” his eyes flick down to your lips, then back up with a sinful grin. “wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

you make your way up to his bedroom, the familiar scent of his cologne floods your senses. you take in the charming mess before you, and for a brief moment, everything is still. your fingers graze over the soft fabric of his sheets as the door quietly clicks shut behind you. 

josh brings a swift hand up to your hip, swiveling you towards him, the other loosely fisting your hair. 

“miss me?”

you arch into him, positively aching. 

“i’ve got you,” he mutters against your skin, fingers tracing the waistband of your jeans.

your lips crash into his in a messy, hungry kiss. he tightens his grip onto your thigh, sweeping your other leg from underneath you, forcing you to stumble onto the bed. you gasp against his mouth as he grinds his erection against your clothed heat, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. 

your hands roam over his chest, desperately twisting at the fabric of his shirt. he takes the hint, swiftly pulling it over his head and discarding it with the rest of his dirty laundry that lays in a pile on the floor. you follow suit, evening out the playing field–but not for long.

he undoes the button on your jeans, arms hooking around your legs as he peels them off. his lips never leave your skin for long–trailing a line of kisses from your jaw down to your inner thigh–until your legs are trembling beneath him and your voice is nothing more than a whisper of his name. 

“god, look at you,” he worships, gently thumbing over your clit. “so perfect for me.” you whine at his words, hips shamelessly lifting off the mattress. he chuckles at your desperation, “sooo needy.” he hooks his fingers around the band of your panties, pulling them down your figure at a painfully slow pace. he’s practically torturing you, and enjoying every second of it. 

“josh–please~” you breathlessly plead. there’s that stupid cheesy smile again, “well, since you asked so nicely…” he dips his tongue into your cunt with all the fervor of a starved man–drawing tight circles on your swollen clit as he coaxes you open. you bring a hand to his hair, tugging at the dark locks, your other grasps onto his navy sheets. his eyes never leave yours, drawing you further in as your climax grows closer. 

“fuck josh, 'm gonna-” 

you’re cut off by the wave of pleasure that crashes over you. 

he lifts his head, a string of spit connecting his swollen lips to your pussy. he runs his thumb along his chin–slick with a mixture of saliva and cum–before sucking it in and out his mouth with an obnoxious pop. it’s a vulgar sight, but the prettiest you’ve ever seen. “so sweet,” he smirks, before pulling you into a sloppy kiss. 

you fumble with the button on his jeans, dragging down his zipper with a satisfied sigh. “impatient much?” he teases, nipping at your bottom lip. you let out a whimper, “mhm~” josh groans, low and guttural, “jesus christ, you’re something else.” he pulls a condom out of his back pocket before hurriedly kicking off the denim. he removes his gray boxers–now stained with precum–soon after, simultaneously tearing at the foil with his teeth and rolling the rubber onto his length. 

fuck he’s big. you’re practically gawking, almost wincing at the thought of taking all of him. 

he recognizes the hesitation in your eyes, brushing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. his tone is soft, but his words send a fiery heat to your core, “you’re okay, you can take it baby. be so good for me.” 

you let out a breathy moan as he rubs the tip of his dick through your soaked folds. he begins to push into you, slowly, inch by inch. your moans quickly turn to choked sobs. the stretch stings, but if it doesn’t hurt so. fucking. good. 

“atta girl, let me hear all those pretty noises.” your walls flutter around his cock at the praise. “ohh fuck~” he sputters–head dropping at the sensation–“yeah, squeeze me just like that baby.” 

you bring your legs up to wrap around his waist as he fucks into you, nails clawing down his back at the erratic pace. the sounds of slapping skin and your broken moans–now borderline pornographic–fill the room, drowning out the party just below you. he finds a delicious rhythm, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge. 

“m’fuck josh, please” you plead as he wraps a hand around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. “yeah? ya like that? so-fuck-hot.” your eyes roll back as you are overcome with ecstasy. “come on baby, be a good girl and cum on my dick.” 

with that, you come undone–melting into the mattress as josh continues to use your pussy as his own. he follows just behind you, spilling into the condom with a few more thrusts. he collapses next to you, flushed and fully fucked out. he’s never looked better. 

“best. pussy. ever.” you giggle at your new superlative, but not before reaching for a pillow to smother him with. 

still a total loser.

© 2025 xoxocher | don’t copy, repost, or translate my work

[danburys]

media is open to interpretation, obviously. i do find it a little baffling when people say that the team in general and hardison and parker specifically haven't been taking care of eliot and are only now realizing that he gets hurt for them.

yes, being a hitter is a fundamentally messed up job. yes, it's a reflection of societal patterns of violence. yes, eliot often hates that he's been reduced to this. yes, it's not all he wants to be, so cooking saved him. and yes, he takes those punches for other people, for the team, and his body pays the price.

but in my view, it's pretty clear that the team ultimately gives each other the dignity of choice. they miss each other when one has to take a break, they try to make a case for why someone should stick around, but in the end sophie goes on her journey of self-discovery with no one mad at her, hardison gets to branch out and try to widen his scope. breanna gets taken along on college tours by the wilsons. parker has trouble accepting change but she lets sophie decide for herself whether she wants to go to london.

eliot is an adult man with a lot of life experience. working with the team has shown him a hundred different ways to keep going. he knows fellow vets who've chosen paths that no longer involve physical violence. he knows other hitters that could protect the team. he's taught every single member of the team a thing or two about self-defense.

eliot could stop at any point but he doesn't and that, to me, is a very conscious choice that he makes. hardison telling eliot he doesn't like seeing him get hurt all the time isn't so much about eliot being a poor abused soul as it is a personal truth of hardison's.

eliot being a hitter, taking the punishment, is not because he thinks no one cares what happens to him. it's his reality, it's the path he's gone down and every day he gets up and he decides for himself that his road to making up a little bit of the hurt he's inflicted still involves taking those punches (hardison says that, too, btw, in the very second ep of redemption, as an ultimate example.)

i think the team has shown him that he's cared for, but he's still a person in an imperfect world and both he and the team know this. and they choose who they are andvwhat they do in the confines of that fact.

[iloveboysinred]

I won't say I'm in love [Prince Zuko]

pg. 13, fluff | Zuko x gn! reader

synopsis; Zuko had never been one to express himself in the right ways, anger had always been his primary emotion. But, when he meets you, a rouge fire bender helping the Avatar, it becomes hard for him to accept the growing warmth in his chest every time you look at him.

cw; emotionally constipated Zuko, fluff, pining, Clueless Zuko, Zuko doesn’t know how to deal with feelings, awkward turtleduck, light fluff.

Masterlist

Zuko never had time to really sit and think about relationships. After spending his early teenage years on a wild goose chase hunting the avatar, and now having joined the Gaang, with only a week to teach Aang how to firebend so he could face Ozai, he had a lot going on.

However, when he had started to fit in with the gaang better, you had definitely caught his attention.

You were a firebender yourself, highly skilled and light on your feet. You made a formidable opponent in battle, your elegance and lightweight movements almost resembling an air-bender. Zuko couldn’t help but stare as you practiced basic maneuvers, your muscles flexing with every movement, the thin sheen of sweat on your brow, and the fierce look of concentration on your beautiful face. To say Zuko was whipped was an understatement.

You were the last to accept him into the group, having always been a bit of a loner and standoffish, you didnt trust him. Especially with him being the crown prince of the very nation that has caused you nothing but pain. So Zuko worked extra hard to earn your friendship. Doing good deeds like helping Sokka clean up camp, going on water collecting trips with Kitara, helping Toph with her hair, and of course, befriending Aang and teaching him firebending alongside you.

While Zuko was still miles away from getting close to you, he was running out of ideas on how to gain your approval. So, naturally he went to Sokka for advice.

“Its like no matter what i do, y/n still hates me! I dont get it, you guys all like me, you know i’m good now. So whats their problem?” Sokka looked over Zuko’s exasperated face, putting two and two together. Not that it was hard, everyone caught him staring at you like a creep once or twice already. “I dont think y/n hates you, honestly. Thats just the way they are. It took like, 2 months for them to really open up to us.” Sokka shrugged, smoothing his hair down. “If i’m being honest, you’re trying too hard. Seems like you got a thing for them.” Zuko gaped, staring at Sokka like he had grown another head. “What are you talking about!? I dont like them. I just want them to trust me!” But despite his words, the flush on his face betrayed his denial. Sokka raised his eyebrows. “Right. Okay. Why don’t you just talk to them? I mean, obviously what youre doing isnt working. Maybe you should get them a gift or something.” Zuko nodded to himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He quickly stood up, a new objective in mind.

“Thanks Sokka.”

“Anytime, bro. And a word of advice, if you’re trying to make it less obvious that you like them, try not staring so hard. It creeps everyone out.”

“I TOLD YOU I DONT!”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Get out before you burn my tent down.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, storming off with a deep flush on his cheeks.

The next morning he set out to the village nearby, wearing a cloak to disguise his face. He looked around the market, stopping by a jeweler, who had a whole array of different bracelets, necklaces, and rings. A peculiar necklace stood out to him. It held a beautiful ruby, plated in gold and held on to a thin, gold chain. Before anybody could see, he snatched it up, quickly leaving and heading back to the air temple before anybody could confront him. On the way back he stopped by a patch of fire-Lillies, picking a few to make a messy bouquet. “Y/n will like these.” He muttered to himself, trying to tie them together with an old piece of twine.

When he made his way back to camp, the others stared at him with questioning glances, momo crawling up to sniff at the flowers. “Whats with the flowers? You into gardening or something?” Sokka asked, eyeing the bright fire-lillies in his grasp. “I got these for Y/n” Zuko blushed as he realized how this looked, averting his eyes from Sokka’s teasing gaze. “Aww thats sweet, Zuko. Who knew you were such a softie.” Kitara cooed, fluttering her lashes in a mock swoon. Zuko gritted his teeth, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. “Yeah, maybe you’ll man up and confess. We all know you like them” Toph chided, smirking. “I don’t!” Zuko protested. “You’re lyinggg” Toph hummed, and Zuko cursed her abilities to see with her feet.

“Whats going on?” Zuko froze when he heard your voice, quickly turning towards you, hiding the bouquet behind his back. “Oh nothing, just teasing Zuko about his undying lo-“ Sokka was abruptly cut off by Zuko slapping his hand over his mouth, glaring at him. “What Sokka was trying to say is, we were teasing Zuko’s undying and super obvious crush on you.” Toph stated nonchalantly. The others snickered at Zuko’s panicked expression, his cheeks couldn’t have gotten hotter, wide eyes turned to you. “I dont know what they’re talking about! I don’t have a crush on you! They’re just trying to be funny i swear-“ “uh, Zuko-“ “I just want you to trust me, so i got you these flowers-“ he pulled the bouquet from behind him, presenting it to you. But what he didn’t realize was, he had accidentally set the lilies on fire. He gasped and dropped the bouquet, stomping on the charred flowers to put the fire out. You just gave him a blank look, the others snickering behind you. Zuko had never felt so embarrassed in his life.

“Wow Zuko, that sure was a good way to confess!” Kitara teased, watching as you just threw your hands up, being completely done with… whatever that was, and walking away to your tent. “Yeah Zuko. Maybe try not almost burning the camp down. I think Y/n will like it better if you just told them how you feel!” Aang chirped, just irritating Zuko more with his upbeat attitude. “Whatever, you guys are impossible” he snapped, storming off in a random direction. “And I told you i don’t like them!” Once he was out of earshot, Toph snickered, laying on her back against Appa’s side. “He’s lying again.”

For the rest of the day, Zuko avoided you at all costs. Leaving you to teach Aang by yourself, even sitting a considerable distance away from you during lunch. It was confusing you, but you didn’t say anything. You guessed he was still embarrassed from the spectacle he had made of himself that morning. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Zuko was sweet, and if what the others are saying is true, you couldn’t deny that you could start feeling something for him too. You’d observed him ever since he joined the group, and his surprisingly gentle heart had impressed you. You’d watched him teach Aang during your training sessions. Appreciating the way his body moved flawlessly, his dark hair bringing out the gold in his eyes. You had to admit, you weren’t complaining when he would show up to your lessons shirtless. There was no denying he was cute.

So, you decided to approach him, surprising even yourself. You waited for everyone to settle into their tents, then you made your way to his. You stood outside for a second, thinking about how you were going to start this, what you would say. But your thoughts blanked when Zuko crawled out of his tent, now face to face with you. “O-oh hi- Zuko- i, um” you stuttered, lost for words. His eyes widened at the sight of you, sputtering like a nervous wreck. “I just wanted to u-um say, t-that i think the flowers were beautiful and u-um that was very sweet of you” “o-oh” you stood in awkward silence, the ground suddenly very interesting. “Anyways i think i’m gonna go-“ “wait, i-i um, i got you this too.” He quickly handed you the necklace, eyes averting yours and a deep blush on his cheeks. You looked the piece of jewelry over, smiling at him. “It’s beautiful Zuko. Um, thank you?” “You’re uh, you’re welcome..” you don’t know what took over you, but you leaned forward pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You stared at each other in shock, now it was your turn to blush, face as red as a tomato. “Uh well, its getting late- i’m gonna go back to my tent. G-goodnight” the words came out quicker than you could think, racing off back to your tent. Leaving Zuko standing there, hand on his cheek, feeling how warm the skin was under his palm. His brain short circuited and his heart was beating 400 miles per minute, he swore he was gonna pass out.

Hope you enjoyed :> notes and reblogs are appreciated, comments, asks, and requests are welcomed! 💗

part 2

[motthe]

Hey! May i request a mean, cold caitlyn x undercity fem!reader, angst, set in the current season where caitlyn obviously goes crazy and basically the reader confronts caitlyn abt only being used as a mean for caitlyn to blow off steam and a distraction for caitlyn to forget abt vi, and maybe the reader also confesses her feelings despite finding it wrong due to caitlyn's actions against zaun, and caitlyn is basically like, too bad so sad i'm not changing for you lmfao

i hope this is angst enough!!! first time writing caitlyn so she might be a bit ooc. apologies!!!

warnings: implied sexual content, emotional abuse, toxic behaviors, and slight spoilers for season 2 arc 2!!!

You were used to being second best.

Vi always won in the old arcade, in a fight. But you both lost the night of the explosion.

Sometimes you wished you hadn’t survived, waking up alone and forgotten with a shattered arm and a broken family. Ekko found you lumbering around the lanes and through the years you both watched Powder’s descent into Jinx.

When Vi showed up asking questions with Pilty, you disregard Ekko’s orders to shadow. You had nothing else to lose.

Caitlyn made the most sense. Her plan gave you hope.

Shit hit the fan as it always did, though. You didn't miss the looks she gave Vi and you knew from the start there was never going to be something between you two.

She kept giving though. You accept being an enforcer—you’re tired of the Lanes, of fighting for good people who just end up dying. Here you could make a real difference for Zaun. Caitlyn listened and even with her hatred of Jinx, she didn’t wish bad upon the Undercity. You knew that.

She was grieving. It made her colder, more distant. Vi fought that.

And suddenly, she’s gone. That seat she took between you and Caitlyn was empty, and Caitlyn filled it. She listened to you more than ever. You told her how you understand what she’s going through because you do. You lost your family a long time ago.

Even with that voice screaming in the back of your head to get a grip, you let her pull you into her place after a late night planning. You let her pull you into her bed.

You were fucked the moment she landed a punch when you met her. You didn’t blame her—you had light feet.

But she stopped listening. That cruelty you understood, masked under grief, it started settling in. She didn’t want to talk before she grabbed your hand, didn’t ask before shoving you into her mattress.

And still, you went willingly.

“You can talk to me,” you whispered.

Caitlyn paused as she was throwing her shirt on. When you went back to your place, she never stayed.

“What?” she breathed.

“You’ve gotten…distant. We don’t talk like we used to, we just…” You ran a hand over your rumpled sheets. “You can talk to me, y’know?”

She shrugged, resuming dressing. “I have nothing to say.”

“Cait—”

“Why can’t you just accept this?” she sighed, shoulders tensing as she forced her feet into her boots. “Things are fine. We have a good time, we get work done.”

“Is that all you want?” Something shook in your chest. “Just a good time?”

She looked at you then, eyebrow raised. “Yes. What did you think?”

You were silent. It said more than you could.

“Did you think this was serious?” she asked, tone cold. “We talked about how much we both hated Vi—you said I should let off some steam.”

“I also said a lot of other things,” you reminded her.

“What? How you thought I was the most beautiful thing when you first saw me?” she scoffed, pushing off the bed.

Your chest caved in.

“I thought you knew what this was,” she muttered. “I don’t need a repeat.”

“I just wanted to help,” you whispered, words shaking. “I-I really like you, Cait.”

“And I loved Vi!” she yelled, whirling around. “I thought you wanted this! I thought this was about doing what we needed to get it out of our systems so we could focus on actual important things!”

“So I’m not important?” you sniffed, unable to hold back the tears. “None of this meant anything to you?”

“No,” she huffed, shaking her head, “you were a distraction. You were always just a distraction. Now I feel like a fool, messing around when I should’ve been focusing on work. Would’ve saved me this mess.”

“Caitlyn,” you sobbed.

“Take a few days,” she muttered, grabbing the rest of her things as she opened the door. “If you still want to be an enforcer, you need to get your shit together before you come back to work.”

The door slammed. Something fell off the wall and shattered but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

When you returned to work, Officer Nolan was sitting in your seat, speaking with Caitlyn about plans. A few days later, you watch them leave the building together, Nolan grabbing Caitlyn’s hand and laughing as she pulled her around the corner.

You were used to being second best.

But now you weren’t even second.

You were never a part of the game to begin with.

[asarigg]

About: Part 4

DEVELOPMENT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. PATH TO HEALING: part 4

In the Drama CD Koujaku falls into this pit of sorrow again, not saying what’s going through his head. He spends days doubting and thinking about it alone and when he hits rock bottom he locks himself in his house without calling anyone, isolating himself, which is the worst thing he could do. But thanks to Aoba calling him and going to visit him, that can change. Koujaku at least keeps accepting Aoba entering his world and personal problems, which is already different from before, and I think it was really nice of them of not treating his pain as a linear thing, but something that comes back at times, on different degrees, that takes time to heal and face, that he talks to someone important to him who also shows him that he has someone for anything he needs, but at the same time leaves him enough space so that Koujaku’s the one to open up on his own. Then, later, he has the confidence to voluntarily talk to Aoba about the issues that worried him when he had finally organized his thoughts.

And this climaxes when Koujaku asks Aoba to go with him to visit his mother’s grave. It’s not just about telling Aoba what he thinks anymore, but about making the decision to take him physically and emotionally to the most personal and intimate place for him. Visiting her grave is facing the consequences of his past, and it’s important for him to move on. Before, he wasn’t able to say a word, and now he’s taking him to his mother’s grave, not because Aoba wants that, not because he thinks it’s what he should do, but because he wants to do it, he wants Aoba to be there, he wants to share this with him, with his most important person. He’s opening up widely and letting Aoba see and hear everything. Even letting him hold him in his arms while he cries like a baby. Finally he has a shoulder to cry on, finally he doesn’t have to carry everything on his shoulders, he has someone to share with, who listens to him. As difficult as it is for someone to cry in this game, and they for sure don’t cry enough for what happens to them, and especially for a character who always tries to see himself as “masculine” and like everything is fine, it’s a way of breaking away and freeing himself from that caging identity to which he had clung on so much.

Aoba obviously wants to go, but he feels hesitant because he doesn’t want to step on forbidden territory, like he doesn’t belong there. It seems so personal and delicate that he isn’t sure if it’s really okay for him to go.

I think it’s kind of funny that it sounds so serious like he was asking for his hand or something 😭. Girl calm down.

It’s an extremely touching, emotional and significant moment. And Aoba feels satisfied that he’s able to be his shoulder to cry on, he’s happy that Koujaku counts on him for everything, willingly. As their relationship progresses, it’s those details that show you that Koujaku is slowly becoming more open with Aoba and that he’s healing step by step, and every time he has something to tell Aoba, he’s a little bit more comfortable than before, more confident and open, taking initiative. He has a new focus in life, he’s working to stabilize his lifestyle even opening his own shop. He stops being so carefree and unconcerned, and takes the reins of his life to do things for himself. Even planning to tell his mother about their relationship, like the classic bringing your partner to meet your parents because you’re dead serious about them, again the implications of compromise *giggles*.

And Aoba’s jealousy changes as well. Being extremely insecure at first and worried because they have a homosexual relationship, as time goes by he externalizes his jealousy, but he also keeps learning that Koujaku truly loves him and that he really is the only one in his eyes, and he’s getting better at dealing with it. (I always think of the SSS, since it’s a summer festival, happening before the Drama CD and all the tamaokuri issue, and when they visit the grave it’s autumn, so that strong jealousy that he feels in the SSS would evolve into something much more controlled and kinda interiorizing that he just really cares about that special something he has with Koujaku and no one else).

Not only jealousy but also his comfort with romantic and sexual interactions. It’s not like his embarrassment suddenly disappeared, but he seems more comfortable with that too, and this is especially noticeable in the Drama CD. He seems more daring asking Koujaku why he holds his hand, being honest and putting up less resistance about answering whether he wants to make love or not, verbally, different to the Reconnect where he indicated it with a gesture or with more ambiguous words. He even asks Koujaku what he prefers, opting to touch him with his hand so he could see his face, which Koujaku points out because Aoba’s always so embarrassed of Koujaku looking at him when they do it.

This part tells you that Koujaku is also more comfortable with Aoba pleasuring him, letting him decide how to do it, treating it differently than how he felt about it when Aoba wanted to suck him off in Re:connect or their first time together. To him sex was probably some kind of exchange to an extent, he wants to be the one giving pleasure in exchange of some company, to not spend another night alone with his thoughts, to feel some love even if it was somewhat artificial or limited, given that to him being with Aoba is something unattainable. Some kind of distraction without it being too personal. He enjoyed his time with them that’s for sure, but there are nuances to it. His heart felt hollow, and it’s also a way to fill it, pining after Aoba definitely wouldn’t help, so it would still be like putting a bandaid on a gash.

Despite it being a sexual moment, it has such a romantic and intimate weight that together with their laughter and jokes while touching each other really makes the moment very endearing, because they’re really comfortable with each other, and you know it will only get better.

Even if they had known each other for so long, Aoba is so eager to know more about Koujaku, who has years of experiences to tell Aoba, how was it while he was gone, how and when he learned to cut hair, what experiences he had with the people he met, memories about his mother, about what she liked, what she taught him. And he’d learn about Aoba’s adolescence, about Sly and help him overcome his problems too.

Sometimes I’ve thought of him being honest with his closest friends. A hundred percent sure Mizuki knows about them, but I think about him also knowing about Koujaku’s struggles as well. I have mixed feelings about this, because Mizuki is a dear friend to him too, and being sincere about that kind of thing means trust and all that, but at the same time I feel like it would be better not to, or just something really vague. Koujaku’s past is not easy to talk about and it’s reasonable that only the most important person to him knows about it. It’s like it would make less important how heavy the struggle of facing it is, and the intimacy of knowing such a personal thing about Koujaku is extremely important to Aoba. At the end of the day Koujaku doesn’t really have the necessity to tell anyone else, he has everything he would ever need with Aoba’s acceptance.

I always found it funny how simple Scrap is, it really is impossible for these two not to have a happy ending. But it makes sense, because at the end of the day they know each other like the back of their own hand, there’s no barrier separating them anymore, they are two in one, soulmates, connected. Even the very phrase you have to say to him is said in Aoba’s dream, and he says it when they’re in Scrap shortly before you have to write it.

Unrelated moment of Ren and Beni, too cute not to put it here.

[maxdibert]

I’m a Brit and think that’s pretty spot on about James trying to put Snape back in his place…Snape doesn’t just offend their sensibilities because he’s working class, but because he doesn’t consider himself inferior and because he’s visibly trying to social climb through academics and connections, the ambition oozes from him (good for him! wish he’d had better mentors!) there is literally *nothing* a British snob disdains more than a social climber. Not getting above your station is considered the ultimate virtue. There’s a bit of this in Lily’s objections to Snape’s Slytherin friends too…obviously her main issue is that they’re bigoted cunts, but there’s definitely also a hint of unflattering disbelief about him being accepted (however conditionally) by well-connected scions.

Whenever I think about class analysis in Harry Potter, I do so fully aware of how intense the topic of social class has always been in Britain. It’s something I’ve always known, but when I lived there, it became much clearer, so for me, the issue of classism in this context is pretty obvious. I also think the issue of social class and the expectation from the upper echelons (especially the aristocracy) that those from below should stay below and know their place is something very common across Europe—especially in countries where monarchies and, therefore, aristocratic elites still persist today. This means that society isn’t entirely shaped by the neoliberal capitalist perception of class seen in countries like the United States, where the “self-made millionaire” is glorified. Instead, there is a deeply ingrained perception that above the self-made millionaire stands the aristocrat, the name, the old money. The name often matters more than the money because a name represents prestige, pedigree—it’s part of the DNA of a society built on the foundations of an old regime whose pillars haven’t fallen but simply modernized. This is something that also happens in Spain, which, like England, is a monarchy, or in other European countries where monarchies may no longer exist but held significant power over the past two centuries. These nations still retain a strong legacy of social hierarchies rooted in aristocracy within their societal structures.

James and Sirius weren’t just wealthy—translated into a real-world context, they would be aristocrats. They were people of family names and lineages stretching back hundreds of generations. They weren’t just boys from good families; their families were at the pinnacle of the social scale. Severus ended up in a Hogwarts house where not only were the students from high social classes, they were also ARISTOCRATS. He was a working-class kid, but not just that—he came from an industrial area, which on the social scale is just one step above peasants. The only thing that positions an industrial worker above a peasant is that industrial workers are located in cities, and within the web of social classes, cities rank above rural areas. This is something we understand very well in Europe.

From a practical standpoint and from a class perspective, Severus was already at the bottom in the Muggle world. But on top of that, in the wizarding world, he was a half-blood—not because he had parents who were magical but Muggle-born, but because one of his parents was a Muggle, the same parent who gave him his surname. The difference in status between him and Lily in that sense was practically nonexistent. Severus wasn’t just poor from a neoliberal perspective; from the traditionalist perspective of how social classes interact, he came from the very bottom, both in terms of his social position and his blood status. Ignoring that basically disregards not only the lens of class and the significant power imbalance between the characters but also reveals an immense level of cultural ignorance—not just about British culture but about European culture as a whole.

[leggerefiore]

request: May I ask for headcanons or drabbles (whatever you find easiest) for how different pokehybrid characters react to their s/o (or even crush) reciprocating or initiating courting behaviours of their hybrid pokemon? Maybe crush is trying to drop hints or s/o is trying to make them feel loved.

mating behaviours.......

cw: fluff, slight sex mentions (nothing explicit), pokehybrid au,

characters: Larry, Ingo, Emmet, Cyrus, N

💼Staraptor Larry🏢

🍙 Staraptors mating behaviours were usually odd. Countless steep dives and manoeuvres during flights while making loud calls for a mate. Not exactly things humans really did for one another. Larry appreciated that. He did not like having to get all involved like that, despite his obvious avian features. It was simpler to ask someone out for coffee or lunch. Of course, that did not mean he was above such things. The urge to do those grand displays bothered him more often than he would like to admit, but he simply ignores it. That was his go-to strategy typically. Well, it was, until you handed him a blanket out of the blue one day.

🍙 His mind raced with many possibilities. What could this mean? It smelled of you. Had you been using it? It was soft. Perfect for a hybrids nest. He stood unmoving and staring forward with an empty gaze. Was this… Was this a mating gift? He could hardly believe such a thing. Him? Surely, there must have been better options out in Paldea. You insisted that he keep the blanket when he tried to return it to you. His heart raced. Keep it? Could he? That felt wrong. (He would.)

🍙 You felt a bit bewildered when you later got asked out on a date by Larry but accepted nonetheless. It seemed your gift had made him happier than you expected. You had just been worried about him staying warm during these colder months. There was a surprise when you saw in wedged into a nest on his bed on a later date. It was only then that you realised that he had taken your offer as a mating request. Well, at least it worked out for you in the end, you supposed. Larry adored that blanket, too.

▲Frosmoth Ingo▼

● The human world often proved itself to be one of many scents. Some of which terrified him off or lulled him in, depending on what unfortunate part of his insectoid brain it activated. Ingo had learnt to deal with them for the most part. He was not some mindless moth who barely had over a week to live and mate – He was part human. A smell was just a smell. He was lucky to have an actual sinus system rather than just using in antennae to sense pheromones like his pokemon counterparts. Which is why he felt so embarrassed after you greeted him on the street smelling of one of the sweetest scents that he would ever know. Something so pleasant that he knew if Emmet were near that he would beg for a piece of whatever it was.

● You were sweaty, which obviously should have counteracted the sweet scent, and he felt bewildered. He stood there with his four arms crossed and tilting his head. Even his antennae detected the pheromones in the air. His brain almost pleaded with him to receive your apparent call for him. You tilted your head when he stood there frozen and eyes staring into space. Tapping his shoulder lightly, you heard his wings rub together and make a squeaking sound. Ingo forced himself to calm down. You could not release a Frosmoth pheromone. It was a foolish thought. He softly removed your hand and began conversing normally. His own feelings should not be forced onto you, even if they were related to you.

● You both would laugh at it later when it turned out that you had actually been trying something that you had read online about humans making pheromones similar to horny Frosmoths after a workout. Ingo felt extra flustered by it. Then you made it worse by telling him that you had hoped it would have encouraged him to confess to you after you two were dating. His wing squeaks were almost as loud as his voice.

▽Galvantula Emmet△

○ Galvantulas had very unusual mating habits when compared to humans. Emmet was aware of many differences from what Ingo had told him. For one, human females did not tend to eat their mates. In fact, that was a crime, actually. Humans also did not weave webs laden with pheromones that alerted others that they were ready to mate. They did not do mating dances, either. Emmet, however, cared little for human traditions. In his brain, when he saw you, there was an urge to do a mating dance, so he did. And you sat bewildered by the giant spider man's movements.

○ Your completely silence and staring during his dance almost emboldened him. That meant you were interested, right? That was what female Galvantula did when they were consenting to a mating. But, before he could pounce on you, he recalled your more fragile form. He verrrry much did not want to do any harm to you, so he instead approached you carefully. Before he could ask you whether you were ready, you just tilted your head and asked him what that was. His heart broke. You did not understand. He ran away back to his web to mope, while you just remained confused by everything.

○ Ingo had to politely explain what Emmet was trying to initiate and essentially confess later when you asked him about it. Needless to say, you returned and talked it over with the saddened Galvantula hybrid. When you explain that you were just confused by it and not agreeing to a mating, he seemed more upset but calmed down when you assured him that you did have feelings for him. In the end, you were pulled into a web and cuddled by a fluffy spider. What more could anyone want?

🌌Houndoom Cyrus🛰

☄️ Cyrus was fully aware of his more uncivilised side's mating behaviours. A male and female joined up, usually while the female was in heat, and thus began a new pack together with the result pups. He, however, was raised as a human. Such behaviours were entirely beneath him. The Galactic Boss was not going to be driven by any desires. His goal was simple and plain. Momentary lapses in judgment could be corrected in the future. Which is why he tried so desperately to repress whatever feeling you had forced out of him by making a serving of your cooking for him.

☄️ The blue-haired man took the food, as he was raised to be polite. You then sat across from him at the table and smiled at him. Sharing a meal… He tried to ignore the ridiculous instincts that sought to push through his logical side. You had made him lunch and were eating it with him. It was a meeting between comrades. Nothing more. You were completely unaware of Houndoom mated behaviours. This was mere coincidence. He almost ground his teeth in frustration. Your cooking was good, too. Cyrus felt unbearably out of control. Soon, he made an excuse to depart and vanished to be alone for a few hours.

☄️ Later, when you miraculously managed to end up in a relationship with an emotionally constipated man, you ended up reading about Houndoom behaviours to try to better understand him. When you reached the part about food division among wild packs, the odd situation re-entered your mind. Oh. You had. A laugh left you at the realisation. Poor Cyrus must have seen it as a mating gesture. He did not appreciate your discovery of this.

🌿Zoroark N👑

🟢 Zoroark mating behaviour was similar to many other canid pokemon behaviours. Packs exist, which most consist of two parent Zoroarks and their many offspring. Every so often they made more social groups where a few came together to protect dens, but usually, it was two Zoroark. It was hard for humans to purposefully imitate any Zoroark mating behaviours, too. Zoroark hybrids, of course, had the unfortunate best of both worlds. Offering food was a sign of mating to Zoroarks but to humans it was a thing done even among friends. N had trouble navigating many human relationships at the best of times. At the worst, he felt conflicted by you wanting to cuddle up to him.

🟢 While humans did it all the time and Zoroarks could even do it amicably sometimes, he felt confused. Especially when you wanted to sleep beside him, too. Granted, you both were camping, but he felt confused by what all this meant. You laid almost with your back pressed against his as he debated what any of this could mean. It caused him so much confused that he could barely sleep that night, ironically ending up almost on guard over you. He politely tried speaking about it with you in the morning, desperately wanting to clear up whatever was going on.

🟢 You proceeded to become just as bewildered as him. Apparently, you had thought that you were being obvious that you liked him. He blinked a few times and just nodded. N liked you, too. This worked out. Less confusion. You were doing human mating tactics, and he now understood. The green-haired man was now your mate, rejoice. (Please explain to him what flirting is.)

[phan3145]

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Cursing, Implications, Intensity) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***Notes: Sorry I haven’t updated in a hot minute everyone. Life has been kicking my butt as well as my husband’s. We had to prioritize, and then afterward I didn’t feel like writing. Not promising regular updates again, but I am consistently working on this. As always, thank you for your support and kind comments. I love you all.

Chapter 13: Not the First

You

You had gone to bed last night, stomach burning and body restless from the day that had transpired. The only comfort had been that Micheal apparently did not care about Anaya’s scent all over you the way the apes cared about his. He had snuggled in close to you as you laid there, thinking about how you would handle the balancing act between the two- no three, species moving forward. Anaya accepted Micheal, at least he stopped trying to kill him once he knew you cared about him. If Noa knew you cared about Micheal, maybe he would also leave him alone? Maybe, he could understand you caring about another animal? He cared about you, didn’t he? At least a little bit. Certainly enough to come talk to you after a fight.

That had caused you to toss and turn even more, not really knowing why Noa had shown up. Maybe he had still been angry, but seeing the situation with you and Anaya had distracted him enough to let it go temporarily. You could only imagine what you had looked like, the definition of sheer panic coming to mind. Noa had always been attentive to your feelings…he probably did push his anger to the side when he saw you were scared. You believed he did anyway, that was just the way he was. Caring, patient, and understanding to a fault.

That thought only served to remind you that the next morning you needed to face him. You needed to apologize for hitting him, maybe talk about the future between you and the clan. You were obviously putting him in a tight spot with the elders. That’s not even speaking about the rock and hard place you were placing Anaya in by having him keep your secret. The elders expected you to show yourself…you had no idea how you would manage that either. If Soona, Anaya, and Noa were there with you, then you should have no trouble feeling safe, but there was something else that made you shudder at the thought. You had this feeling you would be losing something, this small peace you found with your three ape friends. That small, fragile peace built on mutual respect and trust.

You had scoffed at that. Today was an example of how easily trust could be broken, but also re-built. In all fairness, the apes never really expected much from you. Noa even took great pains to make it clear to you that you could always say no. If they asked you to do something you didn’t want to, they wouldn’t force you…but this Caesar Council was a different animal all together. Anaya wanted you to be a part of it, which meant you would be a part of the clan…even if it was indirectly. Either way, it changed things. Anaya said Noa had created new laws, and this council was one of them. That would need to be something you discussed with Noa down the road…probably not tomorrow.

You had almost rambled yourself to sleep at that point, when your eyes had flown open wide and you realized you never decided when you would meet Noa at the rock. Anaya had simply said he would show him where it was. You had groaned and snuggled in deeper under your blanket, knowing you had an early start the next morning.

So here you were, sunbathing on your chunk of safety in the middle of the creek. You were soaking wet from your swim, making sure to scrub away Micheal’s scent as you made your way to your rock. Thankfully, you had sense enough to wear a dirty top that needed to be washed anyway, as well as your singular pair of shorts your reserved for the extreme heats of summer. This summer had not been too bad so far, but today the garment served a new purpose of keeping your modesty while you swam. You would not be caught naked in front of Noa like you had with Anaya. You knew he hadn’t seen anything of course, but you still were not going to repeat your actions and risk the possibility of Noa seeing you naked.

You rubbed at your eyes, a yawn sneaking up on you as you became more comfortable. You were sure Noa didn’t care about your body anymore than Anaya did, but it was the principle of the matter. Humans and their pride…not that you had much to begin with. Still, you clung to the slivers you did have.

You had just fully settled in, sleep creeping along the edges of your consciousness, the early morning sun warming you perfectly, when you heard the hoots of apes. You stretched, turning your head to glance to your right, but did not see hide nor hair of Noa or Anaya. This confused you at first. Did you imagine the noise? You closed your eyes again, only to have them fly open when you heard it again. This time, it was to your left…on the other side of the creek.

You froze for a moment, daring to turn your head at a snails pace to your left. The noises were clearer now. While you were sure they were chimpanzee hoots, they definitely did not sound like gorilla noises, you were still uneasy. Once your head was fully turned, you were surprised to still hear the noises, but see nothing on the other side of the creek.

You sat up slowly, hesitantly, confusion spiking as you looked left, then right once more. Nothing. You pushed yourself up onto your knees, frantically searching for the source of the sounds. You swiveled around on the dry stone, turning in a full circle as your eyes desperately scanned for something that simply wasn’t there. Were you going crazy? You swore you could hear ape noises. You stopped, closing your eyes and listening more intently.

There!

It was coming from your left, as you originally thought, but no matter how hard you looked, you could not see anyone approaching. The tree line was clear up and down stream. Still, you heard the noises, and the longer you heard them, the more pitiful they sounded. Was someone in pain? Were they hurt? What if they were calling for help? You rose into a standing position, practically on tip-toe, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hands in an attempt to see better.

Finally, you spotted the smallest of movements along the bank. It seemed it was just a baby chimpanzee, crouched down on the edge of the creek among the bushes. You felt your lips turn down into a frown, the scared looking chimp tugging at your heartstrings. How did they get here? Why were they all alone? You opened your mouth to call out to them, but immediately stopped yourself, dropping back down to plaster yourself flat against the rock.

No baby would be left alone like this.

You suddenly felt very exposed, creeping yourself back to the edge of the rock before quietly lowering your body back into the water. You stayed behind the rock, on the opposite side of the chimp, who did not seem to be aware of your presence at all. You peaked around the edge, wanting to keep an eye out, but not wanting to be seen. You couldn’t leave the baby alone, but you were still wary to approach them, lest an angry mother burst through the clearing and see you as a threat.

You waited silently, patiently. After a few more minutes of the chimp hooting and no one coming, you heard the noises change. It sounded like- were they…crying? Could apes cry? You floated there, transfixed by the tiny chimp, who curled its arms around itself and sat there sobbing. You fought the urge to reveal yourself, but in the end your heart overruled your head. The chimp was just a baby, you couldn’t leave them there alone and scared.

You carefully maneuvered around the rock, making your way towards the sobbing baby on the bank. You stopped when you felt muddy earth between your toes, water still up to your chest. You called out softly, so as not to scare them, “Do you need help? Are you lost?”

Your soft and careful voice did nothing to soothe the chimp, who jumped back from the edge and started screeching louder. You winced, muscles tensing and nerves screaming at you to swim away and leave. Something in your brain decided against that though, your hands coming up from the water to quickly sign, Friend. No hurt. Safe. Need help?

The baby went silent before you even signed the question, staring at you as if you suddenly became the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. You watched their eyes dart from your hands, to your eyes, to your body in the water, and back to your hands. You repeated the four phrases, wondering if they understood sign yet or if they were too young. Then, after another moment of intense staring, they raised their hand. It was hesitant, but they signed, Alone. Help. Afraid.

You swallowed, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Another moment of hesitation, then a nod and a signed, Yes.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath. “I’m going to come to you. I’m going to walk up to the bank and sit with you. Alright?”

They nodded again.

You returned the nod, slowly walking up the incline until you made it to the edge. The baby did not seem to realize how big you were, head tilting back as you continued to approach. When they could no longer lean back they scrambled to their feet, crouched on all fours before backing up a few steps. You couldn’t blame them, Micheal was easily twice their size. You ran a hand through your wet hair, body slipping down into a sitting position before you crossed your legs. You didn’t want to frighten them anymore than you already had, so you sat and waited. After a moment or two the chimp made their way to you, knuckles brushing against your exposed thigh. They flinched back immediately, as if you would strike at them like a cobra. You let out a breath, trying to smile as you signed, Friend. Safe. Protect.

The furrowed brows and downturned mouth of the chimp eased into something more neutral, more curious, as they decided to climb into your lap. You fought the intense urge to lock up and stiffen your muscles in preparation for an attack. You tried instead to think of the baby as if they were Micheal. They were more open than him though, pinching and pulling at your wet clothes in fascination. That didn’t hold their attention for long though, as they poked at the meat of your upper arms. That forced a giggle out of you, watching them get closer and continue to poke the exposed flesh.

You bit your lip in concentration then, fighting off more laughter, “Do you know where your parents are?”

The chimp paused only long enough to shake their head.

You blew air out of your mouth then in a slow exhale, “Do you have a name?”

The chimp paused, making a gesture over and over that you did not understand. You shook your head, trying to explain that you did not understand. The chimp pouted, opening up their mouth suddenly in a widely comical elongated fashion. You heard a few intakes of air before they huffed and screeched, “E…E…E.”

The loud noise was shrill against your ears. You winced slightly, holding up the hand they weren’t clutching onto, “Okay, okay, easy there. Don’t strain yourself. You can’t talk yet, that’s okay. E is good enough for me.”

E nodded once, puffing their cheeks, before they continued to poke and jab at your arm. You became increasingly confused, watching them and trying to parcel out the reason. Then, they noticed the fascination in their gaze as they dragged a finger down your arm in a slow push. You saw your skin lighten in color from the pressure before darkening again, and you smiled. The color change was something they had probably never seen in an ape before. You let them play to their hearts content, so focused on them that you had lost track of your surroundings.

Then someone called your name.

You snapped your head up, finding Soona standing a few feet in front of you, an unfamiliar Eagle perched on her arm. You breathed a sigh of relief as she began to screech and hoot in delight, “You…found her.”

“Her?” You parroted.

Soona pointed to chimp in your arms, who seemed happier, but reluctant to leave your side. The Eagle on Soona’s arm was given a signal and quickly flew away as she explained, “Wandered off…have been searching…long time.”

Your brow furrowed at that, “Wandered off? Your village is far from here, how did she get this far by herself?”

Soona shook her head, trudging over towards you and practically falling down next to you. She seemed exhausted. “Not from…village…from group of…younglings…upstream.”

Soona held out a hand, which the smaller ape happily grasped a finger of. When Soona reached for her though, E gave a small shout of protest before moving to the opposite side of your body. Soona looked surprised, the young ape becoming fascinated now with your wet, matted hair. She stood on two legs, leaning against your chest for balance as she pulled and tugged at the strands. You winced slightly, but chuckled good naturedly as you locked eyes with Soona.

She broke eye contact for a moment, gaze turning towards the empty forest off to the side. Before you could ask if something was wrong, her attention was back on you, head tilting slightly as she asked, “You are…better…than yesterday?”

You shrugged a shoulder, catching E starting to braid the pieces of your hair that were almost dry. “I guess. I hope you know that I never meant to offend you, or your clan. I’m sorry if you were expecting me and I never showed. I just wasn’t…prepared to see your village.”

Soona hummed, “Noa…should have told you…should have told us…sooner…I am…sorry…that apes have not…always been kind…to you.”

E tilted her head up then, her question obvious though she could not voice it. You shook your head, “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. It wasn’t you who was un-kind to me. You, Anaya, and Noa have been nothing but kind to me…for the most part.”

“You are…still angry…with Noa?” Soona asked carefully.

You puffed out a long breath, thinking, snickering as E did her best to mimic your noise. You pulled more hair from your back to your front, noticing she enjoyed braiding. You hoped it would keep her distracted from the conversation, “Can anyone truly stay mad at Noa?”

Soona seemed to brighten at this, but chose to remain silent as you continued, “I understand why he did what he did. I don’t like it, but I understand it. The real problem that day…well…it’s just…. I know there are barriers between our species. It’s more than just speech, and I…I mean, these problems probably have carried over from hundreds of years of differences. You three have been great, but the part that upsets me is that Noa seems to choose to ignore the fact that apes and humans don’t normally co-exist peacefully. We do, but I’ve also experienced the other end of the spectrum between our species. And Noa just…”

Soona hummed, “Think he…does not see…the differences…in you…but you cannot help…but see them…in us.”

You hesitated, but ultimately nodded in agreement. “I don’t hold being apes against you or your clan, I just…wish he understood what it feels like. To not know if you can trust the person- ape, next to you. To not know if they are going to turn on you, betray you, or even hurt you.”

E, who you assumed had been distracted by her task, stopped immediately. She looked up at you then, a soft coo leaving her as she patted your shoulder. You snorted, using a single finger to mirror her actions. She hooted in clear amusement, leaning her head into your shoulder, rubbing her face against you before sliding down into your lap. She seemed tired now, curling into your side and closing her eyes. You felt a smile slowly creep onto your face, carefully using two fingers to stroke the top of the chimp’s head. She snuggled in closer then, gripping tightly onto your shirt as tears threatened your vision and you thought your heart was actually going to explode.

Get a grip.

Your hormones must be crazy right now. At least, that’s what you told yourself, as you brushed a hand along the loose braids along your shoulder. Soona, as she tends to do, had remained quiet during this exchange. She studied you, noticing how emotional you had become, scenting the air quietly before admitting, “Noa does know…what it is like…to be betrayed.”

This surprised you, your attention quickly brought back to the present conversation. Your eyebrows rose, curiosity peaked as you asked, “By a fellow ape?”

Soona shook her head, causing confusion to drown your mind until she spoke, “By a…Echo…you are not the first…that could speak…that Noa has met.”

You felt your jaw go slack, trying to contain your excitement as you asked, “There are other humans around who can speak?”

“There was one,” Soona answered, lips pursed as she noted your disappointment. “We do not know…where she went…left five seasons ago…have not seen her since…her name was…Mae.”

You nodded, urging Soona to continue, “What happened with Mae? You said she…betrayed Noa? How?”

Soona sighed, “We do not…normally speak of her…she was a source…of much pain and…confusion for Noa…think…you should know.”

You waited, allowing Soona to collect her thoughts. “There was ape…Proximus…he was king of apes…he searched for Mae…killed other humans that…were with her…wanted to get inside…a human vault…it held great weapons…that would make Proximus…more powerful.”

A shiver ran down your spine, remembering the ape Sylva that Anaya had spoken of. He never mentioned this Proximus ape though. Wanting a better idea of the situation you asked, “Who was Sylva to Proximus?”

Soona seemed completely surprised you knew that name, but nevertheless answered, “Sylva was…his General…not sure if that is an ape word…or a human word.”

You swallowed, “It’s human…Proximus seems to have already been an advanced ape.”

Soona curled more into herself then, “He was….we all were afraid…if not for Noa…and Mae…Eagle Clan would not…be here.”

“Proximus ordered your clan to be stolen, and Sylva carried out his orders.” You connected the dots then, “What happened to Proximus?”

“Noa stopped him,” Soona answered without hesitation.

This surprised you. You were aware that Noa killed Sylva, but Proximus as well? Noa did not seem like he was violent, or capable of such great strengths. You assumed he had killed Sylva, a gorilla, by outsmarting him…but Proximus? How? Was Noa secretly more dangerous than you gave him credit for?

Soona grunted then, pulling you out of your thoughts, “Noa says…Mae hid from Proximus…in our village…Noa accidentally…lead them to us…the entire clan was taken…Noa tracked us…for many days…Mae followed…Noa did not know she could speak…until she called his name…Sylva was close…she was scared…she chose Noa as…lesser of the two apes…to fear.”

“So, she lied.” You offered, “Noa was betrayed by her traveling with him but he didn’t know she could speak, or that Proximus was hunting her.”

Soona nodded, “More than that…when Noa and Mae…were taken to Proximus…he learned she shared…the same goal…as Proximus…she wanted to…get inside…get a book…that could help humans…learn to speak…again.”

“That…” you hesitated. You wondered how much to say. A book could not bring back human’s ability to speak. You either were immune or you were not…unless there was a record of some sort. Maybe a cure…a vaccine? Had humans halfway across the world developed their salvation but been unable to share it with anyone outside the vault?

You remembered your vault constantly sending out a signal using the available satellites orbiting Earth, but they never received a response. So much had been lost to time…and if there had been a cure all along? You swallowed the bile in your throat at the thought of how many millions died over time who couldn’t even speak.

You shook your head, “That sounds incredible. Did she find what she was looking for?”

Soona nodded, “Noa helped…we helped her…but she…did not help the clan.”

You tilted your head, “What do you mean?”

Soona huffed, clearly agitated, “The reason…we do not…speak of her…she flooded Proximus’ kingdom…killed many apes…in the process…then ran away.”

“I’m sorry…” It was the only thing you could think to say as silence engulfed the both of you.

“Noa…” Soona began, attention once again towards the forest at your backs. You waited, brows raised as Soona turned back to you. “Noa was…different…after meeting Mae…is different…with you…now.”

Something about that sentence sent chills down your spine. There was many implications, and you chose to ask the most obvious of them, “Does Noa think I’ll turn out to be like Mae? That I’ll betray him? Hurt him or the clan? Is that why he’s always watching me, always careful around me?”

Soona shook her head, “Noa knows…you are not like Mae…you are…what he wished…Mae was…wants to make sure…he does not become….like Mae…to you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “I…I threw a rock at him yesterday. I made a mistake…I already hurt him. He shouldn’t think that I’m not like her…I could be. I’m human after all.”

“Human…” Soona began, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Does not mean bad…ape…does not mean good…Noa says…wants others to learn…we are better…stronger…good and bad…together…more alike…than either side…wants to speak of.”

Still cradling the sleeping E in your lap, you leaned your body into Soona’s, head coming to rest between her neck and her shoulder. Her hand slid from your shoulder to the back of your head, leaning in to return your half-hug as well. She patted your head a few times as you sighed, “Thank you, Soona.”

There was silence, peaceful this time. E breathed heavily in your lap from sleep, and the creek next to you trickled soothingly while the sun climbed higher in the sky. You took a deep breath, feeling more prepared to speak to Noa than you had been before. There was a distinct crack sound behind you, causing both you and Soona to turn.

You saw some leaves fall from a tree not to far back, but couldn’t make out anything more than that. You thought you saw movement for a moment, shielding your eyes with your hand once more, when Soona’s Eagle tore through the canopy and landed next to her on the ground. She stood too quickly then for your liking, looking upstream before turning back to you.

Her eyes were pleading, almost desperate as she said, “Do not…be scared…do not run.”

You were confused, until you heard the litter patter of many feet moving towards you. You leaned your body to see past Soona, body tensing and breath freezing at what you saw. Many apes, children from the looks of it, were running down stream towards the both of you. You suddenly did not want to be on the ground.

You carefully scooped E from your lap, holding her close to your chest as you practically leapt to your feet. Whether from being moved or the sudden frantic beat of your heart, E woke with a start. She began to hoot and squirm in your arms. You clutched her tighter to you, feeling your breathing become labored, taking a step or two back in fear. You didn’t get much further, Soona’s arm coming up to hold your arm.

You jerked towards her with frantic eyes. Hers were still calm, concerned as she tried to comfort you. “I am…here…trust.”

As the apes came closer, you swallowed hard, nodding a few times before taking a step closer, behind her. She hummed, screeching at the apes a few moments later. They came skidding to a stop in front of you, all of them transfixed, as if they had never seen a human before. You reasoned, that perhaps they hadn’t. You tried to take deep, discreet breaths to calm your nerves. None of them were taller than your waist, but the thought of so many surrounding you still made you nervous.

Suddenly, the biggest of the bunch stepped forward, sniffing at your feet for a moment before glancing up to meet your gaze. His held tilted in confusion as he demanded in a voice that sounded much younger than he looked, “Why does Eden…get to be carried…by the Echo?”

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Ascent Astarion referring to female Tav/Reader as „Lady Ancunín“ and insists that everyone else (staff, visitors etc) does so as well, even though they‘re not married (yet 😏) but she‘s his.

I'm back baby~

Yas let's romanticize this evil man I'm ready. But don't worry, he's still a terrible person <3 And so are you in this <3

TW: I'm so sorry I don't know how I got here. Murder, violence, a tiny bit of torture. And wtf tav has no last name? Uh, it starts with a c now I guess. Sex is alluded to but it isn't graphic.

~

"I just don't know why I have to be there," You sighed as the servants opened the doors for the both of you, your arm hooked with Astarion's while you complained, "You know you'll work better if you're not worrying about me all night."

"And how would letting you out of my sight help with my concentration?" Astarion shot back, a frown curling on his lips, "With strangers in our home? Absolutely not."

You barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. Gods, he could be so dramatic. Did he forget who you were?

"Don't you trust me to handle myself?" You asked with a pout, "I didn't always need your protecting, you know."

"Of course I trust you," Astarion sighed as he gave your hand a tight squeeze, "It's the rest of the world I have no faith in."

How on earth were you supposed to argue against that? You weren't quite sure, but you were going to try, "But-"

"No buts," Astarion interrupted curtly, "You're going and that's final. Besides, it's just one night. And we can have as many quiet evenings as you'd like for the rest of the week."

You sighed as you nodded your head, accepting the compromise, "Whatever you say my love."

Astarion smirked down at you, "That's my good girl."

Oh gods, why did he have to go and say that? He was well aware of what that did to you. And now was not the time to have to squeeze your thighs together. You could feel a flush crawl up your neck as you hissed, "I told you not to call me that in public!"

"Did you?" Astarion smirked as he came to a stop in front of a speaking squire, "I don't recall."

He turned his attention to the young man in front of you before you had a chance to respond, "Speak. Did anything happen while we were gone?"

The man shook his head, "No, Master Ancunin."

"Good," Astarion said curtly with a wave of the hand, "You're dismissed."

He nodded, "Thank you Master Ancunin, Misstress C-"

The consonant was barely out of the boy's mouth before Astarion was on him, moving so quickly that it was enough to startle even you. Before you blinked he had him pinned against the wall, a strong arm to his throat as he hissed, "I'm sorry, what did you just call her?"

The servant looked panicked, but at least he had the brains to catch on to his own mistake, "I-Apologies my lord. But since you are not wed I-"

"What we have is higher than the mundanities of marriage," Astarion growled, "You'll address her as Lady Ancunin from now on, if you wish to keep your tongue.

You couldn't help but laugh a bit behind him, more than a bit endeared at the display, "I thought you were saving the dramatics for this evening?"

Astarion ignored you briefly, opting to drop him back to the ground with a cold order, "Get out of my sight."

"Aw poor thing," You cooed as you watched him scramble away. You saddled back up to Astarion's side, linking your arms together with a smile, "Darling you didn't have to terrify him. It was a reasonable mistake."

"I beg to differ," Astarion said lowly, still glaring in the young man's direction, "I should have killed him for that. You're making me too soft."

"Or maybe we should just consider having a wedding?" You said as you leaned your head against his shoulder, "It would save a lot of confusion."

Astarion rolled his eyes, "Obviously we'll be having a wedding darling. But that's not the point. You are mine. With or without a ring. It's best that others learn to respect that now."

"No arguments here," You happily sighed as he led you to your chambers, "Just don't stain anything if you slit someone's throat, okay my love? Blood isn't easy to clean."

Astarion grinned as he pushed you through the door, a familiar glint in his eye as he shut it behind him, "No promises. Though I suppose there are other things we can do to keep my bloodthirst in check. Any ideas?"

You really were such a good girl, especially when the question was more than enough to have you untying the corset back of your dress. A shy smile was already on your lips as you laid back on the bed, your thighs spilling open enticingly, "I think I may have a few."

Astarion grinned as he crawled over you, his fangs already extending in anticipation. This was exactly what he needed. To drink from his precious future bride and have his merry way with her before entertaining a bunch of dullards for the evening.

But he needed to secure these alliances. There weren't many open-and-out vampires operating within the city walls. And the few that remained were valuable enough for him to take interest in, either to work with or to get rid of. Tonight would help him fully realize the distinctions.

And with you by his side, it would be tolerable. Though Astarion had quickly realized after his own turn that vampires had a bad habit of thinking that they were much, much, more interesting than they were.

A fact that he was quickly being reminded of as the night went on. Everything was going according to plan, the guests had arrived, you looked gorgeous and perfect on his arm, and he had a meticulous mask on to seem interested in all the inane conversations he needed to have.

Though this one was especially tedious. A newly risen vampire lord, weeks fresh off of killing his own master. Despite the achievement, he was as dry as a brick wall. But she was interesting. Well... perhaps not him, but certainly the master he had killed was of interest. And he was the only one left living who could possibly know of the woman's secrets.

"It's been an interesting few weeks, to say the least," The man said again, still lost in reliving the death of his own slave master, "I never thought it was possible, but here I am."

You were nodding along, taking the time to do the conversational work Astarion was growing tired of, "It is quite thrilling isn't it? To be free. I'm sure she had many perks of immortality that were lost to you. Hopefully, you're adjusting well."

"I am, and she did. In fact, I found these books, can't read a lick of them but-"

"Perhaps a translator could be of use?" You casually interrupted, "I can always take a look for you."

"That would be lovely-"

"Master Ancunin!" A feminine voice interrupted from behind, "I've been looking everywhere for you."

He turned, his annoyance shifting to interest when he realized who was speaking. Lady Imelel, a high-ranking spawn turned master after the murder of her sister, nearly three-hundred years ago. Done by Cazador's own hand. She had been a consistent thorn in his side since that day, only relenting to meet when she was certain of his murder.

She was beautiful, as expected. With an air of confidence that nearly made Astarion bristle. She was a bit... too comfortable in his presence. Especially when she decided that linking her arm to his was appropriate.

He could feel you stiffen at his side at the display, a fact she remained oblivious to as she spoke, "Gods, there is so much I'd like to discuss with you. Privately if you wouldn't mind."

For anyone else, the obvious display of disrespect towards you would have been an automatic death sentence. But Astarion was conflicted. If anyone was going to be aware of the identities of other unknown vampires in the realm, it would be her. He'd be forced to let it slide for the moment.

Though just because he was agreeing, didn't mean he couldn't make things more clear.

He plastered a tight smile on his face before nodding, "Certainly, just one moment."

He turned to you, his voice dropping a few octaves, "Will you be okay alone for a moment darling? I won't be long."

You nodded, always so, so good at picking up on what he needed, "I'll be fine my love. I'm sure Erwen will keep me plenty entertained."

"Good," He murmured before pressing a deep kiss to your mouth, taking the time to lick inside, just to feel you shudder. Perhaps it was a bit much. It certainly was if the flush to Erwen's face was anything to go by when he pulled away. But Astarion was trying to be fair here. And if Imelel didn't understand the picture after that, he couldn't be held responsible for what could happen to her.

He grinned down at you before pressing one last lingering kiss to your mouth, "I'll be right back."

And then he was off, reluctantly being dragged away by Imelel; who looked particularly offended at the display of affection. It didn't take long for her to make her offense known either.

She took him to the first quiet corner she could find, a frown on her lips as she leaned in, "My dear, I know you're quite new to this but... I would refrain from chaining yourself to one soul so quickly. It truly is a waste.

Ah. It was unfortunate that she was continuing that line of thought. Astarion only had so much patience.

He cocked his head at her, thoroughly amused at the audacity, "Oh? Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that plaything that you take everywhere with you," She said easily, blissfully unaware of how close he was to ripping out her tongue. She was running a delicate hand down his chest, "You're limiting yourself for no reason. She's a mortal who was lucky enough to catch your eye. And she knows it. She won't be going anywhere if you explore your other options. And even if she did... who cares?"

That sealed it. She would be dying tonight. And if Astarion had any less patience she would have been slain the second she forgot your title. But he had more decorum than that. Or maybe he just wanted to make things personally horrifying, just for her.

He grinned back at her, leaning into her touch despite the way it made his skin crawl, "It sounds like there is an offer buried in your words. Am I right?"

"It could be," She purred, "If you'd be willing to sneak away."

Well wasn't that nice? For her to do the hard work for him. He took her hand in his, giving it a little squeeze before saying, "Go out and mingle my dear, then meet me upstairs in an hour. The second room to the left. And then you can show me exactly what I've been missing."

She smiled, one with too much teeth before sauntering away.

It was almost disgusting, how foolish she was. Astarion could scarcely believe she had survived this long. Though in her meager defense, this was probably going to be the first time that she was rebuffed for her advances. But otherworldly beauty could only take you so far, a harsh lesson that she was about to learn.

Astarion wasted no time in finding you again, politely dragging you away from the conversation. You didn't miss a beat, immediately updating him on everything that was said, "He'll bring the books by for translation. If there's any magic to them I'll be able to extract it and he'll get a.... redacted version. The poor thing really doesn't know what he's doing. But he's far from a threat-"

"That's wonderful my sweet, thank you," Astarion interrupted, his voice lowered, "But I need you to do something else for me. Do you remember those fun little ropes we found a few months back?"

You nodded, "The Cord of Constriction? Or the Lariat of Lethargy?"

"Let's say both. Now go and put them in the guest room for me will you? And then wait in the closet. And don't move a muscle until I say, no matter what you see or hear. Understood?"

"Why on Earth-"

"Darling," Astarion interrupted, an edge coloring his voice, "Don't question me. Just be a good girl and listen. Can you do that?"

Those were the magic words. He licked his lip as he watched a flush crawl up your neck, an adorable pout on your lips, "I-Gods. Fine! Just don't keep me waiting long."

"I won't," Astarion promised with a smile, "I'll see you soon."

He watched you go, excitement brewing in the back of his mind. And he thought tonight was going to be boring. He waited until he saw Imelel start her way up the stairs before following, a slight pep in his step. It was all so easy to manipulate her onto the bed, easier still to convince her of a "fun" little game to tie her to the bed posts.

He leaned back when he was done, a smirk forming as he watched her test her bindings, "I should have known that this would be your type of fun Astarion."

"Yes," Astarion laughed, low and mean, "You should have. Darling, you can come out now. I have a surprise for you."

Right on cue you were popping out of the closet, your eyes widening when you saw the woman tied to the bed. The woman who was slowly panicking as she realized just how strong the ropes she was tied with were.

"This is my surprise?" You asked as you saddled up to him, easily stepping into his open arms, "I assume this is the part where you explain why?"

"Astarion? What on earth are you doing?" Imelel asked quietly, her voice slightly shaking, "I am not someone to be trifled with-"

"I'll be the judge of that," Astarion said quickly before turning his attention back to you, "Darling, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but this creature spoke of you in one of the most disrespectful manners you can imagine. And for that a punishment is due, don't you think?"

"Are you insane?" Imelel screeched, "You won't get away with this!"

But Astarion wasn't listening. He was too busy watching the ways your eyes softened at him. You smiled, "So a powerful vampire mildly insults me, and your solution is murder?"

Astarion grinned, "Naturally."

"Gods, I love you," You sighed before leaning in to peck his lips, "But you'll help me, won't you?"

"Of course darling," Astarion cooed, his hand already reaching for the dagger in his belt, "I'm here to help."

Imelel was still struggling, hard enough to make the Cord of Constriction bite against her skin. Her hand was slowly turning purple from the loss of circulation. She was still screeching too, bellowing about her own importance. Right up until Astarion had the knife to her throat.

"Oh, not so brave now are you?" Astarion chuckled as she finally shut up, "To be clear, you will be dying tonight. For every offense that came out of your mouth in regards to my love. Your body will be used for a display to warn the next audacious shrew. Sound good?"

She was crying now. Good. It was her own fault that she was there to begin with, all because she couldn't keep her big mouth shut.

He turned back to you, "What do you say, darling? Do you want me to do the honors?"

You shook your head before gently taking the knife, taking the time to kiss him on the cheek, "No, I'll do the first cut, and the rest can be yours."

"Whatever you say darling," Astarion sighed, happy to step back and watch you get to work. You really were good with daggers, a skill he admired as he watched you slit her throat. There you were, the light of his life, the master of his heart, the one and only Lady Ancunin. And it was long time the world started to see you as such.

The two of you enjoyed yourselves for as long as you could before there was nothing left of the woman who once was. And Astarion kept to his word.

As a nice end to the evening he dropped her body down the stairs, chuckling at all of the shocked gasps it tore from his audience before he gave his speech, "This, ladies and gentlemen, is what happens when you disrespect myself or Lady Ancunin in any shape or form. Do with the information as you will. Now please, enjoy your evening."

[nabi-unveiled]

There are fabulous things happening in ep 1 of Heesu in Class 2.

For the record, other than seeing a few people saying it was good on my dash, I knew nothing going into this one. I generally avoid trailers and only rarely know a show is starting before it does. I'm a "see it on my app, click it, decide if I vibe" type of person.

#1 - It took me less than 1.5 minutes to start vibing.

We start with Hee Su running to confess while wearing a fabulous shirt with a sun on it.

Then the intro came in hard with all kinds of science symbols including planets, a telescope and a full out phase diagram of the moon. My nerdy heart which is currently writing video scripts related to astronomy is in my happy place. Plus, they're using the science symbols POETICALLY. I'm going to swoon.

#2 - The "universe" dialogue isn't a one off.

Our boy Hee Su is apparently really into astronomy. Even if he says he mainly likes Chan Young, he's trying to start an astronomy club. Problem is - teach has a life outside of school.

I hate to say it Hee Su, but I agree with teach here. Expecting him to work from 10pm - midnight when he's not equally passionate about astronomy is a bit much.

But the cooler thing to me is that Hee Su KEEPS referencing the universe. We have an absolutely lovely poetic opening speech about the universe.

Hee Su uses it to discuss how the casual remarks from Chan Young impact him.

He uses it at the end when he decides to confess. Sure, there may be a universe where he didn't confess. And there may be a universe where he was rejected. But what if there's a universe where he's accepted. What if it's this one?

#3 - A lot of the dialogue spirals and builds

Throughout the episode, there are so many places where dialogue is building and spiraling. It's layering in so many themes and setting up the narrative so nicely that my brain is literally pinging with happiness.

We have a thread about the real value of "confessions" with multiple perspectives on that.

We have a thread about the right way to "approach" the person you care about and build a relationship.

We have a thread about the unintentional things people do that can hurt others.

We have MULTIPLE pieces of dialogue that are already being used multiple times by different characters in the episode. And the callbacks are so seamlessly integrated that it works to build both meaning and narrative tension. That's a skill.

#4 - Hee Su is a dating "guru" who has never dated, but he's actually good at it.

The fact that it seems like he's mainly learned from watching television and listening to his sisters' stories is perfection. I respect that so much.

I also love this sibling relationship SO much.

#5 - What makes a "true" friend is already being explored.

See this girl? I love her. This is a fledgling friendship. But the energy is already flowing both ways. Unlike the users in his life, she learned Hee Su's name BEFORE approaching him. They're bonding over Usain Bolt and unrequited love. She's giving HIM advice even if he was supposed to be mentoring her.

See this boy? I hate him. He's the "perfect" friend. The object of Hee Su's affection. I'm probably projecting and judging him prematurely. But for this episode, I'm getting coward + popular jerk + manipulator vibes. I'll need to remind myself that he's a teenager. He might grow on me.

See this boy behind Hee Su? I'm trying to decide whether I should feel bad for him. He's obviously the brunt of his friends' jokes including Hee Su's. But there is friendly affection between the three of them, and he gives it back to them too.

#6 - I'm adopting our "Mystery" suitor.

Hee Su may be the title character, but Seung Won is who I'm adopting. Bias is in play. I've seen him before in a different show, and I LOVED his acting in it. I skipped through most of that tedious show just to get to his scenes.

But beyond the fact that he pays attention to Hee Su,

Hee Su's family is the warmth and noise in his quiet, lonely world.

#7 - There's FOOD symbolism.

We have carrot juice being given by pretty much everyone to Hee Su representing all kinds of feelings. Even if I agree with our Friend on the Fringe that it wouldn't be my choice of my drink.

And we have shared family snacks & meals

with the occasional sibling shenanigans.

I loved the ramen scene so much.

Do I have time and the energy for Episode 2 tonight? I don't know, but I just might try.

[joachimz]

A SHEEP IN WOLF’S LOATHING — Y.K.

CHAPTER ONE: IN THE BEGINNING

YUKIMIYA KENYU X GN!READER

CHAPTER SUMMARY: A slip of the tongue, a mistake of morale. That is all it takes for Yukimiya to lose his sense of God given control.

CHAPTER INCLUDES: pro player yukki. sacrilege (faintly). religious themes. mental health crisis.

CHAPTER LENGTH: 4.5k words

CHAPTER NOTES: i’m really nervous about this. i dunno. i hope y’all like it. not fully proofread, as always.

Camera flashes have become an easing sort of thing; like a flickering spark off of a shoddy hotwiring job—an outcome that is to be expected but still should not be praised. 

That’s the difference here though, isn’t it? The praise is affirmed and the flare is not always foreseen. Without the praise, it wouldn’t be as welcomed, would it? Wouldn’t be as accepted. As cultivated. 

As hearkened to.

Yukimiya blinks against the flashing lights, shifts in his seat to lean forward and prop his elbows on the semi-flimsy table in front of him with practiced poise. The curve of his lips is natural, perfected. Trained. To his right his coach is speaking, he can already smell the alcohol on his breath that he swigged in the locker room post-victory and pre-interview. Typical, he denotes. Can’t even wait until he’s out of the arena, away from the prying eyes of the press. Away from the guise of decency.

He fights the urge to scrunch his nose at it.

“Alright, folks, we have time for just two more questions,” a staff member, someone from the venue employee list, announces after his coach wraps up his speech on ‘teamwork winning this for them once again.’ Ironic, he thinks, given the playstyle they actually showcase on the field.

Another press member is randomly picked out among the lineup. A short man with a pudgy stomach. He’s wearing an outdated hat that, if he had to place money on it, Yukimiya would bet is covering up a thinning comb over. He seems nice enough, for this line of work at least. He doesn't try to shove anyone around him. He hasn’t tried to shout over the remainder of the crowd thus far. Yukimiya would be happy to indulge him in a question if he chose to direct it to him, even if his suit is obviously hand me downs that his poor old mother most likely hemmed up to fit. 

He has no problem with humble beginnings, after all. Even if the sight has refined distaste pooling on the bed of his tongue.

The man stands up once he registers he’s the one being pointed to. Seemingly shaky on his feet, he sways a bit. Winces when his jolting accidentally makes his chair scrape back behind him and screech along the floor. Poor guy. A pitiful old thing, really. 

“Ah y-yes, Yukimiya-kun, my question is for you, if you don’t mind. It’s about your-your tactics for–”

The universe can be cruel, sometimes. Apt to stamp out the flickers of innocent flames while it lets unbridled blazes consume everything in their wake. The reporter drops his cards—the ones he was most ardently reading from in an attempt to level himself, to give himself enough bravery to speak in the first place. He must be new to this, or at this ranking of competition at the very least. A shame.

“That’s quite alright,” Yukimiya smiles; a genuine, kind sort of thing that curls over his teeth as the man scrambles to bend over and pick up the scattered index cards. “Take your time.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the employee from before checking their watch. There’s no time for this, he’s sure is what they’re thinking, We’re pushing it already. 

He doesn’t care about that. He would like to indulge this gentleman with the slightly wrinkled pinstripe suit. Give him a bit of leeway, as he sees fit. A morsel of grace.

“Ah, forgive me,” he chuckles, wavering and hoarse but with no humor. A bead of sweat is dripping down his temple and Yukimiya feels a cool drop of water trail down his neck from his previous shower at the same time. “My question—Your tactics for play, they are not as, erm, polished as some of your competitors. I do not mean that as them being inadequate or–or anything of that nature! Of course not! It is just.. Is this by choice, or are you, ah, unable to implement these new innovative strategies into your personal gameplay?”

There’s winds of whispering blowing through the rows in front of him. A mirage of murmurs stirring up static in response to the query. People who are, no doubt, questioning this man’s sanity and downright audacity to inquire one of Japan’s top players on his playing style. To, in a roundabout way, belittle it despite its successes. They must think him to be mad.

Yukimiya thinks him to be intrepid.

He humors him, because he was not expecting such a question to come from a man with trembling knees and lopsided sleeves. A well seasoned reporter, maybe. A hardened man numb to the job with designer suits that broaden his bony shoulders. That make him look more threatening than he is, more compelling. But not him. 

The lights are so bright, it is growing hot under his team sponsored crew neck. He can take part in expressing sympathy for the pudgy man’s sweating now; even if most of his was attributed to nerves. His smile stays the same. He pays no mind to the video cameras zooming in on him like tempered clockwork. 

He wonders if the man’s cue cards are dirty after having fallen on the floor.

“Good question. I respect your resolve, truly. And I thank you, but,” he starts, reaching a hand up to pinch the frame of his glasses. Readjust them a bit up the bridge of his nose. “I have a better one for you.”

The murmurs cease, microphones are being held out closer to Yukimiya as if he doesn’t have one placed on the table right in front of him that is doing all of their jobs for them. He ponders over how their arms don’t get tired, how their eyes don’t burn from lack of blinking. Does he enrapture them so much, that they would demean themselves this just to wait with bated breath for what he has to say?

His smile quirks a little higher.

“Is a lamb still a lamb, even when thrown into a den of lions?”

“Ah-!” the man perks up, eyes widening ever so slightly as he nods his head; fervent. “Yes, I-I suppose it is.”

“Exactly.” Yukimiya tips his head a single degree, lets the damp wave of his–begrudgingly unkempt–bangs fall a bit into his eyes as he holds the man’s gaze. Because that is polite, you know. To look at the person to whom you are addressing. “It does not matter how long the lamb is there, or how long the lions try to toy with it. It will never try to roar, and the lions will never try to baa. And yet, that does not make either of them any less of themselves. If anything, it only solidifies their nature more.”

The man shifts on his feet, fiddles with the cards in his hands. They are probably well bent up by now. Have probably lost their crisp novelty. Or maybe they never had the chance to be unscathed at all. Perhaps there was a problem with their manufacturing. Perhaps they were cursed from the packaging. 

“You see, it is not that I am ignorant to those around me and how they choose to play this game. Nor is it that I do not have the ability to attempt and achieve success through their methods, either. It is simply that I am more concerned about who I am, as a whole, and how that reflects in my play style throughout my career. How it attributes to the name I am making for myself.”

He pauses, now. Leans forward a little more on his elbows. The gentleman’s throat bobs and he can’t be certain why. But it is not so critical to him. Not now.

“Why would I learn to roar, when I already know how to baa?”

There’s a beat of silence, where everyone takes in his response. And then the not-so-whispers erupt again, notepads scritching with rushed writing down of his quote and slaps to the arms of measly camera men with hisses of ‘Did you get that?’ They stay hooked on his words, turn their attention away for just a second to make sure they really captured it all, but Yukimiya is still staring at the gentleman before him.

He makes no move to reach for the slim notepad that is sticking out of the pocket on his suit coat. He has no one to turn to and ask if they got a recording of what was just spoken. And yet, he does not seem inclined to worry about that at all. Yukimiya takes note of the sparkle in his eyes and mulls over whether it is from the fluorescent lights or the wonder he tends to incite. He is partial to settling on the latter.

“Right,” the reporter man speaks, finally, a warm grin cutting across his round face like a knife through risen dough. “Very good point, Yukimiya-kun. Thank you. You really are miraculous.”

And, oh; he is, isn’t he? His grin quirks up in a less genuine direction–not that anyone else could decipher such a miniscule cue–at that comment as he watches the gentleman finally sit back down. He readjusts his glasses again, fights the urge to chuckle to himself. 

He really is a miracle; God’s gift to the soccer world and plucked from a string of His own heart. Because how else, if not by that sentiment, could he hold as much power as this? 

An angel sent from the heavens, donned in cleats and silk.

The venue staff member is stepping up again, calling out the final person in the crowd to ask a question. Yukimiya sits back in his seat to let his spine rest, tries not to grimace as his coach clasps a hand over his shoulder and gives it a rewarding squeeze. How can one be proud of calluses earned by others' hard work?

Someone stands up from the crowd, the final reporter granted the honor of sealing off this post game interview session. A young woman, dressed much more fashionable than her former peer among the sea of journalists. Her pencil skirt is tight around the curve of her hips and her button down blouse is tucked smoothly into the waist of it. It flatters her well, too, form-fitted (but not too much to be considered blatantly scandalous) and with the top two buttons undone to showcase the dip of her cleavage. Now that; that Yukimiya knows is done with the intent to distract. 

His smile fades into a glazed over simper as he reaches her face. Takes in her dark lined eyes and rose tinted cheeks, presses his gaze to the plush of her glossed over lips. She tucks a lock of inky hair behind her ear before she raises her notepad up in front of her. Yukimiya finds it humorous, familiar.

She looks just as nice under blaring fluorescents as she does tangled up in imported bed sheets.

That’s the thing about professional athleticism—there is always someone wanting you. In games, in plays, in dark corridors of arenas where they should be getting the inside scoop and instead are getting their insides… Well, you get the picture. You are among the most desired, whether by your sport or sex appeal, the specifics don’t really matter. And that is not something to which Yukimiya has been deemed an exception.

If anything, he ranks above most of his colleagues when it comes to desirability. His face has been plastered on the covers of magazines since he was in highschool. The camera saw him in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein’s before any potential young lover’s jittery eyes did. When you are that adored, that sought after, you tend to come to conclusions early on.

Deals are easy to be made when one is blinded by desire. And lust is the easiest weapon used in persuasion. Funny, how the body is such a sufficient vessel when it comes to bargaining.

This woman, in particular, is one with whom Yukimiya is well acquainted with, in that sense. She is pretty—by every conventional standard—well respected in her field of sports journalism and has a solid head on her shoulders. A woman like that tends to be desired, too, but not by men whom she’d see fit. Which is where Yukimiya comes in. 

A man like him (stone carved face and body to match) who has something she wants? Can promise her details and exclusive information on his teammates as well as his rivals? Give her tips and tricks on how she can pry even more out of them herself? In exchange for, what? A quickie in an arena bathroom before he gets back on the bus to the airport? He can do that; satisfy his needs and fulfill her exigencies all at once. 

Plus, he is so very good at squeezing data out of people when they think they’re the ones drawing it out of him. Like he said, desire blinds; and the void is nothing but the shadow he has grown most accustomed to.

The acquaintance he allows to haunt his home. 

“I would like to start by saying, as always, such an impressive game you played out there tonight, Yukimiya-san,” the woman, Tamiko, compliments him. And that is a common occurrence when she is present at these conferences as well. But he isn’t complaining; a stroke to his ego has never made him turn up his nose.

“Thank you,” he nods, fidgeting with the stand of the microphone in front of him out of passing boredom, “As always, of course.”

“Of course,” Tamiko mirrors back, and the pro doesn’t miss the gleam in her eye as she does. 

She clutches her notepad closer to her chest, accentuating the window the open buttons have created. Yukimiya isn’t a stupid man, he knows a ploy when he sees one. He also sees the way the men surrounding her notice such a view, too. His lips quirk wider at their gazes, and a haughty feeling bubbles in his chest because he knows any longing looks directed at her will be done in vain.

She’s here for him and him alone, beyond everything. The only man who stands a chance is the one sitting in his seat.

How blessed, for him.

“Ma’am.” It’s that damned staff member again. He is starting to grate Yukimiya’s nerves, run his mercy thin. Why must he keep sticking his nose into matters that are not that serious? “Your question, please.”

“Oh, yes, pardon me,” she smiles again, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes the same way it does when aimed at him as it does to Kenyu. That also strokes his ego, just the tiniest bit. “My question, Yukimiya-san.”

He nods again, levels his gaze back on her. “Yes?” 

“I think that I must indulge your fans and speak on their behalf, just this once.” 

Her mascara tinted lashes bat against the swell of her cheekbones. It’s tantalizing; obvious, what she is doing. Or maybe Yukimiya has just been able to dissect her that well due to their.. proximity. Regardless, he must applaud her. To maintain such a well respected reputation while using her tactics must be difficult. Hard work for such an impudent woman as her.

And it is never ‘just this once.’

“Please do,” he adheres, and this time he does chuckle. A breathy, rumbly sort of thing that he knows will end up as a clipped video and sent among many shrieking fangirls—and boys, for that matter, he doesn’t discriminate—before his head even hits the satin of his pillowcase tonight. Fanservice is what Isagi used to call it as a way to tease him when the both of them first broke big. Pleasing the masses is how he describes it, and it’s only his rightful duty, you see. 

You can’t just leave the masses hungry. That simply wouldn’t do. 

“So, do tell me,” Tamiko hums, punctuates her request with a little cinch to her pout that would be enough to make any typical man swoon. (That was part of the reason she intrigued Yukimiya in the first place, if he is completely honest). 

“Is it merely your God given abilities or does that… well attuned body account for the marvel that is Yukimiya Kenyu?”

Crowds are always receptive to questions such as this—and now is no exception. Chuckles and claps and quiet whoops sweep over the press members that are sardined in the conference room, obviously tickled by the inquiry and hankering to know whatever answer might slip through his lips. A chuckle rattles out of the back of Yukimiya’s throat again and he shakes his head, leans in closer to the mic as he twists it on its stand, fidgets in a way that is unusual for him. 

“God can only take you so far,” and it comes out before he can stop himself, before he can mull over the weight of his words—the implications, “Let’s just say I gave Him a little bit of a helping hand.”

“Alright, that’s the last question!” the stadium worker booms out above the immediate uproar of the crowd, cutting off any and all follow ups that may have been deemed necessary. Fascinated, amused at the player’s answer to such a nuanced question. Tamiko purses her pretty cherry lips at not being able to get the final word in.

And Yukimiya swallows down the bitter after taste of his sentiment.

It had all happened so fast; he’s just used to light banter, that’s all. His quip and brush back simply rolled off his light laced tongue. So easily, too easily. His helping hands twitch in his lap as his coach pats his back solidly as a nudge to stand. To take his leave.

Yukimiya listens, but it’s different, now. Now, he does not spare a glance to Tamiko in quiet understanding to meet by the east emergency exit for a rushed makeout sesh. Now, he does not smile and wave full of poise and praise to the cameras and reporters to keep his pretty face painted politely in the tabloids come morning. Now, he does not thank the crowd of reporters for staying so late just for the chance to speak with him.

Now, he feels an uneasy pebble of conviction forming in his gut.

How could he say such a thing? How could he be so careless? He berates himself as his sneakers traipse their way back to the locker room. Something isn’t right with him, he’s off–somehow. There’s a hitch in his step, a snag in his gait. He nearly trips over his own two graceful feet as he rounds the corner towards the locker room. His coach flings out an arm to catch him, even in his own drunken, lopsided stupor.

“Woah there, tiger,” a chuckle, a tease. Yukimiya finds nothing humorous in this moment. “You get into my secret stash?”

“What? Of course not, don’t be so fucking–”

“Hey.” Clipped, short. Stern as he is yanked by the hand of assistance clamped over his elbow to a halt, Kenyu nearly flinches. “I was jus’ yanking your chain. Ease up, kid. Take a breather.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, because that is polite. Because he is polite. Polite and poised and perfect and that’s–that’s the truth so it’s fine. It’s fine. “I’m sorry. I’m just more tired than I realized.”

His coach eyes him for another moment in the dim corridor. One of the lights is flickering just outside of the locker room. It’s straining, pulsing. Yukimiya’s head hurts. A pound, a pulse–thu-thuck, thu-thuck, thu-thuck. He squints an eye, blinks a couple times.

But a deep breath does not give way to the constriction of his lungs.

“Alright,” the old man says, finally, and lets go of the prodigy’s elbow to clap his hand over his shoulder. He gives a squeeze, then another. It's supposed to be reassuring, forgiving, he knows. But Yukimiya fights every smidgen within him to not recoil in distaste. “Let’s get you out of here. You played a hell of a game today, son.”

I’m not your son.

“Thank you, sir,” he forces out, now. Pinched and with a smile just to match that does not quite crimp the tails of his eyes; the apples of his cheeks. The scrunch isn’t there, his canine is out of sight. 

He’s feigning in a way that’s damn near disgraceful. And that pebble is churning; building. 

“Good game, Yukki,” fucking Kaiser, gift from God, Michael chimes as he enters the locker room. A ploy, a taunt. But half genuine, in the way that crawls beneath one’s skin. In a way that’s unnerving–ever so slightly. 

“Fuck off.”

“Ooh, touchy,” he sing songs, steps closer as he finger coils with the towel around his neck that’s catching the water droplets from his shower sopped hair. “Did the pretty reporter girl finally admit I’m the better fuck?”

Yukimiya scoffs because, seriously, why the fuck can Kaiser never seem to mind his fucking own? He grabs his bag out of his locker and slams it shut, pulling it over the shoulder his coach just tainted. Then, with all the grace left in him, turns to the man who’s only gift from God is the fact that there is a bench separating the pair of them right now.

“Have a nice night,” he grins, vile and evil and wrong as it snakes across his face in a way that is pleasing to the eye. Then, he turns on his heel and dips out of the locker room.

His smile drops as soon as he’s in the limelight of the hall. 

Inverse erosion is occurring inside the body of Yukimiya Kenyu. Conviction growing like a specimen on a soiled petri dish, little ugly bit by little ugly bit. It’s spreading, to the dip of his waist, up the curve of his jugular. Like tendrils sprouting, twisting, choking out the light inside him. He ignores the stadium workers who congratulate him on his achievement of the night. Something he would normally never do, even after a loss. Even in the pits of despair. Even on his darkest day. 

He ignores them as well as his driver who is standing at the exit waiting for him. He opens the door just in time for Yukimiya to push through; broad shoulders and steam littered ears. He’s stupid, ignorant.

Blasphemous. 

“Could you hurry up?” He snaps as he gets to the car door a step too quick. He doesn’t mean to–lash out, that is. He can’t help it. He feels like he’s losing it. His mind, his vision, himself. There’s tunnels cutting through the edges of his sight. He can’t blink past them.

“Sorry, sir,” Fuyuki, a great big man in a great, sleek suit, nods as he rushes cordially to open up the door for the pro. Yukimiya winces internally at his politeness, but makes no effort to stave the wounds. “And congratulations, on the win.”

That gets ignored, because Yukimiya is too busy trying not to throw up to even think of conversing right now. He slides into the spacious back compartment of the car. There’s no cameras out back, thank the Lord, or his mimi-tantrum would be on the front page of all the wrong kinds of magazines in the morning. He tries to suck in a breath, and another, as he takes off his glasses and blinks.

Once, twice, thrice–all for naught. The tunnels are closing in, he’s getting fed up. Something is looming, he can feel it. In his bones. Over him, pressing and pressing. 

Let’s just say I gave Him a little bit of a helping hand.

How could he be so careless? So loose lipped? He would never–has never spouted off something so–so.. 

“Home, sir?” Fuyuki asks as he slides in the driver seat.

“The fuck do you think?”

A glare through the rear view, another bite back. The hole Yukimiya is digging for himself is growing by the second, bigger and bigger and he’s losing traction. Fast. He’s losing his grip, he’s losing sight of.. What, exactly?

I gave Him a little bit of a helping hand.

How incredulous of a statement for a mere mortal like him to make. How ungrateful, unforgiving. Merciless is a God whom he deserves. A wrath–that’s it. The tunnel forming around him, the darkness in his pupils. In his gut.

His hands tighten around the strap of his bag in a weak attempt to root himself. No, ground himself. That’s right. That’s what he means. Ground. He needs to ground himself. Ground, in the ground. If he is smote he will be in the ground and the fault is his. The fault is–

…bit of a helping hand.

“Fuck!” Yukimiya yells and throws his bag full force across the back compartment of his car. Clothes, shoes, his wallet and keys all fly out. Fuyuki swerves, the slightest bit, at the commotion, and what ensues. Because he does not stop there.

His brand new phone, his water bottle that he keeps stocked, anything he can get his perfectly manicured fingers on is ripped and roared and tossed about inside the confines of the car. It's a wonder he doesn’t break a window, or injure something, someone–himself. 

Himself, to blame? No.. no that cannot be because for him to say such a wretched thing there must be a reason. Some outside force has pushed him, prodded to make him bespoke of God in such a way. Skewed his moral high ground and lured him away from the light. From divinity. From the pure and good of his soul.

That’s right, he thinks, someone has soiled him. Someone close to him. Who is around him constantly. Slithering around in his inner circle.

And that just won’t do.

Frantically, he scrambles for his discarded phone. Picks up and flings soiled shorts and jersey and shoes and finds it miraculously unscathed at the bottom of the floorboard, tucked into a crevice. He brushes his curls out of his face, no longer laid pristinely down to head, combed through and neat. It’s frizzing up, just like the shreds of his sanity.

Someone has tainted him, and he is finding fault wherever he can. Where he believes it to be. The root of the problem. The head of the snake.

His fingers fumble across his phone screen as he slips his glasses back on, squints through the dark at the luminated device. He clicks on his contact list and scrolls. Down, down, down to the culprit scrawled out in the “m”s. He clicks the name and opens up his message thread.

“Akari’s fired. Effective immediately. Find me a new assistant. I do not take too kindly to serpents in my garden.”

He sends the message to his manager without a second thought. And, like a miracle shining down, the weight is lifting. Breaths come easier and shoulders release tension. The root of the problem, surely he’s found it. He must have. Why else would he already be experiencing such alleviation? Such a lull in the tide of turmoil?

“Fuyuki, I think there’s cause for celebration,” he smiles, more genuine now than he has been able to stomach all night, as he meets tapioca eyes in the rearview, “How about a drink?”

He’s pouring two glasses of scotch from the mini fridge before an answer is given. After all, alcohol is best suited to cleanse wounds.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[collectivephilosopher]

The tragedy of Jinx and Vi’s love.

Why they couldn’t be together.

note: first half is analysis, second half is criticism of the ending.

To me, The tragedy of these two sisters always stems from the fundamentals of their love and ideology. I think I don’t have to explain how the relationship of the sisters was pushed aside to prioritize the romance but I want to talk about this one specific thing:

The reason why Jinx and Vi could not be together.

By the end of season 1, Jinx outright said:  “I thought maybe you could love me like you used to even though I’m different. But you changed too.”

This is about how they’ve both become different people. The versions of each other they once knew only exist in the past. Jinx was not wrong in saying this and it is a pretty valid desire to be loved as who she is not who she was. People change over time. To quote Cinema Therapy:

“When you choose to love somebody, you’re choosing to love a different version everyday, every month, every year. Cause if you just chose to love the original—like the one that you just met, the one that you first knew—you’re in love with someone who doesn’t exist anymore.

Vi

Vi is someone who in order to love someone, she must like that person too or at least they’re not conflicting with her moral ideology. 

It’s conditional but a moral compatibility case.

while what Vi actually stands for is… a bit confusing, I’ll try to lay it down for us.

Vi’s morality is actually pretty complicated because it’s driven more by personal loyalty than a strict ethical code. She doesn’t operate by rigid principles like “good vs. evil” or “justice vs. crime.” Instead, her morality is based on who she loves and what she believes they deserve.

That’s why she can shift between being a criminal, an enforcer, and someone who brutalizes people in the undercity with no real crisis of conscience—she justifies violence and crime when it’s for the right people.

I’d say she doesn’t like violence. It’s a tool for her, something she’s good at to achieve her goal. That’s why she was horrified/concerned when she saw Jinx laughing her heart out killing people or when she saw Jinx give in completely to destructive rage.

Vi believes that people should fight for something. Violence should have a reason—whether it’s for family, for justice, or even revenge. It should be controlled, purposeful. This aligns with what Powder said to Ekko in S2E7. When Vi lost her purpose, that’s when she abandoned her moral ideology.

This moral compatibility issue is also why she struggles with accepting change. In S1E6 during their reunion, the first thing Jinx informed is about change. “I changed,” Jinx said and Vi immediately took it as "oh my sister must be just doing what it takes to survive.” Because this is what aligns to her. She said “me too” so she must have done things she was ashamed of in order to survive as well (even though we were never really shown what exactly Vi meant by this) even though just before Sevika outright says that Jinx works for Silco and that she’s like his “daughter”. But obviously Vi must have rationalized it as Powder just working for Silco in order to survive or Powder was forced to work as Silco’s super soldier. 

Another example is when she asked Caitlyn not to change in S2. The moment Caitlyn starts showing signs of falling into destructive rage (like Jinx) is the moment Vi pulled her aside. Imo Vi stopping Caitlyn from shooting at the Janna temple is for Jinx, because she was shadowed by the glimpse of Powder in Jinx (like Ekko in S1E7) but if you think about it, Despite Vi’s true motivation, it was also true that Caitlyn could’ve shot Isha but Caitlyn couldn’t care less about that concern. Caitlyn’s moral ideology is shifting, that's why Vi was desperate to stop it.

She stopped seeing Jinx as her sister the moment she accepted the existence of Jinx. And she rationalizes it by completely separating the two entities. 

“My sister is gone, there is only Jinx now.”

Because to Vi, a “sister” is someone to love.

"are we still sisters? (do we still love each other?) — nothing is ever going to change that". 

to Vi, Jinx is not her sister. This is of course just a coping mechanism, I don’t think she fully believed in it.

“I’m done pretending you’re my sister, you’re not.”

It is also worth noting that Vi didn’t seek out Jinx after her crash out. Probably also because she thinks she doesn’t have a sister anymore. She never called Jinx her sister in S2, not once I think? The closest is circling through their parents. 

“he’s your dad too.”

“at least they never have to see the psycho their daughter turned into.”

“do you remember them? (mom and dad)”

This contrasts with S1 how Vi constantly refers to Jinx as her sister.

“she’s my sister.”

”nothing is ever going to change that (we’re sisters).”

Season 2, in act 2 we were shown Vi starting to accept Jinx back as her family, like offering to stay at the commune or when in act 3 she freed Jinx from the prison. Vi did this I think because of what she said to Caitlyn before. Vi said Jinx has changed because she saw Jinx's interactions with Isha. I’m not saying Jinx has not but noticed that this is Vi’s reasoning to not jail Jinx which is… not really how crime works… an old crime is still a crime. But yeah, the point is that she believed Jinx had changed. 

This is the fundamental of Vi’s love. She wants to love Jinx but she can't because Jinx directly conflicts with her moral ideology. By believing Jinx had changed for the better, she can compromise her ideologies, values, and love. Jinx’s soft side isn’t really new, we saw it with Silco throughout the entire series and when she reunites with Vi. It’s just more visible with Isha, Vi latches onto it as proof that Jinx has “changed” in a way that aligns more with her own values. It’s not that Vi is fully accepting Jinx as she is, but rather, she’s finding a version of Jinx that she can accept.

(Might also be why Vi forgave Caitlyn so easily because she thinks Caitlyn has turned back to the right direction)

That’s why that damn prison scene happened— I'm sorry… I’m sorry… this part is analysis… less complaining…

I have… my reservation about the prison scene but for focus discussion sake, I’ll leave it out of this post.

Anyways, that’s why Vi said the things she said at the prison scene. She went down to free Jinx without telling Caitlyn. This is how it goes. Vi says, “If you come, help, use all those explosive potentials of yours for good, maybe we can rewrite your story, like you did in Zaun, what do you say?” She put the key in the hole and waited for Jinx’s answer. And when and only when Jinx agreed did she unlock the key to hug her sister.

Vi here has a purpose, she wants to help Piltover in the war (how she gets to this is… a bit questionable but we’re not discussing that). She wants to free her sister but she wants to make sure Jinx has indeed changed like what she claimed to Caitlyn. This way she can keep both women in her life. She was going to use “Jinx said she wants to help” as an excuse to Caitlyn so that Jinx can be free and Caitlyn would pardon her action. Y’know while ignoring the fact her sister just lost a child—

right… less complaining…

When Jinx said, “you're never gonna give up on me, aren’t you?” It means that Vi is never going to give up believing Jinx can be good, Jinx can change for the better, Jinx can align with her moral ideology. I’d say it’s not an absolute truth since Vi did at some point believe Jinx is not her sister anymore but maybe Vi has changed into believing that Jinx can be “salvaged” after all.

Jinx

In contrast with Vi, jinx is someone who is able to love someone unconditionally. She can hate them, she can disagree with them, she can be angry at them, distrustful of them, but despite all of those seemingly conflicting feelings she will still love them unconditionally.

For a bit of comparison, we have Silco who also loved Jinx unconditionally. I’m not saying he’s a perfect father. He certainly projects a lot of his own feelings to her (but we’re not talking about his parenting today). Unlike Jinx, Silco could not hate the person he loved. Well we were only shown one person for analysis but… you can see that unlike Jinx who can be angry at him, distrust him, Silco was never shown to have those types of feelings to her. Maybe you can say his line is betrayal? seeing what Vander did to him and he outright said he hated Vander because of it but that doesn't really align with what happened with Jinx. The closest we can get to Silco getting angry at Jinx was in S1E4 but I think even then his frustration stems more from his concern for safety rather than he was angry for—for example, Jinx disobeying his order to stay put. Even until the end, Silco’s love for Jinx was unwavering. It’s really impressive at this point lmao.

Jinx’s love though unconditional is more volatile. She can hurt the people she loves on purpose. She interrogates Silco with his eye stabbing thing, she kidnaps Vi and Silco, she prepares an entire battle ground for her and Vi to battle it out.

Jinx has ideologies too. She’s morally questionable (in general) but she has her own boundaries. Killing an enforcer is fine, blowing up a building is fine, kidnapping your family to play russian roulette is fine. Joining enforcers though?? no no no, that’s a line. In my opinion this line isn’t so far fetched either considering the firelights were also distrusting of Caitlyn in S1. The only difference is that Ekko chose to trust Caitlyn because he trusted Vi and Vi said they could trust Caitlyn. He trusted Vi because Ekko doesn’t have trauma directly from Vi.

In S1, Vi calling Caitlyn “a friend” is a confirmation of Jinx’s fear. You can see she starts becoming hostile to Vi specifically after Vi said Caitlyn is a friend. I mean if you think about it, can you blame her lmao. Her sister who “betrayed” and abandoned her for 7 years says she’s back for her only to reveal she’s with an enforcer friend. How would she know Vi isn’t just lying? Not helping Vi once again left her in S1E7 (it’s complicated I know but we’re talking from Jinx’s perspective here).

And despite her distrust of Vi, Jinx still tries to reach out to Vi. It was a very messed up way of reaching out but an act of reaching out nonetheless. 

Vi joining enforcers in S2 is a whole other creature of betrayal to Jinx. Not only does Vi work with enforcers, she also puts on an enforcer uniform and gas their home. You can see how visceral Jinx’s reaction was at this. She once again reminded Vi at the battle at the temple that this is the proof that Vi has changed. 

And yet despite all of that Jinx always refers to Vi as her sister. Now she did disown Vi once in S1E3 but it’s more of out of anger at the moment because after the time skip we see that she goes back to referring Vi as her sister and shows longing for Vi even though Vi “betrayed” her and Silco teaching her “hard won lesson” with the belief that Vi betrayed jinx.

After the battle at the Janna temple, Jinx keeps tabs on Vi, Jinx watches her fights, bet on her, being the first one to reach out to her. We know that Jinx didn’t actually need Vi’s help finding Vander. Vi confirmed this but Jinx still sees Vi as her family despite all the things Jinx thinks about Vi. The—

“Throw in with Piltie goons who murdered mom and dad.”

”Which one (is the psycho)?”

In S2E3, even though Vi was wearing an enforcer uniform at the moment, Jinx still refers  to Vi as her sister. The tag “sis” is mostly used in mocking ways throughout the show. It’s like Jinx found the fact amusing but there are times where she does use it affectionately like in S2E9.

Interestingly, their belief of love directly aligns with each other’s fundamentals while contradicting their own.

Jinx/Powder believed love is conditional. That’s why Powder was insecure about her place in the crew. Jinx believes love has to be earned—through usefulness, through being someone “worthy” of love. She has to prove herself so that she can secure this love. But when it comes to herself, no matter how angry she was at Vi, no matter how much Vi has changed, no matter how deep Vi is into joining the enforcer, Jinx will always love her, and will always see her as her sister. I don’t think Jinx realizes this, again she believed love is conditional. And tragically, she’s blind to the love that’s freely given (Silco’s) until it’s too late.

Vi, on the other hand, believed love is unconditional. She thought love should be unwavering—that it shouldn’t have to be earned. That’s why she insists she still loves Jinx, why she fights so hard to bring her back. That’s why at the tea party she answered Jinx’s question without hesitation.

“Are we still sisters?” — “nothing is ever going to change that.”

She believed this was the truth. Of course I love you, you’re my sister.

But deep down, she struggles with the reality that her love is conditional—she wants to love Jinx no matter what, but in practice, she can’t fully accept who Jinx has become. That’s why she’s speechless at the end. She wants to refute Jinx’s words, but she knows Jinx is right—her love hasn’t been unconditional the way she thought it was.

Their relationship fallout in S1E3 mostly because of circumstances (Piltover and Zaun problems). But their bond in S1E1–S1E2 was strong because in all those times the fundamentals themselves haven’t been challenged. Vi never struggles to love Powder unconditionally because Powder never directly conflicts with her moral ideology. The Powder I’m referring to is of course the idealized version of Powder in Vi’s mind. We know the girl had signs of redflags since she was a little. Powder never struggled to love Vi in general but her belief made her do the things that led to their fallout.

But because of this I would say it makes their second fallout even more tragic because had they grown up together, they might still be able to align their ideologies with each other. They might still be able to be together despite the core difference in their fundamentals as individual.

In S1E9, we see the result in full force. In my opinion the tea party scene will always have the same conclusion one way or another. It has been set in stone from the very start because the truth is that Jinx wasn’t trying to test vi, she was just testing her own hypothesis.

Because Jinx believed that love is conditional, she made two chairs that represent the idealized version of Powder and Jinx. 

Her first mistake here is thinking that she herself could choose between Silco and Vi. At the moment, Jinx was angry at Silco because she thought Silco was planning on betraying her. That's why Silco was gagged and Vi was not because Jinx is making it an “us versus him” scenario. Vi was her first choice here. Vi just has to kill Caitlyn to seal the deal! easy right? (no baby, it doesn’t work like that). 

Because that’s also another problem right? it’s not whether Vi loves both Jinx and Caitlyn and who Vi loves more. Jinx herself loves both Vi and Silco and Jinx is trying to make it seem like she can choose who Jinx loves more. Jinx will choose the person who can prove their love. The problem is not Caitlyn (poor Caitlyn lmao) the problem is Vi herself doesn't actually love Jinx. Jinx is trying to force love on someone who doesn't love her. she keeps testing vi (without vi knowing) by seeing, “if i do this, who will vi pick, if i do that, will vi be afraid?” 

Vi will love someone whose moral ideology aligns with hers. The attachment comes second to her. Jinx already failed the main criteria. However Vi believes she loves Jinx and she WANTS to love Jinx that's why she can offer for them to just leave and never come back (aside from the fact that caitlyn was at gunpoint).

At the end, Jinx finally accepted this fact because Silco revealed that the Jinx seat should not represent the Jinx– Jinx thinks Silco wants but the current Jinx which was perfect for Silco. This revelation must have resonated with her. That’s why the tea party was a crucial moment of realization for Jinx. She realized that even if Vi had "chosen" her in that moment, it wouldn’t have been real. Vi would have been choosing Powder, not Jinx. And Jinx didn’t actually want to be Powder again. She wanted to be loved as Jinx.

They couldn’t be together because their ideology conflicts with each other. Their fundamentals prevent them from having a functional relationship. They couldn’t stand each other. Vi could never fully love Jinx the way Jinx wanted to be loved without trying to change her and Jinx will never be able to be loved by Vi while staying true to herself and will never be able to have a relationship with Vi without feeling rejected as an individual. This revelation is what made Jinx decide to cut their ties by showing Vi who she is now, a declaration of who Jinx is which was going directly against Vi’s moral ideology (of course it’s not the only reason but we’re focusing on the sisters). Jinx made a choice between her relationship and her individuality. And she chose her individuality.

okay I just want an excuse to put that shot in there.

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

Alright complaining time.

I think that the show in S2 is trying to make a conclusion that the sisters can indeed be reconciled and can be together if not for the universe’s plan to divide them (S2E7). 

The problem is that, if you think about it, it doesn’t really work.

S2E5 is trying to show us that look, these sisters can be together again! It’s just that the unfortunate event in S2E6 with hextech made them apart again!

First, this entire “Universe is trying to rip us apart—literally” is really boring. They can’t be together because fate says so. But whatever.

Second, from the breakdown I gave you about the prison cell scene, Vi is only willing to be a sister again because she believes Jinx has changed and it means Jinx can be aligned with her moral ideology if she tries hard enough. For now, she can compromise her love. It’s the “I can fix her” scenario. Which unfortunately still does not align with what Jinx wanted, which is to be loved for all the chaos that she is. This is not a reconciliation.

the show is trying to show us “look, they’re family again!” before Jayce blows up Viktor but the problem is that they haven’t actually TALKED. They’re circling around the problem without addressing the actual issue. Because if they did, they’ll have to dive into the pain and hurt and all of their fundamental differences. Jinx would demand Vi to stop trying to change her and Vi would be like–how is she supposed to not try to change Jinx? The girl bombed people for fun! If Vi and Jinx actually sat down and confronted their differences, they would realize they can't exist in each other’s worlds anymore. Not with all the hurt and trauma they have.

We as humans shaped our ideologies based on our experiences. It’s not something we can just undo.  A good example is Vander and Silco. These two failed to reconcile because their ideology is incompatible with each other.

Now if you ask me I think they can be reconciled. They can be “okay” with each other. 

They can reach a point where they tolerate each other, maybe even have moments where they get along, but it won’t be anything deep or truly fulfilling. It would be a surface-level connection built on nostalgia and a mutual understanding that they can’t go back, but they also don’t want to be enemies.

It’s kind of like when you reconnect with an old friend after years of growing apart. You still have love for them, and you can laugh and reminisce, but the fundamental bond isn’t the same because you’ve both changed too much. You’re not against each other, but you don’t fit into each other’s lives anymore.

For Vi and Jinx, this kind of reconciliation would mean avoiding the hard conversations. They could exist in each other’s orbit, maybe share a few rare, peaceful moments, but they would have to keep their real selves out of the relationship. And over time, as they continue down separate paths, that connection would weaken further. Eventually, all that’s left is distant affection—I love you, but I don’t know you anymore.

The Fatal Flaw

The show claims that Vi’s fatal flaw is that she can never give up on family, while Jinx’s is that she will always jump to save Vi. This is supposedly why they can’t be together. But this doesn’t actually hold up when looking at their actions across the series.

It’s not that I’m saying it’s like a bad idea. Hamartia/fatal flaw is one of the keys in building a tragic story. The problem with these fatal flaws is that one, they’re not consistent. Two, they’re not the direct cause of the sister’s doom.

Consistency?

“Vi can’t give up on family”

In S1, it wasn't that Vi is refusing to give up on Jinx as a person—she believed Powder was still there, buried under Jinx.

In S2E1, Vi outright says, “My sister is gone. There is only Jinx now.” She accepts this idea so fully that she joins the enforcers and is willing to fight against Jinx.

After Caitlyn leaves her, Vi never tries to find Jinx again until Jinx reaches out first.

If Vi truly never gave up on her family, she would have been actively chasing Jinx the entire season 2. But she doesn’t.

“Jinx pushes Vi Away for “Her Own Good” or “Always Jumping in to save Vi.”

Powder went to the cannery that night to prove herself that she is capable of helping, that she's ready.

Jinx spent most of S1 trying to make Vi stay, not pushing her away.

At the Janna temple, Jinx fought Vi out of anger. She actively trying to kill Vi in here.

Jinx was the one who reached out to Vi in S2 after watching her self-destruct for months. If she was trying to push Vi away, why would she reconnect at all?

You can say "well Jinx's fatal flaw is only there in S2Act3 because she changed as a character." Well then we can't call it a fatal flaw. Because a fatal flaw isn’t just a trait that appears late in the story—it’s something that is consistently present and actively leads to a character’s downfall. In Jinx it's like her need to constantly proof herself (which tied to her belief of love).

Are they the direct cause of the sister's separation?

In act 3 it was established that at this point, the sisters are good with each other. They’re not trying to kill each other.

The story is trying to force us to think that these fatal flaws are something that will lead them to their doom.

The first offender is the jail scene. 

“Vi will never give up on Jinx. Jinx knows this and decides to push Vi away so Vi can be happy without her.”

First, Jinx was suicidal, her words are not to be taken at face value. Second The show frames Jinx’s choice in the prison scene as her “pushing Vi away so Vi can be happy.” But why? Because Jinx thinks she’s bad luck? Because “everyone who gets close to her dies”? This shifts the tragedy from being about their ideological divide to some vague supernatural jinxing idea, which isn’t how S1 built their conflict.

“whether I’m pulling the pin or not everyone who gets close to me dies.”

alright side rants:

I’m sorry but… this sounds like Jinx is staying away from Vi because bad luck just happens to follow her. Because she’s the cycle of violence?? I really don’t get this cycle tbh. Jinx thinks the cycle of violence is her jinxing stuff. A cycle of Jinx. She thought of this because Isha died in the previous ep (she’s not the one pulling the pin in this case). They’re saying the sisters can’t be together because Jinx believed she’s bad luck… and the world has proven so because the universe said so… okay man. It also has nothing to do with Vi’s supposed fatal flaw which is always chasing her family because… t-there is nothing wrong with that at this moment. They already established in S2E5 that Vi acknowledges Jinx as an independent person that doesn’t need her protection, it’s not like Vi just caters to Jinx all the time while in the commune.

What I could criticize Vi for here is the fact that she focused on bringing Jinx to the good side as opposed to just getting her sister the hell out of there and comforts her about Isha. But the show never addressed this as something to be criticized from Vi.  Jinx thinks Vi is in the right to try pulling her back to the good side because she thinks she’s the worst human being on earth. The show is framing it as Vi’s mistake is… believing in Jinx…?

I give up… Let's just… move on to the second offender.

By S2E9, the show is trying to say that the conflict between Vi and Jinx has been resolved. They aren’t enemies anymore. They aren’t trying to push each other away. Y’know, because now Jinx has “changed” and now Jinx is “doing good” and helps the war like Vi wanted. So why are they still unable to be together? Why are they still doomed?

Let's examine this scene.

Vi crying over Vander’s body is meant to show she can’t let go of family. But this isn’t about Jinx—it’s about Vander, and it’s a plot hole since Warwick is supposed to be dead because Viktor is dead. The other puppet wasn’t revived then why did he? But then again Orianna is alive so now I’m just confused.

Jinx saving Vi is framed as proof that she’ll always risk herself for her. But what else was she supposed to do? Let Vi die? Any character in that situation would’ve acted the same.

Vi catching Jinx and Jinx forcing the gauntlet to let go is supposed to show their tragic cycle. 

I’M SORRY BUT WHAT ELSE WAS JINX AND VI SUPPOSED TO DO?? EVEN IF THEY’RE NOT SISTERS, WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO JUST LET YOUR COMRADE DIE IN A SITUATION LIKE THIS???

In reality. NONE of them made a choice. Either let yourself be killed or you die anyways but plus one your sister is NOT A CHOICE.  It’s not a meaningful decision—it’s just survival. These aren't caused by their fatal flaws, ANYONE WOULD'VE DONE THE SAME.

None of these moments feel like real flaws because they don’t actually hurt the characters. Vi didn’t fail because she couldn’t let go of Jinx. Jinx didn’t suffer because she saved Vi. The show is trying to frame this as inevitable tragedy when, in reality, it’s just the plot telling us they can’t be together without actually showing why.

In S1, their tragedy was rooted in their clashing ideologies—Vi wanted to bring Powder back, but Jinx wanted to be loved for who she had become. That was compelling because it was character-driven.

In S2, the tragedy is reduced to some vague cosmic inevitability. They don’t split apart because of who they are or what they believe. They split apart because the UNIVERSE SAYS SO, which makes the conflict feel hollow.

S1: They can’t be together because they see the world too differently.

 S2: They can’t be together because Vi chases and Jinx saves, and that’s just how it is.

This is frustrating because they already have the perfect reason for the sister’s tragedy.

Jinx: Why don’t you love who I am?

Vi: Oh my enemy, how could I ever let you down?

They're already tragic by nature, you don't have to force a tragic conclusion by inserting a “fate-driven” reason why they can’t be together.