#but i sort of feel like that's missing the point

[girlbeatings]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who you hooked up with during your experimental phase in college, giving you for sure the best orgasm of your comphet life, and yet you still fall for a douchbag guy that doesn't treat you as well as you thought he would. poor thing.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that helps you get ready for your wedding with said douchbag, forcing a smile and making sure you looked the part of a future lobotomised, white picket fence house wife. she felt bad for you, you had no idea what you were signing up for by accepting this ring as a sign of your 'love' and 'fidelity'. you'd probably realize way too late in life, maybe late 30s, that this is not what you wanted.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that feels just so sorry for you, that she holds you close and tells you how pretty you look today, the happiest day of your life. "always knew you'd make such a pretty little bride.. i mean, look at you..." her voice trails off as she tilts your chin up to guide your attention to the full length mirror. you did look pretty, the fancy white dress, perfect makeup and hair. perfect.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who stares at you through the reflection and gets an idea. a trip down memory lane, before you walk down the aisle.

"this fucking dress... makes you look so cute," she mumbles, her voice slightly forced as she stares at the lewd scene in the mirror. you pant and tremble, white heels dangling off your toes and the dress bunched up at your hips.

abby groans as she watches your cunt leak around two of her thick fingers, sat between her spread thighs and your back against her chest as you struggle to keep yourself together. "does he fuck you this good, baby? bet his dick isn't as big as mine, huh."

it wasn't, you know that much. abby's fingers with girthy, just two of them made you writhe and squelch, and that fucking strap she whipped out a few years ago had your sexual fantazies in a chokehold. the way you were so soaked that it just slipped in and out of your pussy without any struggle at all, the faux veins rippling against your insides and hitting all the right spots until you couldn't take it— and what did abby do then? she held you down and made you cum over and over.

your fiancé couldn't compare even if he tried, which he didn't. you were lucky if he even looked at your clit, never mind the sort of tricks abby was doing on it now.

"my pretty little girl, all dressed in white..." she murmurs, her fingers tapping firmly on your clit before rubbing in circles, watching your face scrunch up and your hips roll against her hand. "he's such a lucky man."

there's jealousy clear in her tone, because god she wants you. not just your body, she wants your fucking soul. your dna intertwined with her own. but she can't have that, because you don't like girls.

though, your face says different when her fingers stuff you full again. your head's empty at this point, so there's no lame excuse as to why you were happily letting your best friend fuck you minutes before your wedding, your soon to be husband already stood at the altar.

her fingers curl up to find that spot, smiling when your body almost lurches forward off the bed at the singeing pleasure that spikes through you. luckily, abby's arm is locked around your waist, and you stay pressed against her as she finger fucks you just how you remember— maybe even better. she clearly had more experience now. are you jealous?

"gonna fuck every vow out of that empty head." she promises, her thumb starting to abuse your clit in time with her plunging fingers, tears starting to bubble in your eyes as you writhe.

"a-abs, i'm— mmph, abby.."

"i know, wifey... pretty pussy's missed me so much, hasn't she?" she whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck as her hand continues to work perfectly between your spread legs. you know you'd think about this on your honeymoon, you'd think about her when your laid next to your husband, unhappy and yearning for her to come save you. and who knows? maybe after a few glasses of wine with your old college friend, she fucks you until you ruin that marital mattress for good.

happy valentine's day !!

⏦ﾟ♡︎ taglist !

@uhh-lana @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @graciedollie @starrrcane @lilyyx0 @444fernz @tqlepatia @nvr4getme @2012wannabe @jaywritessometimes @jinxedbambi @tohoko @sapphicloverwlw @shadowmythe @fict1onallyobsessed @pornoangelz @milanyas @powderpinkandsweeet @femmecannibal @aeroti @eatencupcak3 @lils-1979 @sobersonder @dozybunny @fawncritter @nahcala @lesbones @sapphicantichrist @ethereaally @ruelezz @90yearoldbear

[wardensantoineandevka]

There's been a lot of talk about feeling like Campaign 3 fails to carry through consequences, and that is often met with criticisms framing this talk as just wanting Bells Hells or other characters to die or be punished. In return, the response to that is that "consequences" is not necessarily negative — it simply means a narrative follow through and events positive, neutral, or yes even negative happening as a consequence of what came prior.

I posted prior about what I and many meant by consequences, but generally, "a lack of consequence" means that it feels like events happen without clear connective tissue to previous events or it feels like things happen and don't feel like they're feeding properly into what comes next, that following events aren't properly carrying that weight of consequence.

But, just to further illustrate the discussion, the following is a non-exhaustive list of things I personally wish had consequences (that I could be probably better articulating):

Prism, Deanna, and FRIDA going off to do research at the Cobalt Soul, explicitly intending to try to help Bells Hells. This yielded nothing. Even a written letter to the Hells giving any information would have been great to have as a nod to that decision being made and the effort put into cultivating those friendships. (Given the reveal in the Fireside Chat that a Luxon beacon could've destroyed Predathos should research have been done, this feels even more of a missed follow through.)

The Unseelie Court not reinforcing the Malleus Key having clearer consequences. Obviously, there was a benefit to this, but it's hard to FEEL the consequences of disrupting that message because it is not clear what exactly the Unseelie Court would have provided.

Liliana chose not to broadcast the Downfall memory and what that meant to the sociopolitical scale. There is a clear consequence for her on a personal level, but this information being potentially broadcast was set up as a big looming threat, but it was difficult to really feel what would have happened, like, meaningfully, in terms of the material narrative as it affects Bells Hells, if it was broadcast, so as a result it's difficult to feel that stopping the broadcast was meaningful on a broader level.

Talking about Liliana, it feels strange that she exists within Vasselheim as a top leader of the Ruby Vanguard for, like, days without any comment. There is more (and properly delivered) tension over Opal's presence in the city. I don't think Liliana necessarily should've been arrested, I felt something like a small beat that may have required Imogen vouching for her was missing. The consequences of Liliana's position among the antagonists felt absent.

Ashton getting Shady Sally to agree to get the Nobodies back together to help save Exandria, then they'd all be free of Ashton for good. Nothing comes of this! An appearance at the forward camp in the Hellcatch when they came back from Ruidus or in Vasselheim, after the camp is evacuated there, with another opportunity to settle it with the others in the group would have been a nice consequence.

The Grim Verity, especially outside of Ryn, continued to meaningfully exist and the theft of the texts from Vasselheim mattered past the Predathos, Vordo, and Ethedok reveal exposition. It was a team of three people who stole the texts, and one of them, Arnold, was captured and presumed still held at the Platinum Sanctuary and another, Janina, was keeping tabs on the excavation site in the Hellcatch to keep everyone updated on what the Vanguard was doing. It would have been nice to see the Grim Verity more involved in this campaign, because they're the initial hook into the campaign itself! Learning about them and making contact with them stopped yielding any sort of narrative results. (The thing about research in the first point applies here too.)

Judicators. They are introduced, and then nothing is done with them at all. They factor in so minutely, and we understand so little about them, that it's hard to even talk about them as thematic pieces without engaging in a lot of speculative thinking.

I am known to be frustrated with Ashton philosophically, but I am baffled that the conversation they had in their vision in the earth titan in 110 did not come up again at all in any of their subsequent argumentations about the world changing. I am certain that it would've driven me nuts, but I have liked to see that carried forward. It would've contributed a lot to feeling like perspectives were being built upon as a consequence of interactions.

Generally, the Titans are barely mentioned after that episode, btw. There was a lot of time spent on pursuing the idea of the Titans, even sometimes outright brushing past NPCs who repeatedly said that the Titans were dead, only for it to get dropped so suddenly. It feels especially strange when one of the major points of contention Ashton and Laudna brought up was the war against the Titans. Not even a final note about what this means in the tapestry of history or an acknowledgement that they indeed cannot be restored as they were or what? We spent a lot of time on this discussion, but fail to carry it through into the final thematic and philosophical decisions.

On that note, it's established that there is a destiny in which Ashton is to bestow the spark onto another, and there is a sense of fate then for Fearne in it. Since they both struggle with being locked into a path, I did feel missing an exploration of what it then MEANT for them to pursue this. As soon as these abilities are unlocked, there isn't a meaningfully thorough exploration of what they mean as narrative devices and their implications for Fearne and Ashton, at a personally transformative level.

The anti-resurrection toxin and its antidote. I know that it is used against Keyleth and there is a payoff in that the Hells successfully help her, but I don't understand why this toxin didn't continue to be used, especially given the campaign was supposed to be deadlier. Why wouldn't the Ruby Vanguard, but especially someone as vicious and ruthless as Otohan, continue to use it? It had such a prominent presence in the campaign and then vanished from it. We don't even have a sense of how it locked away divine magic and what connection it has to Ruidians or Predathos, which have similar divine dampening ability. Having it continue to be used in the campaign would've also made it continually rewarding that Bells Hells did that work to help Keyleth because the Air Ashari would have available antidote.

Stopping there not because I ran out of examples, but because this list is getting incredibly long — thought I reserve the right to add more later should I think of really good ones. But this is just some of the plot points and threads and conversations that I wish I felt led somewhere or had consequences, and you can see that not all of them are about punishing characters at all, just a desire for things to feel like they were going somewhere and were properly tied off.

[the-traveling-poet]

So Clumsy In Love

~ Valentine’s Day Special ~

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎~ As resourceful and observant as Levi is, one thing about his new life above ground still throws him for a loop; how could such a simple concept as romance be so difficult for him to understand? You made him nervous—confused and unfocused. Eventually he grows tired of fearing his own emotions, and finds the perfect excuse to spend time with you; the Valentine’s Day festival downtown.

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉~ Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader, SFW, v-day themes, inexperienced love, language, cannon-verse, Levi being awkward and crass.

𝒜/𝒩~ Just a lil V-Day fic, since I missed out on doing something for Thanksgiving and Christmas :) Happy Valentines lovelies!

I might make this a mini-series eventually?? Lemme know what you think!! See below for more Levi content.

{ 1.9k words }

It had been an honest mistake, hadn't it?

How should he have known your interpretation of his words wouldn't be what he'd intended you to pick up on?

Though, in hindsight, perhaps he'd subconsciously worried you'd mistake his intent all along—he wasn't known for his poetry. He more than anyone knew this as fact.

The intended compliment he quietly uttered your way could have been more carefully thought out, to avoid confusion. The hand-up after a round on the training grounds could have been a bit more delicate, less forceful and rigid. Hell, even the smile he'd flashed your way last week probably looked more like a grimace or a scowl, now that he thought about it.

Levi honestly had tried to find a way to convey what he felt for you, in any way shape or form—but in all honesty, he wasn't good at this.

Humanity's Strongest Soldier...Seemed more fit to label him Humanity's Most Awkward Bachelor.

Life above ground has been more than he anticipated it to be; so many new sights to behold, so many new things to learn... Back in the Underground, things were much more to the point than they were up here. Much more crass, much more invasive, so much more painful...Up here, on the surface, all of that could easily apply: to certain circumstances—yet never quite so harshly as it was below the surface.

At least, that’s how Levi views it, as a fresh Scout within the Survey Corps. Perhaps one day his interpretation would change.

With having to learn how to read the people of the surface, and adapt to their so-called proper way of life, Levi was left feeling adrift. The stark contrast between their social cues and those of the underground was nothing short of overwhelming.

So, to say that romance was uncharted territory for him would be a vast understatement. It was one thing he’d never expected, never even thought on. He'd never had time for it in the past. He'd been busy surviving, and providing. But now? Now...He wasn't so sure that he couldn't carve out some time between his new duties in the Scouts to understand his emotions a bit more.

Especially the ones he'd recently taken notice of regarding you—the ones that made him stutter whenever you were around, and avoid prolonged eye contact when you spoke. The ones that sparked a warm flutter in the pit of his stomach whenever you laughed, or chanced a smile his way.

It was near maddening, in the beginning. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t understand why he felt what he did. Briefly he recalled having been urged to just really think about it, to make up his mind and listen to his own heart. He’d scoffed at them, the damned bespectacled squad leader—always sticking their nose into his business. But maybe they had a point…

So eventually, he’d done just that; he’d sorted his thoughts and his feelings, dwelling heavily over them for quite some time. Eventually, gradually, he’d discovered that the attraction he held towards you was more than just a fleeting admiration for a fellow Scout.

It was so much more than that.

Such a simple notion should have come much easier to him, as self-observant as he was. His own stubborn pride had kept it hidden away from him, though.

Until now, that is.

Now, it was all he could focus on.

Every moment he wasn’t fully focused on a task, his mind would slip back into a pattern of obsession—fond observations he’d made about you over the many long months he’d been enlisted.

He’d watched you, unbeknownst to you.

Not so much in a way that would border on stalking, but merely keeping himself at a distance, silently absorbing every little fact he’d pick up on and store it away for a later time to muse over.

He found himself admiring you, out of sight. Certainly out of mind to you. Even after the revelation he’d made of his feelings, he couldn’t help but continue to keep his distance and simply watch you go about your days.

Stubborn as he had been, he truly was trying to understand himself whenever you were around. It wasn’t like him to be so unsure—so nervous, even. He’d watch you train, clean, socialize; all at a distance. He wouldn’t dare approach you and intervene with your time, worried he might somehow soil the moment for you, more so than for himself. He’d always frowned on obsessive stalkers in the past; he wasn’t about to become one himself. And yet…Here he was. Pining. Wishing, hoping…Pathetically entranced by all that you were.

In the present, he cursed himself. He’d mustered up the courage to face you in a way much softer than he usually preferred, hoping to not startle or offend you in any way this time. And yet, despite his careful planning, he’d managed to make the moment more awkward than endearing. Once again, the silly cycle repeated itself.

“The hell even was that?” he grumbled to himself, quietly so as not to be heard by passerbyers.

“Why the hell didn’t I just say what I initially thought, instead of butchering any chance I could have had?”

Levi sat alone in his newly appointed office now, silently contemplating his actions the day before.

He really had meant it as a compliment—it had not come across this way. Instead of seeing the smile on your face that he was after, he was met with a furrowed brow and a set of pursed lips.

“I don’t suppose you find yourself funny?”

Your quietly spoken words still echoed in his mind.

What had started as a feeble attempt at pursuing a conversation with you after a meeting—in hopes to steer it in a more progressive direction—ended abruptly in narrowed gazes and an awkward silence.

“Idiot, fucking idiot…” he muttered as an afterthought to himself, standing up to pace the small space.

He’d heard tell of an event celebrated amongst the people born and raised above ground—some sort of ‘lovers day’, meant to bring attention to a love one held for another. Initially, he thought it was corny. A little ridiculous, even. Soldiers and civilians alike would participate in this festival of sorts, celebrating ‘romance and unity’.

‘Pointless. Waste of a good coin. Waste of time.’ He’d once proclaimed.

It took him falling in love to understand why any such thing would be celebrated as a ‘holiday’ worth entertaining.

Now that he had fallen for another, however, he suddenly could understand. Even just a little.

He’d pondered over such an idea for months, long before the event would take place. At first he brushed it off as some teenage fantasy, asking the one person he admired from a distance to join him on a night of fresh starts and new experiences—some ridiculous little event to finally express his heart to you.

But after some time, in which he truly began to understand what he felt for you…The idea seemed plausible, at the very least.

Cringy, maybe. Satisfactory, definitely.

Eventually he’d made up his mind, only a couple of days before the dreaded date. He would ask you to celebrate: with him.

He’d hoped to ask you if you would join him for dinner—maybe walk amongst the festivities together, as a way to indulge in the festival being held in the town square. Maybe there he could admit to you, in some way or another, how he favored you above all others. How he wanted to pursue something, anything with you—if you’d let him. Only if you shared his ambition.

But of course, approaching this subject with you only made his clumsiness worse. The attempt he’d made at broaching the subject couldn’t have been more uncomfortable for either of you.

“You people up here tend to celebrate weird shit…You’re alone for this weird ass holiday, right? I don’t imagine you’d have the time for such things, anyways—always caught up in perfecting your shitty strategies and formations.”

That had been the first and last statement he’d made before your remark, regarding him in an almost offended way. Even now, your response still haunts him.

In his mind, he figured this was a compliment; a rough one at best. You were always focused, always concentrated and putting your best foot forward for any task that demanded your full attention. Of course he’d noticed. He always had. Yet…now hadn’t been the time to point that out—much less, in such a demeaning manner.

He hadn’t meant to underline your lack of a romantic life. But he had, and the moment the words left his lips he knew it.

Less than a full day had passed since then, and still he mulled over it, sulking over his inability to take that step forward and just say what he meant. To say what he needed you to hear.

It was evening when he left his office, the sun filtering through his window setting over the walls beyond in crisp oranges and bright pinks. He might have stopped to watch it for a moment, if he weren’t at wit’s end.

He’d kept himself cooped up stewing over his mistakes long enough—It was now or never, wasn’t it?

Finding you hadn't been too difficult. In fact, it had been a little too easy; of course he’d find you chatting happily amongst comrades before turning in for the night.

The difficult part, the one he knew he would inevitably face, was getting you alone for a single moment. Just long enough to grab your attention and say what needed to be said…

To his silent astonishment, he’d managed the task easily enough; a simple demand for a moment of time seemed to do the trick. He’d pretend he didn’t see the hesitance in your eyes, the silent judgment that you never verbally conveyed.

“Listen; I’m shit at words. Especially the weird shit you all say up here on the surface. It’s strange, and it’s stupid. But…The other day, what I’d meant wasn’t what I said. If-If you are alone tomorrow…Well, I suppose I am as well. I’d wondered: what if we grabbed a bite to eat? Avoid the drama these love sick idiots parade around and just…I dunno…Get to know one another a little?”

You’d huffed in amusement, a crooked smirk on your enchanting lips. The earlier hesitance disappeared from your gaze, replaced now by a nearly mischievous look of understanding.

The silence left behind from his proposal was enough to spike his nervousness once again—he was so far out of his element that even he would laugh at himself if he were observing from afar.

Maybe he’s misjudged, made a mistake…

But eventually you shook your head, uncrossing your arms and looking him over head to toe, curiosity beaming in your pretty eyes.

“As it should happen, I’m not busy for Valentine’s tomorrow, and I suppose I could stand to better familiarize myself with my fellow Captains…”

A pause in your voice brought about the stilling of his heart, his chest aching briefly with anticipation. But then you gave your final answer; a few simple words that lifted the anxious weight in his heart and eased the tension in his shoulders. He nearly sighed with visible relief.

“Why not? I’ll go to dinner with you. There’s a new café in Trost; I hope you’ve heard of it?”

~𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝓋𝒾 𝒜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒!~

~𝒟𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇~

[yimpysdiner]

Ridiculously long analysis of Jimmy's dialogue

Jimmy is one of the most fascinating characters that's ever caught my eye, which is why I think the watering down of his character to "comically evil villain whose always snappy and overtly aggressive" is a little lame. Not only is it lame, it misses the point of his character entirely. I enjoy delving into him so what did I do? I went back through the game and took a screenshot of every single word he's ever spoken

Here I just wanna highlight some key character traits I think are often overlooked, his speech patterns, etc. This isn't gonna be some grand important theory thing or whatever, just looking at key points of his personality that I think often get lost when people are writing him. It's important to my lil hyperfixated mind, alright? Alright. I'm gonna be breaking this down into a few sections.

Speech Patterns Humor Observant Mimicking? Lashing out Hopelessness Remorse I won't be going over a few obvious things that have been pointed out time and time again like him talking down to Anya so much, being a major asshole, etc, we all know already.

General Speech :

Jimmy's speech is almost always blunt and to the point, he doesn't spend a lot of time rambling like Daisuke, isn't quite as outwardly analytical like Anya, doesn't throw in a lot of sarcastic little jokes like Swansea. Funny enough, his speech is most comparable to Curly's. I'll get to that later. When irritated he starts making little jabs, gets all passive aggressive. It's only when he's really pissed or pressured does he start swearing excessively. A lot of his dialogue hinges on passive aggression, things you could maybe brush off but still makes you feel a little... off. I don't really have screenshots for this little portion, you'll see it as we go on.

Humor

Jimmy isn't entirely a drag. Sure, he never really seems like the "life of the party," but he has his moments. This is kind of a nothingburger section but I often see Jimmy written as just some miserable grimacing guy in the corner

There's one more where you close utility when Daisuke is trapped in the foam and he says "much better." I couldn't find a playthrough where the player does this to get the screenshots but I have seen it be done before. It may be me over analyzing, but I think his sense of humor and general way of expressing happiness is very dry. It's not that he doesn't, it's simply that he's just not a very excitable person. He likes the little tradition of parties on Tulpar and jokes around with karaoke getting "violent." The sort of jokes he makes are probably all the sort of jokes you might just take seriously because he says it in such a flat tone, it's the kind of thing where you have to really *know* how he is to get.

So he's not exactly the person you're gonna see moping in the corner of a party because he hates it, he's moping because he's just not outwardly expressive in that respect, but he does seem to enjoy festivities and fooling around

Observant

Something I commonly see in writing is Jimmy not being able to read people's emotions or understand *how* exactly to get under people's skin. Jimmy's actually incredibly in tune with how people feel, what their intentions are, and how to use that to his advantage. He's very aware of what people may think of him, what they think of others and what they may even think of themselves. This also sort of ties in to people thinking he's dumb, while he's throwing out lines like this almost completely unprompted :

The cockpit scene is incredibly important to understand him as a character. Rewatching it I was quite shocked *how* much of this was immediately taken and used against Curly in later scenes. A teensie bit of context is cut as to not make this post far longer than it already is, but I'll do my best to fill in gaps.

Just this line here is interesting to me, while he senses Curly is unhappy in his position, he can't quite grasp why yet. This is after he says he enjoys where he is, he feels they are in control in this position.

In this calmer environment, Jimmy is able to understand why Curly feels like this without much pushback, even able to open up to Curly a little saying he feels he's still climbing up that ladder after him, to which Curly provides comfort and encouragement. I think a lot is told about their relationship here but that's a story for another day.

Later on, every bit of this information Curly confided in him is flipped over on him in a fit of rage. Where he was once understanding and sympathetic, he's now twisted those words to make Curly seem like a villain in everyone else's eyes, which he continues to do over and over until judgement day. Every bit of info you give Jimmy is ammunition.

It's crazy to put this side by side and see when given the chance, Jimmy will take whats a perfectly good fear and throw it right back at you and really twist the knife while he's at it.

Other examples of this is his paranoia over what the crew thinks of him, especially after seeing Swansea and Anya talking. This one's pretty self explanatory

Next one I find pretty interesting, after Jimmy finds Daisuke on the floor crying about being a screw up and after seeing Swansea scold him for not being great at his job, he decides to turn that around on him as well.

He is not only very aware Daisuke looks up to people in power but looks up to Swansea in specific. I dunno, I just thought that was interesting when I was looking back through everything. I know Jimmy's manipulation of Daisuke is super obvious and in your face but it just helps add to the whole point of Jimmy knows how to wriggle his way into people's minds, especially when they're vulnerable.

I've hit the image limit and I'm not even half way done, so, PART 2

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Boy Back Home

- Donnie Darko

This fic is two requests mixed together, hope that’s alright ᡣ𐭩

Summary: You come over to Donnie’s house unannounced and find him touching himself.

Warnings: Sub!Donnie, masturbation, panty sniffing, touching himself to a picture of you, you’re a bit mean, blood (he accidentally bites your lip).

Word count: 964

Notes: This is really short (soz), might do a part two if it does well!

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

Even though you felt too old to be forced on family vacations, you still got dragged along to Cape Cod over the summer. Your friend, or unofficial boyfriend (whatever you want to call it), Donnie, had been waiting for you all summer to come back home. He tried to pass the time as best he could. Shooting bottles, biking, watching shitty sitcoms. Most effective of all was staring at his Polaroid of you, where you are dressed in nothing but a bikini top and tiny shorts, and either burying his face in your panties or jerking himself off holding them around his cock.

You got home in late July. You never told Donnie about it beforehand; you wanted it to be a surprise. You barely got home before leaving to go to his house. Under a flowerpot on the front porch lay a pair of spare keys. You picked them up, inserted them into the keyhole, and quietly unlocked the front door. No one seemed to be downstairs; you began to wonder if Donnie was not even home. But you decided to check his room.

In case he was there, you walked the creaky steps as carefully as possible. His door was closed, and a light shined from under the door. Your body filled with excitement, you had missed him so terribly. You turned the doorknob and looked into his room. However, Donnie did not seem to notice you. In fact, his eyes were closed. On his chest lay a Polaroid of you from a few months back; one of his hands held a pair of your used panties, which you thought you had lost, in his face, and his other hand feverishly stroked his cock.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you could not deny his little show turned you on. You stepped in the room and closed the door behind you. This woke Donnie up from his daydream. His eyes shot up, cheeks turned maroon, and he stilled. “Uh. Look, I—,” he stammered. You two were not dating, so this could have easily scared you off. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” you said and walked towards his bed. This was your chance to play around with him a bit, which you needed after being away for so long—too long. “I was enjoying the show.”

Poor Donnie thought he might pass away from embarrassment. Not only did the girl he liked walk in on him, but she also walked in on him stuffing her used, stolen panties in his face with her skimpy Polaroid right by. He had a hard time deciphering you, whether you were being genuine or not.

You met Donnie’s silence with a sigh. “I want to see what you’ve been getting up to without me here,” you said in a kinder, softer voice, hoping it would make him feel more comfortable. “You’re not mad?” He asked instead. You smiled and shook your head. “The opposite.”

Donnie's hand began stroking his cock again, now with his eyes open, looking at you. He realized then how much better you looked in real life than in that still picture. His hand holding your underwear softened its grip. “Did you steal these?” You pointed at the panties. Donnie’s gaze looked far away and cloudy. He hummed a yes.

He was not sure if this was real. Maybe he fell asleep while masturbating and was having some sort of erotic dream, but this was too realistic. His body spasmed in pleasure as he watched your face. It almost felt more perverted to jerk off to your face than, let’s say, your tits. This was not just desperation; this was adoration.

“What do you do with them?” You asked, already knowing the answer. But hearing him say it would do so much for you. “I smell them,” Donnie whimpered in response; his whole being was getting eaten up by horniness, and he did not have enough brain power to feel shame anymore. He just wanted to cum.

“Show me,” you inquired, and he obliged. He smothered himself with them once again, heavily breathing in your scent. His thighs shook as he did, and his hips moved more than his hand by now. He was basically fucking up into his fist. He moaned hopelessly into the lace, which did not do much to muffle the sounds. His sheer desperation turned you on as much as it angered you. You grabbed the panties from him and shoved them into his open mouth. “You’re too noisy.”

A few whimpers still slipped out, but you could deal with that. You tried your best to hold back, because even though you enjoyed watching him suffer, you wanted to put your lips to his flushed, sweaty skin and kiss him all over. He could make up for it later.

You could tell he was nearing his climax by the way his legs trembled and flexed. The veins on his thin, pale hand were protruding from the strain. The panties in his mouth were useless by now as his sounds grew louder. So, you took them out and replaced them with your tongue. He writhed on his sheets and sucked on your tongue. It was not pretty; it was sloppy and messy, but God, it felt good.

He accidentally bit down on your lip when he came, mixing your blood into the shared saliva. His cum landed on his stomach, cooling him down when the breeze from the AC brushed his skin. You broke the kiss and breathed heavily into each other’s mouths. “I’ve missed you so much,” Donnie said, still sounding whiny and weak. You smiled, “Me too. Now you can have the real deal,” you teased and pecked his lips. He hummed happily, wanting nothing more than to dive between your thighs.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚇𝙸. 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, parental abuse, alcoholism/disordered alcohol use, protective!Joel, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, beauty in the mundane, learning to be peaceful in the stillness WORD COUNT: 6.8k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: How odd it is to be haunted by someone who is still alive.

“But what if I miss a payment?”

“You’re not gonna miss a payment,” he assures you for the millionth time.

“And the interest is, like, 27%, so if I miss a payment it’s gonna be so much extra on top of the bill,” you stress.

“Your interest is only that high because you don’t have any credit in your name, baby. It’ll get knocked down eventually – once you build up a good history – but that’s just how it starts out most of the time.”

You can tell he’s about to launch into his comforting finance dialogue yet again, but you don’t stop him. You still need to hear him say it, even if it feels like he’s beating a dead horse at this point. You need the comfort in his assurances, and for once you don’t get down on yourself for needing it and seeking it out.

“And you’re not gonna make huge purchases to start, right? You’re gonna put small, consistent charges on there every month and pay it in full every month. After 6 months to a year, you’ll get a low credit utilization ratio, and you might be able to increase your credit limit. It sounds scary, but it’s really simple. I promise. And I can go over it as many times as you need to feel comfortable with it.”

You gnaw your bottom lip and review the little pamphlets and flyers Joel collected for you. He was insistent about having you use your money not for helping with the mortgage or grocery bill or utilities but rather to open your own bank account and then a line of credit so that you could start building credit in your name and your name solely.

Now you were on a Joel Miller crash course about interest rates, utilization ratios, FICO scoring, and all sorts of other financial planning topics that were meant to help you build a firm foundation for lifelong financial independence and security. You constantly doubted yourself and felt overwhelmed with the volume of information, but Joel was adamant about it. After a while, some of it was finally sticking, and you could only pray that you’d pick up more and more of it each time.

Your payments were scheduled automatically now through your online banking, which he also helped you set up, and he helped you get into the habit of keeping track of things on the phone app. “If it’s easy enough for me to do it, I know you won’t have any issue with it” he’d laughed when he first installed it. He was honest to god excited about how much you’d be able to put into savings over the course of the next five years. 

The concept of five years into the future felt hard to conceptualize. You were still getting used to staying on your feet most days and taking more onto your plate when possible. But to Joel, it was something just around the corner. He talked about it as though it was clear as day in his mind’s eye. He saw that future for you – for the both of you – so easily.

The thrum of your pulse felt sticky every time at the casual insinuation that he’d be there to see it, that you and him would still be together and happy and in love, but your stomach lurched at the thought of it. 

He cared an awful lot about you. That much was clear. It was the whole acknowledging the whole being in love thing that made it harder to fathom. It felt dangerously hopeful. It was hard enough to admit to yourself that you loved him, even though there was really no denying it at this point. But that awful, nagging worry still nipped at your heels: would he grow tired of it all one of these days? The mollycoddling and constant instruction for shit you should’ve had all figured out by now?

There was no real concept of losing him in your head because that was even harder to envision than anything else. Your thoughts flipped over to a blank slide when you even tried to imagine what it would feel like to not have him in your life. When the nerves of it all started to prick and sting and make you nauseous, those were the moments you held him a little closer to you until the fear subsided.

Joel doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s watching you, all bent over the edge of the deck with your little stack of porcelain plates that you carefully arrange in a neat line along the step.

“Madeline and Helen, you’re over here,” you call over your shoulder to the two grungy “frenemy” cats, as you’d dubbed them.

He snorts and shakes his head, but you just ignore him and continue with your task. All the plates are dispersed, and your usual hoard of neighborhood cats have come meowing and pawing for the “good brand wet food” you insisted on buying for them. When you first started this habit of spoiling the “cat collective,” Joel had been surprised to learn that so many stray cats roamed the neighborhood. That was, until he noticed that many of them had collars and tags. Despite belonging to a nearby family and having perfectly good homes, they regularly showed up like the greedy, indulgent creatures they were.

You didn’t mind, though. You were delighted to greet them all every night like the informal mayor of some feline city. You gave them names despite some tags displaying an entirely different moniker. They responded to whatever you called them, though, so he really had no room to say anything about that. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he watched you slip into your little routine. You’d taken to giving them all nicknames or new names, mostly from movies you’ve watched together.

When the two “frenemy cats” had gotten into a little brawl on the stairs a few weeks back, you broke up their fight and giggled to yourself when you came up with the grand idea of naming them after characters from Death Becomes Her. He shared in a laugh at the fitting names you chose, and you flashed him a million kilowatt smile that made his knees weak.

He watches in open amusement as you chide Walter –  the rotund, irritable tabby that struggles to play nice with others once he’s gobbled up his own dish and is unable to bully others for theirs. You’d quoted “you’re outta your element, Donny!” to Walter about a half dozen times by now, but he never seemed to find your references to The Big Lebowski as hilarious as you did. The grumpy furball looks up at you, annoyed but put in his place, and allows you to scratch his head.

While you made your nightly circuit, Joel scanned the back deck, surveying a potential spot for a small safehouse unit. Might as well start looking into building a heated, insulated area for all these cats since you’ll probably worry yourself sick over how cold they could get in the winter without proper shelter. They could always carry their asses back to their own houses in the neighborhood, but, knowing you, the thought of “what if?” would make you fret enough that he wants to have a plan and build ready to go when it’s time. He tucks it into his mind for later, just like so many other ideas and dreams and possible futures with you.

For now he enjoys giving you the space to indulge in the things that make you happy, a freedom to do something not because there’s an end goal in mind but because it makes you feel radiant in the moment. He loves to see what you latch onto without the angry voice of a controlling dirtbag berating you and making you feel insignificant and frivolous just for finding joy in things.

Watching you shift from constantly on edge to relaxed was a reward all in itself. It was most noticeable at night. You’d stir so frequently in bed those first few weeks after moving in. It might’ve been the new house noises, sure, but there’s no doubt the learned vigilance was a big part of your tendency to be a light sleeper. When you’d startle awake, he’d wake, too. You’d be apologetic and sometimes even a little embarrassed at being so jumpy “over nothing.” He’d just pull you closer and tell you it was okay and to try to go back to sleep. It took a while before it really sunk in, but eventually falling asleep and staying asleep came easier to you.

He was constantly discovering new ways your upbringing and home life had carved these jagged neural pathways in your mind. He didn’t know what the answer was for some of them, other than time, but for the simpler things, like letting you freely explore hobbies and whims, he’d jump at the opportunity to give you that sort of life.

“Do you think I could just… wear some shorts and a shirt? I mean….”

Your words taper off as you stare down at the dress Sarah had ordered online along with the pretty blue one you wore to Kenzie’s graduation ceremony. You didn’t want to repeat the blue dress when you’d just worn it so recently, but you really didn’t want to be up moving around and socializing in a dress all day anyway. Plus, the temperature had crept up steadily now that Memorial Day had just come and gone. Ideally it was denim cutoffs and tank top weather, but you could deal with some linen type shorts and a t-shirt for the sake of a party.

“I’ll match with whatever you put on, so just go with somethin’ comfortable,” he suggests. “There’s worse things than being underdressed for a college graduation party. I doubt anybody’ll even care, honey.”

He was probably right, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself and drag Joel down with you. Attending parties and looking the part of a well put-together couple was new for you, and there was only so much “fake it ‘til you make it” bravado that could pull you through these sorts of settings. Joel dons a pair of darkwash, neat jeans with a short-sleeved button up, and you huff loudly at how easy he makes things look. 

He catches your toothless irritation and shoots you a wink before grabbing the dress and hanging it up in your shared closet.

“C’mon, let’s look at the shirt options ya got,” he encourages.

The lack of options ended up being a bit of a blessing because it meant you weren’t overwhelmed with choices.  You wind up settling on a spaghetti strap top that’s nice and flowy with a small bow detail in the back. It wasn’t the fanciest thing, but it was dressier than a plain t-shirt. A once over in the mirror reflected a pretty well put together outfit, and your shoulders relaxed with the crisis having been avoided thanks to Joel. He, of course, looked effortlessly handsome and casual.

The drive to Kenzie’s house for the party is uneventful, as are most of your driving excursions these days. Pretty soon you’ll accrue enough hours of road time to take the test to be an actual, bonafide licensed driver. Joel is in his usual spot in the passenger seat with a hand resting on your thigh, calming and a reminder that you’ve got help if you need it. 

The half-circle drive is full of cars with brands you’re sure you could never pronounce correctly. The front of the house and down the street is lined with more of the same, and Joel takes mercy on you when it’s time to parallel park, swapping seats with you and taking over. You watch the confident stretch of his arm along the back of your seat as he reverses neatly into a spot. He hops out to get the door for you, and you both comment on the lavish decorations as you walk into the party.

There’s way more people in attendance than you anticipated, and you just hope you won’t have to socialize too much with people you’re probably never going to see again. Kenzie’s dad spots you and makes his way over to extend a firm handshake to Joel and a warm side hug to you. He doesn’t stick around for long as he returns to his hosting duties, but he flags down a member of the waitstaff for beverages before politely excusing himself to continue on his rounds.

Joel whistles low and cocks a brow as he takes in all of the setup. “Nice lookin’ party.”

You laugh under your breath at the understatement of the century. “It’s insane. This could be somebody’s wedding! It’s freaking gorgeous,” you gush.

He agrees silently, sipping on his cocktail and wrapping his free hand around your lower back and waist. He points out that most people seem to be either wearing business casual adjacent looks or something more formal, which places you both a little underdressed but not so much that you stick out. You also observe that he was right about people not really seeming to notice or care what you had on. It made you feel a bit more relaxed as you sought out Kenzie.

So far you hadn’t come across anyone you knew, but it wasn’t awkward with Joel by your side. He had that poised, assured air about him like always, and it made everything feel manageable. Under control. Free of chaos.

“Ooohhh, hey!” a high pitched squeal sounds across an open path of people. You turn to see someone you recognize but can’t remember her name. You refresh Joel’s memory that this is Kenzie’s friend who had asked him at the graduation about any single brothers, cousins, or nephews that he might have. She shimmies up to you and waves excitedly.

“There’s my little matchmakers!”

Joel laughs awkwardly and shakes his head. “Sorry to tell you, er….” he trails off, her name clearly not springing to his mind either.

Thankfully she doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and you're not entirely convinced she’s aware of much at all. “Sel,” she supplies with a bright smile.

“Sel, right,” he amends. “Sorry to tell you, Sel, but we are unfortunately here sans eligible bachelors.”

She makes an exaggerated pouty face before busting into a fit of giggles and shrugging. “Aw, dammit. Can’t win ‘em all, I guess. Well, it was good seeing you!”

She struts away without another word, and you and Joel exchange an amused look.

“Wonder how many of these she’s had,” Joel chuckles, shaking his half empty cocktail glass.

You giggle and playfully slap his side. “Oh, shush. She’s entitled to celebrate a little bit. It’s gotta feel good getting that degree after being in school for four years,” you contend.

He bobs his head in passive agreement. “Now remind me again why your friend was workin’ with you in a grocery store when she’s got all this waiting for her back home? Coulda just focused on her studies, couldn’t she’ve?”

It was a fair question. Why on earth would someone work a minimum wage, public facing job if their family could afford this sort of lifestyle? 

“She told me before that her dad wanted her to know what the ‘real world’ was like. I’m pretty sure he didn’t grow up with a whole lot, and I guess he didn’t want his kids to end up spoiled or whatever.”

Joel nods his head like that makes perfect sense to him. “Explains why her dad seems like a decent guy. Doesn’t have that ‘daddy’s money’ attitude. Your friend doesn’t either for that matter, so I guess he’s done a pretty good job keepin’ her level headed.”

When you finally do come across Kenzie, she seems a bit frazzled. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so uptight and serious. She hastily explains that she’s spent the entire party schmoozing with all her dad’s “dumb important friends” and hasn’t had a chance to relax at all. You feel a bit sorry for her, but you know she’ll probably end up with extravagant gifts from said family friends in exchange for a few social niceties. 

Your eye lands on a familiar looking man whose identity isn’t readily placed. Was he at the graduation ceremony, too? Was he the dad to one of Kenzie’s friends? He looks at you for a split second like he recognizes you as well, before he looks away, disinterested. You shrug it off. Maybe he’s just got one of those faces.

Kenzie’s dad comes back around and asks if he can “borrow Joel for a minute,” to which you assure Joel you’re fine without his company for a little while. He shoots you one last worried glance over his shoulder as Kenzie’s dad claps a hand against his back and starts up the construction conversation they’d been having at the ceremony. You watch Joel’s reluctant figure weave through the crowd until he’s following Kenzie’s dad inside the house through a large side door. 

The sea of attendees around you make for good people watching. You wouldn’t admit it to Joel, but not having him by your side feels strange and a bit vulnerable, especially now that you spend practically every waking moment together. It was something you’d become rather accustomed to, and with your nerves starting to pick up again you remind yourself that it’s healthy to do things on your own every once in a while. You’d done it plenty in your life, and being subjected to it now wouldn’t kill you. 

A solid twenty minutes have passed, and you distract yourself with the abundance of ornate decorations.

Deeper into the backyard is a small bunching of rose bushes. The delicate folds of pink petals have you considering asking Joel if he could plant this sort of thing in your backyard. You smile gently to yourself, running a fingertip along the velvet furl of the rosette. Your backyard. Together. A little garden of eden right smack dab in the middle of Texas.

Sentimental musings are cut short with the announcement of a “few words shared on the eastern lawn” in about five minutes. Throngs of guests begin making their way toward the tabled section that you assume is the “eastern lawn,” and Joel is still nowhere in sight.

You hang back and check your phone. No texts or missed calls. You call him, but it rings until it goes through to voicemail. He’d probably muted it for the party. You decide to just go look for him in the house, letting yourself into the same side door they’d used when they went inside almost 30 minutes ago. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten carried away talking business.

A welcomed cool breeze butts against your bare skin when you slip inside, the indoor AC a stark difference to the looming summer heat outside. A pristine and stately kitchen filled with stock for the party greets you: ice filled coolers, wrapped trays of hor d’oeuvres lining the countertops, napkins and utensils and glassware all stacked to the side and ready to go when toasts are made. The smooth marble counters give an air of quiet opulence, made all the more silent with no noise coming from anywhere in the house.

A sliver of a stairwell is visible just around the corner. A separate hallway stretches door after door, no light glowing from any of the rooms behind them. A dull babble of laughter and conversation outside at the opposite end of the house is practically a white noise in this massive, empty space. Joel’s deep timbre is absent. No creaking footsteps from upstairs. No friendly hum of conversation.

It felt a bit intrusive to just waltz upstairs to look for him, but it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason to be looking around. Surely at the very least Kenzie’s dad wouldn’t want to miss whatever was about to happen on the eastern lawn.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you hiding out in here.”

The familiar voice cuts through your chest, your heart clenching sharply as you turn to find your dad wearing a nasty, callous expression. He looks more exhausted than you remember, somehow more dead in the eyes. It’s only been a few weeks since you’ve last seen him, but he stands before you more gnarled and sickly than memory serves. His skin shines with a thin layer of perspiration, and his lips are so dry and chapped it’s as if all the moisture in his body is steadily exiting through the gathering beads of sweat along his brow. His eyes are sluggish but malevolent, darting all along your face and body as though he’s taking inventory of your present state.

The words you wish to scream, for him to get away from you, get twisted and caught in your throat. You stand there, infuriatingly mute, and await whatever venom he’s here to deliver. He makes no rush as he walks fully into the room and slides the door shut. He looks so out of place here, in your world. In your life. A living ghost here to haunt you once more.

“Takes guts to be at somebody’s party celebrating everything you’ll never be.” He pauses to let the barb cleave and carve, laughing to himself as he continues, “ I mean, imagine you a college graduate. Barely fucking graduated high school.”

His line of sight wanders around the room as he picks you apart. Although his air is indifferent and unrushed, you have an odd, sneaking feeling that he doesn’t want to look you in the eye again until he’s established a rhythm of cutting you down, as though your absence has left him feeling out of sorts and unpracticed in destruction.

“Some hell of a fluke that the driven, successful young ladies here at this party see anything in common with a loser like you.”

His eyes slip over to yours again, narrowing with palpable hatred. “Can’t imagine any of them are a complete embarrassment to their families.”

“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to spit out.

He bobs on the balls of his feet, stepping around airily with his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he found all of this an amusing way to pass the time. Like he hadn’t just cannonballed himself into your life again.

“Got a funny text from an, uh, acquaintance of mine. A picture of you, sticking out like a sore thumb. Surrounded by better dressed people. Way outta your social class.”

Embarrassment warms the back of your neck and the tips of your ears at his astute, cutting words.

“Had my friend wondering if he was imagining it was you - misremembering your face, maybe – especially since he didn’t see me anywhere nearby. Told him he was right and that I’d be sure to come say hello when I dropped in.  He was nice enough to remind me of the address. What a guy,” he finishes in a dry tone.

He laughs, a hollow and mirthless sound, and takes a step forward, hands shoved in his pockets that you now realize are balled into fists. His voice was steady enough, but the fury bubbling beneath the surface was quickly rising to the tipping point. There was no doubt he’d been drinking heavily – that dangerous teetering between being dampened by the alcohol and being livid that it still didn’t make all his problems fade away into a muted, ignorable thing.

“How much have you had today?” you lob at him. “Or has it just carried over from last night?”

He laughs again, just as empty and forced as the first. “It’s funny because, the thing is, I can promise you there’s no amount of whiskey that could make me as delusional as you are. I mean, parading around this party in what? Backyard barbecue clothes? Can’t even put together a decent outfit for one day, but you expect to keep up with these people? College graduates getting real jobs, not just some entry level bullshit you sucked off some old jackass for.”

Heat rises on your chest and neck at the insinuation that Joel only offered you the job in return for sexual favors. You jut your chin out defiantly but can’t find the words to say. Can’t find the words that will defend yourself. Defend Joel. Make your dad leave with his tail between his legs. He takes your silence as another opportunity to tear you down.

“You think you got real friends here? How many times do you think they’re gonna cover your tab? Spot you $100? Invite you to weekend trips? Hm? How many times are they gonna get out their wallets before they see you for the leech that you are?” he hisses.

“I think you need to leave,” you warn with a tremble tacked to the last word.

“And don’t get me started on that middle aged perv you got brainwashed into giving a shit about you,” he continues, completely ignoring your reproval. “He might be giving you a little allowance for now, but I give it a few years max before he dumps you for the next young bimbo he can use to wet his dick. Of course you’re too fucking stupid to realize that. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” you snap, adrenaline rushing through you now and helping to supply the harsh words. 

His eyes crinkle with a malicious smirk, like he revels in finally having got to you. 

“Or what?” he sneers. “All you can ever manage to do when things get tough is run. So, what are you gonna do now? Run?”

You don’t miss the challenge in his tone, daring you to try to leave before he gives you permission to do so. 

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW.”

The curve of his mouth is sickly sweet, a slip of red the only thing standing between you and his corrosive words. His gate is unhurried walking towards the door, leaning against it in a lazy show of provocation as he blocks it. The shrill tempo of your pulse in your ears grows louder while you stare each other down. It’s a dangerous game of calling the other’s bluff, and you know he’s banking on you fleeing. You know he wants to track you down and catch you this time before you can get away, just to prove that your actions wouldn’t go unpunished. Just to remind you of who’s in control. 

But something contrarian and fortified slinks between your ribcage and finds purchase there next to the hum of your heart. 

He doesn’t make the rules anymore. 

This is no longer his game that you’re forced to play just to survive. You don’t live in this nightmare anymore. This isn’t your life now. 

He doesn’t control you anymore.

“You’re a really sad person, dad.” 

The somatic buzz kindling and catching inside you yields a wave of goosebumps all over your body, the shake in your hands and voice just a timid thing that stays barely in check. You still your head and really look at the fractured shell of a man in front of you, and it’s more obvious than ever: he’s more lost than you’ve ever been and ever will be.

“You’re never gonna be happy,” you assert.

It all floods you now, a blurred picture coming into focus. That clarity you’d sought so long but never had with the mind muddling environment of abuse. But suddenly you aren’t searching for the words anymore. They’re all right on the tip of your tongue and ready to depart.

“You’re gonna die sad and miserable and probably alone, and I know that has to eat you up inside to finally realize it. That no matter how much you try to put your anger and your– and your pain onto others, it still doesn’t make it go away inside of you.”

His balled fists rest at his sides, heaving breaths moving his chest like the snap of a rubber band.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. You can’t hurt anybody I care about anymore. You don’t have the power like you used to. You’re just… you’re just nothing, dad. An empty person who’s trapped inside his own mind like a prison. And-And honestly? I feel bad for you.”

The flicker of surprise at your words graces his worn features before quickly being replaced with a deep scowl. For once it’s him cornered into a stunned silence, but you have no intention of letting up.

“I left, dad. Don’t you get it? I’m done. You don’t have power over me like that. Not anymore. The sooner you realize that, the less of your life you’ll waste trying to hurt me again because it’s not going to happen. You tried to break me down and take away everything, and it still didn’t work. I’m not broken like you. I’m gonna be okay, no matter how much you hate that. And you can call me a loser as many times as you want, but it won’t change the fact that it’s really you who’s lost out on everything in life.”

A heavy air lingers, but you feel lighter than you ever have. Your deep, centering inhale punctuates the finality of the meeting.

“I’m gonna go now, and I think you should leave the party before something bad happens.”

The urge to scurry away from the danger rises, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You refuse to let him see you run from him anymore. 

Of course, it was never likely that he’d just let it go so easily. 

Menacing stomps follow your measured stride towards the stairwell, your exit cut short by his piercing grip around your bicep and the sharp whip of your body as he yanks you sideways to face him. The smell of alcohol comes off him like a foggy wet cloud.

“You think you just get to leave in the middle of the night like a disgusting, slimy rat and not have to answer for it?” he fumes, his nose pressing against yours when he hauls you face to face.

He doesn’t control you anymore. 

He doesn’t control you anymore. 

He doesn’t control you anymore.

There’s no hesitation in your movements, wrenching your arm from his grasp and slamming the butt of your palm into his nose. As clumsy as the unfamiliar motion is, it affords a moment of frozen shock from your father, which you take as an opening to rear back and slap him with as much force as you can muster. Your hand immediately prickles and tingles from the impact.

The few feet of space apart that you gain is quickly closed when he charges at you with a raised, clenched hand ready to strike. The fact that you’ve never fought back before seems to be your saving grace in this moment, the disorientation of you actually resisting and challenging him making his approach unsteady and delayed.

Your hand still stings from the slap as you wad it up and swing it into his gut before he can make contact with you. He sputters and doubles over in shock at the unexpected blow, but the late retribution still comes sooner than you anticipated. He readies to ambush you, lip curled over his bared teeth, when something smashes and shatters into the wall beside his head.

“I was hoping you’d show up one of these days and make trouble just so I’d have the fucking excuse to beat you within an inch of your fucking life,” Joel growls.

It’s a blur of violence as he barrels into your dad, tackling him to the floor in one headlong motion, and lands two punches before it can even register. The clamor draws more people, one of them being Kenzie’s dad who you spot darting back out of the room with his phone to his head — you assume to call the police. A handful of waitstaff hang at the perimeter of the commotion, gawking at the all out brawl taking place in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t much better, just standing there rooted to the spot in an adrenaline freeze, as your dad manages to topple Joel onto his back and land a punch to his jaw.

By the time they flip again, two men have been alerted to the fight and brought inside to intervene. They aren’t dressed like the other waitstaff, but it’s clear they’re here working the event in some other capacity. A frenzied

yelp pierces the air as Joel digs his knees into your dad’s elbows, pinning him to the ground. Joel yanks a chilled bottle of wine from a nearby bucket and smashes the neck of it against the edge of the counter. The light catches on all the jagged edges of broken glass when he raises it in the air and flips it over in a drive directly into your dad’s mouth, who instantly gurgles and gags at the influx of liquid and serrated opening.

“You look real thirsty,” Joel taunts. “Have a drink. This one’s on me.”

Pockets of liquid jet out from the side of your dad’s mouth as he chokes on it, Joel holding the bottle snug in place as the contents pour out. The two men in matching black uniform shout “break it up, fellas,” which falls on deaf ears. The liquid eventually empties, and the bottle cracks into several more pieces when Joel slams it against your dad’s temple. Blood spills and mixes with the choked out liquid, pooling and smearing across the floor.

The two men quickly lodge themselves between the two when a flurry of fists and kicks and jabs from Joel start right back up. He manages to get one last closed hand strike to your dad’s face and one crushing stomp to his thigh as the bigger of the two uniformed men finally drags him away. Your dad lies motionless on the floor as the man scolds Joel for taking “cheap shots” instead of heeding the calls to break the fight up like they’d asked.

Joel wears a flinty, unrepentant sneer that only deepens when his eyes cast down to your unmoving but groaning dad. He spits a bloody pool of saliva onto him as he’s ushered to the other side of the kitchen.

“Put your hands on her again, asshole. See if you walk away the next time.”

You can feel all the eyes in the room slip over to you, making the connection of what had started this entire mess. Some of the faces lose their look of pity for your dad, all crumpled and thrashed in a feeble sprawl on the floor. 

“You okay, baby? He hurt you?” Joel demands.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead running impatient hands all along your body to assess for injury.

“I’m okay,” you answer, and it’s a relief to be able to offer that in truth. “I was holding him off long enough for you to get to me.”

His shoulders sag with the reassurance that you’ve not been harmed, hands roaming up to gently cup your jaw and search your face for any lingering distress. You don’t turn away, content to let him find the undercurrent of peace that swells within you, held in his arms. 

It’s the first Father’s Day since you severed contact. Calum had already gleefully sent you a picture of your dad’s mugshot, framed and hung on a wall in his apartment. Having the advantage of knowing you were safe and sound while he listened to the recap of Kenzie’s party meant he got to enjoy every last bit of comeuppance relayed. He’d cheered you on when you recalled how you’d defended yourself, verbally and physically, and he demanded to complement Joel directly on his part in all of it before he let you hang up.

Kenzie’s dad was the first to press charges, having absolutely no qualms about sending a message to the guy who almost ruined his daughter’s graduation party. It didn’t hurt that he had connections with some law enforcement higher ups, more than enough “fuck you money” to throw around, and a top notch lawyer on retainer ready to let the long arm of the law screw your dad over. With a neutral but supportive nudge from Joel, you also pressed charges.

When all was said and done, your dad was looking at: trespassing, assault, battery, menacing, criminal mischief, disorderly intoxication, disorderly conduct, false imprisonment, stalking, driving while intoxicated, open container in a motor vehicle, property damage, and a smattering of any other offense that the lawyer could manage to unearth, ready to assist his client in rubbing salt into your dad’s wound.

You weren’t sure how much of it was going to stick or what the outcome would be, but it sure as hell didn’t look good to have a pending imputation like that with a job like his. Hell, any employer would look sideways at a string of legal infractions that extensive and that damning. It wasn’t exactly something tenure and bullshitting could smooth over. And if Kenzie’s dad had any say in the proceedings, your dad wasn’t going to get off the hook easily.

“You’re just buttering your old man up now,” Joel chortles to the screen.

You smile to yourself as you listen to his and Sarah’s video chat. She couldn’t make it back home to celebrate in person, but she’d made sure to call and lay the sweet talk on thick.

“Yeah, but it’s obviously working, sssoooooooo….”

“Little shit,” he chuckles under his breath, walking aimlessly through the house and out onto the back deck.

You hear him laugh loudly a couple minutes later, and you can’t help but join in with your own giggle. Eventually the cadence of his voice changes into words of endearment and goodbyes. He tucks his phone into his pocket as he rounds the corner.

“You’re a really good dad,” you observe warmly.

The corner of his mouth ticks up softly at the compliment, but he takes his time walking over to where you’re sat comfortably on the couch before responding. “Ya think so, huh?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

Your voice is steady and pointed. You want him to know you mean it. You might not have a personal reference to defend your position, but you know without a doubt that Joel Miller is the best father and deserves to hear it every day of his life.

He pauses for a moment before asking, “You doin’ okay? Is the day botherin’ you at all?”

You assume he means the fact that it’s Father’s Day and you have a strong contender for worst dad on the planet.

“I actually– it might sound weird, but I actually feel really light. I feel good.”

“Not weird at all,” he assures you, plopping down next to you and scooping your legs to lay across his lap so he can rub your ankles and calves. “Dead weight is dead weight. Not bein’ weighed down by him’s gotta feel like you’re finally able to live the life you deserve. Deserve the damn moon on a string for all the shit he’s put you through.”

You exhale, an amused little sound. “You’re doing it again.”

“What? What am I doin’?”

“Gunning for Best Boyfriend in the World award.”

“Remind me again what put me in the running,” he teases and leans in for a kiss.

“A million things, but today it’s mostly just– seeing you be who you are. Getting to experience that and be a part of it.”

The air of levity dampens a bit when you reach for his hands and draw him closer, and he recognizes the shift from playful to earnest.

“I think sometimes people are just meant to… they’re made for showing love. They’re made to pour their love into special people, people they love. And they are the most happy when they get to do that. I think- I think that’s you. I think you pour your love into people, and that’s when you’re happiest. To see the people you love being filled with your love.”

“Goddamn, honey, Sarah already made me all mushy,” he grouses, suddenly blinking rapidly with glossy eyes. “Y’all are gonna have me a blubbering baby if y’all don’t quit.”

But you can’t stop. You can’t hold it in. You can’t keep yourself from gushing about this beautiful person you’ve been lucky enough to know and create this life with.

“I love you, Joel. I’m in love with you.” 

It comes out without thinking, but it’s meant for this moment. There’s no hesitation or regret in it. You want to say it again.

“I love you,” you repeat, drawing on the intoxication and freedom of it finally being spoken.

“I love you, too, honey,” he returns softly. “So damn much. Love you so damn much.”

tagging:

@copperhalfcent @guelyury @keylimebeag @magpiepills @bizarrelove-triangle

@missladym1981 @wand-erer5 @koshkaj-blog @bubble-pop-eclectic @lovelyladiess

@ellenmunn @lavema @confusedpuffin @getitoutofmymindwrites @getitoutofmymind

@fishingforpike @drunk-and-capable @sheepdogchick3 @pastelpinkflowerlife @bonezone44

@guiltyasdave @toomanystoriessolittletime

[cloversnstrawberries]

"palentine" parental!platonic yandere!supervillian & gn!neglected!hero sidekick!reader [oneshot] ! !

intro | masterlist

description; You and Malpractice spend your first Valentines day together. You just don't know it's Malpractice you're really talking to, and not local college student Jenny Schüler.

additional notes; hi!!! happy valentines day :)) since malpractice seems to be the most popular, he gets valentines day special privileges. don't mind how I have an actual cupid character I could use. you're getting terrifying plague man and his inherent desire to adopt reader on the spot.

warnings; Child abuse, neglect, and generally immoral conduct involving reader (done by the agency), possessive behavior, violent thoughts/plans to kill, overprotectiveness, corpses, talks of decomposition processes and dehumanization(?) (involving Malpractices 'puppets'), manipulation, mentions/plans of kidnapping, and if there's anything else I missed, please let me know!! the moment i write something, i'm afraid it disappears into the void :[

w/c; 2.8k

Malpractice has never been one for holidays.

Of course, nowadays holidays were a much bigger event then they were in his time. Especially Valentines day, which had morphed into something nearly unrecognizable (from his point of view) than the minor holiday he once knew it as.

Before he was... well, what he was now-- when he was still lesser than, still human; he'd get the occasional card with a silly pun on the front every one in a while, usually given by a co-worker out of self-imposed societal necessity.

But other than that, there was never much stock put into the occasion. Personally or otherwise-- as compared to now, where it was practically impossible to walk into a store and not see some sort of gaudy display. Full of red, white, and pink-- hearts and glitter that transfers to your skin.

At least, that's what Malpractice observes from afar. He's not much for stepping into your run of the mill Pharmacy these days-- not even with his macabre sort of puppets, made from some of the more in-tact cadavers he can snag from the local Morgue.

He tried not to let them be seen by anyone besides you-- there was always a chance that someone who knew who the cadaver had once been, who knew of their death; would be around.

Besides, there'd be no need for it-- unless he simply wished to spark terror. It's not like he had a prescription to be filled, after all.

Which, at the moment, he was actively avoiding-- he was avoiding making himself anymore known than necessary. Because if he did, than he's sure he'd scare you half to death.

You were such a delicate thing in his mind, and he often likened you to that of a baby bird. Because, in his mind, you really were. Fragile, even if you could sustain quite a beating out in the field.

The field you shouldn't be anywhere near, if he had it his way.

But, as it was, the agency had their claws stuck deep into you. Not emotionally wise, but legally; with you being in a sort of... ward of the state position, was the most comparable term he could manage.

Malpractice wished to dig his claws deeper, deep enough to rip whatever influence the agency had over you and take you for his own.

Metaphorically, of course! Oh, Lord knows he'd never hurt you. He'd find a way where you don't get sick with being around him-- get to a point where you won't be afraid of him afterward.

That wasn't quite in the immediate future, sadly. He had to stand by and wait, be patient-- he'd never been one to rush, but something about you made him feel an uncharacteristic amount of restlessness.

Maybe it's the fear that, if he waited too long, you'd slip through his fingers. You weren't made for the work you were being put through-- even if you weren't as young as you are, if you were of an adequate age for this sort of career,

You were still much better suited as a medic, maybe like he had been. Stay back in the medical ward-- you didn't have a flashy sort of power. But, then again, maybe the agency wanted to keep you as beaten down as possible;

Hoping that the little aches and pains that kept you up at night would make you less of a threat than they perceived you as. All because you had such a unique ability; he'd treasure it, just as he'd treasure you once he got you safely into his arms.

Unlike that blasted agency, that made you feel less than. That put you under a strict curfew, only allowing you waltz around on your own for a few hours at time-- even then, you'd have to alert them at least a week beforehand.

It was that controlled sort of 'freedom' that you despised, and had told him on multiple occasions.

...Or, to be more specific, had told various different 'puppets' the same complaint over the few short months he's been visiting you personally. You never knew it was the same sort of mind behind all the bodies, but with how you told every single one-- that was enough to rest his case that you hated it.

You hated how the agency tried to make you feel like you had a choice in the matter, when you really didn't. When your ability to go outside unmonitored and 'off the clock' was dependent on either how well you'd be preforming, or if the person reading the request had any semblance of empathy left in them.

Recently, you've been using all the time allotted to visit these puppets. You believed each to be a different person, unless you were a better actor than you caught on. Each having a different story-- to both enter, and subsequently leave your life before another cropped up shortly after.

Oh, how he hates to see you saddened by your 'newfound' friend having to skip town... but he'd try to wait until the very last minute until he did so. To the point where spots of necrosis were beginning to appear in more visible areas.

You never commented on the smell of death that'd follow the puppet during your 'last' meetings, maybe you'd become used to it-- with how you were, how your life had turned out.

But today, it was thankfully overcast; Malpractice was able to guide the puppet directly to the secluded, forested grotto he usually meets you in. That cut the commute about by about 10 minutes, since he didn't have to try and weave the puppet through the most sunless path possible.

When the puppet got to the grotto, you were already sitting on the crumbling stone bench in the middle of it. You didn't notice him-- until the puppet cleared its throat, and your head swung around to face him.

It was adorable, seeing how your face lit up. He'd thought that with all your 'new friends' coming and going, you'd become bitter. Develop a hardened shell, like he thought you'd already have by now--

However, with every new puppet, you were still as friendly yet disbelieving as you'd been while meeting the last. Like you just couldn't believe someone would want to be friends with you.

This puppet had been a jane doe, around her early to mid 20s. Due to the colder weather, this one had lasted longer than most; and it almost hurt him to know that eventually, the puppet would begin to rot despite his precautions-- and he'd have to find a new one.

You were rather attached to this one. Despite himself, he hopes he'll be able to keep this puppet until he can reveal himself-- only a few weeks more, and you'd finally be safe.

"Sorry for making you walk in this weather..." You started with, a sheepish, apologetic smile on your face, as the puppet sat beside you. "Not a problem, I'm more than willing to risk a cold to see you. I know how... rigid your routine can be."

With a little nod, you hummed before casting your eyes down and saying "Oh-- uhm, thank you." You always got flustered, whenever Malpractice-- or his puppets, he supposes-- shows you any sort of care.

Like you weren't used to being a priority-- because from what he'd seen, you very much were not. He'd even read parts of your intake records made shortly after the Agency took you in; they'd considered euthanizing you like a dog. That caring for you might've been too resource heavy-- until the sick bastards realized they could find a use for you and your unique ability.

It made him ill-- emotionally speaking, he obviously doesn't get physically sick anymore. He's practically the physical embodiment of it, it'd be silly if he could catch a cold like your normal, every day joe.

The unintentional stretch of silence was broken, as you jolted slightly-- as if remembering something. You swung around and grabbed something sitting by your other side--

Then, you turned to the puppet, and held your hands out. In them, was a little mesh bag of tin-foil wrapped chocolate hearts. The kind that'd be sold near the checkout lane at a grocery store during Valentines.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I just got you this." And-- oh, you looked so proud. He knew you didn't get much freedom at all, and you must've sneaked by to get this.

You may have have even stolen it-- there was a little bit of guilt lingering in your eyes, along with a strange sort of fear. Fear of rejection, he supposes. That whatever you'd gone through to get this wouldn't be worth it.

The puppet's hand reached out, before retracting slightly-- immediately, you noticed. Your little smile fell "Do-- are you lactose intolerant? I'm sorry--" And Malpractice laughed--

Not the puppet, so much. He's sure that, if you were a little older; better trained in your position, then you'd realize something was off with it. Some strange, uncanny value to it.

It wasn't cruel, he made sure of that. It was endeared, of course it was-- but he could never manage to quite quell the madness inherent to his tone. Not while he was laughing, at least.

"No, no not at all." The laughter died down, and the puppet gently took the bag of candy in its hands. He held it like it was the most precious thing in the world, and in his mind, it truly was.

A gift from you. He always treasured these sorts of things, but the previous gifts had been things you picked up off the ground-- pretty rocks, little knickknacks, an unordinary plant...

But this, you must've gone far out of your way to get this. And to just give it to him... he wonders, had you gone out with the intent to get it? No matter what, to just have something to show for valentines day?

After a few moments, Malpractice remembered that he should probably respond. The puppet looked at you-- fear and concern obvious in your eyes, deathly afraid that he'd reject the gift.

A soft smile broke out on the puppet's face, before he sighed and looked down. "Well, I don't have anything for you, is the problem--"

It wasn't a regular occurrence, you cutting him off. The Agency had all but tortured that possibility out of you, trying to make you into a perfect little cog more than the child you were.

Despite all that, your true nature shone through. You could never truly smother a children's light, he supposes.

"No!" You waved your arms frantically, shaking your head. You calmed down quickly, looking a little embarrassed from your own outburst. "No-- Uhm, I mean... well, you don't have to get me anything. I just wanted to do this for you,"

Malpractice went to respond, but it didn't seem like you were quite done just yet. He waited patiently, as you continued "Oh, and-- and I have something else." You dug into the pocket of your bland, practical gray coat; part of the few pieces of civilian clothing the Agency was willing to provide you with.

When he has you safe and sound, away from those (soon to be dead, if he had his way) maniacs; he'd be sure to let you express yourself however you'd like with your clothes.

He wouldn't force you into generic garments, given to you out of pure necessity.

You fished out a piece of paper from your main pocket, handing it to the puppet. It was an envelope-- handmade by the looks of it, held together by staples and closed with a small piece of scotch tape.

He turned it over to the flat side, finding it addressed to this particular puppet, written in shaky and inexperienced cursive. Jenny, he'd had you name it-- he did this often, with puppets. He'd have the puppet ask something like "well, what name do I look like?" And the first name you said, he'd take it-- the puppet would always respond with something like "Wow, are you psychic? That's actually my name!"

A shame, it was addressed to this false sort of person. This walking cadaver he took control in order not to scare you-- one in a line of many, but hopefully one of, if not the, last one.

Maybe next year, he'd receive an envelope addressed to himself. Maybe he'd even let you use his human name. He could help you with the cursive as well, even if it'd result in him basically addressing it himself.

He hasn't used the name in so long, hasn't felt attached to it for even longer; but with you, he doesn't think he'd mind you knowing him by it. To have an envelope handed to him, addressed to Maxwell S. in his own handwriting.

The puppet hummed, and flipped the envelope back over. He took his time, trying to use the puppets limited fine-motor skills to avoid ripping the handmade envelope.

Even if it was plain in nature, and not perfectly done by formal measures-- he'd still hate to mess up your handy work. It took some time, but eventually the tape was pried off and he could open it.

Inside was an index card, something you must've nabbed from the office section of the Agency; probably like the rest of the materials, if he had to guess.

It warmed his heart, to think that you'd risked so much-- even if they were meager supplies by most's standards, you'd really done a wonder with what little you had.

On the blank side was a little drawing, of a tiny cartoon version of you-- hugging this particular puppet. When he flipped it to the lined side, the words 'be my pal-entine?' were written in bright crayon, the letters alternated between green, yellow, blue, and red.

The puppet stayed quiet-- you were getting antsy, afraid of upsetting your friend. You leaned forward a little, Malpractice catching the movement out of the corner of the puppet's eye. Your brows furrowed, as you hesitantly asked "...Do you like it? It's not weird, is it? I've never really had a friend to do this with--"

You made the most adorable little squeak when, suddenly, the puppet surged forward and threw its arms around you-- it was cold, freezing to the touch; no way to retain body heat, but you didn't mind regardless. You leaned into it, despite the obvious shiver that ran through your entire body.

Sad, how he couldn't really feel what the puppet was. Oh, how he longed to hold you in this way, truly-- to feel your warmth, hear your heart beating and the blood rushing through your veins.

To know you're alive, you're safe within his arms. That you're far away from any wretched creature that dares to try and hurt his little bird.

Something annoying, something nagging that he thought he'd long since killed-- whispered in the back of his mind, telling him to just have the puppet pick you up and carry you back,

The impatient, quick-to-act sort of thought process he was known for when he was first reborn. It'd been hard to control the urges then, to act on every little whim just because he could. Just because nobody could feasibly stop him, not in a way that mattered.

The puppet held you a little tighter, and you said nothing of it. He presumes that you hold may have tightened as well, with how the puppet shifted in such a way as it did.

"So..." You said, muffled slightly as you pressed your face into the shoulder of the puppet. "Does this mean.. you, uhm, accept it?" Oh, you were so adorable that Malpractice felt like he might die right then and there, if it was possible for him to die at all-- of course.

The puppet didn't retreat, simply held you there as you melted into its cold, unnatural embrace. You must've felt it, how strange the skin felt due to the chemicals used to keep it fresh-- you either didn't want to upset them, or just plain old didn't care. Seeking any sort of comfort, not caring if anything seemed amiss.

Almost as an afterthought, too caught up in the moment-- Malpractice remembered to respond. You must've been so relaxed, so touch-starved, that you didn't notice the sudden shift in your friends speech patterns. How Malpractice didn't bother to keep up the facade of modern speech.

"Why ever would I not, especially when you've gone through all the trouble you have?" and you hummed, a soft laugh muffled by the fabric of the puppet's functionally useless coat. "...So you like it, then?"

The puppet, almost robotically, guided their fingers over your hair-- a comforting gesture to you, but it only made Malpractice feel anguished-- that he couldn't truly be here, couldn't feel you held within his embrace.

"Of course, little bird."

[leveragehunters]

Coming back to this to add the tools I used! (Note: I'm on Windows)

Two good programs for sorting, naming, and tagging audio files are MediaMonkey and MusicBrainz Picard. I didn't feel like learning two new bits of software, so I didn't use them much, but they are super powerful.

Instead I used MP3 tagger, which despite the name tags all sorts of music files, not just MP3s. Drag and drop your files into it, select all, and pick MusicBrainz from the Tag Source menu. Find the right entry and it'll auto-tag your files. You can also add/edit tags and cover art manually.

(Tags are important; they're how media players know what the song is.)

I did this last, though. First, I dumped all my files onto one hard drive and used the size:empty command in the windows explorer search box to find all the 0kb files and delete them. There were a lot.

Some music was only on my old iPod. To get those, I plugged the iPod into the computer, opened it as a drive, showed hidden files, and then dragged the whole lot into a folder on the hard drive called iPod. They're not usable as is, they're all randomly named and organised, but I used MediaMonkey to name, tag, and sort them.

I'm sure there's specialised software to do this, but it was easier for me to work with what I had.

Then I used:

Remove Empty Directories to get rid of all the empty folders; and

Duplicate File Detective to find and delete duplicates.

This left me with just the files I wanted. First thing I did was organise them all into a sensible file structure - for me this was a few top level folders (artist, soundtracks, scores, compilations, instrumental). For artists, the subfolder structure was >name of artist>album, for the others it was just >name of album.

Once that was done, I attacked them with Bulk Rename Utility, which is an awesome bit of software. I mostly used it strip the names back to just the song titles and numbers, since at some point I thought adding the album and artist name to each track was a brilliant idea (past me was an idiot).

After all of that, I started dragging them album by album into MP3 Tagger. Only about a third of my music was missing its tags, so this wasn't a huge job for me, but if you're missing a lot a lot, it'd be worth figuring out either Media Monkey or MusicBrainz Picard, as it automates this.

I use Plex as my media manager (for music and video files) - it's powerful, pretty simple to use, and the free version will do everything you need it to vis a vis organising and playing music (or video).

[screenshot of my Plex program showing my music library by artist, with a list of libraries on the left]

I bought the lifetime pass ($160 AUD), because it's one of the best pieces of kit I've ever used, and with a paid for version, you get to use the apps. Which includes PlexAmp!

[screenshot of the PlexAmp music player]

It is a seriously brilliant music player, way better than Spotify, Apple music, or iTunes, and its playlist game is on point.

And because you can set your Plex server up to be accessed from outside your home network, you can use PlexAmp to play your music library when you're out and about.

I have ditched Spotify. I know, I know, it's not an airport etc etc. But I had some thoughts.

A big part of making the decision was the 20+ years of MP3 files sitting disorganised and abandoned on various hard drives and old devices. I spent this past week or so organising them all onto one hard drive, updating file names and tags and folder structures so I could load them all into Plex.

I have a lot of music. Most of it ripped from CDs, some bought as MP3s, and some recorded from cassette tapes using an audio jack and a dream. There's bands I haven't thought about in years; ones that, once reminded, I missed terribly.

It made me realise in the 6 or so years I've had Spotify I've listened to less and less music overall and certainly to fewer once-beloved bands/albums. (I didn't even realise Linkin Park had a new album with a new co-lead singer, a woman, who is incredible.)

Now my music is all set up in Plex, I'm listening to it through PlexAmp, a fantastic music app I'm running on an old tablet, bluetoothed to some decent speakers instead of the crappy computer ones.

Result? I've maybe listened to more music this past week than in all of 2024.

Now there's obviously a novelty factor at play, having everything easily available for the first time in so long, but I think there's something else going on.

Algorithmically, Spotify fed me music. I had a few playlists, a few bands saved, but I didn't have a collection of my music. I'll be the first to admit I'm not a huge music buff, so without my music in front of me, without being able to flip through my personal musical history, the music I'd curated, it was just kind of lost. Listening to Spotify was more like walking through a record store or listening to the radio. I forgot about what I enjoyed and just listened to what was convenient.

Having all my music at my fingertips is making me happy. Happy listening and happy looking through my collection and happy remembering that yeah, that is an awesome album! It makes my brain feel good and I remember when I first heard it, who I was with, what was happening in my life!

It's awesome.

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 6) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer @bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

Focus. Compartmentalize. Breathe.

April's training methods weren't actually that different from what they'd taught him in the Academy. Breaking everything down into manageable pieces, keeping your mind where it needed to be. He'd been good at it back then - the local lad making good, hungry for every minute on the pitch.

Somewhere along the way he'd lost that. Started feeling like he was sleepwalking through life, going through motions without really feeling them. Even football had become... routine. Just another thing expected of him.

His mum had noticed first. "You seem lost love," she'd said over Sunday dinner a few months back. Some of the lads had mentioned it too - that spark missing from his game. Even Ty had suggested talking to someone professional about it all.

Maybe they had a point. Carrying everyone's expectations was heavy sometimes. Being TAA, Liverpool's golden boy, the next Stevie G... dead weight all of it. But how do you tell people you don't feel good enough when on paper you've got everything?

That was for later. Right now he had apologies to make.

"Look who's early," Virgil said as Trent walked into training ahead of schedule for once.

"Need to say sorry about Sunday."

"We won didn't we?"

"Yeah but..." Trent adjusted his boots. "I wasn't there properly was I? Team deserves better."

Virgil studied him for a moment. "You know we've all been worried about you lately yeah? Before all this..." he gestured vaguely, probably meaning April and the marks that came with her. "You seemed gone."

"Been feeling a bit lost," Trent admitted. First time he'd said it out loud to anyone but family.

"And now?"

He thought about April's lessons in focus, in accepting what you need. About finally feeling seen for who he was, not who everyone wanted him to be.

"Getting found maybe."

Virgil just nodded, that captain's understanding in his eyes. "Good. Now let's see this newfound focus in action yeah?"

Focus. Compartmentalize. Breathe.

Time to prove he could be better. For his team, for April, but mostly for himself.

Training started intense - Slot had them running complicated patterns, the kind that required complete concentration. Each movement of his was deliberate, each thought focused solely on the task at hand.

"Much better," Slot called out as Trent's cross found Darwin perfectly. "That's what we need."

The marks under his training kit tingled with each sprint, little reminders of his lessons in control. But instead of distracting him like before, they centered him. Grounded him in the present moment.

"Back to yourself," Mo said during a water break. "Whatever you sorted out this weekend, it worked."

If only they knew exactly what that sorting out had involved. Though the way Ibou was eyeing the edge of a mark peeking above his collar, maybe some of them had an idea.

"Just needed to get my head right," Trent replied, adjusting his shirt.

The tactical session that followed was exactly what April had prepared him for. As Slot broke down their approach, Trent's mind stayed sharp, focused. No wandering thoughts, no distractions.

"Questions?" Slot asked after laying out their press strategy.

Trent actually had several - good ones, tactical ones, the kind he used to ask before everything got complicated. The kind that made him who he was before he started trying to be someone else.

"Looking more like yourself," Virgil said as they headed back out to the pitch. "The real you, not that London version you were trying to be."

The real him. Maybe that's what April had been training all along - not just submission, but authenticity. Permission to be exactly who he was, marks and all.

"Right," Slot gathered them for set piece practice. "Show me that focus."

Set piece practice was where he used to shine, before everything got muddled. Today felt different - each free kick finding its target with precision that would have made April proud. His mind clear, focused solely on the curve of the ball, the weight behind each strike.

"Now that's more like it," Darwin called after heading in another perfect cross. "Our Trent's back!"

The phrase hit differently now. Their Trent. Not Sophie's polished version, not the media's golden boy. Just him, exactly as he was meant to be.

During the practice match, he found himself using April's lessons in unexpected ways. When to hold back, when to release. When to maintain control, when to let instinct take over. The same principles that had him kneeling in her bedroom were making him a better player on the pitch.

"Whatever you're doing differently," Slot pulled him aside as they wrapped up, "keep doing it. This is the focus we need."

If only his manager knew exactly what that "different" thing was. Though the way the mark on his neck was starting to peek above his collar again, maybe some hints were showing.

"Gaffer's right," Robbo said as they headed for the changing rooms. "You've got your edge back. That fire."

Fire. That's what it felt like - everything burning brighter, clearer. Even the ache of April's marks felt like fuel now, driving him to be better, sharper, more focused.

"Just needed the right motivation," he replied, carefully peeling off his training kit.

"That what we're calling it now?" Ibou gestured at the fresh marks across his shoulders. "Motivation?"

"When do we get to meet her properly then?" Mo asked, eyes following the trail of marks too. "The woman responsible for all... that."

"She's a very nice girl," Virgil said in that cool, collected captain's voice of his.

"Nice girl?" Danns snorted, gesturing at Trent's neck. "Nice girls don't leave marks like that mate. No way."

"Maybe Trent just likes it rough..." Dom added with a grin.

The changing room erupted, but Trent's face burning red and his desperate attempt to hide it only made them howl louder.

"Oh my days, look at his face!"

"Proper caught out!"

"Our Trent's got a thing for pain?"

"Who knew he had it in him?"

Questions flew from every direction, each one making Trent sink further into his locker. And there was Virgil, their captain, literally belly-laughing instead of helping.

"Virg!" Someone called out. "You're captain mate, do something!"

Virgil held up his hands in surrender. "Who am I to get in the way of a man's pleasure?" But then his expression turned serious as he looked at Trent. "You're not in danger though? Unsafe? Need a doctor?"

"Fuck no," Trent said firmly, rolling his eyes.

Virgil turned back to the group. "If he's happy, I'm happy. And if he plays like this against Tottenham, we should all mind our business."

"But she's literally marking–"

"And he likes it," Virgil cut in smoothly. "So let's mind our business. Besides, like I said, April is a very nice girl."

That was that - captain's orders. But watching Virgil leave, Trent couldn't help wondering. One brief meeting outside Anfield and Virgil was proper rating April. Almost like he... understood.

Trent squinted at his captain's retreating back. Come to think of it, Virgil and his wife did have all those kids back to back. Maybe they weren't as vanilla as everyone assumed.

The thought made him choke on his water, earning another round of teasing from the lads.

Some things were better left unknown about your teammates. Especially your captain.

"For real though," Mo said, watching Trent pull a towel around him. "We should all get together."

Several heads popped up around the changing room, suddenly interested. Trent focused on stuffing his boots into his duffle bag, thinking about that contract sitting in his email. Six social meetings with friends maximum and they hadn't even used the Virgil and Ibou encounter as one of them.

"Maybe after Tottenham," he said carefully, knowing full well he'd have to earn any social outings. April had been clear about that — everything was a reward now, even letting him show her off to his teammates.

"Could do that new spot in town," Darwin suggested. "The one with the private rooms."

"Nah, somewhere proper nice," Curtis cut in. "Show her we're not all savages like Trent here."

More laughter, more jokes about his marks. But Trent just shouldered it all, grinning. Let them joke - they had no idea that every social interaction was carefully negotiated, every meeting a prize to be earned.

"After Tottenham," he repeated. If he played well enough, showed enough focus, maybe April would agree. Another test, another chance to prove himself.

"Promise?" Mo pressed as Trent headed to the showers.

"We'll see."

Because that's all he could say really. Everything was in April's hands now - the when, the where, even the if.

And somehow, that felt exactly right.

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

The drive home felt longer without any messages from April lighting up his phone. She'd mentioned being busy - some athlete photoshoot that would take most of her day. Hadn't said who though. Probably some footballer trying their luck, thinking they could charm her with their Premier League status.

The thought made his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Wait.

Since when did he get jealous about April's work? She literally had him signing contracts and wearing rings and kneeling for her. Not like some random athlete could compete with that.

Could they?

But she told him that he was enough for her–

No. Focus. Compartmentalize.

She'd proper trained that into him for a reason.

Still.

His mind wandered to her studio setup, how she'd had him strip down to nothing, positioning him just so. Was she doing that with someone else right now? Having them follow her commands, praising them when they got it right?

The Range Rover nearly missed his exit because his brain was too busy imagining April with some other footballer. Mental how fast she'd gotten under his skin. One minute he's signing a contract about their "arrangement," next he's getting possessive about her professional shoots.

Maybe this is what she meant about him being needy.

His phone stayed silent the whole way home. No commands, no praise, no teasing messages about his training performance. Just quiet.

Right then. Time to practice what she'd taught him. Focus on what he could control. Like making sure he earned that weekend in Liverpool with her. Show her he could be good, be focused.

Even if right now his brain was doing mental gymnastics about whoever she was photographing.

Proper pathetic that.

His house felt empty after a night at April's. No spiced vanilla scent, no judgy cat watching his every move, no commands keeping him focused. Just him and his thoughts about whatever athlete was currently in her studio.

Probably some tennis player. They were always doing artistic shoots. Or maybe a rugby lad - she'd mentioned photographing one before. Though the way she'd laughed about him flexing made Trent feel slightly better.

Focus. Compartmentalize. Stop obsessing.

He tried distracting himself with FIFA, but his mind kept wandering. Wonder if she makes them sign NDAs too? Or was that just for her... special projects?

His phone finally buzzed around dinner time. But it was just Tyler sending through more brand requests. Alexander Wang was proper keen apparently and wanted him now. Bunch of other fashion houses wanted him for their campaigns too.

All because of April's photos. The ones where she'd had him exactly where she wanted him, following her every command.

Like she probably had someone else doing right now.

For fuck's sake.

This wasn't him. He didn't do jealous boyfriend - especially when 'boyfriend' wasn't even the right word for whatever he was to April. Sub? Toy? Contract-bound pleasure object?

The marks on his shoulders tingled, reminding him of his place. Of who he belonged to.

Time for a distraction. Maybe hit the gym, work off some of this mental energy. Practice that control she'd been teaching him.

His phone stayed quiet all evening.

Proper violation how much that bothered him.

His alarm hadn't even gone off yet when his phone lit up. April's name on the screen had him properly awake in seconds.

April: Sorry about yesterday. Shoot ran late.

April: Glad you had good training though.

April: FaceTime?

He actually sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes to make sure he'd read that right. April never FaceTimed. Said it was too intimate for their arrangement — something about maintaining professional distance even during their not-so-professional moments.

His thumb hovered over the response box. Was this a test? Some new way of training his control?

April: Don't overthink it.

April: Just answer.

His phone started ringing before he could reply. FaceTime request from April Goodplenty.

Fuck.

His reflection in the corner of the screen looked rough - waves a mess, marks from their session still visible on his shoulders. Not exactly how he'd planned to first FaceTime his... whatever she was.

Deep breath.

Accept call.

Maybe this was part of his reward for staying focused during training. Or maybe she just wanted to see exactly how needy he'd gotten without her messages yesterday.

Either way, his heart was racing as he hit that green button.

He propped the phone against his bedside lamp, adjusting the angle. "So you were busy with shoots yesterday?"

"I was." Something flashed across her face. "Jealous?"

"No." Too quick. Too defensive.

"Liar." But she was smiling. "Tell me about training."

"Used your focus techniques. Worked proper well."

"Show me this weekend. After Tottenham."

"That a promise?"

"That's a challenge." She leaned closer to her camera. "Now, about your plans today..."

He caught her smile as he outlined his schedule - groceries, a visit to his personal shopper, meeting Tyler, getting a trim. That smile that meant she was plotting something.

"Keep me on the phone."

"The whole day? Why?"

"Because I want to." Her voice shifted into that tone that made his stomach flip. "Any questions?"

"No ma'am."

Something warm spread in his chest though. April wanting to watch him do mundane things? Cute really, even if she was commanding it.

He went through his morning routine while she watched from the screen — showering, brushing his teeth, throwing on clothes — everything and it didn’t bother him at all.

Trent connected his phone to his Range Rover's system, her voice filling the car as he headed to Tesco. Once inside, he popped in his AirPods, pushing his trolley down the aisles.

"Not those ones," she said as he reached for some protein bars. "The sugar content's ridiculous. Get the ones two shelves down."

He leaned on the trolley, grinning. "Controlling my shopping now?"

"I control what I want." But he caught her smile. "Including what goes into my toy's body."

He nearly dropped a packet of chicken.

"Speaking of control..." He lowered his voice. "The lads were asking about meeting you. Dinner after Tottenham."

"Have you earned that?"

"Not yet." He moved to the veg aisle. "But I will."

"Maybe." She watched him select peppers. "If you play well against Spurs. And if you're very, very good until then."

The way she said 'good' had him properly hot under his collar. Thank fuck for self-checkout - no way he could ever face a cashier if she kept on like this.

He was leaning against his trolley in the pasta aisle when the question that had been nagging him finally burst out.

"What do I call you? Like, to other people?"

Through his AirPods, he heard her shift in her chair. "What do you want to call me, given everything?"

"Girlfriend?" The word tumbled out before his brain could stop it. "If you want- I mean-"

"Interesting." He could hear that smile in her voice. "That's fine."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. Guess I'll have to call you something else besides good boy then."

"I like good boy though." His face heated as an elderly couple passed by, giving him odd looks.

"I know you do." That tone that made his stomach flip. "But if you're really going to be good and beat Spurs, I can't exactly call you that in public, can I? I'll keep it simple - baby or babes?"

Shit. All of it. Either. Both.

Didn't matter what she called him as long as she kept using that voice.

"Cat got your tongue?" She was properly enjoying this. "Or just thinking about hearing me call you baby in front of your teammates?"

His grip on the trolley tightened. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Always." She paused. "Baby."

The pasta sauce he was holding nearly ended up on the floor.

Proper violation, making him feel like this in the middle of Tesco. But now she was his girlfriend. Who was also his dom. Who was about to make him lose his mind in the pasta aisle.

Life was mental sometimes.

"Your personal shopper next, right?" April asked as he loaded groceries into his Range Rover. "The one who got you that turtleneck for family dinner?"

"Yeah, got some new stuff to try on." He connected his phone back to the car system. "You going to direct that too?"

"Obviously." Her voice filled the car. "Can't have my boyfriend looking anything less than perfect. Even if I prefer you in much less clothing."

The way she said 'boyfriend' made his chest do weird things. Like she was claiming him all over again, but publicly this time.

His personal shopper's eyes went wide when he walked in on FaceTime. Probably never had a client's girlfriend directing their fitting before. But April was specific - which shirts brought out his eyes, which jeans showed off what she called her "property."

"Turn around," she commanded as he tried on some designer jacket. "Slower. Yes, that one works."

The fitting room mirror showed his face going red. Even through FaceTime, she had him following her every command.

"Getting shy, baby?"

Fuck. That word again. Making him feel proper twisted up inside.

"No ma'am." Low enough that only she could hear.

"Good boy." Even lower. "Now try the black one."

His personal shopper definitely heard that one, based on how quickly she disappeared to "check stock."

But April just laughed, the sound making his stomach flip. She was enjoying this - having him on display, calling him pet names that meant something very different to them, watching him try to keep his composure.

"Meeting Tyler next?" she asked as he paid for his selections. "Want me to stay on the line for that too?"

The thought of Tyler seeing him this wrapped around April's finger...

"Maybe not for that part."

"Scared I'll expose how needy you are?"

"More like scared you'll make me proper lose it in front of my brother."

Her laugh echoed through his AirPods. "Fair enough. Call me after?"

"Yes ma- babe."

"Good save." He could hear her smirking. "And Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"I like being your girlfriend. Even if you'll always be my good boy first."

His hands actually shook as he ended the call.

Girlfriend. Dom. Everything in between.

He was so properly fucked.

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

Tyler's office at PLG took up half the top floor, all glass walls and views of Liverpool's skyline. The Alpine F1 model car on his desk was new - proper flashy reminder of his latest investment.

"They want you at a few races," Tyler said, following his gaze to the model. "Monaco definitely. Maybe Silverstone too."

"Sounds good."

"Now," his brother slid over Liverpool's latest proposal. "What are we thinking about this?"

Trent stared at the numbers. Not bad, but not even close to what Mo was currently getting. "Counter it."

"Arsenal's still interested." Tyler watched his face carefully. "Arteta keeps asking about summer plans."

London. Where April was. Where he could see her without planning train journeys and overnight bags. But that was mental wasn't it? Making career decisions based on a one-year arrangement that might not even...

No. Don't think about that.

"Keep the door open with Arsenal," he said finally. "But let's push Liverpool first. See how serious they are."

"Real Madrid called again too."

"Course they did."

Tyler pulled up some emails on his massive screen. "Got some brand stuff as well. Google wants you for their Pixel campaign. Nike wants you in another ad."

"Yeah, sound."

"And April's team reached out about scheduling that second shoot."

His face must've done something because Tyler's eyebrows shot up.

"Speaking of April..." His brother leaned back in his fancy office chair. "What's actually going on there? Just fucking or..."

Trent focused very intently on the Alpine model. The marks under his shirt tingled, reminding him of exactly what was going on there.

"Come on," Tyler pressed. "Give me something. There's been talking about marks–"

"We're good." Trent cut him off. "That's all you need to know."

"Wow." Tyler studied him across the desk. "Marcel was right. You really like this one."

The model was suddenly fascinating once again.

"Never seen you this private about a girl before." Tyler was grinning now. "Usually can't shut you up about them."

Because usually they were just for show. PR relationships and carefully managed appearances. This thing with April was... different. Real. Even with all its contracts and commands. Maybe especially because of those.

"Google wants an answer by Friday," Tyler said finally, accepting that he wasn't getting any gossip today. "And April's team needs shoot dates."

"Sort Google." Trent stood up, ready to escape this conversation and this too-revealing glass office. "I'll handle April."

Tyler's knowing look followed him to the elevator.

Let them think what they wanted. Some things - like exactly how he handled April, or rather how she handled him - were better kept private.

Even if the marks on his neck told their own story.

The drive home from PLG had his mind spinning. Arsenal's offer hanging there like some kind of escape route. London. April. Regular morning coffees instead of FaceTime calls. But that was mad wasn't it? Making career moves based on a woman who literally had him sign a contract limiting their time together.

His phone lit up at a red light.

April: How was the meeting?

April: Tyler text saying you're being secretive about us.

April: Good boy.

His stomach flipped. Even through text she had this effect on him.

Trent: Contracts and brand stuff.

Trent: And Alpine wants me at some races.

Trent: Monaco. Silverstone.

April: Monaco could be fun.

April: If you earn it.

There it was again. Everything a reward to be earned. Even spending time with his... girlfriend? Dom? Both?

April: You're overthinking again.

April: I can feel it through the phone.

April: Focus on Spurs first.

April: Then we'll discuss rewards.

Right. Focus. Compartmentalize. One thing at a time.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Whatever you're thinking about

April: Stop.

April: You belong to me right now.

April: That's all that matters.

She was right. Like always.

Career decisions could wait. Right now he just needed to focus on Spurs. On earning whatever rewards April had planned. But part of him was already looking up London postcodes.

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

His house felt different after a day of April in his ear. Even the massive TV playing Match of the Day couldn't fill the quiet. His mind kept spinning like he'd just done dizzy penalties - Arsenal offers and London postcodes and April fucking Goodplenty having him wrapped around her finger.

Two months ago he was trying to be Sophie's perfect posh boyfriend, hosting dinner parties and practicing his wine chat. Now he was letting a photographer put a collar on him and tell him what to buy at Tesco.

The marks under his shirt still tingled every time he shifted on the sofa. Each one a reminder of how fast things had changed. Like his body was keeping score of every moment she'd claimed him.

Girlfriend. That word still felt mental. Like calling a lioness your pet cat. But something about it fit, didn't it? Even with all the contracts and commands and carefully negotiated terms.

His mind wandered to the Arsenal offer again. To London apartments and morning coffees instead of FaceTime calls. To seeing April whenever he wanted, not just when he'd earned it.

Was he really considering making career decisions based on a woman who literally had him sign paperwork about how often she'd attend his matches? But here he was, already thinking about which London neighborhood she'd like best.

He wasn't trying to be that guy anymore though — the one who changed everything about himself to fit someone else's life. April wouldn't want that anyway. She wanted him exactly as he was. Even if who he was happened to look best on his knees.

Marcel appeared in the doorway like he'd materialized from thin air, proper startling Trent off the sofa. "Oh shit, didn't know you were here."

"I live here, bruv." Trent gave him a look. "This is literally my house."

"Yeah but when are you ever actually in it?" Marcel dropped onto the other end of the sofa. "Between matches and your freaky ass girlfriend–"

"Shut up."

"Just saying." But his brother was grinning. "Want to hit the cinema? New horror film's out."

"We've got a whole cinema room downstairs."

"Yeah but they're not showing the new stuff yet are they?" Marcel was already reaching for his keys. "Come on, you're just sitting here looking proper tragic anyway."

He wasn't wrong. Trent had been staring at the same highlights for twenty minutes, mind somewhere between postcodes and punishments.

"Fine." He stood up, wincing as his shirt caught on one of April's marks. "But none of that jump scare shit."

"Can't promise that." Marcel's eyes caught the movement. "Though looks like you've got enough marks already."

The cushion Trent threw missed his brother's head by inches.

"Your aim's as bad as your crosses were Sunday!"

"Get in the car before I actually hit you."

The Range Rover purred to life, and the drive to the cinema was quick - perks of living in the posh end. Marcel kept trying to sell him on this horror film about some demon nun, but Trent wasn't having it.

"Not trying to have nightmares before Spurs."

"Soft lad." Marcel studied the listings. "Oh look, new Mark Wahlberg. Some crime thing."

"Better than demon nuns innit?"

Something about catching a serial killer seemed safer than supernatural horror. Plus, April would probably take the piss if she found out he'd bottled watching a scary film.

The cinema was dead for a weeknight - just them and a few couples scattered about. Marcel insisted on the back row like they were teenagers again, loaded up with enough snacks to feed the whole squad.

"So," Marcel started as the trailers played, mouth full of popcorn. "Arsenal yeah?"

Trent nearly choked on his Coke. "Tyler's got a big mouth."

"Nah, saw the speculation online. Plus you've been proper obvious, looking up London stuff on your phone."

"Just keeping options open."

"Nothing to do with a certain photographer then?"

The screen lit up with some horror film trailer, saving Trent from answering. But his mind was already there - April's flat in East London, those massive windows, that mental cat judging his every move.

"You're doing it again," Marcel laughed. "Getting that dopey look whenever you think about her."

"Watch the film."

"Can't yet, still adverts innit?" His brother turned in his seat. "For real though, you'd leave Liverpool for a girl?"

"It's not like that."

But wasn't it? Here he was, actually considering Arsenal because being closer to April felt more important than... well, everything.

"Sure it's not." Marcel threw popcorn at his head. "Just remember - if you sign for Arsenal, mum will actually kill you. Girlfriend or not."

The Mark Wahlberg film finally started, saving Trent from more interrogation. But his phone felt heavy in his pocket, April's presence lingering even here.

Crazy how one woman could have him reconsidering his whole life. Even more crazy how right it felt.

Anfield was buzzing hours before kick-off. Something about Spurs always brought out that extra edge in the crowd. Trent could feel it as soon as he pulled into his parking spot - that big match energy already building.

He'd woken up feeling different. Properly confident, not just faking it. Maybe it was the week of solid training, maybe it was April's influence, maybe it was just time to remind everyone who he was.

The home dressing room was alive with energy - Darwin practicing his English with Robbo, Mo and Virgil in their usual pre-match zone. Trent's phone lit up as he changed into his kit.

April had sent a photo of herself in his Liverpool jersey. No caption, no commands, just that. Proper girlfriend thing to do really. Almost normal, if you ignored all the marks hidden under his match shirt.

"Someone's in a good mood," Virgil noted, watching Trent tape up his socks with unusual precision.

"Just feeling it today."

And he was. This wasn't about earning rewards or following commands. This was about showing everyone - including himself - what he could do when his head was right.

The gaffer's team talk was straight forward. Control the game, press their weaknesses, make it count. Simple really, when you weren't overthinking everything.

"Ready?" Mo asked as they lined up in the tunnel, You'll Never Walk Alone already shaking the walls.

More than ready.

The first tackle set the tone - Son trying to cut inside, Trent sending him and the ball into touch. Anfield erupted. This wasn't Bournemouth Trent, bottling simple passes. This was Liverpool's golden boy remembering exactly who he was.

Ten minutes in, his cross found Darwin's head. 1-0. The Kop went mental, and Trent felt that familiar surge - the one he'd been missing lately. Pure confidence, no overthinking.

"Loving life!" Robbo shouted as they jogged back to position.

Son tried him again on the quarter hour. Same result - Trent proper bodying him off the ball. No hesitation, no doubt. Just instinct and ability and everything clicking into place.

Half time came at 2-0, Mo adding another from Trent's corner. The dressing room was bouncing, but Trent stayed calm. Job wasn't done yet.

"Keep this energy," Slot said, but his eyes were on Trent.

Spurs came out fighting second half. Didn't matter though - Trent was in that zone where everything felt possible. Every pass finding feet, every defensive read spot on. Even managed a cheeky nutmeg on Richarlison that had the Kop singing his name.

When the final whistle blew at 3-0, Virgil pulled him into a hug. "That's what we've been missing."

His phone was lighting up in his bag - probably Tyler with brand stuff, his mum being proud, April with... whatever April had planned. But right now there was just this. Just Anfield singing and his teammates buzzing and that feeling of being exactly where he belonged.

Though part of him was already wondering what reward he'd earned.

Priorities and that.

The TNT crew had him cornered before he could escape to the dressing room. Rio Ferdinand proper beaming about his performance like a proud uncle.

"Back to your best there," Rio started. "Two assists, dominant defensively. What's changed?"

"Just focused innit? Team needed a performance."

"There's been speculation about your future, Arsenal apparently interested–"

"Focused on Liverpool right now."

"And the photos of you and April Goodplenty–"

"Just focusing on football mate."

Rio's eyes caught the edge of a mark peeking above his collar. "Clearly something's got you motivated..."

"No comment." But he couldn't help grinning.

The rest of the interview circus was the same - everyone trying to connect his form to April, to Arsenal rumors, to anything but him just playing proper football again.

"Your girlfriend coming to celebrate?" Some reporter called out as he tried to leave.

"He said no comment," Virgil appeared, captain's arm around his shoulder. "Football questions only."

In the dressing room, his phone was blowing up. His mum, Tyler, the lads' group chat going mental. But he was looking for one message in particular.

April: Proud of you baby.

April: Now come collect your reward.

His hands actually shook packing his bag.

"Someone's in a rush," Darwin laughed, catching his expression.

Let them joke. They didn't need to know what those rewards involved.

Though based on the knowing looks, they had some ideas.

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

Trent barely had the door shut before April was on him, her hands in his hair, her lips against his like she was starving for him. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was her.

"You earned your reward, baby," she murmured against his mouth, her fingers dragging down his chest, nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his hoodie. "Strip."

He obeyed immediately, kicking off his trainers, pulling his hoodie and shirt over his head in one go. April watched him with a slow, satisfied smirk, stepping back just enough to let the silk robe slip from her shoulders, revealing nothing but smooth, bare skin underneath.

His breath caught. "Fuck."

"Come to bed."

They ended up exactly where she wanted — her back pressed against his chest, both of them facing the full-length mirror in front of her bed. Trent’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into soft flesh as he guided her down onto his dick, the stretch making her moan.

"Look at you," she purred, her gaze locked onto their reflection. "Taking me so well. My good boy."

Trent groaned, his hips flexing up as he started to fuck her slow, deliberate, dragging out every inch before pushing back in deep.

"Shit, April—"

"Eyes on the mirror," she warned, her hand reaching back to wrap around the nape of his neck, fingers curling, keeping him in place. "I want you to watch."

He swallowed hard, his dark eyes blown wide as he stared at their bodies moving together. April was fucking art — the way her tits bounced with each thrust, the way her thighs clenched as she grounded against him, the way her free hand pinched and rolled her nipple just to drive him crazy.

"Christ," he muttered, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his pace steady, but she was too much — too warm, too tight, too fucking perfect.

"Harder," she demanded, her nails pressing into the back of his neck.

He obeyed without question, his thrusts turning rougher, faster, his fingers digging harder into her skin as he lost himself in the feel of her. The slick sounds of their bodies colliding, the way she moaned every time he bottomed out — it was fucking intoxicating.

"See how pretty you look taking me?" she taunted, tilting her head slightly to kiss him, biting his lower lip before soothing it with her tongue. "You love this, don’t you? Love being inside me, love how I let you fuck me like this?"

"Yes ma’am..fuck…yes," he groaned, his head falling forward and onto her shoulder, but she yanked his face back up.

"Watch," she ordered, her grip tightening. "Don’t take your eyes off us."

He had no choice but to obey, his gaze locked onto the mirror, watching the way she fucked herself on him, the way he filled her, the way her lips parted in pleasure. His stomach tightened, that familiar heat coiling low.

"I’m close," he panted, his breath hot against her skin.

"Not yet," she teased, tightening around him deliberately, making him curse. "You hold it, baby. I want you to last for me."

His hands tightened on her hips, his entire body trembling with restraint, but he did as he was told. Because this? This was his reward. And he’d do anything to please her.

April smirked at his reflection, loving the way his jaw clenched, his muscles taut with the effort of holding himself back. He was trembling, his hands gripping her hips so hard she was sure there’d be bruises tomorrow — but she didn’t care. She wanted him to mark her just as much as she marked him.

"You’re so fucking deep," she moaned, rolling her hips slowly, teasing him. "Feel how perfect you fit inside me?"

"April," he groaned, barely holding on, his fingers digging deeper.

Her lips grazed the shell of his ear. "I know you want to let go, baby. I can feel it." She clenched around him, grinding down hard, making him choke out another curse. "You’ve been such a good boy for me. Think you deserve to cum now?"

"Yes," he gasped, his grip on her tightening even more. "Please."

She smiled, dragging her nails down his arm before lifting her hand to cup his jaw. "Then give it to me."

That was all he needed. Trent’s restraint snapped, his hips slamming up into her, his thrusts rough and desperate. His hands slid from her hips to her thighs, spreading her open wider so he could fuck her deeper, harder.

"Oh, fuck–yes," she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder, her hand tightening on his neck. "Just like that, baby. Give it to me."

His breath was ragged, his body shaking, his face buried in her hair as he lost himself in her. She could feel it — the way he tensed, the way his thrusts stuttered as he buried himself deep one last time, a low, broken groan spilling from his lips as he came hard inside her.

April let herself go then, her own orgasm crashing over her, her body pulsing around him as she moaned his name. She barely registered the way his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as they both came down, their bodies still locked together, their breath mingling in the quiet aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she met his gaze in the mirror. He looked wrecked, his curls damp with sweat, his lips swollen from her kisses.

"You looked so pretty cumming for me," she murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.

His chest rumbled with a tired chuckle. "Gonna kill me one day."

She smirked. "Not today, though."

Trent huffed a breathless laugh, his arms still wrapped tight around her waist. "No, not today."

April moved slightly, relishing the way his body was still pressed against hers, the weight of him grounding her. His dick was still inside her, softening but not quite ready to part. She smirked, shifting her hips just enough to make him groan.

"Fuck, April—" His hands flexed on her thighs, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him overly sensitive.

"What?" she teased, tilting her head back against his shoulder, lips ghosting over his jaw again. "Too much for you?"

Trent exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing into her neck. "I swear, you’re tryin’ to ruin me."

"Mm.” She rolled her hips again, just because she could. “Maybe."

He gritted his teeth, but she could see it — the way his body twitched, like he wanted to move but didn’t quite have the strength yet.

April smirked at his reflection, pressing a kiss to his temple before finally easing off him. He hissed at the loss, his hands falling away as she climbed off the bed.

"Where you goin’?" His voice was rough, tinged with exhaustion.

She stretched her arms above her head, fully aware of the way his gaze dropped to the way her body moved. "Shower."

Trent groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You’re actually tryin’ to kill me."

April just laughed, tossing a smirk over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathroom. "Come join me if you think you can keep up."

She barely made it to the shower before she heard the bed shift, the rustling of sheets, and the sound of his feet hitting the floor.

Trent might have been exhausted, yet he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The water was hot, nearly scalding, but Trent barely noticed. His skin was already burning from how April touched him as soon as he got in, how her hands splayed over his chest as she backed him against the cool tile.

Her gaze flicked down to where he was already half-hard again, his dick twitching as she dragged her nails lightly down his stomach before dropping to her knees.

Fuck.

She licked a broad stripe up his shaft, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him into her mouth. His head thudded back against the tile, a low groan escaping as she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper.

"Goddamn,” he rasped, his hips jerking involuntarily.

April smirked around him, letting her spit drip down to coat him before pulling off with a soft pop. "Relax, baby,” she cooed, stroking him lazily. “Or I won’t let you cum."

His breath stuttered as one of her hands dipped lower, rolling his balls gently in her palm, massaging them as she took him back into her mouth. She alternated between sucking and licking, her other hand pressing against his tense thigh to keep him from moving too much.

Trent clenched his jaw, fingers grasping against the cold tile. The urge to grab her hair, to thrust into that warm, wet heat — it nearly fucking killed him. But he knew better. Knew April was in control here.

And she was taking her time.

His thighs tensed as her mouth continued to work the head, tongue flicking, teasing just enough to make his knees threaten to buckle.

"Shit—"

She hummed, the vibration shooting straight through him. His breath caught, his stomach tightening. He was close, teetering on the edge, but she already knew that. Knew exactly how to pull him apart.

"April, I’m—"

His warning broke off into a strangled groan as he came, pleasure ripping through him so hard his vision blurred. April swallowed every drop, her throat flexing around him before she pulled off with a filthy little moan, licking her lips like she’d just tasted something sweet.

Trent was still catching his breath when she rose to her feet, gripping his jaw, kissing him deep. He tried to resist for half a second, still wrecked from his orgasm, but April didn’t allow it. She licked into his mouth, letting him taste himself on her tongue.

Trent groaned, his whole body practically on fire. It was fucking filthy, the taste of his cum still lingering on her tastebuds. It should’ve made him hesitate, but instead, it made his dick twitch again, made him kiss her harder, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth before he even realized what he was doing.

April smirked against his mouth, her fingers curling in his damp hair. "Don’t you taste so good, baby?"

Trent exhaled sharply, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at her. His pulse was still erratic, his body wrung out, but he could already feel himself stirring again.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice rough. "But I think I need another taste of you."

Three days since Spurs and Trent was still buzzing. Not just from the match — though that had been proper perfect — but from what came after. The rewards April had given him still had him grinning like an idiot in training.

But this weekend was the big one. April coming to Liverpool, staying at his, meeting the lads properly before the Plymouth match. Even agreed to dinner with some of the team, though he had to properly earn that one.

Now he just had one problem: Marcel.

"You what?" His brother looked up from FIFA. "Get out of my own house?"

"Technically my house," Trent started, then caught Marcel's expression. "Just... make yourself scarce when she's here?"

"Nah bruv. I live here. Your dominatrix girlfriend doesn't."

He had a point. Fuck.

"Fine, just... don't be weird yeah? No jokes about the marks–"

"You mean the ones you come home covered in every time–"

"Marcel."

"The ones that look like you've been mauled by a tiger–"

"I swear to God–"

His phone buzzed.

April: Outside baby.

April: Come get my bags.

His heart actually skipped.

"You're proper whipped mate!" Marcel called after him as he headed for the door.

Trent stopped, took a breath. Centered himself like April had taught him. Then opened the door to see her stepping out of that red Ferrari looking like every fantasy he'd ever had - leather pants, cropped jumper, those boots that made her legs look endless.

Then he saw the bags. Proper luggage setup - carry-on sized case and a massive duffle. Like she was planning on staying way past Monday.

He wouldn't mind that. Not one bit.

Though Marcel might have something to say about it.

"Someone's been practicing their manners," April smirked as he grabbed her bags. "Good boy."

The way she said it, right there in his driveway... Christ.

"This is..." she paused as they entered, taking in the massive foyer with its spiral staircase and floor-to-ceiling windows. "Quite something. Very footballer."

"Too much?"

"Just very you." She wandered into the living room, running her fingers along his expensive furniture. "All that Liverpool money put to good use."

"Wait till you see it from the stands Monday." He couldn't help grinning. "Got you proper good seats."

"Earned those, didn't you?" But she was smiling too. "Though dinner with the team tonight... you might need to earn that again."

His whole body went hot. But before he could respond, Marcel appeared.

"So you're the one leaving all those marks then?"

"Marcel!" Trent wanted to die.

But April just laughed - that proper genuine laugh she rarely showed anyone. "Guilty. Though your brother seems to enjoy them."

"Too much information!" Marcel headed for the kitchen. "I'm ordering takeaway later. Try to keep the noise down yeah?"

Trent watched April explore his space - looking at family photos, examining his trophy cabinet, taking everything in. Mental seeing her here, in his massive footballer mansion, looking like she belonged somehow.

Even with his annoying brother trying to violate him.

"Nice setup you've got here," she said finally, turning back to him. "Lots of surfaces to... make use of."

Fucking hell.

Maybe he should've tried harder to get Marcel out after all.

"Show me your room then," April said, that look in her eyes that meant trouble. "Since I'll be spending so much time there this weekend."

Trent nearly tripped over his own feet leading her upstairs. Her heels clicked against his marble steps, each sound making his stomach flip.

"En suite's through there," he gestured, watching her take in his massive bedroom with its view over Liverpool. "Dressing room's that door."

"Of course you have a dressing room." She ran her fingers along his silk sheets. "Very nice. Though these will need changing after I'm done with you."

"I can hear you!" Marcel's voice carried up from somewhere below. "These walls aren't that thick!"

April actually giggled — proper girlish sound he'd never heard from her before. Made her seem younger somehow. More normal. Until she turned those eyes on him again.

"So," she started unpacking her bag. "Dinner with the team at eight. That gives us..." she checked her watch, "three hours to properly christen this room."

"Marcel–"

"Better be quiet then."

His head actually spun. This was different April - playful, almost soft, but still with that edge that drove him mental. Having her here, in his space, going through his drawers like she owned them...

"You're thinking too hard again." She was suddenly right there, fingers at his collar. "Want me to help you focus?"

From downstairs, the sound of Marcel very deliberately turning the TV volume up.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy." She pushed him toward the bed. "Now let's see how quiet you can be."

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

Two hours later, April was going through his wardrobe like it was her personal styling session. His skin still tingled from whatever she'd done to him - not that he'd been able to keep track after the first hour.

"Wear this." She tossed him a black shirt that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. "And these jeans. Want you looking good for when I show you off to your teammates.”

Show him off. Like he was some prize she'd won. Crazy how much he liked that.

"You weren't very quiet by the way," she added, smirking as she pulled out her own outfit. "Good thing we locked that door."

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe." She disappeared into his en suite. "Wanted to make sure you remembered who you belong to."

Christ.

April emerged from the bathroom looking proper incredible - something that managed to be classy but still had him thinking about getting her out of it later.

"Ready to face your teammates?" She adjusted his collar, covering some of her latest marks. "Show them what their TAA's become?"

Their TAA. Her good boy. Both somehow, now.

"Yeah," he managed. "Ready."

Her smile turned wicked. "Good. Because after dinner..." She leaned close, whispered something that made his knees weak.

They walked down the stairs arm-in-arm and Trent easily caught the look of disgust on his younger brother’s face. He told him to make himself scarce, didn’t he? Now he really had to use those noise-canceling headphones he’d bought last week.

Too bad, not sad.

The Ferrari keys dangled from April's fingers as they left the house. "I'm driving."

"It's my city though." But he was already following her to the car like the good boy he was.

"And I'm the one who decides how fast we get back after dinner." That smile again. "Unless you'd rather take the Range Rover?"

Fucking hell.

She looked so good behind the wheel, driving around his city, like she belonged in his world. Hard to believe this was the same woman who'd slammed a door in his face on New Year's Day.

"Where we meeting them?" She pulled out of his drive, engine purring.

"That new spot in town. Dead fancy. Darwin’s choice."

"Of course it was." Her hand found his thigh. "Nervous about introducing me properly?"

"More nervous about what you might say about those marks they keep asking about."

"Don't worry." That devilish grin. "I'll be a perfect girlfriend. Save the dom stuff for after.”

The way she said 'girlfriend' still made his stomach flip. Like she was claiming him all over again, but publicly this time.

"Though..." her hand slid higher. "Maybe I'll have a little fun. See how well you can keep your composure."

He actually whimpered.

"That's not very composed, baby."

It was going to be a long weekend ahead.

And he couldn't wait for every second of it.

The restaurant was one of those posh spots that was slowing finding its way into Liverpool. The Ferrari's engine turning off had heads turning before they even got out. April, of course, was in her element - that photographer's confidence of hers making every head turn.

She took Trent's hand as they walked in, all professional poise now. Different from the April who'd had him begging in his bedroom two hours ago.

Virgil and his wife were already there with Mo and his family at one end of the massive table, Darwin and his girlfriend chatting with Ibou near the bar.

"Look who finally made it!" Ibou called out, grinning like he hadn't been taking the piss about her and Trent since that day outside Anfield.

"About time we get to meet you," Virgil's wife pulled her into a hug. "You’re so beautiful."

Mo's wife, usually shy around new people, was already waving April over to their end of the table. Like April just had that effect on people – when she wanted to, anyway.

"Told you she'd fit right in," Virgil said quietly as they sat.

Watching her work the room was something else. The perfect mix of charm and privacy, redirecting personal questions into football chat or something else entirely. Even when Darwin tried fishing about the marks, she kept it professional. Proper different from how she'd wind up Marcel.

But Trent caught those little looks she kept giving him across the table. The ones that promised later wouldn't be nearly as professional.

The conversation flowed easier than Trent expected. April talking photography with Mo's wife, who apparently had a thing for art. Darwin's girlfriend fascinated by April's stories about shooting athletes in different countries.

"So what made you choose our Trent for your latest shoot?" Darwin's girlfriend asked, innocent like.

"His agent's persistence," April smiled, still professional as ever. "Tyler can be very convincing."

Virgil caught Trent's eye across the table, that knowing look again. Like he understood exactly why April had really chosen him.

"Looking forward to the match Monday?" Mo asked April, saving her from more personal questions.

"First time at Plymouth." She squeezed Trent's thigh under the table. "Should be interesting."

"Better score for her," Ibou grinned. "Show off a bit."

The way April's fingers tightened on his leg told him exactly what kind of showing off she expected.

Dinner arrived, yet Trent was more focused on April's hand still on his thigh, how she managed to look completely engaged in conversation while driving him mental under the table.

"You two should come over for dinner next week," Virgil's wife was saying. "Once the Plymouth match is done."

April smiled that professional smile again. "We'll see how he performs first."

Only Trent caught the double meaning in that.

Proper violation, this woman.

"Sorry I'm late!" Dom's voice boomed across the restaurant. "Traffic was crazy – oh, this must be April."

April's hand slid higher on Trent's thigh as she smiled at Dom. "Nice to meet you."

"Heard a lot about you," Dom grinned, dropping into the empty chair. "Well, what little Trent will actually say."

"Professional discretion," April said smoothly, but her fingers were anything but professional under the table.

The dessert menus arrived just in time to distract everyone from Dom's attempt at twenty questions. But April wasn't done torturing him - her hand wandering places that had him nearly dropping his spoon.

"We should probably head out after this," she said innocently. "Early start tomorrow."

Virgil actually chuckled - a knowing laugh that made Trent's face heat up. What was his captain playing at? Like he understood exactly what April meant by "early start."

Actually, no. He didn't want to know why Virgil seemed to get it. Some things about your captain were better left mysterious.

April's fingers traced patterns that had him properly squirming now.

"Right," Trent managed, voice slightly strained. "Should get going."

Another low laugh from Virgil. Proper violation that.

They made their goodbyes quick - April all polite smiles and proper handshakes while her other hand stayed busy making Trent lose his mind.

The Ferrari couldn't come fast enough.

Though based on April's smile, fast wasn't what she had planned for later.

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

April's heels echoed through the foyer as they got in, her confidence from dinner shifting into something else entirely as she headed for the stairs.

"Strip out of those clothes and wait for me on the bed," she called over her shoulder, voice pure command now.

"Yes ma–" he started, then properly panicked. Trent caught movement in his peripheral vision - Marcel on the sofa, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth, South Park playing quietly in the background.

"Properly address me when you–" April turned, following his startled expression. Her voice cut off as she spotted Marcel. The switch was instant - dom mode vanishing as she smiled. "Hey Marcel, what's up?"

The sudden change gave Trent proper whiplash. Like watching someone change languages mid-sentence. Made his head spin how she could do that — go from commands to casual in half a second.

Marcel just blinked, cereal forgotten, looking between them like he was watching some mental tennis match.

"Okay good talk." April's eyes found Trent again, that dangerous glint returning. "Five minutes, baby." Then she was gone, heels clicking up the stairs until his bedroom door closed.

"Bruv." Marcel finally unfroze. "You know what you're getting into?"

"I–"

"Like does she ever just... chill? One minute she's all proper nice next she's giving orders like a drill sergeant–"

"Marcel–"

"And what was that 'properly address me' shit? You two are proper mental–"

"Can we not–"

"Though got to say..." His brother looked thoughtful. "She's actually good for you."

That made Trent properly stop. "What?"

"You heard me." Marcel turned back to his cereal. "She's freaky as fuck but... you're different with her. Better different."

Coming from Marcel, who'd been taking the piss since day one... that meant something.

"Now go on," his brother waved toward the stairs. "Don't want to keep her waiting. I'm turning the TV up."

Trent's head was still spinning as he headed upstairs. His brother's approval somehow meaning more than the whole team's combined. The sound of South Park's volume increasing followed him up. Marcel was proper taking the piss, but at least he was being... supportive? In his own weird way.

April was perched on the edge of his bed when he walked in, still in that short ass dress that had been driving him mental all night. Her heels were off though, making her look smaller somehow. More normal.

Until she looked up.

"Lock the door."

The command in her voice was back - no trace of that casual girl who'd just chatted with his brother.

"Your family's interesting," she said as he turned the lock. "Marcel especially."

"Sorry about–"

"Don't apologize." She stood, all fluid grace. "Though we should probably be more careful about commands in common areas."

The way she said 'commands' had his stomach flipping.

"Now then," she moved closer, that dangerous smile back. "I believe you were about to address me properly downstairs?"

His brain short-circuited as she reached for his collar.

From downstairs, Marcel turned the TV up even louder.

Proper long night ahead.

At least his brother approved. Even if he was never going to let Trent live this down.

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

Hours later, they were tangled in his silk sheets, April's head on his chest like she belonged there. Different April now - softer, almost gentle. Mental how she could switch between dominatrix and this.

"Your brother's funny," she murmured, tracing patterns on his skin. "Protective too."

"More like nosy."

"Reminds me of my cousin in Virginia. Always taking the piss but means well."

This was new - April actually sharing something personal. Usually it was all commands and contracts, not family chat.

"Tell me about Virginia," he found himself saying.

"Hmm." Her fingers found a mark she'd left earlier. "Not much to tell. Military bases aren't exactly exciting. Though watching my dad try to teach the Americans to understand scouse was pretty entertaining."

He could picture it - little April caught between cultures, probably giving everyone that same look she gave him when he tried to push boundaries.

"My dad would like you," she said suddenly. "He appreciates people who know what they want."

Coming from April, that was proper high praise.

The TV downstairs had finally gone quiet. Marcel must've given up waiting for them to finish and went to bed.

He definitely needed to soundproof his room. Maybe better insulation for the whole house then if this was becoming an ongoing situation.

"Sleep," she commanded softly. "A lot of travel tomorrow then big match on Monday."

Even gentle, she couldn't help giving orders.

And he couldn't help wanting to follow them.

Home Park was properly packed for an FA Cup match, but Trent's eyes kept drifting to one spot in particular. April in the family section, looking proper editorial in Prada sunglasses and his jersey, her hair swept up in some complicated bun thing.

And that fucking lollipop.

The way she was working it had his mind going places it shouldn't before a match. Though maybe that was because twenty minutes ago those lips had been... right. Football. Focus.

But she knew exactly what she was doing, didn't she? Even from up there, he could see that little smirk as she proper performed with that sweet. Every movement calculated to drive him mental, like she was still training his control even from the stands.

His warm-up routine was suffering. Passes going slightly off, stretches not quite reaching far enough. All because he couldn't stop looking up there, watching her turn a simple sweet into something that should be illegal in public.

"You're proper gone mate," Robbo appeared at his shoulder. "Should blow her a kiss."

"Nah." Trent tried focusing on his stretches. "She won't do it back."

"Oi Ibou!" Robbo called. "Tell this melt he should blow April a kiss!"

"Do it!" Ibou bounced over, grinning like Christmas had come early. "Is romantic!"

"She's not that type," Trent tried explaining. The idea of April doing cutesy public displays was mental. This was a woman who had him signing contracts about their relationship, who turned eating sweets into psychological warfare. More chance of Marcel keeping quiet about what he'd witnessed.

"Look at him," Robbo stage-whispered to Ibou. "Proper scared of his girl."

"Not scared–"

"Chicken!" Ibou made clucking noises. "Big man Trent, afraid of little kiss!"

Their pestering wouldn't stop, both of them proper taking the piss now. Even Darwin had wandered over to join in, making exaggerated kissing faces.

Fine.

He did it - exaggerated kiss blown up to the stands, already bracing for April to either ignore it or give him that "you'll pay for this later" look she'd perfected.

What happened next actually made him stumble.

April pulled the lollipop out with a pop, caught his kiss with her free hand, pressed it to her heart... and blew one back. The movement so graceful it looked choreographed, like she'd been waiting for him to try it.

"Oh fuck." The cameras. He'd forgotten about the fucking cameras.

Robbo and Ibou were proper losing it, jumping around making kissy noises like year seven kids. Darwin had actually fallen over laughing. Tomorrow's papers would have a field day with this one - Liverpool's right back and his photographer girlfriend doing lovey-dovey shit during warm-ups.

But the look April was giving him over those sunglasses... that mix of public sweetness and private promise that had his stomach doing flips.

Worth it. So fucking worth it.

"Now who's the romantic one?" Robbo was still cackling. "Proper Mills and Boon stuff that!"

"She's got you wrapped," Ibou added, wiping tears from his eyes. "Never seen anything like it!"

They weren't wrong though, were they? Here he was, making soppy gestures in front of thousands, just because she looked too good in his jersey. The same woman who'd had him properly begging this morning was now catching kisses like some rom-com heroine.

And the maddest part? He didn't even care who saw it. Let them take their photos, write their articles. April had him exactly where she wanted him - in public and in private.

Though based on that smile she was giving him, public April was just as dangerous as private April.

Proper violation, this woman. But she was his violation now.

Even if the whole world was about to know it.

From the stands, April's lips moved silently: "Focus."

Even from this distance, he could read it perfectly - the same word she'd whispered against his ear this morning as she straightened his collar. The word had different meaning now - less about control and more about proving something.

Plymouth came at them hard from kickoff, but Trent was in that zone where everything felt possible. Each touch perfect, each pass finding feet. Like that kiss from April had charged him up somehow. Even Slot was nodding approvingly from the touchline.

"Someone's showing off," Virgil grinned after Trent skinned their winger with a nutmeg.

The free kick came in the 34th minute - proper perfect position, just outside the box. As he placed the ball, his eyes found April in the stands. No lollipop now, just that intense photographer's focus of hers, like she was already composing the shot in her head. Some of the other WAGs had migrated to sit near her, but she kept that cool distance. Professional as ever in public.

The wall lined up. The whistle blew.

Top bins. No chance for their keeper. The kind of free kick that reminded everyone why they called him the best right back in the world.

His body moved before his brain caught up, hands forming an 'A' above his head. He'd been doing it for ages - for little Aura who loved seeing her uncle on TV. But based on the commentators losing their minds and the cameras cutting straight to April, everyone had their own ideas about which 'A' he meant now.

"Romantic today!" Darwin shouted as they celebrated, making kissy faces again.

April's face gave nothing away behind those sunglasses, but he caught that little smirk playing at her lips. The one that promised rewards later.

Mo added another just before half time, making it 2-0. The second half was just control - keeping possession, staying focused. Though his eyes kept drifting to the stands, to his jersey hanging off April's shoulders like it belonged there. Mental how something so simple could be so distracting.

Even the Plymouth fans were watching her now, probably trying to figure out what kind of woman had Liverpool's right back blowing kisses and making letter celebrations.

If they only knew.

When the final whistle blew, the cameras found her again. Still cool as anything behind those shades, but he saw her hand move to her heart – where she'd placed his kiss earlier.

Proper soppy that. But he couldn't stop grinning.

And neither could she.

……………..tbd

[ethereacals]

so american <3

Chapter Four: Operation: Get Him Back!

synopsis: Remus grows attached to an American transfer student from Ilvermorny

trope: idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine

pairing: remus lupin x american!reader

(R is alluded and mentioned to be in gryffindor)

content: r and remus are seperated ):, but not for long <3

wc: 1.2k

series masterlist

a/n; happy valentines day!

EVERYTHING WENT WRONG so quickly.

And you were still trying to wrap your head around the situation regarding Remus.

“I trust you, Remus.”

“Can I kiss you— Remus?”

“I—I don’t want to force you to do anything—“

He lashed out.

“Why do you want to kiss me? Out of everyone?” He moved himself back a bit, and you frowned softly.

You were drunk and still recovering from your closet incident.

“You don’t want to kiss Sirius?”

“I— no I don’t want to kiss him! I’m asking you!”

“Y/n, you don’t want to kiss me.”

“Remus—“

“Y/n, you don’t want to kiss me.”

“If you don’t like me, Remus. You can just say it.”

“I’m just protecting you!”

“Protecting me from what?”

“Myself!”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause i’m a bloody Werewolf, okay?”

Once Remus had realized what he said— silence fell upon both of you.

“Remus..—“

“I have to go.”

“No— please— Remus—“

“I’m dangerous, Y/n. And if you’re smart, you’ll never speak to me again.”

Never speak to him again? Absolutely not.

Were you a bit bold in asking him to kiss you so abruptly? Absolutely, but why did Remus assume you weren’t being truthful and wished to kiss someone else?

And why did he run away?

Did he mean to say he was a were-wolf?

You needed to know more, and potentially bridge the gap between yourself and the boy of your dreams.

But where to start?

So, you came up with a plan. (after you spent hours being inconsolable, [sorry, dorcas.])

Operation: get him back.

First; You needed to speak with Sirius (or James, he works too.) immediately, figure out if Remus really is what he said he was.

Second; Explain to Lily your situation, perhaps she would know how to make amends? They do study together.

and Third; Regain your friendship with Remus and vow to never fall in love with him ever again.

That third step will be the hardest.

"JAMES!"

The bespectacled boy quickly pivoted to lay his eyes on you.

"Y/n? What's the matter?" He strutted across the common room towards you, and Remus shared some uncomfortable eye-contact with you for a moment.

"Um.. we need to talk somewhere... private." You urged, all while ushering him away and into the portrait hole near the entrance.

"Merlin, seriously- what's all of the fuss about?" He whined.

"It's about Remus, last night- He took me to the Boathouse after the whole incident with Lockhart and- I was stupid and jumped the gun and asked him to kiss me-"

"Stop, you asked him to kiss you?" James gawked.

"Yes, now-"

"That's rich."

"Stop interrupting me!" You snapped.

"The point is, Remus freaked out and blurted out that he was a.. a werewolf- and ran off and I don't know what to do and-"

"Calm down, okay? Wow, that is incredibly unlike Remus to just blurt that out." James perceived from your situation.

"What do I do?"

"I'll talk to him, try to help him sort out his feelings."

"Godric bless you, James Potter." You patted his cheek in thanks.

"Mum always told me I was a god-send." He beamed, clearly a bit full of himself but you know what they say- James had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match it.

"Do make sure he knows that I'm not... like- against lycanthropes?" You suggested gingerly.

"I'll make sure." James grinned, before going back to his company.

First step- Complete.

REMUS IS EXTREMELY AND irrevocably torn.

It's been three days since you have spoken, three.

And he's beside himself with how upset he is.

He didn't mean to lash out, he really didn't.

"Remus! That's the girl of your dreams!" Sirius argued from across the couch.

"Maybe, she was meant to be- but I fucked everything up!" Remus took a long sip from his fire-whisky.

"Then go un-fuck everything up!" Peter cheered, clearly missing the memo.

"It's not that easy! I told her about my- problem.. and she probably doesn't want anything to do with me anymore!" Remus defended.

"No, mate. She distincively told me that she had no problem with your problem." James explained simply.

"Ha! I knew she wouldn't care!" Sirius barked.

"Still, I told her to never speak to me ever again."

"Ooh.. that's low, mate." Peter ceased his mindless celebration and silently judged Remus' life descisions all while taking a bit out of his bread.

"Do you think I don't know that?"

"Well- you need to fix it! Both of you need too!" Sirius slammed his hand down on the coffee table.

"I know- but how?" Remus sighed, his face falling into her hands.

"Perhaps when you have to meet for astronomy?" James suggested. "That's not till Saturday." "At the Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor game?" Sirius pointed out. "She might not even go." "Send her a lovely letter from an anonymous sender to meet somewhere rather romantic and pretty?" Peter joked, but Remus' face lit up.

"Yes! Peter, you are a genius!"

"What did I say?" Peter asked, confused.

But Remus couldn't find time to respond, as he rushed to his parchment and quill.

This was going to be the best damn letter ever written.

"SO, REMUS ISN'T SPEAKING to you, hm?" Lily combed her fingers through your hair.

"I totally messed everything up." You cupped your face into your hands.

"No- honey, you didn't. Everyone was a bit intoxicated and you should never feel the need to apologize for liking someone." She wrapped her arms around you consolingly.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Lily." You smiled softly.

"Same to you, lovely." Lily cooed, brushing a stray hair out of your face.

"What do I do, Lily?"

"Well... Remus does like chocolate." She suggested wirily.

"But what kind?" You turned to face her.

"Well he loved Galaxy Minstrels, but that's a muggle chocolate-"

"I'll get him those then." You announced.

"Y/N, Galaxy Minstrels aren't sold at Hogsmeade." Lily warned, an expression of concern for your determination.

"Those are his favorites, right? I'm getting those for him come hell or high water." You insisted, and Lily couldn't hold back her smile.

"You're going to bribe him with chocolate?" She chuckled softly.

"Exactly." You smirked, a wicked smirk if Lily had any input.

A FEW DAYS LATER, the chocolates so graciously provided by your parents arrived.

And you had recieved a letter from someone to meet you by the Black Lake after hours.

And with some help from Lily (and a hint from James), you were almost certain it was from Remus.

You had flowers and chocolates in hand, and you looked like you had just stepped out of a grocery store with an post-valentines sale.

You were nervous, understandably so.

As the Black Lake came into view under the star-stricken night sky- he came into view.

Remus, and was it a relief to actually be able to speak with him again.

You stood infront of eachother, silent as a grave.

Godric, let this go well.

Tune in next time on; so american (:

(this one is a bit short, i've got cool stuff in the works!)

so american taglist;

@hisparentsgallerryy @lydpop @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl @thequeen0fhearts @yourlittlefries @jsprien213 @liviessun @wandasbitch22 @michtellch @hellokitty-girl666 @bmyva1entine @n1ght-vngel @anehkael @wolfstcr @assorted-knives @mrsblackx @moonyswifee @sunset-toast @sammyreid @wsplalala @msfandomsblog @yimthesynonym @flowerytombx @rubyinthebooks @

[secriden]

Oh damn, I haven't been able to get on tumblr for like 2 weeks+ and I've barely even processed Episode 11 let alone 12, but thank you for the shoutout!!

I honestly think this is such a lovely and insightful reply and one of the things I became obsessed with before the show even started is the way Fadel and Style were clearly designed to fit together "like missing puzzle pieces" (<- a phrase I used in my first ever meta post about Style, before episode 1 even dropped and all we had was the character interview video), and I think this reply captures some of the most essential aspects of this.

What you say about Style seeing Fadel is so fucking true, and also so fucking important because Fadel is the one character who does not get anyone's understanding at the start/early parts of the show. Bison already has Fadel who takes care of him and tries his best to accomodate Bison's wishes despite the danger to their identity; Kant has Babe as a semi-confident of sorts, who he can talk to even if he can't fully tell Babe all the details; Style has his dad, Kant, and a whole neighbourhood of aunties and uncles and friends (which we see glimpses/references to throughout the series in dialogue or context); hell even Keen has a boyfriend who doesn't know about his whole ~side gig as a hitman information gatherer~ but clearly loves and supports and isn't overly phased even when he's held at gunpoint. But what does Fadel get?? Fadel has no one but a "mother" who used him, who never really loved him, and an ex who (Fadel thought) left him when he found out about Fadel's true darkness.

And what I have kept coming back to, over and over and over again, and what I find so incredibly compelling about their relationship is the way Style chooses to love Fadel. There's something so special about the character who starts out knowing the least, the character who is the most narratively vulnerable and ignorant, and the one most victimised by the context, also being the one who remains unflinchingly loyal, even as each new piece of information about Fadel is revealed. Style chooses to love Fadel and it's a choice he makes over and over despite Fadel's early harsh treatment of him, despite Fadel genuinely hurting his feelings after sleeping with Style and tossing him aside, despite Kant revealing Fadel to be a murderer, despite Fadel turning on him and holding him at gunpoint, despite Fadel needing to "finish" his one last job after Style pleads with him to walk away, despite Fadel choosing jail and separation rather than going on the run and dooming Style to five years of loneliness and longing -- STYLE FUCKING CHOOSES FADEL. (Like, I'm not saying that Style didn't have his own hand in their tumultuous relationship; but my point is that loving Fadel was never the easy route and Style walked that path without ever looking back).

And I think there's something so much more compelling about a love that comes by choice rather than "helpless" and fleeting emotion. Style's love for Fadel is intentional and we see the evidence of that in the way he sacrifices so much for Fadel in episode 12. (The whole buying the Heart Burger back for Fadel?? The way it's done?? I could make a whole post about the way Style not only does it but does it RIGHT. *sobs*)

And on a similar vein, the way Fadel dismantles his own walls to let Style in is so fucking incredible. The way he does this in such an intentional way despite his own fears and past hurts when it comes to love. (Nope, still not shutting up about Fadel getting himself drunk to lay himself bare for Style. Sorry not sorry.) The way Fadel continues to be very upfront about where he's at with Style afterwards, the way he explicitly tells Style all his reservations and reasons for doubting Style once the truth is revealed. The way he so clearly wants Style to know the full extent of his darkness and depression and hopelessness, and hell the way he keeps trying to let Style go. Because love also means wanting better for the person you cherish and Fadel would rent his own heart to shreds again, would return to that darkness if that was what Style wanted.

Their love is so grounded and evidenced in real actions and sacrifice and care and it boggles the mind how anyone could think they don't love each other.

As characters, they truly, for me, stand out as one of the most intensely interesting and compelling relationships I've encountered in a while. They were intentionally designed to be difficult to come together, made to clash and rub up against each other and bring out the worse in each other; but in doing so, found honesty and truth and that makes their love all the more real to me.

As for JoongDunk's portrayal of these characters -- listen, there's always going to be differences in opinion and preferences, but here are my general thoughts:

There are some instances of Dunk as Style that didn't fully land for me (eg. the crying scene in the car bed cuz they tried to balance comedy and drama and succeeded at neither; or the kissing in episode 12 when Fadel and Style are in bed and Dunk for some bizarre reason maintains like a foot of distance between their bodies) but others that I think were fucking incredible (eg. Style pressing worshipful hands and kisses on Fadel's body in his bed in episode 5; the opening scene in episode 6 when Style looks up at Fadel with frank wonder and open invitation; the look of tragic acceptance as Style thinks he's saying goodbye to Fadel after the rock concert; the look of acceptance and understanding when Fadel turns away from Style's kiss in the bathtub scenes -- I could go on). I think Dunk was incredible when it came to the emotionally fraught moments with Fadel and his breakdown at the end of episode 11 was an undeniable example of how well he can communicate both the intense and subtle emotions of his characters. The comedy aspects were over the top and loud, but that was also an intentional character choice that I have no issues with and never did from the beginning. Style is who he is, unabashedly and without reservation, and I loved that from the beginning.

And I think the transformation Joong went through as Fadel was also very beautiful to watch. We are intentionally shown Fadel as being cold and clinical in the early parts of the show and then as each new aspect of his character is peeled back, Joong allows the softness inside to bleed into the way he holds Fadel too. The harshness comes back when Fadel finds out about Style's betrayal, but Joong changes how he portrays Fadel and allows the inner agony and vulnerability to bleed through like Fadel's facade is cracking. I said in another post after episode 9 that I'm so grateful that the show gave Fadel the space to journey into accepting Style back, and this still holds true even until episode 12. Joong was incredibly nuanced as Fadel and ALL OF IT was wrapped up in Style and how being loved by Style and loving him changes Fadel.

But am I surprised that not everyone sees this? Not really. Watching SIMM and then seeing all the hate and low ratings about it online has made me convinced that some people simply don't watch things the way I do and that's... disappointing but there's nothing I can do about it except write posts that hopefully resonate with other people so that I can, at the very least, gather the people who DO appreciate it and love them for what they are good at together into my little corner of the internet. <3

why u like fadelstyle so much? the show ended and i still don't feel like theres love between them, same with all jd couples they don't seem like a couple at all

oh man how to answer this in a way that will do fadelstyle justice? I think @secriden and @bentnotbroken1fanfiction have much better, very in depth analysis of them as a pair and their wonderful dynamic.

but for me personally? simply, it's a type of love that I'm looking for. my personality is very similar to fadel's, the way style always goes out of his way to understand him and push back against all of fadels attempts to push him away - it really warms my heart.

they see each other, do you understand? style guesses that fadel could be a hitman, even if it was just a joke - style always saw him for who fadel is and fadel has been in wanting for that devotion, fadel has been aching to just be held and be able to fall apart - when fadel goes to prison style keeps his dream alive. fadel finally found someone who can understand how much he's had to give, how much he's always had to put himself second, someone who appreciates fully when fadel does it for him - I think style is the only person who's ever even attempted to feel the extent of fadel's sacrifice let alone tell him that he's deserving of the same and then go out and do it.

joongdunk have so subliminally portrayed that growing trust between them, that lived through all of fadel's anger at being betrayed, all of style's fear of fadel's dangerous life. they've just done so well to show what it means to slowly make space for each other, to fall in love through a gradual understanding of each other, I really felt that no matter what happened between them no matter how angry they were or how much distance there was between them every episode fadel and style loved each other more than the last.

fadel and style's romance is one of my favorite couple dynamics period I'm sorry you didn't feel it and even though we are allowed to interpret shows differently and like different things its a pity that I have no way to make you experience the beauty with which they touched my heart.

[tokiro07]

Something I alluded to in this week's Ichi review was that while I've been invested up to this point, I haven't been as completely immersed as I had been with Undead Unluck or Cipher Academy, which both captured and held me from ch.1 all the way to the end

I decided to chase that and analyze why Ichi wasn't connecting with me the same way

Looking back at chapter 1, the thing that hooked me was the setting; a world where only women can wield magic, and do so by passing tests posed to them by monsters who embody the individual spells. Even ignoring the premise that a man manages to break the status quo, that core concept alone was enough to spark my curiosity

From there, each chapter continued to expand on that setting - giving examples of the types of monsters we'd see, teasing the process of finding and facing them, showing glimpses of the society built by the women who use magic, their tools and their fashion, but something was still missing

Every week I found myself asking "what are we doing this for?" What was the grander goal, and who was going to stand in the way?

It wasn't until the most recent arc with the introduction of the World Hater that I really got the answer to that question - one of the monsters, moreso than any other, wants to destroy everything. In turn, our protagonist, more than anything, wants to kill it - regardless of whether or not it would save lives, he just knows it would be fun. It's a fairly simple goal, but a compelling one nonetheless, allowing me to not only be invested in the setting, but now also in the plot

But something was still missing

And it was only during this chapter that I realized what it was. Desscaras, The Strongest Witch, faced with a situation that her strength won't help her overcome, chooses to be open and vulnerable, and suddenly that something wasn't missing anymore

I was finally invested in the characters

I thought Ichi was interesting enough, for sure, with how unhinged he was and the themes that his philosophy suggested for the series, but I didn't know what the intentions were for his arc. Desscaras was silly and fun to watch, but I didn't have a good read on how she would contribute to the narrative. Kumugi was the only one I particularly saw thematic potential in from the get, which is why I latched onto her pretty quickly, but it was clear she was meant to be a slow burn and wasn't going to be getting a ton of focus for the foreseeable future

In other words, everyone in the cast had an interesting hook, but no one had shown any real depth yet, at least not to the extent that I wanted

But now I can see it

The flaw in Ichi's philosophy that makes him reckless with the life that he supposedly cherishes so much, the weakness in Desscaras' heart that necessitated she become the Strongest in the first place, and the connection forged between the two of them

Granted, I also said from the beginning that I expected that sort of connection to come up between Ichi and Uroro, so it's not like I couldn't envision how this story would deepen its cast, but just imagining how it would do it and actually seeing it happen are two different things. Now that we're seeing the bonds deepening between two characters, we're likely to start seeing it happen with others more and more often, though likely still fairly slowly

Now that I have a clear picture of how the cast will grow, I can definitively get excited for it rather than just projecting a hypothetical that I hope to see

I think this is also why there are so many manga in Jump that I don't get excited about

I didn't care for Kagurabachi from the beginning because I didn't care about the setting, plot or characters. It was only during the Rakuzaichi Arc, which really started focusing on the characters, that I started feeling invested, but I still don't care about the setting and only slightly care about the plot. In the Samura Arc, though, I'm starting to care a bit more about the plot, and I can see a bit more of interest in the setting, but I'm still not there yet. If it can clinch that, I'll be all in

There are other factors that matter, of course - art style, pacing, themes, etc. all contribute to my enjoyment, but I can look past the art and pacing if everything else works, and I can only care about the themes if I like at least one of the previous factors

By analyzing my experiences like this, I'm getting a clearer picture of my tastes and how I define the quality of a work. Hopefully this framework will help me better articulate my opinions going forward and give me a better approach to appreciating what I read

[rosiesgambit]

Wie schön, dass du geboren bist || michael kaiser/reader

summary; you were nothing but a constant mockery, tormenting him. he hated you more than anything, and the fact that he was nothing but entertainment to you, made it somehow even worse. Or: Michael Kaiser gets a birthday present.

tags; sfw, psychological, character study, reader is about as mentally stable and nice as Kaiser is, they match each others freak

author’s note; hiya! first time writing and posting anything on here! been sucked back into blue lock among other things and I do have some stuff saved up! This is but one instalment with this particular reader, with more to come!

->the title and story itself is inspired by a german happy birthday song, roughly translating to “how beautiful that you were born, otherwise we would have missed you very much”

“What the fuck is this supposed to be?”, Kaiser asked, clutching the poorly wrapped package between his hands, an annoyed look in his eyes.

“Try thinking about it, I know it’s hard for you”, you cooed, shaking your head as you rested your hands on your hips, “It’s a present duh.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t. I don’t need your pity.”

“When have I ever done anything for anyone out of pity?”

That was true actually. You weren’t exactly the easiest person to get along with, even if it was rich coming from him.

You were truly an enigma Kaiser could not quite wrap his head around. Psychologists would have a field day with you no doubt.

“You only get one though. Sucks you are born the day after Christmas. Don’t worry though, I made sure it’s more to accommodate for it.”

Kaiser held the box in his hands. It was light, wrapped in obnoxious green Christmas paper, a red bow adorning the package. The exterior seemed to be put together to the best of your abilities which… wasn’t a lot it seemed.

He looked back at you. He was almost expecting an anticipated look in your eyes, hoping he would unpack the gift, as you had dubbed it, but your face was unreadable and your smile as unnerving as always. There was something about the way you never acted quite how he thought you would that unsettled him deeply.

“I am not opening this”, Kaiser said, waving the present dismissively.

“I know. I am not asking you to open it.”

Your response only further cemented his lacklustre opinion of you.

“What the fuck is this even supposed to mean?”, Kaiser sighed, feeling a headache forming.

“It’s a philosophy I follow”, you explained, “whether you follow along with it is irrelevant.”

“So you are doing this for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How selfish.”

“Absolutely.”

It was silent for a moment as Kaiser turned the present in his fingers.

“You want to know”, you pointed out, the grin on your lips widening.

“I don’t care.”

“You do. This is going to give you sleepless nights. Do not fret, I am a merciful god.”

Somehow, Kaiser doubted that.

“It is a celebration you know?”, you elaborated, closing the gap between you two. Kaiser didn’t flinch nor move back, but the anxious, pathetic lump forming in his stomach whenever you were around was certainly there, frustratingly enough.

He didn’t respond. ‘What for?’, you could almost read in his fixated gaze, watching your every move with great interest.

“It’s a thank you”, you said, voice dropping lower, more serious tone, “For being born. Otherwise, you would have been missed very much.”

The lamp atop his table burst into a million pieces as he harshly moved back, hitting the table, a bewildered, angry look in his eyes. You didn’t flinch. You were analysing him, gauging for some sort of reaction surely, like he was some sort of lab rat for you to study, he was sure of it.

“You are such a fucking weirdo. Leave me alone.”

You continued to smile. Your lips curved upward, as if permanently tattooed on your stupid face, gauging for his reaction.

Kaiser hated you. He hated how his heart lurched at your carefully crafted words. Your silver tongue lulled people into a state of perpetuate ease. He had no doubt that this was part of the reason you were where you were today.

“You are a fucking sociopath.”

“Would it make you feel better if I was?”, you countered, your eyes flittering from his face to the broken lamp on the ground, kneeling down to collecting the shards to the best of your ability.

“Why would that make me feel better?”, Kaiser sneered, the wrapping crumpling under his fingers. Whatever was inside would surely be destroyed by now. By him. As per usual.

“Because then it would be easier for you Michi!”

“Easier?”

“Of course! You don’t think you are capable of being someone that can be loved after all”, you stated, casually, as you rose back to your feet, your eyes finding his again. Unreadable as always, with that goddamn smile on your lips, an eternal limbo between honesty and dishonesty that made Kaiser want to hide,”So perhaps that would make it easier for you no? If I was, I mean. Then you could chalk it up to me being crazy.”

His reactions entertained you like no other. You loved the way his face scrunched up. He was about to cry, no doubt, but he would never let himself cry. There was murder in his eyes too, oh he wanted you dead, how amusing.

“Leave.”

His tone was quiet, but dead serious nonetheless.

“Of course”, you beamed brightly as you moved to the door, carrying the large shards with you, Kaiser still frozen in place, gift in his hands. Oh he looked ready to murder you. How endearing.

You turned back, lingering in the doorway for a moment, for a mere second, you let your facade drop. Your voice was soft, devoid of your usual playfulness, almost genuine, not that he believed you were capable of that, truly capable of that.

“I love you Michael. Happy Birthday.”

The door closed with a soft thud. Kaiser exhaled shakily, eyeing the package for a moment before throwing it into his closet.

Oh, how he despised you.

[yimpysdiner]

Ridiculously long analysis of Jimmy's dialogue (PART 2)

PART 1 HERE Continuing with the next section,

Mimicking?

The whole ordeal of Jimmy copying Curly's "yeah?" in speech has already been pointed out, but there's something else I wanted to look into. This section is gonna be relatively short but this interaction still sticks with me. It's fairly easy to miss as you can brush it off but given Jimmy often repeats words or phrases from those around him I find it interesting.

This interaction was so awkward that it has me thinking about it over and over so honestly this may be one big nothing burger and more so headcanon territory but hear me out.

Jimmy gets quiet here as either 1, he expects them all to die on that ship as he said before crashing it or 2, he's terrified of any sort of attention their whole ordeal may get if they survive. The awkward silence is only filled by him commenting on ladies. Daisuke is no stranger to talking about "beach babes" and as Swansea puts it, "thinking with his downstairs long-nose." Honestly, Jimmy is a scumbag and gross around women, but I don't think this is the sort of situation where he cares to be impressing any ladies. This reads to me as him trying to "fit in" with Daisuke in a way. The way he often mimics people and says things they'd relate to defuse situations and get on their good sides feels like a form of masking. I'm no professional, no idea what in specific this would be, but Jimmy strikes me as the kind of guy who finds it really difficult to positively navigate a lot of social situations, especially if he feels uneasy like he was here. This parts super rambly sorry, this is just something interesting about him to me, how he'll latch on to other people's personality traits and mirror them.

Lashing out

We all already know Jimmy's not a very stable guy, very small things irritate him, he has levels to his anger however.

His base line irritation is just little remarks like this, things that you would scratch your head at but they're small so you can't quite bring them up. It's not completely aggressive, but it's definitely not very friendly either

I won't shove all the same screenshots of him lashing out during the birthday party here, but there he only lashes out in front of everyone else when he's able to make it seem like he's in the right. He insults everyone to their faces, but he's able to pin all the blame on Curly, letting out his anger while also in some sort of way getting people on his "side." Here he's *already* sewing seeds of doubt about Curly into the other's mind, so his little plan to blame Curly for the crash later on only works out all the more in his favor.

Then there's moments like when he's giving Curly his pills. He isn't exactly yelling, more so going on with his angry, paranoid rambles. This of course is followed by the implication he beats Curly while feeding him his painkillers, physically taking out his anger on someone who can't fight back. Side note, the only times he ever gets physical is when they're in a position of being unable to fight back (drugging Swansea, the implied drugging of Anya, and of course when Curly is left defenseless.)

I believe this is the first instance of Jimmy actually full on yelling while having one of his tantrums, which is why I say his anger is written in levels. It's not all one flat base of him cussing like a sailor and screaming his head off, remembering this and *what* exactly makes him tick helps me when deciding how I should write him reacting to certain situations. There's other instances where he's clearly panicked and flustered, stuttering and rambling because of high stress situations such as when Daisuke is on the brink of death and it's all his fault, which we'll get to later.

Hopelessness

Something I noticed when going back through everything is Jimmy seems completely and utterly hopeless about everything in his life. It starts out in the cockpit scene, one of the very few times he's genuinely vulnerable.

This line initially just seems like Jimmy is some power tripping guy who likes being the right hand man to the Captain, which is entirely possible (and true, given how quick he is to assume the Captains role himself), but it leads me to suspect something else as well.

These are out of order, but I think like this is better demonstrates Jimmy has never really felt the sense of control over his life like he has until he got this gig with Curly. He feels comfortable like this, which is why Curly wanting to "throw it all away" in his eyes baffles him. I really wish the devs gave some insight to what Jimmy's life on Earth was, why *he* ran from it all to assume a position where he felt he was finally in the drivers seat.

When Jimmy is faced with the reality of what he's done, his first worry is when he gets back home, he'll be caged in the same position he was, back at square one with no control over his life, rotting in a prison. Even if he did get out, as he said, none of it will matter, not with an assault on his permanent record. Maybe he held onto hope that he and Curly would find something new to do, but because he made the choice to force himself on Anya, that'll never happen. His knee jerk reaction to that? Kill himself. Kill himself and take everyone down with him, because if he's not in control, he may as well be dead. "The Tulpar crew was never found."

Remorse

Jimmy isn't entirely uncaring for what he's done. He suffers delusions for each and every one of the people he fucked over, all except Anya. Instead, he sees visions of the child he created, the ever looming reminder of what he did, no matter how hard he tried to block out Anya from his mind, it will always, always haunt him. Him crying to Curly and pleading forgiveness from someone who can't properly give it to him anymore is already a sort of in your face scene, that and the scenes with the horse delusions.

I want to talk about Daisuke and Swansea actually, as he had a much more direct role in their ends. In his mind he can say, oh, Curly ran in and did that to himself, oh, Anya swallowed those pills and did that to herself. It's Daisuke and Swansea who show up more broadly as themselves in his delusions as he was the sole reason for their passing. As Daisuke is dying, he is incredibly distressed the entire time.

Daisuke being so prominent in his mind has always struck me as interesting, seeing him in the vent, a grave, in the graveyard, all the flowers, the real genuine panic when trying to fix what he did. He never wanted him to die, he obviously feels immense guilt in making him crawl through that vent.

As for Swansea, Swansea can read him like a book, and he lets Jimmy know exactly what he thinks of him before he's shot and killed. He appears in the graveyard with Jimmy, also leaving a lasting impact on Jimmy's psyche.

To say Jimmy feels nothing over what he's done, or that he wouldn't care about people dying or anything like that is wrong on so many levels when the entire last half of the game focuses on him having to literally fight his own demons. It all culminates into him saying he fixed everything, deluding himself into being a hero as some sort of final comfort to his broken mind before he offs himself, "saving" Curly after dismembering him as if that makes up for all his wrongdoings. Jimmy is so layered and interesting and human, and that's what makes him a fantastically written character. It's what allows you to see yourself in him and reflect, see those insecurities he harbors, those toxic traits he exhibits, every little ugly part of him meant to be a mirror to your own actions. Denying him his humanity and making him an emotionless, aggressive, constantly angry person strips him of everything he's meant to be.

Sorry for the huuuuge yapsesh, but I thought going over these would be fun, it also helps me keep my characterization of him as accurate as I can possibly make it. If you have any thoughts let me know!!! I am very very invested in him and I love to hear what others think of him, even if I may agree or disagree.

[manic-sapphic]

my biggest thing in spop is catradora, can't lie, catra's the main tbh, just cause of the way it's nice to see a character portrayed in a way so real & honest & that allows viewers to (hopefully) notice that, yes, they are flawed. but also,

"i know you're not a bad person, catra."

this idea of perfection is one i think is actively questioned throughout the series in many ways. prob has a lot to do w nate's background so i kinda get it. but even as someone who loves catradora so damn much - i actually have no problem at all with entrapdak. i'm happy as hell for them.

cause hordak definitely perpetuated a cycle of abuse, same as shadow weaver, and not just for catra or adora, every last orphan he inducted into the horde. but the key difference in my mind?

shadow weaver knew exactly what she was doing in the sense she knew the effect it would have & that's why she did it. to achieve that effect. much like horde prime himself. hordak may have been trying to achieve a certain effect/goal/whatever for years - but it was all done in a blindly brainwashed need to prove himself to a figure that only ever kept him around as a pawn to serve his own purpose.

just like with shadow weaver & catra. adora too.

truly glad you put this out there tho cause i don't see much of the fandom addressing this sort of thing so, cool to see others are chillin with me on the same page. but i hope i don't offend w the lil addition that, yes it is a cartoon & they are fictional characters - but also, every last character in media is fictional. even if it claims to be reality tv. being a cartoon shouldn't take away from the weight of the messages carefully attempted to be woven throughout, no matter what age group the rating's at. some lady who was a librarian told me once there's a bunch of stuff they have to place in the children's literature section just cause the main characters are kids/teens, despite how deep it often might get.

so i dunno i'd say "taking it too seriously" so much as personally feeling at times that people are "missing the point."

Let's talk about Catra and Hordak

Since this is where most of the drama comes from

It's no secret that Entrapdak shippers are anti-catradora and vice versa. Why? Mainly, the issues people have within these ships are not the ships themselves, but the characters within them; mainly Catra and Hordak. Entrapdak shippers hate Catra because of the toxic relationship she had with Entrapta and other characters. Because of what she did to Entrapta, tasing her and sending her to beast island, and how she just got worse and worse in season 4.

The same could be said about Hordak, regarding the Catradora shippers who despise Hordak for most of what he's done. It's no secret he took over the scorpion kingdom, created the Fright Zone, and brainwashed and conditioned a lot of Etherians into believing the cause, just as Horde Prime did to him. And a lot of that was the cause of a lot of Adora and Catra's issues.

Here's the thing though

I really think Hordak and Catra are similar in a lot of ways. Both grew up in a abusive environment forced to portray themselves as perfect in order to no longer face any abuse from their respective "mentors".

But both Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime would never see either of them as nothing but inferior.

They both suffered years of abuse, Hordak perhaps even longer. And yes, the actions of Hordak had contributed to Catra's abuse as well, but it is a cycle. A cycle they both decided to break.

Catra overheard Shadow Weaver telling Adora that she was a distraction to her, then leaving. Leaving, because she wasn't going to be a part of Shadow Weaver's manipulation any longer. And yes, she may have left due to that very manipulation, but eventually she stays, at the very end, together with Adora.

Then there's Hordak

Ever since meeting Entrapta again, he chooses to hide his returned memories this time and at the end, when Entrapta is being held in front of him and prime, finally he sees the error of his ways, breaking the cycle quite literally. By throwing prime off the ledge.

He does this great speech about giving himself a name, a life, making a friend. He defies Horde Prime's will and finally, FINALLY breaks the cycle and gains control of his independence. And yes, there's that whole thing that happened after, but that was Prime, not him.

My point is, we should stop hating on each other and the characters because people, it's just a show, these are fictional characters with flaws that any person in real life would go through. Not to mention, again, how similar Catra and Hordak are.

If we hate on Catra for the things she did, we have to hate on Hordak for the things he did too. And vice versa. They both had terrible pasts, a long list of crimes, but they're making up for it in their own ways. Redemption is a long road, but it's a good one.

Anyway, this is just my opinion and analysis on the whole thing, you don't have to agree, but let's try to get along alright? Fandom fights and shipping wars are never fun and I really think you guys take defending and attacking a fictional character from a fictional show way too seriously.

I still love Entrapdak so much but I'm not gonna attack Catradora or Catra Enjoyers over it. And if they say something about Hordak or Entrapdak I don't like? The block buttons right there. There's really no need for so much drama guys.

Thanks for listening 🙏🙏🙏

[fumifooms]

Falin who cares too much and too little - analysis

Been stewing on Falin thoughts for a while, I know I have an interpetation on her that differs from many but I’m jumping into the fray. I think there’s a lot to be said about what we do see of Falin. This shorter Falin analysis I made is heavily encouraged prior reading. This analysis mainly explores her complex relationship with caring and so it’s sort of structured in two halves, with Faligon at the crux of it all.

Falin cares too little :

A lot of people assign Falin a people pleasing mindset and I… Don’t agree. We never see her care at all about people in her town or at the academy not liking her.

We do see her worrying about what people think of her… ONCE. And Laios comforted her, told her they didn’t matter and she should be proud of herself. She latched onto that hard. That’s why this scene was so important to be included during the dragon fight, relationship-defining; it’s always been them against the world. She grew to not care what others thought, to only focus on her close loved ones. No one else matters.

Laios’ words were her world. Her older brother who taught her how to feel comfortable with herself, who told her, you’re great, others are the ones in the wrong to not see that, I’ll always be with you, always be there for you. Older brother who always made great plans, who always knew more, who was better at wrestling to name the dogs, who she has always idolized. Laios who always spoke of traveling the world, to which she always said she wanted to follow. And she would, she’d follow him even if it meant leaving the academy and all she knew behind, she’d follow him to the ends of the world, and that’s what she did.

She didn’t care about showing to her classes or keeping up such appearances, she doesn’t even think of toning down her jumping into bushes when Marcille recoils, etc. She acts like an obedient pawn often, to her parent’s directives and then following Laios around no matter what he decides to do, but I don’t think the motivation is people pleasing, rather it’s being with & caring for her loved ones, and her go-with-the-flow attitude enhances the impression. Not that it’s as simple as that, mind you, but let’s talk about this for now.

Falin is perceived as selfless because we, the audience, have our perspectives revolving around the main people in her life (Laios, Marcille). They’re the ones she’s devoted to and people who care about her back a lot too, but to people like her classmates or the towspeople she probably must have seemed like someone who didn’t care about the people around her or her surroundings a lot, who just went on alone and did her own thing.

What matters to Falin? From what place does her kindness come from? Is a part of her keeping up appearances? And I think that’s the point, the horror of Faligon as well, that we can’t tell just how in control Falin the person is as the chimera (because we are shown that she’s in there, we just don’t know at what degree), that we don’t know her enough to be able to tell when she’s at her most genuine, her most raw. That even if you do settle on none of her being present as Faligon, we have to at least consider it, consider that she may be able to do something like this and have a part in it, brutal and uncaring. That even the lenses we see her through, the people who love her, may be unreliable.

And this is what’s very interesting about her too, she truly is so idealized by people around her as a saint. She’s so good and kind and caring to everyone etc etc etc. Laios, Toshiro and Marcille all see her as the paragon of goodness in the world. More cynical characters like Namari and Chilchuck have more layered opinions on her, the latter finding her somewhat unnerving because he can’t read her well. But then with that one flashback scene we see that… Her priorities are intensely focused on Laios and Marcille, she doesn’t care all that deeply about anyone other than them (+ maybe her parents). The rest of the party is in the same danger here but only Laios and Marcille who she’s speaking to get the special ,ention, and if they don’t cross her mind then of course she’d be ready to sacrifice strangers through a risky teleportation. That doesn’t make her not kind or caring!! Just that greater good isn’t exactly her priority. Any means is alright if the end result is her loved ones safe, it usually takes the form of healing and caring, but we see she’s ready to fight and make dangerous calls too. To me there’s this aspect to her that she isn’t as pure and magnanimous as everyone thinks she is, both in-world and interestingly enough meta wise as well, and there’s something interesting to that.

People pleasing implies a need to be liked, needs for the motivation to be that. A yes-man, etc. But if we analyze Falin, her general kind, smiling demeanor is more a matter of passivity I yhonk. Conflict avoidance is easier, so she’s friendly and hopefully things’ll be smooth sailing. It’s easy to be kind to classmates even if they act wary and rude if you don’t care about what they think either way. Of course she prefers good things happening to people over bad things, she is genuinely kind, but I think people tend to assign her a very grand altruistic way of life when to her the motivation is pretty self-centered. She doesn’t do what she does because she loves them, but because she loves them.

One situation that’s interesting to dig into for her way of thinking, and what I’m trying to get at, is Shuro’s proposal to her. I’ve seen people saying she hesitated because she didn’t feel comfortable saying no even though she wanted to, "I can’t say no, I don’t want to hurt him", something that sounds sensible and familiar, but it’s actually canon in the Adventurer’s Bible that the reverse was the case, that she didn’t feel comfortable saying yes. Because the offer was tempting, but it’d have been a loveless agreement on her end. And it makes sense she’d want to say yes too, like we see with the Toudens, marriage is very much a political strategical economical thing in their village, there’s even a bit on it on Laios’ Adventurer’s Bible profile about dowries, and both siblings were engaged very early. They lived poorly for a long time, it’s an enticing idea to marry rich, to have not only yours but your brother’s needs met forevermore easily, which at one point in their careers was their main worry and goal. Why shouldn’t she accept a life of leisure and wealth handed to her by a lovely friend?

So her hesitance was "yeah that’s convenient for me, but where it’s everything to him and heartfelt I’m able to be detached because I don’t care about it that much… Can I do that? I’m not reciprocating, not saying yes in the way that matters. Can I do that to him?" Very caring even though it’s not what you’d expect, isn’t it?

And central to my analysis, where I’m going with this is, I feel like that’s the thing with her character, that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she "should" sometimes, or feels a different way than she "should", or at least that she feels that way and others say she does. She didn’t mind suddenly leaving the academy, leaving Marcille behind and not seeing her for 4 years. She acted like it was no big deal that she sacrificed herself after getting resurrected after the red dragon fight. And in both those cases it upset the people around her greatly that she didn’t seem to get why it was such a big deal, didn’t seem to care about how they’d experienced her choices.

So it’s a tendency… And it’s not that she doesn’t care, it’s just that the way she measures what’s good for the ones she loves isn’t the same as what they themselves think it is (like Laios and Marcille not wanting to be apart from her). It’s an overt but quiet kind of care, it’s doing things like following them around and making sure they bathe and have a meal, even if that means she has to be dragged into misery too.

So yes she probably would know "not caring enough/the right way" is one of her perceived flaws, and that informs how she tries to handle her response to Shuro’s proposal. Her not wanting to accept like her first gut instinct, is because she’s thinking about reciprocity, about if it’d be right to go into this knowing that they have different priorities and she might not be able to keep up with the type and amount of emotions he wants/expects from her. And that’s a big part of her character isn’t it, having expectations pushed onto her. Her trying her best, but in her own way that may seem odd or even unfeeling. Not unlike when she exorcised the ghost as a kid too, unblinking and matter-of-factly, and not seeming to understand why people stared the way they did.

Even though she answered his proposal only post-canon, she’d been pondering it for a while even pre-canon and the Adventurer’s Bible explanation was released midstory, so I’m hesitant to assign her much growth about her hesitation and what I went on above, since she still didn’t react "right" with Laios after the red dragon fight (even if she apparently doesn’t remember sacrificing herself) and put herself in that situation in the first place. She hasn’t finished her arc on that flaw of hers is what I’m saying, she for sure still has it, but I certainly think her thoughts on Shuro’s proposal shows awareness, both of herself and social.

And awareness is a big analysis key word with Falin, especially here it can be hard not to conflate not caring with not knowing. How socially aware is she? It’s rather layered, because canonically she wasn’t aware of her ostracization in her hometown at all, and we’re not sure if she knew Shuro was interested in her before he proposed, but she generally seems more socially aware than Laios. She tags along on his caravan job to make sure he isn’t being mistreated (though doesn’t ask he get a salary), she catches social faux-pas more easily like in the genderbend magic mirror omake with Shuro, and interestingly enough she’s very good at empathizing with her parents and understanding their perspective. We see when she’s worried about Marcille coming that she does know about propriety and how appearances shape impressions. Being a chief’s daughter must at least have taught her a thing or two on that front.

She never stands up for herself, but when it comes to defending others she worries, strategizes and explains.

And this sort of understanding is part of why I think she’d notice the expectations pushed onto her like I was saying earlier, notice how she makes people feel when she’s careless. But if she changes anything about herself in response to noticing is for her to choose, and generally I think it’s a sort of inbetween of yes and no: that she becomes more complacent but also more reserved, complying but by hiding more of herself passively. She’s not sure wether to accept or reject Shuro’s proposal, doesn’t want to lead him on? She’ll just be taking a while to silently consider it, try to keep things as they are for the time being. The third, less conflicting option. She doesn’t feel heard by Marcille who keeps infantilizing her? Just bear with it. Retract yourself emotionally. Settle for it.

We see that when she was young she had a tendency to not read a room, and I think that’s here too. She doesn’t get why her nonchalance upset others but that doesn’t change that she doesn’t want them upset or hurt, so she tries, albeit in maybe a roundabout way. She always had a hard time deeply connecting with people, often keeping herself some amount of emotionally distant: erasing herself from the equation, from the two-way trade that relationships are and making it a onesided thing instead, where all their needs and emotions are directed towards her but she only lets out a bit of her own show. She takes everything upon her and deals with it and tries not to give others this same burden, though not on a conscious level, it’s just that she’s learned growing up that she doesn’t have much agency.

Like I went into with my analysis linked at the beginning, I think Falin is used to just taking what she can get and not asking for more, when it comes to social bonds. She’ll take spending time with her mother no matter what it is they do, she’ll follow Laios to the graveyards and stick by him even when he’s pushing her away (because he doesn’t want her borrowing his book or "No copying!" or such). Her father was always distant, cold and uncommunicative, her mother was considered sick from anxiety and the exorcism attempts were the main way they spent time together, at dinner tables there were only her and Laios. The dogs picked on her too even if she loved them— And so did the townspeople, maybe that being normal to her at home is why she didn’t notice the ostracization she suffered.

She’s always been the last to be asked about decisions or what she wants, never asked to play with at recess, neither her father or Laios asked before sending her to the academy or leaving the village. At home, in the hierarchy she was considered to be below the dogs by the dogs themselves, as someone they can disrespect. Dogs learn from example and behavior, so this means Falin must have been pushed around a lot, and that the family didn’t try hard to rectify the dogs’ misconception, likely worsened by Laios regularly wrestling with her as a competition.

So for example when Falin showed Marcille food, it was her way to implicitly ask to have lunch with her without voicing that question, without daring to take up space. Someone’s presence isn’t something you ask for, it’s something that’s bestowed upon you, you can follow them around but you can’t ask them to stay or to come with.

She’s used to her needs and wants not being listened to, so she’s learned to have less wants. Caring less about herself, caring less about other people beyond her safe zone, was a defense mechanism in part. She has a sense of learned helplessness too, like how when Marcille came to take her away from Laios, even though she didn’t want to leave with Marcille it felt so determined and unshakable to her that whatever Marcille decided Falin would have to comply with.

And still, it’s the "marrying you would be awfully convenient if it wasn’t that I’d feel guilty for not loving you back, the way you wanted me to when you proposed to me" and the "I don’t regret leaving the academy and leaving you behind without goodbyes but I’m sorry that you’re so much more upset about it than me". It’s the guilt of not loving people back the way they want to be, with the same intensity or fervor.

It’s the autism it’s the aroace of it all, it’s the emotional stunting and confusion but the pit in your stomach telling you you did something wrong again. The no object permanence even for people you love even for 4 years, it’s the feeling like you’re somehow at fault for someone having fallen for you and not knowing what to do with any of it. I’m not joking btw it isn’t uncommon for autistic people to not see their close friends for a long while, not having missed them all that much and for that to be really hurtful for the other if they notice/ask about it. "Hiii bestie! Oh umm you’re uh more emotional about this than I expected, hopefully you won’t feel alienated by me not feeling as intensely about it…"

So… Yeah. I think she thinks of things and relationships in a different way than most people, and beyond "good things happening to people is good" I don’t think she actually cares about people all that much. I’d argue that Laios shows more desire to connect with others and make relationships. And just like with Laios and his own issues with humans, that doesn’t mean her kindness is a lie or ungenuine or worthless! It just means that like, well it’s pretty straightforward really, she’s not all that social and doesn’t see casual bonds as meaning all that much and whatnot. She does want to see people happy, but it’s not as much like… A conviction or goal. She’s too laser focused on a select few people. "It’s not that they’re bad people, they just aren’t interested in humans."

And sometimes it feels like people get defensive about Falin in a meta way too, like if you ever so much as imply Marcille isn’t her whole world or that she isn’t the kindest soul out there then you’re saying she doesn’t care at all or she’s evil. And that’s actualy exactly the sort of vibe I wanted to get through with my analysis above here actually haha, that she does care and she is kind but it’s not in a way that’s quantified or understood in a way that makes people feel comfortable. In a way, that makes people feel insecure because they don’t have the same logic as her, don’t show love the same. And I think this is another stellar depiction of autism, of parts of it that feels unpalatable to many, if I’m making sense. The fandom idealizes her as well, which isn’t uncommon or surprising for the character embodying the trope of the perfect beloved to rescue.

And disclaimer, as I said in the tags I feel like the details of Falin are pretty vibe based when it comes to analysis, there’s absolutely a valid angle where she does super care about everyone always, feel free to disagree with me on the overarching angle of my analysis. There’s enough supporting evidence to tip the balance either way I think, and the reason I’ve chosen this angle is I feel it’s more compelling for the themes in Dunmeshi of idealization and being different, of desires vs wants, and because I think it neatly ties up Falin’s character arc as I’ll go over throughout the next section…

So.

Not feeling as much as she should. And……. Is this not Faligon pushed to the max?

You can’t tie down a dragon. As the chimera, she gets to just not care about everyone else and be on her merry way.

Part of it I think is finding comfort and freedom in the mindlessness, in not having the burden of feelings and connections and a consciousness (despite still ending up seeking those in a stranger, Thistle). Like when she’s dead in the purgatory as well, she gets to just… Hang around and do whatever. Similarly to when she played in the forest instead of going to class in her academy days. That’s what freedom and peace of mind looks like to her. Why she decides to roam post-canon, if only now with the goal to find herself instead, with her mind in tow and somewhere to go back home to.

There’s excellent analytic framing out there about how of course, Dungeon Meshi has a big theme of grief and letting go, and… Falin was always a symbol narratively, idealized by characters and often underconsidered by them despite their love. It was Falin’s choice to sacrifice herself for Laios, she thought it was worth it, knowing that it would be her end. Her resurrection and the process of it intertwining her soul with a dragon’s wasn’t done with her consent, and the subsequent opening it gave her to become a chimera puppet. She’s stripped of her agency consistently, and so… It’s very noteworthy that the final choice, of wether to go back to life or to stay dead, in that purgatory scene, was up to her. And she chooses life, but I do think about her in those fields and how at home she seemed there. Peaceful, by herself in a vast calm expanse she could explore, free.

Personally, I think freedom is Falin’s own subconscious selfish desire. And though to us becoming the chimera is obviously a shackle, I think it felt like freedom to her somewhat, too.

And if you think I’m going wildly off the rails here I want to talk about Laios’ wish of becoming a monster. And to be clear before getting into it, being mentally a monster is absolutely a big part of the appeal for Laios, it’s something that’s consistently referred to, something especially pointed out in the werewolf monster tidbit with Lycion. Right panel is from that, but left panel is from the extra with Izutsumi where Lycion talks about suppressing souls in a beastkin body, the human or the beast soul.

Finding comfort and freedom in being mindless, less sentient, less aware? While being unaware in her hometown might have saved Falin a lot of heartache although perhaps stunted her emotional growth, it’s always been Laios’ curse.

Actively, through his choices, he seeks to grow closer to people, to form deeper bonds, to understand and be undertood, but… On a deep seated level, what he desires is to leave humanity and civilization behind. He has an irrational hatred for humans, born from the trauma of ostracization, being different, being beaten up and rejected consistently through his life. Running away from problems is easier. He wants to be free from being a social animal from a social species who has deemed him the black sheep, he thinks it’d be simpler to just leave it all behind, people and his own humanity. At its core, to Laios becoming a monster is a power fantasy, a coping daydream of "if only I could be strong enough to never be hurt again, the power to destroy anything I want, the power to go somewhere better, if only it was possible for me to never feel hurt again. If only I could be someone, something, that can never be hurt". "If there’s someone you don’t like, you can gobble ‘em up in one bite. If you could fly, you’d be able to leave this village right now." It’s a childhood fantasy, from a deep sense of being misplaced and a desire to be able to stand fearless, thinly covering up resentment that Laios represses.

But you’ll notice, when the Winged Lion is enticing him in the last page, even now with his lifelong wish of becoming a monster on a silver plate, he still cares about his friends. He still has that sense of responsibility to his friends, doesn’t want to leave knowing they’ll be in danger and alone. The offer that his friends may be left unharmed is already good, but Laios also visibly flinches when the Winged Lion offers to specifically care after Marcille and rid her of her biggest fear. Laios’ care runs that deep. Not unlike with the succubus, he resists temptation until he gets reassured that everyone will be okay. But see, what he desires isn’t to stand alongside Marcille until her last days, it isn’t to stay and see how well his friends will live, it’s to go. It’s to leave. It’s to fly away, a monster both in body and mind. He wants to be free from caring here, wants to not have to worry about his friends, wants to just go do his own thing, but for that he needs to feel safe in the belief that said friends will be safe even without him being there to see it, because despite everything else he cares, he does. It’s again that dichotomy about caring and wishing you didn’t, or not caring and wishing you did.

In the end, it’s Falin who achieves that wish. Both by becoming a chimera during canon, and by going traveling post-canon. In the latter, being both free of human relationships as something chaining you while still being uplifted by them, by the knowledge that there are people out there you love and that love you. It’s a theme that can also be connected with Marcille, because she gets anxious over people she loves getting out of her sight, worrying they’ll get themselves killed, that time is passing while they’re away from her. But before she can get to the point where she can both have her freedom and being uplifted by her social bonds, regaining both her individuality and her connections, she has to get a taste of just one at a time. Before they can find balance in her life, she has to see what it’s like to have what she’s never had on its own. Unapologetic freedom, and power.

No one can blame you for not caring enough or caring right if you’re a fricking dragon!!!! You make the rules when you’re a beast and you can just… Fly away. From anywhere, from anything. And if a dog bites you you can just crush it. Instead of being pushed around by the dogs because you’re at the bottom of the hierarchy, you’re now at the top, the one with the power to be heard and do what you want without consequences.

I think she’s on autopilot. I think she’s on autopilot a lot of the time, even before being a chimera, and it’s partly why her will is so weak compared to regular dragons. (Again, read my shorter analysis.) It’s familiar to slip back into the role of following someone around unquestioningly. And that’s what is weaponized when she’s a chimera, that instinct she’s been nursing all her life to unconditionally support, defend and follow someone. Only now, that someone doesn’t matter in itself, only the symbol of it. She doesn’t mind, either way is fine. Her will is weak after all, because she’s trained it to take as little place as it could.

Falin cares too much

She spends all her time caring for Laios and Marcille alternating that none of her care and emotional energy is left for others, including herself. So she had to get relieved of all of that for a bit, becoming the chimera so she could reset and recenter and remember that she, too, indeed, is there and an important part of her own life.

So you’re probably seeing the duality I’m talking about here, Falin is very self-sacrificial but for specific people in ways that they often don’t recognize or appreciate. She cares but selectively, both in people, putting all her eggs in the same baskets, and in the ways she cares after them. She doesn’t care a lot, but when she does she cares a lot. Falin doesn't have a lot of earthly attachments, but when she does, they're her world.

In canon her arc, especially post-canon, is to grow beyond Marcille and Laios. Her caring for her close loved ones held her back from looking after her own self-fulfillment needs. And this is what I mean when I say she cares too much; she could gain from caring more about the world besides Laios and Marcille, both lands wise and people wise. She cares too little, but her arc centers her flaw around caring too much instead. Her pitfalls that Kui highlight over the course of the story, while of course her selflessness is appreciated for how she saved Laios and everyone, on a personal level is shown to be self-effacing and damaging. She’s undermined by Marcille, without the courage to voice her thoughts and wants, she would dedicate her whole life to Laios. And I mean, it’s text, in the response to Shuro’s proposal extra no less. And she’s so laser focused on her most loved people that she’s fine with being callous and risking others’ lives, even.

Post-canon, she needs to leave to find herself, away from them.

Herself. What if she wants to just be with herself for a while.

And this is me reaching but I feel like, not unlike Izutsumi who learns to feel this sense of never being alone, always having someone on your side what with having two souls, the dragon in her would make her consider herself more. She finds it easier to care after other people after all, and in the purgatory fields sequence she takes care to bring the bit of dragon left with her… Not unlike with Izutsumi, having two souls forces you to think about your identity and figure yourself out. Besides being this sort of duo now, where if she wants to care after herself she can channel it to that other side of her too… In meta dragons are symbols of greed, and I think the bit of dragon would push her to want more and listen more to her desires, primal and self-serving as they might be. The dragon soul which warped her human body with feathers and draconic features, her image of perfection marred, her weirdness externalized in a way that’s not palatable. But she doesn’t care, about if her appearance is palatable for most people, she hasn’t for a while now, and that’s great.

Notes & nuance

I’m struggling with the structure of this post, making my points organized, concise and strong at once. It’s difficult to make any statement without going "things are generally like this, but there’s this time that this contradicting thing happened too" or "it’s ambiguous enough that you should just follow my interpretation for the time of this analysis" haha, so this is the pit where I put all the stuff that wouldn’t fit well in other places but are interesting for Falin’s character. This section is pretty separate from the main thesis of the post, it’s just more Falin observations. The post has reached the 30 pics limit so I can’t just pull it up whenever it’s relevant but I really encourage scrolling up to read the stuff I highlighted in her Adventurer’s Bible profile if you haven’t already.

I think with the shy-looking loner type autistic kid archetype, and knowing she didn’t seem to mind others ostracizing her, it’s easy to lose sight of how she was by no means an unemotional child. In all the bits we see of her as a kid she’s bursting with energy and emotions. Canon confirms Laios leaving the village did affect her and make her lonely and she cried a lot, too. She may not be social in the traditional sense, but she was clingy with her brother, and she also never was all that shy about who she was, wearing her heart on her sleeve.And okay. Okay okay okay. Speaking of appearances. About what I said of her not caring about what people think of her, even seeming defiant with the caravan leader… There’s one istanxe of her caring actually, and it’s about how her face blushes easily. I remembered it as being because Laios’ said it and as I rambled Laios’ words are her world, but actually it’s ambiguous. It’s only Marcille imagining up this scenario where Laios says Falin looks weird because of it, there’s no evidence Laios said or thought that at any point. And on the other hand…

Her Adventurer’s Bible says: "5, Lovely Skin. She isn't particularly careful with it, but Falin's skin is fair and beautiful. Possibly as a result, her cheeks seem to flush easily. Marcille's always saying she's cute, and she secretly has a sizable complex about it." The phrasing makes me think the complex she has over her blushing might have developed because of Marcille more than Laios. "Marcille's always saying she's cute, and she secretly has a sizable complex about it." It could be related to how Marcille gets swept away and infantilizes her, calling her cute wanting her to wear cute feminine outfits etc. Again this feels like it relates to Falin’s struggle to be seen for who she is and what she wants to be seen as, her struggle to be recognized, having ideals and perspectives pushed onto her. Here Falin is insecure over her blushing implicitly because she doesn’t like being called cute over it, but that’s not how she wants people to see her. She doesn’t want Marcille to always see her as her 10 years old adorable friend. Like if your friend said you had puppy energy, it can be flattering, but it can also make you insecure.

Here’s a link to what I mentioned about her being uncomfortable wearing feminine outfits. It does seem to be more about comfort than the aesthetic perse, to me. Interestingly the shirt & shorts don’t seem like they show much more skin than her beach outfit, so maybe it’s more about the shirt and shorts being tight-fitting. Like the skirts and heels they feel stifling. Again a bit with themes of freedom and not wanting an aesthetic pushed onto her. So yes just to reiterate, I think this is more about self-affirmation and how her identity and self-image gets shown to others, rather than wishing to hide parts of her body like her blushing etc for people pleasing reasons. Makeup was a way for her to appear how she wants to and feel more confident. It was a way to take control over her own image. She didn’t keep doing it, the narrator stating the process to be ‘troublesome’. Ultimately she still prioritizes her comfort, and it was a lot of recurring efforts to go through.

And on the topic of appearances… A friend once asked me: "Does she really hide herself or not? I keep thinking about "falin is herself first and foremost" (in her Adventurer’s Bible profile) it’s just so. Hmmmmmmmm... I just keep seeing people say she hides her real self from people when I feel like the issue is more about her charitable traits straying too far into becoming flaws but people around her dont realize that..."

Imo the thing is, I don’t think she hides her identity, but I do think she suppresses her individuality for others’ sakes if that makes sense. In the way that only post-canon does she allows herself to go see what the world is like, but that’s not personality wise it’s needs and wants wise. And I do feel like that’s the closest interpretation of canon, she says it herself she doesn’t know what she wants because everything she’s done was always about Laios or Marcille, but she doesn’t change her demeanor or personality for others. But she *will*, like, not ask for things she wants directly, like sharing lunches with Marcille at the academy, she suppresses her wants, doesn’t ask things from people and doesn’t hope for more, hope for better. I don’t think we ever see her actively repress her personality, except like what, being more laidback than enthusiastic but I do feel like unlike Laios with her it’s less ‘appearing stoic to fit in more’ and more ‘yeah i’ll just chill until I’m needed or something activates my enthusiasm’. To which said friend quoted: "to feel like you belong you need to be useful. when you can’t be useful the next best thing is being convenient."

And speaking of passivity… I want to speculate about Shuro’s proposal some more. Shuro and her got along well though we don’t know how much, or how often they hung out, she even saved him from a nightmare. Why did she take so long answering Shuro’s proposal? Was it an effort to preserve or was she really just that conflicted? Procrastination probably yes, but what is the core motivation of itl Considering she ended up saying no to travel the world instead, I don’t think it was as simple as ‘she wanted to say yes for convenience’. Logically it’s what would have been best, but it’s not what she wanted for herself, but it was and still is hard for her to even know what she wants. Probably, since like she states it was a great offer and she doesn’t think she’ll get proposed to again, it’s that self-effacing tendency that yes it’d be convenient and logical, and that makes her want to say yes even if her spirit isn’t in it, because if it’s convenient then that’s more important than her feelings on the matter. Man also… Obviously Marcille is very vocal about how she shouldn’t get with Shuro, but imagine how Falin’s whole perspective on marriage must have felt when her only friend ever is a Romantic with a capital R who gushes about idealized romances and grand gestures and True Love and doing things with fully pure feelings all the time.

AND speaking of passivity!!! How much Falin is "there" as the chimera, just how much she’s master of her actions, is left ambiguous and intentionally so imo, but she’s for sure there & influencing the dragon’s action to some degree. Having a dragon’s foot on her in purgatory that keeps her from moving for sure visualizes how it must have been like, but there’s Falin calling out to her brother Laios, there’s the kind attentions towards Thistle that are so Falin-like, and most explicitly there’s the Adventurer’s Bible stating "Even after becoming a chimera, she has a soul that's as kind as ever", which I honestly dislike, a fantranslation puts it as "Even as the chimera, her caring nature remains" and either way to me it feels like confirmation that it’s her giving those berries to Thistle. Now, wether or not she has the mental capacity of a chicken or something closer to human Falin, no clue, there has to at least be some kind of mind bond between monsters and the dungeon lord, compelling or forcing them to go along with orders, or calling her to him in distress like with the fight on the first floor. But yes, it’s interesting to wonder what it is that a Falin, with her kind soul but without her human mind, would willingly do. On her profile, she’s described as Thistle’s guardian and servant. The power dynamic between the two are very interesting, I already went into how it might have felt like freedom to her while being fake so I’ll reign myself in and just mention it again. She’s still at the heel of someone, only now it’s someone who doesn’t care about her back. Going from being cared for so strongly that it’s suffocating and they would defy death and the world for you, to being devoted to someone who has not one feeling about you besides your utility as a paw . She has all this care to give and to focus onto others and he has none to send back to her and I think that’s part of it. In a way, being left with only her own feelings and a void, without expectations or feelings or ideals pushed onto her, it might have been soothing in itself, and eye opening. But yes the way I think of it, her care for Thistle isn’t unlike the care she gives the ghosts.

Interestingly, the care she extends for the ghosts is sending their soul to a peaceful death, freeing them, of life and any earthly attachment. Take that as you will with the themes of freedom and burden of life and mind, immortality and becoming a warped version of who you were, and such and such.

But going back on the topic of connections and bonds for a bit, I think academy days Falin & Marcille is super interesting bc we’ve never really see Falin form a connection besides with Marcille and even that is kept pretty ambiguous. When was the point that Falin started seeing Marcille as a friend and seeking her out? When was the "I’ll lay down my life for you" point? I’m so fascinated by how she wanted to share lunches with Marcille but never truly asked, only made little "hey want this? I found it isn’t it cool?" gestures of showing things to her… It’s the only way she knows to ask, or maybe it’s the only way she feels comfortable to. In all the scenes of young Falin and Marcille Falin seems comfortable in her friendship with Marcille, but at the same time… I think we see Falin at her most insecure around Marcille, because she really does care about Marcille and what she thinks of her so much, and while Marcille is a bit of an unstoppable force tornado style (affectionate) Falin is something of a doormat. I’d usually say showing her berries was her earnest way to connect and be like "Hey bestie look at this! :]" , but there’s a real possibility that she was self-conscious and holding herself back.

Friendship and Marcille! Involving Laios into this too but, again with the autism thing of not showing you care in ways that others understand, Marcille being very overtly affectionate and clingy was so so soo important… Marcille keeping on hanging out with Falin and caring after her, and being undeterred/unbothered by Falin not always seeming like she cares all that much back in the conventional way, as in Falin acts nonchalant and a bit like she didn’t mind wether she was there with her or not during her outings to the cave dungeon. Caring and being clingy and so affectionate despite that in such a classic Marcille way is soo needed, because so often people will get discouraged by say, their friend not keeping in contact regularly/well, seeming disaffected or as happy-go-lucky as ever even if you haven’t seen each other in a while or when they’re alone, and yes there’s potential for a strong friendship there but someone like Falin won’t be committed enough to reciprocating attention the same way… I hope I’m making sense but yes this angle in particular strongly correlates to autism. And the way Marcille always initiates physical affection, both Toudens being awkward about initiating touch because they don’t know if that’s allowed, if they’re going about the social interaction the right way, if they’re allowed to ask that out of someone…

Another fun observation to make is about the 4 years Falin and Marcille spent apart. Marcille despite being of a long-lived race treated these 4 years of separation with more gravity than Falin did. Falin brushed it off very dismissively to say the least. But then you remember that the amount of time Falin and Laios didn’t see each other after he left the village was 8 years. Double the years, double the time. And that reminder makes Falin’s actions so starkingly understandable. Of course she wouldn’t see 4 years of separation as a long time if 8 years of separation with her beloved brother is her point of comparison. Of course she’d see it as worth it to leave Marcille for 4 years if it meant ending those 8 years instead, especially if she was worried about him (the reason why she followed him into his caravan job).

A friend always says that while Falin is the center of Marcille’s world, Laios’ is at the center of Falin’s, and I tend to agree.

It’s fun to think of how her career dreams had always been shaped by Laios, even when they were kids. Of course there’s how traveling the world began as a dream they talked about and shared, but there’s how he reassures her by listing cool jobs she could do like traveling exorcist, etc. And then of course, she gave up on her magic academy and career path to follow him and do odd jobs, etc etc.

I should go into the violence of Faligon more tbh, because I think there’s an interesting parallel to how she has no problem wacking things with a mace, wether a ghost when she was a kid or a walking mushroom as an adult. Something that often surprises fans when they remember, I don’t really want to get into the whole " Falin hates violence and hates seeing people in pain to an intense degree. ‘If you die do it somewhere where I can’t see’ style’ interpretation, it has some weight but on the whole I don’t vibe with the theory she has a particular aversion to violence, she seems to be fine resorting to it as much as any other adventurer as long as it isn’t needlessly against ghosts. And Falin’s sudden mace hits are fun to me too because it’s not her becoming a berserker when the need arises as much as her becoming active because something she cares about is threatened, and that brings her out of her passivity from 99% of the rest of the time. Thistle included. Falin always could be violent, she just dislikes senseless carnage. The Shuro party vs chimera fight is a bit ambiguous on it, because you can argue she only attached after being provoked, presumably offscreen as well while the ninjas went off to fight the harpies. Falin becomes the most active when she needs to protect someone, she has no qualms doing whatever’s needed for that, wether it be leaving the academy & Marcille without notice no matter the consequences or what her parents think, or teleporting the party, etc.

I’m working on a post specifically pointing out all the differences between Falin and Laios, but yes I think both of them selfishly desire freedom in different yet similar ways. Falin’s dark secret is "Ethics and risks are optional if it means I can protect those I love" like the teleportation, and Laios’ is "Ethics and risks are optional if I can be free of all this bullshit" aka humanity aka his wish with the winged lion.

Conclusion

Flighted birds have hollow bones. With freedom and wings there comes risks and sacrifices.

Tldr: Falin doesn’t care all that much, she’s very go with the flow. For example if someone hates her she doesn’t really care because that’d require her caring about what they think of her in the first place, and she only cares about her loved ones. She smiles, but it’s more a state of being rather than out of active goodness: she’s canonically very genuinely kind, but it’s more out of a general want for pleasantness than active care itself. She’s passive, and softspoken because that’s just how she seems, but she has no problem hopping into bushes or getting heated if something calls to her enthusiasm or calls for action and a hit of the ol’ mace. Her loved ones needing tending or protective is what makes her go from passive to active. That familiar autopilot mode of making someone the center of her world and following their every move is what made her so easy to be controlled as the chimera, even ferociously defending him with her life. Faligon is most interesting to me with the theme of freedom. She’s shackled to Thistle and out of her mind, but there’s also a sense of empowerment and freedom from expectations and society. She spends all her time caring for Laios and Marcille alternating that none of her care and emotional energy is left for others, including herself. So she had to get relieved of all of that for a bit, becoming the chimera so she could reset and recenter and remember that she, too, indeed, is there and an important part of her own life. There’s a way of caring after others that can be selfish, not unlike Marcille being overly coddling and not listening to Falin. In Falin’s case, I think it was so selfless that it ended up looping back around to erasing her sense of self. In losing sight of herself, that devotion becoming neither quite selfish or selfless but a fact of life and a state of nature, muddled by its lack of direction.

She’s sooo used to never being able to ask things out of others, you get the crumbs of affection and approval that others offer to you unprompted and that’s it don’t hope for more don’t ask for more. (Also reflected in how she follows her loved ones around without complain or personal opinions and how she’s not willing to rock the boat and affirm herself in her relationships like with Marcille during canon)

Falin cares so much, so much and so laser focused on her few loved ones that it blinds her and she loses sight of everything else, she ends up neglecting herself and the rest of the world. As Kui puts it, Falin is herself first and foremost. She just had to remember the importance of that.

-

I see her as an enneagram 9, which can be surprisingly accurate and fun to research through the lense of Falin. Excerpt below from this book, but like my god, good way to put it

That’s it, ty for reading. Even if it’s a bit of a mess, hopefully you’ll have gained a thing or two from it. Falin is a character hard to pin down, but it is very gratifying when you find the way that the puzzle pieces fit together right for your own understanding of the story. Fantranslation of the shuro proposal comic by @/thatsmimi here.

Here’s my spotify playlist for her if you’d like

Sometimes love is about letting go, a lesson a lot of the cast needed to learn. Self-love’s important too, and just like with diets we need a healthy balance.