#but i also want to know i can help others if necessary

[aniamra]

Depending on your repertoire with a person, I agree, announcing your intent genuinely does help.

To add to your good points OP, some advice for others from my own experience: phrasing and approach can go a long way toward making it a constructive conversation and not just an 'attack'.

Gentle nudges in the right direction are good for people potentially perpetuating misconceptions or stereotypes but aren't really entrenched in it. Providing different, even contradictory perspectives in a thoughtful way can foster empathy and humanization.

I try to pose questions a lot because it makes people think about their actions and is less likely to be perceived as an attack.

Also, knowing when to shelve a difficult topic to let it absorb is a difficult but important skill to learn. Sometimes stuff doesn't sink in the first time; confrontation panic and brain locking can halt a topic and prevent constructive conversation to which trying to brute force doesn't help. Often when given space they can return to the topic with a much more constructive perspective and you can get into greater complexities of the topic much more easily. It can sometimes feel like you're letting it slide or giving up when it comes to more pressing topics, but it's worth it.

It also helps to not assume the worst of the other before getting into it. (something people are more likely to need to remind themselves when dealing with those they might not be friends with)

Confrontation doesn't have to be antagonistic, it's about providing another perspective that the other might not have encountered or correcting misinformation telephone, and giving the grace necessary for the other to absorb it. I believe on the whole people really do want to understand one another.

(and I'm speaking as someone with social anxiety who gets huge anxiety spikes with confrontation. I am no stranger to confrontation anxiety, believe me. I do it because I know I have to because it will be worse if I let it sit and do nothing it'll only get worse)

im not gonna sit here and say "if youre conflict averse youre a huge pussy fuck you" because i recognize generally people avoid conflict because of fear, anxiety, and past negative experiences - but i really would encourage people to start learning how to call their friends out on things without it being some horrible, drama-starting, friendship-ending ordeal. anyone who is friends with me will tell you i have an ability to swiftly correct or point out something somebody has said as being bigoted, hurtful, or incorrect - and they will also tell you i do not hold a grudge nor do i make the exchange hostile or accusatory! it's a skill, sure, but it's genuinely a much easier skill than i think a lot of people realize. but i think it's one of, if not the most, important interpersonal skill anyone can ever have.

[siriuslylantsov]

6 string

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which, joel teaches you how to play a song on the guitar.

tags: fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, contractor!joel makes a brief appearance, no outbreak au, age gap, r has hair long enough to twirl but thats it for appearances, so so sweet, some singing, joel makes a dirty joke (i couldn't help myself) hozier mentioned!! and played... by a certain someone, and riptide as the song r learns, one mention of a dead parent.

a/n: my second joel teaching reader fic, this is very telling... also! should this be more frequent? my requests are open if you have any suggestions? i'm self taught when it comes to guitar, where tf was joel miller to teach me...

wc: 1.6k

“could you teach me?”

joel's head doesn’t lift up from his plans, long blue scrolls stretched across the table. “teach you what, baby?” he murmurs absentmindedly.

“a song. on your guitar,” you answer, voice small.

he looks at you now, his expression mildly shocked. you seem to have garnered his full attention, though it wasn't difficult when it came to you, he let go of the corner of paper that he had pinned to the hard surface. 

“i've been tryin’ to get you to play for months now,” he replies, not irritated but curious. “why the change of heart?”

“oh, i don't know. i just think it’d be nice to have a skill that i can credit to you.” you know the justification isn’t necessary and you know he knows that. he’ll do it regardless, anything for his girl.

a wry smile plays on his lips. “i’ve taught you plenty’a skills,” he says, not oblivious to the innuendo that clung to his statement. 

you huff out a chuckle, “not like that, silly.”

 you watch him walk over to you. his hands plant themselves on your shoulders, thumbs caressing lightly in the divots of your collarbones before turning you around. 

“let's go.”

“what? now?” you ask, although you don't stop him as he gently pushes you to the living room as he follows with his hands still on you.

“got other plans?” he sits you down on the couch, moving across the room to grab the instrument. 

“no,” you respond, smiling when he sits to your right. he's angled slightly so you can see his hands. it's how you're usually positioned when he plays you stuff so he can watch you but this time it's more for your benefit. 

“d’ya have a song in mind?”

you hum in thought, trying to recall songs he's played. they all seem difficult. “something easy?” you suggest.

“‘s a little cliche but a good beginner song,” he says as he starts to play.

recognition dawns on you, he's playing riptide. he quietly hums, a low timbre to the verse. you want to melt. 

“i love it when you play,” you murmur, dropping your head to his shoulder. 

“i love playin’ for you, sweetheart,” he replies, letting a chord fade out and handing you the guitar with a soft “c’mon.”

the instrument feels big in your arms as you rest your elbow over the base of it. it's not that you forget how much bigger joel is to you but in this instance it becomes painfully obvious. he guides your other hand to the neck, curling it around the wood. 

“okay, so riptide consists of three chords. a minor, g and c and it's the same strummin’ pattern all the way through,” he explains, moving your fingers to the first chord shape.

he places your fingers over different fret boards and you try to remember each one as he moves on to the next. you give an experimental strum to one chord and sounds with an unpleasant pitchy buzz. your face screws up and he chuckles lightly.

“you have to press hard enough so you get a clear tone, but not too much, just enough that it's firm against the fret,” he says, covering your hand with his own and pushing down.

“ow,” you gripe as the strings dig into your fingertips. 

“sorry, baby. s’gonna hurt like hell for now, need to build up your calluses for it to not.”

“it's fine,” you reply, partially distracted by how his calloused fingertips rub against the back of your hand, trailing down to allow you to try again.

you do, pressing a little harder, ignoring the pain. when you strum again it comes out a bit clearer, still buzzy, but better than before. 

you spend the next 30 minutes trying to switch chords, a feat more difficult than you thought it would be. you almost rage quit five times but joel's soothing encouragement urges you to keep trying. 

“how do you do this so easily?” you whine, leaning back on him. he's sitting a little behind you now, as you've moved to the edge of the couch. 

“playing for 20 years helps,” he says with a little shrug, rubbing your arm.

“careful, mister. you're showing your age,” you warn teasingly and he chuckles, that same warm one that you love so much.

“good to try some stummin’ now?”

“mhm,” you sit straight again. 

he crowds in behind you, arm coming to rest above your right one. he has a gentle grasp on your wrist and your palm as he directs your movements along the strings; down, down, up down up, he murmurs quietly in your ear, moving your hand accordingly.

you get the hang of it, you think. stumbling here and there when you do a down instead of an up, or the opposite. he watches as you intently strum, his fingers keeping the strings muted by touching them lightly. your hand, not on the neck anymore, rests on his thigh.

“keep going,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “you’re doin’ good.”

he lifts his fingers off the strings, and they start to resonate with uneven tones. but then a very distinct note rings out and you realise he's started to play the chords while you strum. it sounds good. you look at him and smile, and he shoots you an equally bright grin, crows feet deepening proudly. 

“there we go,” he spurs as your strumming stays perfectly consistent. you hum the melody as he effortlessly switches chords, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he does so. “wanna try doin’ both at the same time?”

you stop, your wrist growing a little tired. “tomorrow.”

“okay, sweet girl.” he takes the guitar out of your arms and leans it against the couch. 

he instinctively wraps around you when you curl into his side, scooting further back into the couch. his fingers play with the hair at the nape of your neck, it makes you squirm because it tickles and he laughs. the same low and warm one again, his chest vibrates with the sound as you press your ear to it. you can hear his heart beat in steady thumps. he leans his head against yours, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the space between you. his free hand settles on your leg, his thumb lazily tracing small, aimless patterns.

“can't believe i've never asked this,” you ask, suddenly curious. “how did you learn how to play?”

he tenses ever so slightly before easing again. 

“y’know my dad died when i was young, right?”

“yeah,” you confirm, lifting your head so you can see his face.

“well, he used to play all the time and after he passed my mom let me have his guitar,” he explains, twirling a strand of your hair with his fingers. he stares absentmindedly at your shoulder, but his gaze is solemn leaving you no reason to worry.

“took me ‘bout a year to pick the damn thing up ‘cause everytime i did it reminded me of him but when i finally did, i spent days on end teachin’ myself. didn't want a teacher or nothin’. if anythin', i wanted him to teach me but i never took up his offer when he was alive.”

“sweet,” you whisper, bottom lip jutting out sadly.

“you’re sweet,” he counters, tapping your nose with his finger. it wrinkles up at the contact and you pull away to reach for his guitar. you hand it to him, perking up in anticipation.

“play me ‘like real people do’?” you request, knowing smile on your lips.

only you could get mumblin’ grumblin’ joel miller to learn a hozier song. it took a bit of convincing, to which he would reply with begrudging grunts like it was the worst thing in the word. but he learned it surprisingly fast, playing it out of nowhere later that night. 

“‘f you sing, then yeah.”

you nod and he shakes his head fondly as he begins to play. you’re not a singer by any means but you could keep a tune. 

“i had a thought, dear, however scary about that night, the bugs and the dirt,” you begin softly, nodding along to the beat.

“why were you digging? what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?”

his fingers effortlessly plucks the right strings without looking, his eyes fixed on you with a reverence that makes you nervous. must be muscle memory, you wonder how long it’ll take you to get that good.

“i will not ask you where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you.”

your head tilts to the side, smiling. you bring a hand up to his jaw, scratching his beard lightly in a way you know he likes. you lean closer for the next words.

“honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. we should just kiss like real people do.”

so naturally, you kiss him, giggling as you do so. he nips at your bottom lip when he falters, you–the distraction–to blame. 

it goes sweetly and quietly like that. you lean against his shoulder for the rest of the song, humming the melody. he doesn't mind, he just likes the sound of your voice, be it behind closed lips or not. 

when the song ends, he freestyles a bit, you don’t know what he’s playing but it sounds nice. everything sounds nice, and smells nice and feels nice, you could probably die here and you’d be happy, so long as you could take joel with you. 

“play more tomorrow?” he asks, still plucking away. 

“yup,” you chirp, inadvertently agreeing to more frequent lessons by him. even though he doesn’t suggest it, it’s implied in your own secret little way, and how could you say no to an offer like that.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[coraniaid]

Standard disclaimer that I understand themes and motifs and I'm aware that the reasons characters do things in fiction is because the writers have decided it will drive the plot, rather than because of those fictional characters (who do not in reality exist) being inherently "good" or "bad" people.

Additional disclaimer that I don't think there's any one single reason that Faith ends up spiralling after Finch's death and siding with the Mayor, that the necessary dominoes started falling years before Faith was even Called as a Slayer and that by the time Faith had lost her first Watcher and been living out of a motel room for months and been tricked and betrayed by Gwendolyn Post and accidentally killed a man there probably wasn't anything anyone could have done to stop her from doing all of that.

One more disclaimer: I do not, despite what the rest of this post (or any other posts I may have made or fanfiction I may have written) might suggest, think that Faith's story in Buffy the Vampire Slayer would be somehow improved if she hadn't had the character arc she has in canon. I do not think it would improve the story if Faith hadn't ended up making a series of terrible and short-sided and selfish decisions which ended up making not only her own life much worse but also many other peoples' lives worse [and a couple of other peoples' lives much shorter]. I do not think Faith's fall and eventual redemption is a problem that somehow needs to be fixed.

That being said though ...

Why on Earth, when Giles realizes Faith is lying to him about who really killed Allan Finch, does he decide the best course of action is (1) to pretend to believe her, and (2) make a big show of acting as though Buffy's in a lot of trouble before sending Faith back home to her motel room? In Consequences itself the only excuse he gives is that he "needed [Faith] to think he was on her side" but .. well,

First, newsflash, Rupert: you are meant to be on her side. That is the job you signed up for and are still insisting on doing despite nominally being fired!; and furthermore

This only explains why he pretends to believe Faith. Why does he make a show of throwing the book at Buffy, something that can only help to convince Faith she was right to lie? ("If this is what he's saying to Buffy, his first Slayer and obvious favorite, imagine what he'd be saying if he knew it was me?")

Why not pretend to believe Faith, reassure her she did the right thing by coming to tell him -- and that he's sure she only did it because she knew Buffy needed help -- and then give her the speech he later gives Buffy about how "this isn't the first time something like this has happened" and he "has no plans to involve [the Council]"?

Why not tell Faith that this isn't the first time Buffy herself has been accused of killing a man and questioned by the police? Why not tell her that he himself once accidentally killed a man, and that's something that he and 'Buffy' now have in common? If possible, he could even take Buffy aside and explain the truth to her, and ask her to play along with the charade for now?

Surely if Faith sees that Giles isn't prepared to throw Buffy under a bus, and that he acknowledges that "the Slayer is on the front side of a nightly war" and that "accidents happen", and he's more interested in making sure both of them get the help they need than meting out punishment, she's much more likely to actually admit the truth eventually?

Even if she doesn't want to do that, why not just ask Faith to "sit in" while he talks to Buffy about what "she" did and asks her to explain how she was feeling, so that Faith is in earshot for any advice or suggestions he makes about what to do next? Giles says out loud in this conversation with Buffy that he's worried about "scaring [Faith] off", so ... why is that exactly what he decides to do?

Again, note the disclaimers above: I know the real answer to my question is "that isn't the story the writers wanted to tell". It is necessary for the short-term twist that Faith seems to have convinced Giles to blame Buffy for Finch's death, and for the longer term plot that Giles be unable (or unwilling) to offer Faith any help. I understand that.

But -- in-universe, pretending Giles and Buffy and Faith are all real people -- is there an explanation for this that doesn't boil down to "Giles is a pretty lousy Watcher and should probably not be acting in a mentor role at all?". Why has he decided that the number one priority before anything else must be for Faith to admit it was her, and not the girl Giles can't help but see as a daughter, who killed Finch, when he accepts that -- whoever did it -- it was entirely accidental? If he's not telling the Council anyway and nobody is going to be sent away to be punished, what is the actual issue here?

"There is no help for her until she admits what happened." Okay, Giles, but why have you decided to unilaterally invent this rule, and why do you never use it for anyone else? We saw way back in Faith, Hope & Trick that Giles has no problem at all lying to people who aren't willing to admit the truth in order to help them. If, that is, by "people" we mean "Buffy Summers". Why can't you do the same thing for a girl you don't personally like?

[ledesaid]

Billy Batson Speedster AU | #2

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

Billy takes Barry's hand.

Lately, he does it much more often, this time to enter the school.

Billy doesn't want to go in and Barry knows it. The grip of his hand becomes tighter. They had a consensus...

Judging by the younger one's reaction, he has just learned that word, but he supposes they have reached a fair agreement: go to school in the mornings and run with Flash at night.

Fortunately for the younger one, Barry can see himself reflected in him and doesn't let it pass how Billy starts to breathe harder. He could hyperventilate or have a panic attack, Billy's strong grip was mixed with a gurgling of irregular breaths.

Barry: We can try it tomorrow.

Billy is holding his breath, the blond slides a smile while picking Billy up and leaving the place. The latter doesn't say a word and it's not necessary, Barry understands...

When his mother died, returning to classes had been a nightmare and fear can have different seeds, but this time Barry is on the other side.

And, although he feels moderately functional after a terrible darkness from his failure after the destruction of Fawcett, it wasn't easy to have those flashes of peace or tranquility. He never imagined himself as a paternal figure after losing Iris, but he doesn't stop being grateful for having Billy with him now.

The third speedster.

He wants to know him more and Detective West was helping him get to know his story. Quite a story for someone his size, from running away from foster homes to school dropout reports since...

Barry realizes a bit late that he should apply a new approach if he wanted Billy to reintegrate, academically speaking, but he has faith that there's nothing an ice cream in California can't cure. It's the first time that either of them leaves the state, the first time since he met Billy on his way to Canada...

Barry: Do you want to stretch your legs a bit, would that be okay?

Billy: Yes... That... That would be okay.

A provisional anti-friction suit leads Billy to wear a complete red jumpsuit with yellow details and also to travel across the country to an ice cream shop.

Barry: I found this place by accident, I like to come when I want a change of scenery...

Billy: Can I ask you a question?

Barry: As many as you want, kid.

The younger one lights up and clenches his fists under the table.

Billy: C-could... Could I study at home?

That surprises the adult. It really wasn't what he expected. The little one was closing his eyes. Flash sighed, really wishing he could reach Billy so he wouldn't be afraid to express what he wanted.

Billy: Of course, don't worry about that, we can make it work...

The dark-haired boy looks up and Flash smiles to him.

Barry: Since we're here, would you like to join me in visiting someone?

Billy: Is a superhero like you?

Barry: Of course, and he's also my best friend. He's a pilot and his favorite color is green.

---------------------------

Origin | Part 1

[eriochromatic]

I love your Silco takes so I was wondering if you could share yours on Vander and the drowning incident because no matter what angle I look at, it doesn't make sense.

As far as I can tell from what we're shown, the riot was well under way before Silco threw that molotov, and it's confirmed that enforcers killed Felicia. Thing is, it's implicit that Felicia chose to participate in the riot because a.) Why else would she be there, and b.) She was down with Zaun being independent for HER KIDS. Also, anyone who participates in a riot, or even a peaceful protest, knows they're putting their life on the line. So while I understand reacting to loss with intense grief, it's not exactly a surprise? It's something you have to mentally prepare for when you take a stand against an oppressor?

But then, if you go the ideology route with Silco taking it too far and the riot was Silco's idea, that stunt on the bridge was most likely pre-planned, organized resistance. This means a sizable number in their community, including Felicia and Connol, supported it. Even if Vander had doubts, he went along with it. Otherwise, why does the show open with him beating an enforcer on the bridge? Vander had other options: he could have split the resistance group down the middle by sitting it out and/or trying to stop Silco, neither of which he did!

The letter highlights the loss of Felicia as Vander's triggering event, and Vander admits that there's blood on both their hands. To be honest, I kind of like this because it hints that Silco's violence was acceptable to Vander within the context of revolution, and he thought he could handle the sacrifices required. Ironically, when he couldn't handle it, HIS violence pushed Silco towards any-violence-necessary because you can't trust anyone ever anyway!

Anyway, I know this is the fault of flimsy writing in S2 and what feels like internal censorship with challenging political status quo during production, but two drowning attempts (which for Silco came out of nowhere), followed by expulsion from the Lanes (which he helped build), the guilt of Felicia's death, and the total loss of the friends and community he was fighting for ... I mean, at least Silco's villain era makes complete and total sense???

Ugh honestly I try not to think about the drowning incident or even make sense of it anymore because every time I do, it's just so obvious to me that the writers themselves had no idea what they're doing. Timelines are completely off, character motivations make no sense, so why is it up to me to untangle the mess they made?

I have a huge love hate relationship with season 2 because on one hand, I didn't expect as much Silco crumbs we got in the first place and I'm SO HAPPY we got to see him normally in episode 5 and thriving in episode 7. But the retcon… I was so pissed when Act 2 dropped because the whole bridge incident just stopped making sense like you said.

Then when Act 3 happened, it all clicked together, but not in the "ohhh the story makes sense now" way but in the "oh the writers needed to set up smth previously so this would work." and it completely took me out of it. Like. The writers wanted Vander and Silco to make up with each other. But they don't know how to do that. Let's add some underlying sentimentality between Vander and Silco and Vi's mom, then kill Vi off. That'll make them go back together (along with that STUPID LETTER Vander wrote). Sure that's a bandaid solution and on surface level it works, but I don't think the writers really thought we would think about Silco this much so the moment you peel back the layers nothing makes sense anymore. I think they could've crafted a way more interesting story if they ACTUALLY SAT DOWN AND TRIED to have Silco and Vander reconcile without using Felicia as a crutch, but season 2 has an overarching problem of "lets have all the important things happen offscreen and only imply that they happened" which is just… so lazy…. so I'm not surprised that this happened.

It just weakens so, so many parts of the story and raises way more questions than answer them. Why does Silco pull away and distance himself from Felicia's family? Surely Vi should know him from before? Does Silco only take in Powder because he knew she was Felicia's daughter? Why, WHY does Vander go like "there are worse things than enforcers out there" (implying Silco) in s1 while talking to Benzo????????? when he's apparently felt guilty this whole time ??????? what happened to "I've looked everywhere????" etc etc idk man. from s1 I always thought the bridge incident happened way, way earlier from Felicia dying bc Vi looked like she was about 7 years old during the bridge and around 14 during act one, but then if you see Silco during the s2 warwick flashback he looks like he's 25. maybe 30 at the maximum. aint no way he aged that much in 7 years, in act one he and Vander both feel like they're in their mid 40s idk.

This is lowkey why I kind of only want to draw young Silco.. I love old man yaoi but like. If everything I draw is just flashback version of him, I don't need to worry about logistics of the bridge thing bc it hasn't happened yet lmfao. Or the AU version where everything is solved and no one rlly thinks about that time anymore.

Honestly I've tried to write this response several times trying to spell out my version of the timeline but just. nothing makes any fucking sense. I don't like thinking about how badly the writers fucked up on this part. Silco magically gets an eye injury caused by Vander and they had yaoi divorce but it's fine now. That's just how it is for me and if I think about it even a little more in depth my head will explode and I have better things to do with my time like draw zaundads yaoi

[kings-highway]

i get the feeling the minecraft just wouldn’t be one of the games kenma would play/be interested in. it’s so much of an open world, aimless, and strategy-less game (not that there isn’t strategy involved, but not like a regular play-through or pvp game like mortal kombat or smth) that i think he just would not enjoy it very much. i could see him being a speedrunner or only someone who joins to help fight stuff but that’s ab it

okay I'll bite. I think you're absolutely right. I think Kenma is highly driven by the reward system of video games, skill trees and leveling up and quests and definable ways to prove you are winning and minecraft would probably bore him. And he probably wouldnt think much about it. Not all games are for him, and thats fine.

However, you know who would fucking love minecraft? Kuroo. Kuroo wouldnt even bother searching up guides or explanations. the sheer level of discovery and crafting and options available to him would keep him occupied for ages. Everything would be exciting for him. And then he gets to fight a fucking dragon at the end? Perfect

Anyway, I believe when Kuroo sends a text to Kenma that says "haha just beat minecraft!" Kenma would be so pissed. First off - he didnt know you could "beat" minecraft. Second - KUROO BEAT A VIDEO GAME BEFORE HE DID? What horrible alternate reality is this? And then Kenma would FEVERISHLY have to work through minecraft to beat it to prove that he could too. He'd blitz it in like a day and text Kuroo like "And??? So did I." but then Kuroo would be like "haha my favourite part is the redstone coding. It works pretty well, I made a ton of automated minecarts and built like a whole rollercoaster" and Kenma would be like "what the hell are you talking about?" because he only did what was 100% necessary and didnt play around.

Anyway I also fully believe that Daichi would absolutely love minecraft and he'd just fully commit to the survival aspect and have a big old farm and worry about making sure his cows have enough space and 100% I can imagine him and Kuroo logging on together with their stupid little headsets at like 11pm and then when Kuroo dies in the mines via surprise creeper Daichi's cackling laughter over the other ends says "this is why we beat you at nationals" and Kuroo considers learning how to punch people through the screen.

They invite Kenma online to play with them since Kenma officially knows how to play now and doesnt like being left out the ONE time Kuroo actually wants to play a video game instead of volleyball and he just keeps dying and now he has two idiots laughing at him.

[higuchisora]

No one has any clue what the fuck the Firelights actually Do so I'm gonna dump my headcanon here as the official lore in continuation of my saga of Zaun headcanons.

The Firelights are basically like a nonprofit organization with a Robin Hood twist. Their mission is to be a stabilizing force in Zaun, trying to do whatever they can to take care of both each other and their people. Since they aren't an actual nonprofit, and Piltover doesn't give a damn about human rights, this is where the Robin Hood stuff comes in.

They have to gain their resources (food, water, medicine, etc.) Via theft. So they tend to rob Piltie ships. They try to avoid the foreign ones just to lower the risk of backlash (the foreign governments putting pressure on Piltover to crack down on them, etc.), but they'll do what they believe is necessary to get supplies (and also sometimes mistakes just happen).

They're not above violence, but they do try not to kill people just because they know it can get messy with Piltover if they do. That being said, I believe they probably have killed a few, at the very least on accident. Fights can be brutal, especially if your opponent isn't holding back like you are.

Another thing: their masks aren't just to hide their identities from their enemies. The reality is, things can happen. If they started walking around bare-faced in Zaun, it would be easy for other Zaunites to identify them and possibly give them up (whether to Silco or enforcers or whoever). So they wear them til they're back in their hideout.

The Firelights try not to operate in Zaun beyond distributing supplies or fighting Silco. This is to both prevent their identities being leaked and because they never want to be seen as a "policing" force in their own home. The last thing Ekko wants is to see his own people as "others" or "suspects". Yes, the Firelights are his family, so he seeks to protect them. But Zaun is his home, the Zaunites are his people. He IS a Zaunite, just as all the Firelights are. And he never wants any of them to forget that.

As for who he DOES fight in Zaun: in season 1, Silco is at the top of that list. However, I feel like they probably have other enemies too, even if Silco is the biggest fish (as de facto leader of Zaun at the time). The Firelights have been around (by act 2 s1) for seemingly a few years at that point. It's entirely believable they'd ruffle some feathers along the way. Perhaps a few gang leaders/drug lords (the type to either follow Silco or be desperate to usurp him) who think taking the Firelights out would be the next step towards their goals. Other enemies might include of Silco's allied chembarons and anyone who tries to attack their deliveries.

Distribution of supplies: after robbing a Piltie ship, they'd take stock of whatever they got and send anything they can spare to a connection of theirs in the rest of Zaun. I'd imagine (since they don't seem to have hospitals) to an orphanage of some kind. So, food, clothes, medical supplies, etc. Basically anything a trading ship might have that would be useful to people.

If they snag loot that happens to not be immediately useful (nonessentials like jewelry or knick-knacks or something) they'll either try to repurpose/upcycle it or they'll sell it and use the money to either buy those supplies or put towards projects (such as building tech) to help their mission.

My musings are only half fleshed out and I'm really expanding most of this on the fly as I write it. But I do like to explore the possibility that they're not as sunshine and rainbows as they might seem in their rare moments in canon (and in my post so far).

Less sunny ideas under the cut:

I saw a clip from s1 the other day of a scene that I totally forgot about. When Caitlyn first tells Ekko about the Hexcore, his first thought is about what they (he) can do with it. Namely, as a weapon. Against Silco.

And yes, his traumatizing childhood punctuated by Silco basically coming in and fucking his life up out of nowhere DOES mean it makes sense that Silco is Enemy Number One in Ekko's eyes, arguably even more than Piltover. (Because Piltover ruined the world around him, but Silco might as well have personally walked in and shot everyone he loves right in front of him. Silco IS the villain of Ekko's story, arguably more than anyone else). THAT BEING SAID, he's expressed anti-Piltover sentiments since basically the first time we meet him. So what if Silco telling Marcus to paint the Firelights as terrorists... isn't entirely baseless?

When I say terrorists of course, I really only mean to Piltover. Actual terrorists exist, but many revolutionaries are also painted as terrorists. Silco saying this and giving the bomb as "evidence" isn't just him "being evil", it MAKES SENSE because that's probably already what Piltover would think even without the fake evidence. So what if the Firelights WERE planning to attack Piltover at some point?

Maybe not the same way Silco was. At the end of the day, his whole thing is being calculating (he's also got more life experience than Ekko, who's the same age as his daughter). So Silco definitely thought through Zaun's independence plan waayyy more than Ekko has (whether or not the plan is a good one is notwithstanding, stay focused here). So maybe the Firelights kinda have this plan to like. Destroy Piltover.

Not with bombs, but to be fair, Ekko IS a smart techy guy. He's not into grenades like Jinx, but he did make those hoverboards. He designed the fans to be able to withstand the thick air in Zaun. So what if he's generally just really familiar with the ventilation system? What if he was planning on doing something similar to what happened in Season 2 (redirecting the air to Piltover), but like, worse? Maybe he'd make it so the air system was permanently pushing the Grey into Topside, and maybe he even wanted to put something else in it? Give them a taste of their own chemical warfare? It would take years to do, and might be his end goal, but really, what else would someone who's been radicalized by oppression, who's filled with all this pain and anger, who has so much innovative skill - what else would someone like that do? Lay down and take it? Considering he made the Firelights... I don't think so.

Obviously I don't think he was actually planning on doing this; I don't think they thought him or the Firelights through at all. But he's expressed interest in violence before, and he's also anti-Piltover, so I figure he has to do SOMETHING with his anger (and also as much as I love him, being that squeaky clean and perfect of a character is.... suspicious to me. Or at least not as interesting. You can't live in a world so unforgiving and come out unstained, especially with all that- understandable- anger in him). He clearly wants peace, in whatever way he can (hence he wanted to give the Hexcore to the council himself; likely to bargain for benefits for Zaun). He's hopeful, but I don't think he's necessarily naive about it. He knows that they're most likely never going to just hand it to them- or else they would've done that already. So just in case, he has a plan to take it for himself.

[thisisntmyrightera]

TOGETHER (angst end)

RED FIRST

Hyun-Ju POV

“Congratulations Player 120, you have made it to the finals” The speaker spoke as applause sounded all around, the lights turned on making me blink with pain in my eyes as I tried to get used to the brightness of the room, dozens of people around dressed in gala dresses and elegant masks applauded, some laughed and others just stood watching.

On the other side of what looked like a large board a guard in a pink suit lay on the floor, a pool of blood formed under their body and my eyes could only go to the weapon in my hands, I had killed someone for no reason.

''Player 120, you can leave through the door you entered through, a pink guard will guide you to your new dormitory'' the voice of the speaker spoke, I took a couple of steps back but stopped looking again at the pink guard on the floor, in my head I kept thinking about that player who was trapped with us and who for forcing him to help us was killed by his teammates, he was just a child.

Again I took a couple of steps forward, no one stopped me and the room became silent, I looked at the guard next to me but he looked at me without moving a single muscle so I got a little closer to the one I had killed.

Next to them was other guard standing without moving or stopping me.

A couple more steps were necessary to get to their side, with fear I knelt down and left the gun on the floor, I felt my lips tremble as well as my hands that as they approached the black mask with a circle on it.

I took a deep breath and with one movement I took the mask off the face of that anonymous player

My heart stopped and my vision blurred when I noticed that hair falling around the tiny face that lay expressionless, all because of me wanting to stop something that I knew I could never do.

Y/N...no...no Y/N NO - I took her in my arms feeling that warm liquid wet my hands - Y/N please wake up.. please PLEASE!

My hand cleaned her face removing strands of hair that covered her closed eyes, her cheeks no longer had that pink that always formed when she smiled, there was no longer life in her because I had taken it away from her.

Why did you make me do this?..WHY? - I looked around with my cloudy eyes hugging her body trying to have her as close to me as possible

We gave you the chance Cho Huyn-Ju, we believed in you and you wanted to find us and finish us off with the rest of the players, does that seem right and fair to you? - a man dressed in black with a mask at the same time approached with his hands in his pockets looking at me

They should have killed me, not her, she didn't do anything you damn bastards - I looked at him taking the gun that I had put on the floor pointing it at him while my other arm held her

Kill her? We didn't kill her Player 120…you killed her - his hands covered with gloves went to his mask removing it without fear of knowing his true identity - are you going to shoot me? - my eyes widened as I watched 001 look at me with a devilish smile as he threw the mask to the floor - go ahead and do it

You lied to us… - I felt my jaw crash from how tense it was as it clenched - you're a fucking bastard

Lie to you? I just played, don't you think? Fair and square like everyone else - he smiled at me as he took a few steps closer - if you're going to shoot, go ahead, do it, remember that you still have a bullet waiting to come out, but how can you live? - he laughed looking at me - you killed the one you promised to protect, you are just as bastard like me after all

I killed her… I killed her… it was the only thing that was on my mind no matter what other things came to my mind… I looked at her in my arms her lips seemed to lose their color and her hands looked pale almost transparent, there was nothing else to do…

Just a bullet

"I must admit that you look pretty together, don't worry about continuing to play, after all in your next life you will also meet again"

The shaman said after we left her in the carousel game… after all I would meet her again in the next life.

So I didn't have to keep playing, a bullet was what separated me from continuing here and seeing her again…

game over.

Gi-Hun POV

Jun-Ho appeared just when I needed him, saving the surviving players and stopping the masked men they called VIP with his team and the resto of the guards.

001 had died from a shot from my gun.

Even though I asked the policemen accompanying Jun-Ho to get the surviving players out as quickly as possible, I could hear footsteps and screams in the corridor that separated the large hall with a chess floor and the stairs.

I need to find them, I want to know if they are okay - the old woman's voice was heard screaming as I could notice how she was fighting with whoever tried to stop her.

Despite my quick steps my body collided with hers who barely managed to enter the great hall and stopped when she hit my chest

Get out of the way, let me in, they told me you were here - Geum-Ja pushed me while my arms surrounded her body trying to calm her down and stop her - get out of the way I don't care who you are or how you managed to stop this, let me in

Mom please…stop - 007 took her arms from behind without being able to stop her

It's not necessary for you to come in here…you shouldn't - I looked at her trying to keep my voice calm noticing her pain in each blow she gave with her fragile hands

I need to see them, they are my girls I want to see that they are okay…please - her voice broke stopping her blows while she looked at me with her wet eyes reminding me of my mother - please…if I can't see them…I just want to say goodbye to them…please

My angry heart said no, this had to end once and for all, but my heart as a son who couldn't say goodbye his mother told me yes, she had to do what I couldn't…

I slowly took her arm, gesturing to her son that I would take care of it and slowly guided her through the large room.

Her steps became slower and slower as her hands took my arm holding on as she got closer to the bodies that were already covered by a pair of white sheets.

No other body around seemed to faze her, not even seeing 001 lifeless worried her, her eyes only focused on the two white masses on the floor.

Are…are they them? - She looked at me with her wet eyes, trying with a little hope to hear a no for an answer, but my head could only nod slowly as she broke into tears and covered her face with her hands - what did they do to them… my poor girls

My arms surrounded her feeling like my heart was breaking looking at her destroyed, comforting her while cursing those who had decided to play with our lives

Let me… let me… say goodbye - she sighed wiping her cheeks letting go of me slowly as she approached them, everyone watched in silence.

Her legs slowly bent until her knees touched the floor making a sound of pain due to her advanced age.

I do not recommend that…-

I am not going to uncover them… - she looked at the pair of sheets slowly touching them and then brought her hand to theirs- I want to remember them smiling and with that light in their faces.

In a romantically tragic image, the hands of both of them had been taken, the smaller one between the other and both of them pale

Take care of her wherever you find her darling, take care of each other and love each other as you could not do in this life - her mature hand caressed both of theirs jumping a little when she noticed the frozen skin

Let's go mom - Her son, the young man with glasses hugged her slowly by the shoulders helping her to get up

It's time to go home…

[breederbutch]

want to take the opportunity to share this resource because it is actually incredibly terrifying to live in a state where men at large nationalist rallies are openly seig heil-ing the crowd to no condemnation, especially from self-proclaimed (though obviously false) "pro-jewish orgs".

while zionists lament anti-zionism, mass shooters with antisemitic manifestos and jewish targets, politicians proclaiming the state to be christian, and lawmakers pushing "biblical education" into classrooms continue to grow.

just because many white and affluent jewish people have the privilege to align themselves with oppressive antisemitic forces and sell out other jewish people (especially poor jewish people— who are the majority of jewish people— and jewish people of color) in exchange for (perceived) safety does not mean that jewish people, even white and affluent ones, are usually safe or inherently privileged or aligned with oppressive forces.

just because zionists continue to falsely paint human rights for palestinians as an antisemitic threat does not mean there is not real antisemitism.

just because zionists have posited that you can only care about palestinian rights OR jewish rights does not mean you cannot carry healthy wariness, attention, and care for both.

please go to the link below to learn more about antisemitic dogwhistles, phrases, slurs, numeric terms, etc. it is more important than ever to know our enemy, so we can recognize them quickly enough to stop them.

This post by Jewitches (the person who made the above link) sums up the essence of how philosemitism and zionism are not covers for antisemitism.

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I also want to share this specific resource on the Groyper movement as it is growing in popularity, but I don't recommend many of the sources linked (like statistics from the ADL) or other articles by this site— I think this article is helpful alone.

And finally, a piece by Joshua P. Hill on the current state of nazism in the United States and how we can combat it to protect not just ourselves but our neighbors while disempowering the USA and fighting against USAmerican Imperialism.

There are more pieces specifically on philosemitism below and another piece by Joshua P. Hill on resistance but the above links are, I feel, the most necessary. Please look out for your Jewish siblings and empower them to be able to look out for themselves and each other.

And remember that the focus on Jewish targets of nazism is because of the overwhelming proportion of Jewish targets of nazism to people of color targeted by nazism within the most successful nazi state— a european territory (however these are still unacceptable numbers of targeted individuals— any number is— and it is widely accepted that the number of Africans who perished in the north African campaign are not as widely counted or known). as nazism begins to take hold in places with more people of color, please remember that nazism is inherently white supremacist and is not just antisemitism but also racism. standing up for and empowering communities of color, especially Black and Indigenous communities, is incredibly important too.

Joshua P. Hill's treatise on community defense during times of fascism.

Here is a piece on general philosemitism, but it mentions the UK a bit. Keep in mind that philosemitism is an excuse people like Trump and Musk use to shield themselves from being identified as antisemitic.

Here is an excellent piece by Jewish Currents on how philosemitism can easily play into antisemitism, tokenization, and racism in the name of jewish people. This piece is specifically about Germany, but many parts of it can be applicable to other self-proclaimed "philosemites" using the phrase or their allegiance to "israel" as a cover for antisemitism.

A piece on French philosemitism and its antisemitism.

More generally on philosemitism and its links to zionism, but speaks specifically about Australia and France at some points.

[queervegancryptid]

Partner says Desantis is basically nerfing the petition industry here in Florida. Like absolutely gutting it. So either he's going to be traveling a lot for work, or we're fucked for the foreseeable future.

Sigh. Just once, I'd like to get through a day without the powers that be fucking up my life. But they're going to keep creating problems for me, for my family, for all of us.

It's important to understand that this will be largely a war of attrition. I don't doubt that the reds will come out with some show of violent force sometime in the next few months, if not sooner. But fascism doesn't just work by way of military or militia units marching through the streets. That's part of it, the strongman military dictator archetype, and that's part of what gets the Orange Menace going. It's also entirely on brand for what the red republican party has become, or more accurately, what it has been evolving into through the last several decades.

But having acknowledged that, it isn't all about throwing their weight around in public and making people feel literal existential fear. It's also about sucking the will to resist out of people, little by little, in a thousand little ways that add up to trap you in despair and keep you from gaining the strength to fight back.

This is the kind of thing we have to be ready for, on top of workplace raids and attempting to pass constitutional amendments in the form of an executive order and, yes, eventually state violence. I'm not saying this to make anyone panic. I'm saying this because you need to be informed. You need to understand the kind of war we're going to be fighting, and it wouldn't hurt to try to prepare yourself a little for the reality that may one day arrive on your doorstep.

Do not panic, though. Organize. Find somewhere to volunteer, if you can, or make content about an issue you care about. Do whatever you can do, but don't make yourself sick about it. I've found it really helpful lately to read queer history and trans history in particular. It's a way I can remind myself that we've always been here, and despite innumerable attempts to fuck with us, we don't go away.

People before us have had the strength to fight and sometimes win, and that means we can fight and maybe win, too. Nothing is guaranteed, but we have to try. The best thing I can tell you is to think of how you can help, and don't feel like it's too small to matter. If you make one person feel a little more brave or a little less lonely, isn't that worthwhile?

And if I don't talk about it and sit here and get upset that more people aren't fucking aware, then I'm not doing my part to solve the problem. I'm just bitching about it.

[little-mouse-adventures]

@orangerosebush's post here, with my comment and @fowlblue's tags today got me thinking.

Artemis Senior has been teaching his son matters of business from a young age. Not only was Artemis, at 11 years old, discussing stocks with his father, but Fowl Senior had been imparting his wisdom onto his son for years by that point, discussing the ever-increasing value of gold with him before tucking him into bed. Even outside of pure monetary value, Sr. had tried to go legitimate with his business dealings, leading Artemis to have a few legal ventures of his own.

We also see very early on in the books that Artemis has been regularly using Butler as a resource for his plots: bouncing ideas off him was apparently a fairly common tactic when he was scheming.

Both Artemis Senior and Butler are interested in (or at least, not opposed to) educating Artemis on the ways of their lifestyle(s). It would be Artemis Senior who would have taught his son the value of banks and safety deposit boxes and hidden safes but it was Butler who was actively working with Artemis to rob those safety deposit boxes.

In the same vein of breaking-and-entering, TLC also gives us the fun little moment where Butler hands Artemis his own lockpicks, to get into the workings of the bomb.

With one line we learn that Artemis knows how to pick locks, but does not have his own set of lockpicks. Butler, on the other hand, has both the tools and knowledge how to use them. Partnered with a brief mention in TTP of some the specific trades of those previously employed by Artemis Senior (including such things as crime lords, insider traders, and cat burglars), we can extrapolate that Artemis Senior would generally hire someone to pick a lock for him, rather than do so himself.

It's pretty logical to conclude then that Artemis learned big-picture management from his father, and day-to-day skillsets from his bodyguard.

Essentially, Artemis Senior taught Artemis how to run a criminal empire. Butler taught Artemis how to be a criminal.

[vividstardustrevolution]

"What if Kotoko got worse?" Well, what if she got better? What if she could learn to see the humanity in others and actually protect people without hurting others? What if instead of committing herself so much to her ideals of justice that she doesn't know who she is without them, she allowed herself to be a person that doesn't have to constantly be saving people in order to be worth something? What if Kotoko could make friends with the other prisoners instead of looking down on them and pushing them away at every turn? What if she went back to law school and stopped being a vigilante?

What if Kotoko could get better?

[ratatatastic]

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.

[talkorsomething]

I have Got to get more transgender

[fortune-maiden]

I've always liked this line of dialogue from SQX, because it does feel like at the end of the day, no matter how much SQX says he can't stand PM, he does still have a decent grasp of his character.

And on the other side of this, these words are just especially pointed towards Pei Xiu, who does have a good relationship with his boss/ancestor, and also going off his backstory, Pei Ming may well have been the first person in his life to acknowledge him and his talents.

So the whole thing just feels extra sad.

[tardis--dreams]

Alright maybe my coworkers don't Actually hate me after all~