#but it is also Very Very Different when its her going through this

[meansevika]

okay so very long thinkpiece about meljay and jayce' treatment of mel / the writers treatment of mel and how i think that all things considered she hasnt really won as much as we think she did

the thing about this that makes me so mad or rather sad (both, actually) is that we learn in season 1 how mel was brought up, that she didn't get to be soft and kind, that her surroundings were hard and rough just like her mother was, that love isn't a thing she knows like that especially not in relation to vulnerability. now if you think about media in general there is a pattern we know. the black woman is always the strong woman, the independent woman, the woman who doesnt get to be vulnerable bc of the first two points. so here comes this man she's trying to use not just for her own endeavors but for the good of piltover, clearly having a different mindset than her mother, and he cracks her open just like that. he's vulnerable with her and he lets her be vulnerable with him and it allows this woman this kind of vulnerability that she was never allowed to feel. she feels and she loves and there is someone who holds her and looks out for her when things go bad. he is his first thought after the bombing and hes so loving and endearing unlike her mother who is concerned, of course, but straight back to business too. and oh what a lovely thing that was to watch as a black woman who to this day still doesn't get to see this as often as we really should

so mel gets to experience something she hasnt before and you can tell it means something to her because when she gets back in act 3 the first reaction to him is an excited, hopeful one.

this is the man she cares deeply for and it is also the man who shes comforted before many times. something she needs in those very confusing times too. something she might be looking out for. something she might hope to get herself. some comforting after what shes been through for months. someone to share what is going on with her and how confusing it is to find out all those lies and secrets about herself.

until she notices how changed he is, how different he looks, so instantly she is worried. of course! who wouldnt be! she very likely didnt even know he was missing since its the first time we see her back in the city so she must've assumed he has been here and well for the whole time being (does she even know how long its been?) but it isnt fine as we know. she puts herself second! immediately! (and rewatching that scene now it actually makes me mad how she does that. and how anyone can question any of her feelings for him when shes immediately all jayce. or how in general people think shes only interested in her own goals) she asks this man who has shown her to be vulnerable around him and it BEING FINE, what happened, shes opening herself up to him, again, over and over, and he not only tells her it doesnt matter (what happened to him) but TURNS HIS BACK ON HER. he is literally shutting her off. he is saying with his body she does not get to do that. and for someone who has grown up like this, with a mother cutting off any kind of displays of weakness, this must be a familiar feeling, something that goes off like a bell

but she still tries! she still tries! she sees something is wrong but she tries to get comfort anyway, because this is jayce, right, this is the man she cares for deeply, the man who has opened this door for her and the door she's let herself through, the man who has always had compassion for her. of course she tries again. why wouldn't she? so she starts that something has happened to her but he doesn't even let her tell him what happened (actually it makes me so mad seeing this again and how crazy hostile he is towards her, its like im looking at the mel hating part of arcanetwt and him repeating beat for beat what theyve been saying for years) he doesnt give her room to speak, just takes it for himself, prioritizing himself and his own feelings. and, yes, figuring out the bombing thing and wanting to talk about it is valid and i think in general this could've been a great angsty way to deal with this topic IF they would've had the opportunity to talk this out properly but what happens instead is that the man that makes mel feel safe starts INTERROGATING her like she is a criminal that should be held for trial FOR SAVING HIM something she doesnt even undestand herself. and suddenly she is in a whole different position and i think by now she knows that this kind of compassion and understanding and room for vulnerability isn't part of their conversation anymore

she loses her composure and that of course isnt a first because she has started to be less put together around him, allowing her more room to "sway" but this kind of destruction is a different one because she feels at trial, feels cornered, feels like she has to explain herself but - and thats what is important - isnt heard. and i think that is something she knows very well, something shes grown up with, trying to explain herself and not being heard.

all of that happens while he is, mind you, still holding onto that hammer. something she surely notices too. the man who's usually quick to let down his defences around her, who isnt councilor talis or mister talis but just jayce around her, is holding onto that hammer like shes a threat. so he tells her he thinks shes lying and she asks him why he would think she'd do that, obviously, because her understanding of their relationship and their trust is a different one than his or at least this jayce that has come back from the arcane, because clearly this kind of understanding comes from somewhere and it comes from the times they've spent together alone throughout season 1 and a little in the beginning of season 2.

he throws at her that shes been using him, something that surprises her, because clearly she doesnt know what has happened, but she tries to explain anyway, because she doesnt know what has happened at least not in full (as you can tell by her reaction to viktor appearing, sensing the hostile mood between both, but also the way she reacts when viktor mentions the noxians intentions), and you can see that these thoughts of his are a result of months in the arcane alone with them and imagining conversations over conversations (although for me its still hard to understand how he grew that hostile towards her this quickly as if she were responsible for everything that happened but those are thoughts for a different post). he crashes out during that conversation, his face is warped with hatred and that is. all. for. her. to. see. and then BOOM goes the hammer off. mid conversation. a conversation that should feel safe with a man she should feel safe with but none of that is there. there is no space for her. (and yes i know hes aiming at viktors puppet but that isnt somethng mel is aware in that moment)

it all leads up to a fight and eventually they walk together and he apologizes, although very distantly and without much explanation, and despite it all, despite having good reasons to shut off and not share what she's feeling, she does. she talks to him about what is on her mind and they have a short, bittersweet exchange but it's just nowhere to what they've established in the first season. as a shipper of course that is super frustrating, but as a mel fan it's just sad to see that the person she felt safe enough to seek comfort in is just so closed off. but not only that, it's obvious they're parting ways and it's very obvious this is coming from his side and i think that is also why she so wilingly accepts it. she doesn't fight much back throughout their whole fight earlier either, she tries to explain herself, but doesnt demand that room for herself even though in this relationship she should be able to take just as much room for herself and her feelings as he does, but she doesn't. she just lets it happen and i understand it bc you have this man you trust and probably love and his first reaction to you is hostile when hostile has never been a response to her. he made a complete u-turn and of course that's off putting, maybe even scary, of course it shuts her down, makes someone who's so good with words and fighting just try to cause as little damage as possible because that is how she's grown up, isn't it?

and that is why i am sad about this. she learned that love doesnt have to look like her mothers and that being vulnerable isnt a weakness and its his doing but here she is met by this kind of hostility she only knows from noxus and it hurts even more that it COMES FROM HIM and over something as SAVING HIS LIFE when its clearly was an act out of love and not investment bc if i'd would've been just that than she would've saved viktor as well? but it wasnt about that. it was her subconscious making a decision and it was something her mother would describe as an act of weakness (theres a reason she gets renni to attack him bc she sees how fond mel of him is maybe even because shes been fond of a man herself once and she knows what itll do) and i think the worst part about it is that she doesnt ever get to truly articulate this or anything else and now that jayce is gone (dead? in a stone? who knows?) she won't get to ever probably. she won't get to say what she thinks and explain herself truly and she won't have anyone to confide in, to be comforted by or comfort. elora is dead, kino wasn't real and the real one is actually dead too, jayce is well whatever he is, and her mother died in her arms. yes, mel is a mage and that is fucking awesome and i was so happy to see her go off and get so many spotlights in battle, but shes also so fucking tragic actually. because here she is with a fuck ton of weight on her shoulders, the noxian army looking up to her, the whole name, not knowing who her father is or what any of her powers mean, the whole black rose thing, everything unresolved between her and jayce, the death of the people she loves, and shes all alone with it. shes all alone with it and she gets no one. man im just fucking sad that this woman got a glimpse of what it could be like to be loved and have someone to "come home to" just for her to have literally no one left like why do you hate black women so much why cant they get a fucking good ending and why cant they be fucking loved even when things get hard

also im lowkey mad that jayce got to find comfort in her lap so many times and not once did she get that in return, not even a squeeze of her shoulder, but dont let me get started on that....

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

— pt.2 : watch it all burn.

⟣・S2・HEAVY IS THE CROWN︰

THE SOUND OF screaming could be heard when you had awoken from being on the ground, your hair in a messy style as you couldn’t see your surroundings. was Jayce and viktor okay? was everyone alright? mel..? of course you wouldn’t know, everything in your body hurt, it felt like some sort of piece of metal lodged in your side.

Being a well trained solider had its many perks but you weren’t prepared for this. Of course you weren’t. like they say, the most unexpected things come.

For you though it felt a little far fetched whenever your mom would tell you the stories about the ghost and salem. Where the witch would be haunted down and hunted but towards the end they found her having did no wrong doing.

Sad tale it was. really.

Everything on your body hurt like hell, the only voice you could hear was Jayce’s. was he carrying you and viktor? probably.

That dude had some incredible strength.

JAYCE SITS IN a chair with his head in his hand, looking over at viktor who lays inside the hextech. seeing you and viktor in this condition was tearing him limb from limb, not in a gruesome way but a much more sadder way.

He had hated not being able to protect the both of you, it felt like hell. But you know, some things just come and go…you lay there on a bed with a bunch of iv’s attached to your arms and lower half, your hair was in a messy bun since Jayce had tried thing it himself.

Mel walks inside his office as she takes a look around, her eyes landing on Jayce. “How are they?” She questioned.

“Same as before. They’re both breathing.” Jayce answers in reply, a distressed look on his face. “Their pluses are consistent. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mines.”

Mel walks over to viktor, her eyes landing on the hextech as she starts reaching her hand out with curiosity. When she goes to touch it, it reacts differently with her making her gasp and step back.

“What’s it doing to him?” Mel questions.

“The hexcore has been evolving.” Jayce explains, “shifting through runic patters faster than I can keep up. All I know for certain is that it’s keeping him and her alive.”

Jayce eyes land on where you laid, his heart aching with devastation as he sees you reacting differently to the hextech aside from viktor, your body was rejecting it but also accepting it at the same time.

If it was the only thing keeping you alive he wasn’t gonna mess with it.

“It should be me up there instead of him. I should be laying in that bed instead of her,” Jayce grumbled, gesturing to an unconscious you on the bed barely breathing. “Vi and cait are gonna lose it.”

“Don’t say that.” Mel placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “They’ll both come back to us.”

“I still don’t understand.” Jayce replies. “They were both right next to me. How does the explosion do that to them, and I just…? I just walk out without a scratch? [name] almost lost a hand, my god.”

Mel sighs. “There’s no sense to these things, Jayce.”

The male was quiet for a while before speaking again, “how’d it go with the council?” he asks.

Mel scoffs. “My mother’s entered the game. She’s already gotten her hooks into salo. Using his grief to make a play for hextech.”

“Mel, I promised viktor, never again.” Jayce tells the woman.

Mel places her hand over his. “It’s all right. I handled it. I won’t let them corrupt your dream.”

Jayce looks over at an unconscious you again, before laying his head on mel’s thighs, tears threaten to fall down his eyes but he holds them back.

He just wanted you and viktor back, that’s all.

You were very important to caitlyn and vi after all.

“I should get going now.” Mel says, “you might want to spend some alone time with them.”

With that, she stood up and patted his shoulder one last time before walking out the door. The door slams shut behind her by itself, making Jayce flinch a little.

He feels you stir, his head perks up immediately.

When it does, he saw you already staring at him, a confused look on your gaze.

“What was that about?” You questioned, sitting up with your back pressed against the pillows. It was a little hard to breathe but it was manageable with the breathing machine.

“I don’t even care-- i just-- you’re--?” Jayce launches forward and pulls you into a huge, a huge so tight you had gasped. He wasn’t hugging you too tight as though you couldn’t breathe— he just hugged you with desperation and worry.

“Woah! hey, hey, it’s okay.” You reassured, patting his back. “I’m okay.”

He was so happy to hear your voice.

“ONE OF THE MANY PRIVILEGES OF SERVING AS YOUR COUNCILOR IS HAVING THE OCCASION NOW AND AGAIN TO STAND BEHIND THIS PODIUM TO BEHOLD SO MANY JOINED TOGETHER NOT BY BIRTH OR DICTUM BUT BY ALL THAT WE SHARE.” MEL SPOKE as you stood by the other guards to keep watch, your back was leaned against the wall as the wound with the patch on your side was being healed. Your biceps flexing under the light as your toned abs still hurting from the explosion, but the wounds would heal, you were sure.

You glanced down at the tattoo on your hip and let your thumb graze over it, remembering when it was given.

You see one of the enforcers walk past you, you look them up and down by their attire before your brows furrowed— something felt wrong.

Heading into the crowd you lock gazes with vi, the both of you nodding towards one another before following the enforcer. But another person caught your attention as well, making you turn around and face the other way.

“The hell..?” You whisper lowly.

You push past the crowd of civilians as your hips sway when walking, and you walked with a purpose.

To figure out who the hell these people were.

Walking over to the other enforcers you climbed over the railing, your thighs still hurting but of course you forgot to bring your crutches for support. But it’s whatever.

“Wait, wait, ma’am you can’t--“

“Excuse me, I’m an enforcer too.” You say firmly as your eyes narrowed at the man. “So I can get pass, just like the rest of you.”

“We can’t even go in, so we can’t let you in either.”one of the enforcers replies. “Plus, you’re still injured from the attack so…”

Your piercing (e/c) eyes looked into the man’s brown ones, making his eyes widen a little— least to say, he was intimidated.

“Move, please,” you pleaded this time. “I feel like something is very wrong.”

Caitlyn looks over her shoulder and noticed the panicked look on your face— you would never randomly fuss about anything.

She knew something was wrong.

“Awful, isn’t it?”

Jayce looks over his shoulder when he hears a woman’s voice.

“Losing a loved one.”

When Jayce slowly turns around, the woman slips off her mask as she grabs her chainsaw, swining it at Jayce who barely dodged out of the way quickly.

Everyone starts screaming and shouting, rushing off to find somewhere safe.

“Get all the civilians to safety.” You told the enforcers before turning around to go and find Jayce, your leg still hurting from the explosion. you couldn’t walk around with a weak and injured leg but you thought against it.

“Jayce!” You shouted, searching for him. “Where are you? Jayce?!”

Someone suddenly slams you into a wall, making you hit the solid platform hard. A weak cry of pain escapes past your lips as you slid down the wall, clutching your arm.

Staggering to your knees, you rushed to get away from whatever was chasing you.

Get away, get away, get away

That was just going through your mind.

Something slashes in your back through your coat, “ah!” You shriek as you collapsed to your knees and hit the ground. Back arched as you tried crawling away from whatever had attacked you.

They grab onto your hair, arm wrapping around your neck once they finally got the chance to turn you around, the air in your lungs seemed to have collapsed the second they tighten their large hand around your throat.

You kick and flail your legs around as you gasped for air, eyes heavy and face turning blue as you choked— the breath you were now trying to breathe was very toxic seeping into your nostrils and throat.

You use your fists to hit at the man’s hands, he watched with a sadistic grin on his lips as the life in your eyes were starting to fade.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the life in your eyes seemed to have been fading.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Vi shouted as she rushed towards the much bigger man and knocked him in the face with her knee.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as you clutched at your own throat.

Vi rushed over to you with concern, cupping your cheek as she leaned over you. “Are you okay? does anything hurt?”

“Vi?” You croaked weakly, grasping at her wrist.

Vi presses your hand against her fast beating chest, concern wiping her features. “It’s me. It’s me. you’re okay.”

She helps you up, “I’ll be right back. go and try to find cait, okay?”

You nodded before rushing off to find caitlyn.

“Cait!” You called out.

You couldn’t even get as far before you hit the ground, passing out.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

[mythalism]

on solavellan becoming andraste and the maker, and applying the concept of mantling to dragon age

for the uninitiated, mantling is a concept from the elder scrolls series that refers to the process of a mortal becoming a god by becoming so much like them that they become indistinguishable, and thus, the same. its synonymous with the use of the term "apotheosis" within the same universe, but also distinct, because it specifically involves "re-enacting the Mythic patterns established by the [Gods] until their power is surrendered to the mantler. In the process, the mortal and the deity become metaphysically synonymous with one another, allowing the mortal to claim the office and sphere of the mantled diety for themselves, reshaping them in the process." (x)

sound familiar?

but first, there are several examples of how this works narratively in the elder scrolls universe. one of the best is probably the mantling of sheogorath by the player character in the shivering isles DLC of the elder scrolls IV: oblivion.

at the climax of the DLC, the god of madness, sheogorath, for whom you've been doing quests for for quite a while now, basically reveals that he molded you into someone who could take his place as the Mad God, as his time is running out due to a long running divine cycle of order vs. chaos called the greymarch. its all very mythological and confusing and not really relevant to this but im including these quotes from re-watching the quest (x) to refresh my own memory and give you an idea of the general vibe:

the realm is crumbling, the cycle of destruction is imminent, and its god bemoans the loss of the world he loves but cannot stop his own demise. the only way to save it is if someone else becomes him - takes the throne, assumes his office, sacrifices their individuality and mortal desires for what the realm needs and mantle it's god...... this is literally solas mantling the maker like cmon!! and if i was in charge at bioware you can bet your ass that rook would've been mantling the dread wolf as thedas' new trickster god as solas took on a different godly role considering how he literally molds rook in his image and TELLS THEM THAT.......... but thats an essay for another day.

the player character of oblivion begins as sheogorath's champion and eventually becomes him, lavellan begins as andraste's herald and eventually becomes her as she walks her path, culminating in her decision to join the maker in the golden city for eternity, effectively uniting their mythology so that they become indistinguishable.

the player character of morrowind also goes through a similar process that the inquisitor does, as a prophesied savior navigating the role that has been thrust upon them. in the elder scrolls III morrowind, the story revolves around you being the prophesised "nerevarine", the second coming of the hero, indoril nerevar, who will cast down the false gods and expel the empire from their homeland. in reality, the game makes it very clear very quickly that no one has any fucking clue if you are actually the nerevarine, but the empire is going to MAKE you into the nerevarine by making you "walk the path" laid out in the prophecy. and thats what the entire main quest is; you re-enacting the prophecy to literally become the prophet that the world needs. the game never answers whether or not you actually were the nerevarine, but at some point, the distinction ceases to matter. you've become them.

you can see how similar this is to an inquisitor walking the path of andraste, to solas being forced to walk the path of the dread wolf and later the maker. whether or not they are one and the same is irrelevant, when you become mythologically indistinguishable, when you become what the world needs you to become, who you were ceases to matter.

in my original post about this i mentioned CHIM as well and CHIM is a very unruly, not even fully canon concept within the elder scrolls. so i dont really want to delve super deep into it because its fucking insane for one but also because it doesn't fit quite as well as the framework of mantling does, but there are a few things said about CHIM in elder scrolls that just feel soooooooo similar to what we see in dragon age that i want to share them because i truly think there is a thread of inspiration to be followed here.

CHIM is basically enlightenment in the elder scrolls universe where someone within the games reaches a state of divine lucidity. its been compared to lucid dreaming by one of the tes devs, or "divine hypnagogia", and the final state beyond CHIM, called Amaranth, allows a character to realize they exist in a video game. LMAO. so when i say solas and lavellan achieve something akin to CHIM i do not mean it literally, i do not think they are breaking the fourth wall and realizing they exist in a video game, nor would i want that. i would actually hate that as a writing decision. but whats interesting is the language that is sometimes used to talk about CHIM, and the way solas and lavellan's ending involves them reaching a sort of peace and acceptance about their place in the world as mythological figures instead of individuals.

i wrote this in response to an ask once and i've reposted it several times and i'm doing it again now because honestly it was the best way to articulate this and i dont think i can recreate it LMAO; "solas and lavellan are at once both finally free of the burdens of the myths and expectations that follow them as the dread wolf and the herald of andraste because they have left the mortal world that forced them into those roles and stripped them of their personhood, but they have also completely submitted themselves to those roles by submitting to the logical conclusion of the myths that they could not escape. for the dread wolf, it is earning his redemption through his willing submission to his own trap. its the logical, full-circle mythological conclusion to the trickster who trapped the gods, now trapped for eternity himself. for the inquisitor, it is andraste's herald finally sharing andraste's fate, choosing to leave the mortal world behind to ascend to the golden city alongside the god that she loves. both (presumably, for a lavellan) have tried to reject the myths attached to them over and over and over, but in the end they choose them willingly, and that choice at once binds them to those myths forever while simultaneously freeing them from the burden of them. its giving oedipal greek tragedy of attempting to outrun your fate and it finding you anyway, just when you thought you were finally making your own choice, but with a hopeful and bittersweet spin."

this is what i mean when i say they have achieved CHIM, as "a state of being which allows for escape from all known laws and limitations" (x) the laws and limitations from which they have escaped are not the confines of a video game, but rather the confines of the mortal roles that they were both thrust into against their wills and stole everything from them, as the herald of andraste and the dread wolf. for solas, i think you can even extend this to him being able to escape the literal physical confines of the body he did not want by returning to 'heaven' (the fade), a place of mutability and possibility, without the laws and limitations of the physical world. for lavellan, we see her make a choice to pursue her own happy ending, regardless of what the world needs (though there is an argument for this being the best decision for the world considering how it will help solas heal the blight, but i think the implication is that she's doing it for herself) after losing her agency, individuality, life and freedom to the role of the inquisitor. as ameridan says, "take moments of happiness where you can. the world will take the rest." and she does. she ascends past the bounds of the physical world, the title of inquisitor, the world that took so much from her, and finds her happiness in transcending those limitations and literally fucking off to heaven. its so great.

so when i refer to lavellan as andraste or solas as the maker, it is in this context that i mean it. i dont actually think lavellan is literally andraste reborn or something, or that solas was literally the maker. i think the maker was probably slightly inspired by solas's deeds like the creation of the veil and black city, but theres plenty in the chant of light that also does not fit him or the two of them at all. dragon age has very intentionally not disproved or proved the existence of the maker, and i think that is a good choice and its far more interesting that way. solas is already responsible for like half of the problems in thedas, connecting EVERYTHING back to him is a bit lazy in my opinion. i think the idea that the concept of a creator borne out of a bunch of different myths across time is far more compelling. so i dont think they are 1:1 the same or a reincarnation or anything, and thats why the concept of mantling works so well in this context.

solas is not the maker, but he has functionally become the maker by walking the narrative path of his own story. lavellan is not andraste, but she has functionally become andraste through walking the path of her own story. its about a sort of narrative and mythological apotheosis, where the world sees you one way to the point that you become that way. it works perfectly in the context of dragon age's focus on storytelling, propaganda, and how belief creates reality.

these two are bound to a sort of narrative inevitability in a way that most dragon age characters are not (except perhaps morrigan. honorable mentions to hawke, varric and alistair) but i think its a large part of why they are so compelling. they are inseparable from their own stories. they are bound by this sort of narrative destiny to serve both the overarching story of the dragon age games, but also the mythological stories within thedas in a way thats almost in contrast to the medium of a video game based on player choice- but i think its intentional, and i also think this sort of narrative destiny functioning as its own trap or prison is part of the reason their story is the strongest part of veilguard. from an essay on fatalism, something that solas himself ascribes to by his own admission "Destiny is not so much a necessary outcome as it is an outcome that is necessary given some larger sense of purpose” (x).

in conclusion: ✓ re-enacting the mythic patterns of andraste and the maker's story via their roles in the world and their decisions, such as leading the armies of the faithful as andraste's did, or shaping the world the way it exists presently and creating the veil and the black city as the maker did ✓ become metaphysically synonymous, via becoming virtually indistinguishable in terms of their role in the world ✓ take their office - by finally reuniting within the black city ✓ reshape it for themselves - by healing the blight and making it golden

:D

[loycos]

my head's a bit clearer, some thoughts about act 3

-my biggest gripe is episode 7- cool idea, love the concept of peaking into a different universe and seeing what our characters couldve been under different circumstances, but a WHOLE episode. when you only had 9 episode in this season, that already feel like theyre moving at a neck's pace. for a universe that ultimately doesn't matter to the main universe where the story takes place. the fact it had timebomb made it feel extremely fan service-y.

-no emotional resolution to a lot of characters. viktor and jayce are the only ones i can think of that felt like they got the screen time and care for an actual emotional closure.

-isha wasn't even mentioned in this act. in general she was already a martyr for jinx's character development but guys can you make it less obvious.

-it started in act 2, hence why i was so jaded on it, but it continues here: just where the fuck the political drama between 2 cities go? the conflict between zaun and piltover took a back seat since episode 4 and never came back. the resolution to it isn't bad per say, but when u got so little focus on it in the finale it just feels rushed.

-i loved the cait and jinx scene. but like, that was the resolution to it??? after act 1 thinking about it disappoints me. im not against a conversation being the climax to a story, but that is, and im not joking, the ONLY conversation these 2 have in the show one on one. in general the jinx\cait\vi arc ends with 1 conversation per duo (well caitvi got one fight and one very steamy sex scene but u won't catch me complaining). and after act 1, idk i think i wanted just a little bit more. im biased though- the jinx\vi\caitlyn dynamic is my favorite part about arcane. the teasers for s2 always had them front and center so i assumed it'll play a bigger part in the story???

-i felt like what the show was at its core, which is the conflict between the sisters and the cities, was completely sidelined this season. in general i can't really tell what the main theme of the show is anymore. but yeah look at the resolution to the jinx and vi story.did it feel like it had the emotional impact u expected? cause i felt like it was underwhelming.

-sevika?? didnt speak since episode 4???? huhh???

-maddie was pointless. why was she there?? i don't understand the point of that character. i dont understand her motives. she ended up not mattering at all to caitvi's story. the only thing i got from her inclusion is "caitlyn fucks" but is it that THAT important??? of a character trait??? to add to caitlyn of all people?? in THIS season??? this belongs in the realm of fanfiction.

-a lot here felt like fanfiction actually. every silco inclusion (except of him in the cell with jinx), the whole "nobody dies au" they threw in the middle, even the caitvi sex scene (IM NOT COMPLAINING THO). the caitvi scene at the end was dialog out of fanfiction, wtf was that.

-why did caitlyn lose her eye? im not like against the idea on a base level but losing an eye is very symbolic, and im not sure what its supposed to represent here. caitlyn is an observant person, its a big character trait for her. so youre basically saying she sees less now? that she's more laser focused? i sure hope not. wasnt her whole arc with giving up of revenge about seeing the "bigger picture"? her sacrifice didn't feel in character, because caitlyn is not really a "fight to the death" type of character like ambessa is. if she made that sacrifice for something like love, or for the betterment of other people, that would be more in line. idk, you couldve made me on board with it but im just very meh on it. also caitlyn only really emotes through her eyes, it sucks that we get even less of it now?? though i guess it doesnt matter at this point.

-what was the point of the enforcer that looked like vander?

-ambessa was so wasted in these last 2 acts its crazy. where's the "you have to be the fox and the wolf" mindset from her? she felt like she was wolfing only with no wit anymore by the 3rd act.

-mel????????????? it was. uhhh. maybe you shouldve saved it for another series, riot. but in this show, waste of time. the fight she had with caitlyn against ambessa was cool tho.

-i sound like im a hater but u have to understand. s1 of arcane was a political drama and a character study show. seeing all this discarded for magic and time travel shenanigans on like 4 different fronts was so jarring it took me out of the show multiple times.

-cant believe im saying that, but i wish they'd try to stick closer to the characters' current state in the source material (the cursed game). someof it felt out of left field and done for shock value, which isn't why we love the story or these characters to begin with.

good stuff:

-caitvi sex lmao ill take it babyyyyy

-jayce and viktor's scenes at the end were powerful.

-as usual, the visuals were phenomenal. the animation is gorgeous. fortiche u made this show what it is and youre still its saving grace.

-thank god they dropped the warwick\vander plot

-i liked the implication of the conclusion to jinx's story, even if it felt a little inconsistent with the character.

-the ending to jinx\vi\caitlyn was poetic and i did love it, even if it was rushed and didn't really hit the emotional highs i wanted it to.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: attempted baby trapping, detailed writing about burns and scars.

Mother says she was the first witness to your very first steps. 

Surrounded by four newly renovated nursery walls—painted her favorite pink and adorned with decorations Dad hung for a pop of color. Stuffed animals everywhere, even a 43-inch-tall dollhouse waiting to be discovered.

But, of all the toys, that chubby baby girl determinedly balanced herself on her awkward legs. Mother said you smiled widely, showing a toothless grin and extending your tiny hands forward. Eyes wide open when you almost fell, yet the stubborn baby refused to give up until you reached your mother's arms.

Maybe you simply saw something you wanted. Your mother.

How odd. The thought that you ever wanted your mother is an absurd notion. Because as Simon's car sped off, leaving the manor behind you, all you felt was a sense of relief that you had once again escaped her.

Maybe you wanted your mother only when she wanted you too. Lately—for the past few years after you were ten—she acted like she hated you, and children are truly just mirrors of their parents, incapable of hating before being hated first.

Or maybe—so many maybes when it comes to her—Mother didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t intend to instill this distorted image of yourself with every drop of poison she poured on you. Maybe she simply lacked the knowledge and skills to be a mother, lacking a positive role model from the start.

But intentions mean nothing compared to the outcome, the fed-up rational voice asserts. It doesn't matter if she didn't mean it, because in the end she hurt you. The difference between love and hate becomes this fine line that eventually fades and mixes the two together.

It doesn't matter if she didn't mean it this way at first, because the first time turned into the second time, then the third and suddenly now it's the thousandth time. She breeds her pattern and uses it to make you suffocate. And when you try to break free, she looks at you like a disobedient child full of rebellion.

The sickening optimists will tell you to look on the bright side—that it shaped you, made you the woman you are today. But back then, you were a child—you would have grown up inevitably, so going through all that was just an unjust burden.

(All adults do is cause pain, the little girl said.)

Some crackling radio tune played softly as Simon drove in silence through the dark, winding country roads. No questions came—which you were thankful for; you weren’t ready to unpack all that long history just yet. His brown eyes were locked in focus as he steered the car around the turns as if he’d been through this before.

The car slowed and rolled to a stop outside a sprawling two-story building. A pub—from the weathered sign carved on its old stone. Different from the ones in London, of course, this one's cozier and more inviting. Gazing out the rain-spattered window, you squint and see another sign above the door: “The Fox and Hounds Inn.” So they also offer rooms, it seemed.

Simon turned off the engine and twisted in his seat. Reaching behind, he snatched up the suit jacket he had thrown back there earlier. Turning to you, he held it out, signaling you to take it.

“Cover yer ‘ead.” He nods towards the pouring rain outside.

You took it, breathing in Simon’s scent—a hint of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke—as you draped it over your head as a hood. The sound of the door being opened roughly is heard. Simon has rushed out into the downpour and retrieved your bags from the trunk. Slipping from the car, you hurry to take shelter under the pub’s roof, waiting for Simon before going through the door.

The inside of the pub was surrounded by warm hues. Old wooden shelves stood displaying a variety of bottles of spirits, with low lights casting a dim glow. Worn leather booths were occupied by a few locals who had settled in with their pints, while two others shot pool in the back corner. Behind the bar, the bartender paused from wiping glasses; a questioning look flashed across his face before smoothing it once more.

He set his glass down and asked, "What can I get ya?”

“Bourbon. Kentucky, if y’ve got it.” Simon said.

The bartender cocked his head, checking his stock. “Aye, we’ve a bottle or two left.” Turning back to him, he asked again, “Anyth’ else?”

Simon turned to you. “You want anything?”

“I'm alright, thanks.” You answered in a husky voice.

“Just the bourbon then, and a room for the night.”

At that, the bartender just nodded, reaching beneath the bar to produce an iron key, its number as a keychain. “Room six, up the stairs and to your left. Let me know if you’ll be wantin’ breakfast in the morn.” He explained with efficiency, all business, saving more time from nonsense.

The heavy wooden stairs creaked underfoot as you climbed to the room. Reaching the door carved with the number six, Simon twisted the key and pushed the door open. He set the bags on the old table by the window, leaving your suitcase beside it.

Glancing around, you took in the faded floral wallpaper, lumpy bed, and worn armchair—not fancy, but it would do for a night’s rest. You wandered around the room, stopping when you passed a mirror—your own reflection with mascara tracks smeared across your cheeks, lipstick smudging past your lip line.

“Did I just walk around like this all afternoon?” You wiped away the dark trails, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere for exactly the reason why. That or it was just you and your guilt for dragging Simon into this unplanned mess.

The effort fell flat, much like your numb heart. Simon was still wound tight as a spring, with the venomous words of that woman replaying in his mind. However, your own perspective perceived his distant attitude as anger. Mother would often give you two days of silent treatment whenever she was upset, so you presumed it was the same case with Simon.

You nearly jumped from his grunt. Out of the corner of your eye, Simon took out his cigarette and lit it, always paying no attention to where he was smoking. Taking a deep drag, he let the smoke curl slowly as he exhaled towards the ceiling.

The bathroom door creaked open at his touch; Simon gave it a sweep of his eyes to access the condition of it—nothing but the basics; thankfully, the shower worked. He turned then, coming over to where you were sitting on the lumpy mattress.

“Shower,” he rumbled, jerking his head towards the bath. “Get that rainwater off ya.”

(You’re angry, aren’t you?)

The conclusion was drawn after his tone sounded colder than normal—his words were curt, as if he didn't wish to waste breath on you. While a part of you argued this was just the way he spoke all the time, another louder voice suggested there was more going on. His brown eyes held a deeper stirring, a visible frown etched into his features. Simon would likely extend the silence if not for the concern that you would trouble him more if you fell ill.

It hurls you into this desperate need to win him over, despite being uncertain if there's an actual competition to be won. You struggle to contain the age-old, desperate question, but you are known to be a failure at everything.

"Are... are you angry with me?” The question leaves you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

At that, Simon's blonde eyebrows furrowed. "What?" he asked, sharp. Like he's offended.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you struggled to lift your gaze, meeting his stare. “I just… are you angry with me?”

A scoff, then—

“No.” Simon replied curtly. “Why the bloody ‘ell would I be angry with you?” he added, then chastised himself when the words came out harsher than intended.

But the prejudice had seeped into your pores, causing your shoulders to tense and your head to hang low. You hated this—hated feeling like an over-sensitive child, upset over nothing, easily hurt by everything. Lifting your head, you tried to blink away the pricking tears pooling in your eyes.

Simon lets out a hushed sigh before squeezing out his cigarette and sitting down next to you, the bed creaking under the new weight. Outside, the leaves rustle in the cold night breeze. Within these four walls, you both sit side by side in silence.

“I ain't... that is... I’m not angry. Not with you, at least.” He tries to sort out his words. Something kinder but ends awkwardly—nonetheless, acceptable.

A few tears escaped and rolled hot down your cheeks before the blurry world came back into focus. You raised your eyes to his.

“I'm sorry,” you say, almost a whisper. “I'm such a crybaby, I know.”

“None o’ that now,” Simon soothed you, timbre as soft as talcum powder. “Ain't got nothin' to apologize for.”

As he said that, he used his thumb to catch your tears, wiping them away gently, almost as if he didn't want another to stain your cheeks. And under his touch, you became still, like obedient clay waiting to be molded by him. You existed solely for him, willingly presenting your skin as a canvas in case he wanted to brand his name on you. Make me yours, your cheap little heart begged; make me yours until I forget who I am.

(Grant me an identity that isn't me.)

I will shed the pieces of myself now like outgrown armor. The nights are prone to the past—never quiet—and I don't like that.

(Give birth to a new me. Someone who isn't what remains left of that little girl.)

The universe explodes another big bang, and your new world is created as you settle on his lap. So sudden you don't even remember crawling towards him. But as your lips crash into his, devouring his moist flesh with your own in an effort to mold it into one, it no longer matters how. Your teeth clamp down on his lower lip, drawing out a grunt as you bite down lightly and feel the taste of his iron against your tongue. Blood-eater woman.

Your hands cup his jaw, tracing the strong, defined bones beneath the blanket of skin. Then, you drag them down to his thundering neck, following the faint pillars, the curve of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of scar tissue from over-healed wounds.

Simon gasps into your mouth as your hips grind against his, stoking his lust even higher and swelling his cock. He grips your sides, guiding your movements as you seek balance with your grip on his broad shoulders. You moan, pressing your upper body against his face, and he inhales all your scent like he's been deprived of oxygen for ages.

Your desire drips so easily onto your tongue.

Practiced in the efficiency you learned from him, your fingers unbutton his shirt one by one, watching more and more of his skin exposed to you as you unwrap the white fabric off his body.

Simon trailed his tongue down the satin of your dress, tasting it against his gustatory system like a mindless dog. He closes his lips around your erect nipple. Blindly, his digits reached for the laces on your back, tugging it with one unsuccessful pull and two successful ones. The dress undone, your chest completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Simon wasted no time in latching his mouth onto your breasts.

“Ah-! Simon, Simon… slow down.”

You attempted to accommodate his face in your small hands, urging him to meet your gaze. When did you grow accustomed to searching—to decipher the meaning behind his every look, searching for a reflection of your own feelings in his eyes? Hoping to find evidence that he wanted you just as deeply as you yearned for him.

From the moment we first met, Simon had been a confounding puzzle, a conundrum without any clues or leads. An enigma, the deep forest at dusk. He revealed so little, yet, that very scarcity only piqued your curiosity further—inviting the solver girl within you to unravel each layer, to explore every wrinkle in the intricate tapestry that was him.

“I… I want to lead. If that’s all right.” You whispered, looking for disagreement in his gaze.

None, just a gentle squeeze on your hip. He nodded, then, “Alright, love.”

At that, your eyes sparkled, you gave him a smile in return. Biting your lip, you pondered your next move. “Lay down for me.”

Without hesitation, he did as you asked, settling back against the pillows. The roughness of his form was a stark contrast to the linen, muscles rippling beneath inked skin. Eyes as dark as oak never left yours, silently urging you to continue.

Nerves danced inside you, but you chuckled, “I was gonna take this dress off all sexy-like; maybe spin around slow. But you ruined that plan.”

“Should’ve been more patient then, eh?” He said, wetting his lips then.

You sighed, half-shrugging. “Well, I don’t know what sexy moves I can do now.”

“Don’t matter none. You’re always a sight for sore eyes.”

The boldness of his words causes you to throw your head back in laughter. “Are you saying all this just to get laid quicker?"

Simon lets out a raspy chuckle. “Nah,” he watches his own hand travel up your thigh, giving it a squeeze and rubbing slow circles with his thumb. Looking back up at you, you feel your heart skip a beat. “I’m sayin’ it cause it’s the truth. You are the most fuckin’ gorgeous creature I ever did lay eyes on.”

The plum of your lips is pulled into a shy smile. You replay his words in your mind like a wrinkled tape, your soul made to sparkle and float on clouds. He called me gorgeous, you thought.

Simon called you gorgeous—despite everything your mother led you to believe. Despite her words that left you feeling like an hideous being, a flawed and misshapen creature crafted by the hands of an unforgiving God. But he said I was gorgeous, Mother. Most fucking gorgeous.

"Well, you're rather handsome yourself." In truth, this is all amusing—this sudden exchange of compliments between the two of you, with you still sitting right on top of his groin, in your loose dress and Simon shirtless.

But, like an opportunist, you place your finger on the sloping hill of his chest. You feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing—the stuttering of air in his lungs as you make circular motions on his bare skin. “Too bad that you always hide it under a mask.”

The diaphragm beneath his thick skin contracted faintly as he chuckled. Taking your index finger, Simon then held it between his teeth. He sucked the tip slowly and watched you through hooded eyes.

“The mask’s for another reason, darlin’,” he rumbled once he released it.

There it is again. The invisible veil now made visible, taunting you with the reminder that there's always a part of him that remains unknown, no matter how deep you try to dig or how many layers you think you’ve shed. Lately, you'd pushed the limits further than necessary, testing unseen boundaries—just how far were you willing to go, or how far would he allow before growing weary of it?

“And why is that, your mask?”

He gave your thigh another squeeze, his fingers drumming a random rhythm as he considered his response. “That’s a story for another day.” He replied.

It sounded like a promise, felt like an oath. Apparently, your heart found solace in that—in the future and the exact day that story would arrive. You smiled down at him, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, then I suppose that’s a promise, Mr. Simon…”

“Riley,” he fills in the blank space behind. “Simon Riley.”

The heart in the confines of your rib cage throbs with thrill. You smile brightly, testing the full name on your tongue. “Simon Riley…”

After a pause, your hands returned to their task, drifting down his firm torso until they reached his jeans. You made quick work of the buttons, pulling them down and tossing them carelessly to the floor, leaving him in only his gray boxers. Trying to match, you let your gown pool on the floor, leaving you in your black lacy panties.

Here you are, both bare chested, one cloth away from being completely naked. Two imperfect mirror reflections, similar yet distinct in their differences.

You glance back at him, biting your lip to hold back a giggle. His grin greets you in return, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth as his eyes roam approvingly over your form. You stand still, waiting, observing his growing impatience until he finally lets out a raspy chuckle, beckoning you closer with a casual crook of his finger.

“Come ‘ere.”

At his call, you obey like a good obedient girl dedicating her whole life to him.

Crawling onto the bed, your breasts hanging freely with each step your knees take. You stop right above his face, gazing into his warm chocolate with your cheeks blooming red.

Leaning in, you flicked your tongue out to taste the seam of his lips, drawing a soft groan from deep in his chest. Your back stretched to its maximum, arching like a harp as you became greedier and greedier and claimed his mouth completely. Your fond tongue traced his teeth, stroking the velvety softness of his inner cheeks, the contours of his palate. The pricking sensation of his stubble against your chin intertwined with the sweet wetness of your mingled saliva.

Your breasts pressed against his broad chest, the fat melting like popsicles in the hot sun. Swinging one leg across, you sit on top of him with your thighs straddling his hips, feeling the thick mound beneath his boxers from his hardening cock against your soaked panties.

As you began to grind on top of him, Simon grunted into your mouth. He slid his big hands down to squeeze your ass, kneading the soft cheeks as he thrust up to meet your clothed cunt. You moaned at the sensation, breaking the kiss but not tearing your gaze away as you straightened your spine to rock your hips back and forth.

Look at that pair of dark eyes—so devoted in their witnessing of every sway of your tits, with the gaping mouth of a hungry man. He lies beneath you, broad shoulders and thick arms corded with muscle built from the hard days of the military. Blonde hair around his chest, trailing down to his stomach and hidden beneath the tempting waistband of his boxers.

And those scars, of course. Especially that goddamn mysterious scar near his ribs. Were they created by 'bad men' or did you deserve it for the bad deeds you had committed, Simon?

Taking one of his hands, you place it on one of your breasts. Simon closes his hand around it, his thumb and index finger curling into a twist at your nipple. You let out a moan, biting your lower lip in a poor effort to keep another one from escaping you.

"Simon,” you breathed, his length twitching against your cunt.

Rolling your hips, your clothed clit rubbed against his hardness. You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly through parted lips, feeling the friction. He placed his hands on your sides, guiding your movements into a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, look at ya, darlin’…”

Bathed in the dim lighting of this inn, you were a sight he wanted to capture. Sitting on top of him like a long-gone queen reclaiming her place—the very reason for his convulsing cock, the numbing of his brain, his ears tuning out the noise of his old brain. As you continued to roll your hips, he watched every detail and seared it all in the back of his head.

The way sweat slicks and rests on the dip of your collarbone. Kiss-swollen sweet lips, tempting for him to bite or wrap around his throbbing length. Heavy eyelids and dark traces of your mascara.

Fuck, look at those puffy eyes.

Simon had endured his fair share of cuts and gunshot wounds. But nothing prepared him for the invisible grip on his heart when he realized what your cries left behind—puffy and red-rimmed like bruised berries. Fuckin’ hell…

Wanting more, you slide your lace aside. You restart your pace, gasping in pleasure at the new direct contact, the wetness of your building peak coloring the fabric of his boxer darker. The throbbing inside you begins, growing stronger the more you grind. You almost lose your pace—Simon’s large hands grip your hips to guide your movements toward climax.

The tight coil within you twists tighter. You breathe in short, ragged gasps; eyes squeezed shut as white flashes explode behind your lids. The cresting wave rises to a peak, making your thighs tremble.

When it hits, you throw your head back with a cry, Simon supporting your arched back with a strong palm behind you. The heat in your lower belly flushes as your release drips down to his boxers.

You slumped limp against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around you, waiting for you to catch your breath while he inhaled his own. Christ, your scent is intoxicating—that sweet soap you were devoted to, the perfume he often saw on your dresser, and something natural about you that made his cock throb, begging to be released from the boxers beneath you. It took every ounce of willpower for him not to flip you over and take his fill.

A gentle giggle bubbled up. Simon furrowed his brows, meeting your eyes as you lifted your chin with a lazy smile.

“That was… weird,” you said, confusion written all over your face.

“What’s weird?”

“Well, for starters…” you glanced down between you, tracing a finger along the damp patch staining his boxers and chuckling again when he hissed. “I ruined these.”

Simon chuckled, shifting his hips. “Don’t matter none though, does it? You’re gonna ‘ave them off me soon enough anyway.”

You laugh – the warm, carefree sound from deep within your chest. Cheeks flushed rosy, and you’re sure your eyes sparkled. “Okay, okay. That’s something I might do.”

Leaning down, you brushed your lips against his in almost a chaste kiss. Simon couldn't resist, prolonging it by deepening it gently. He hooked his fingers around the lace loops on your hips, giving a playful tug as your mouths moved slow and sweet.

Breaking away, he narrows his eyes at your black panties. “You can still do them sexy moves takin’ this off, y’know…”

At his words, your smile stretches from ear to ear. Muttering an “okay,” you slip off him and the bed, standing in front of him. He fixes his dark eyes on you, melting the sudden shyness and encouraging you to continue the show. Slowly, teasingly, you begin to peel down your lace, small laughs escaping your throat.

“Well?” you ask, cheeks now rosy as you pose for his eyes. “How’s this?”

“Fucking perfect, darlin’,”

You toss aside your last garment, showing off your fully naked form like some kind of high fashion model. “Your turn now,” you say, walking toward him.

Reaching for the waist of his boxers, you began easing them down as well, eager to harvest the fruits of your ministry for each other. But, as it slid off his ankle, your eyes landed on his skin, and your smile faded, realizing something you hadn't before.

Knotted, mottled skin stretched from his right hip and down the side of his shin. The scars were old, but the memory of the fire that had once caressed him was immortalized in their rugged, rough texture. You tried to avert your already teary eyes from it, but instead found more scars around his legs—some nearly identical to the ones scattered across his upper body, some others resembled surgical scars long healed.

A lump rises in your throat, but you try to smile and crawl back into his lap, trying to lose yourself in whatever follows. But the façade crumbles, and you find yourself frozen, staring at him while fighting back tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” And yet, Simon opens the door for you to broach the subject. Must’ve been something about your expression.

You briefly considered playing dumb, but your chance evaporated when a treacherous tear slipped freely. Hastily wiping it away, you took a shaky breath, focusing your gaze on the ceiling to prevent another from falling. You stared into his eyes again, and Simon saw the composure you had so carefully maintained on the edge of crumbling again.

“Those scars…” Your voice wavered, and you had to pause to steady it. “Were they from your time in the military?”

Watching those pretty lips tremble, tears marring your beautiful face, he felt a sickening clench in his chest. Part of him hated seeing you so sad, while another swelled with something akin to misplaced pride – that this angel was weeping over scars so old they had long since stopped hurting him.

Scars from battles the old Simon had fought years ago. Scars he had seen as part of his creation, marks he bore without feeling.

“Some from service, yeah. Others… more personal-like.” He said it nonchalantly. In his perspective, as proof that it didn’t hurt anymore, didn't need to numb it with ice like he did in the past—so, sweet thing, stop crying over him.

As if that were possible. He could tell you that it happened years ago, but it doesn't matter; it wouldn't lessen the pain even if your human life spanned a hundred centuries. Your tongue seared, heart sliced—someone touched the one you love with the most brutal violence they could choose in this world.

The image must have been absurd—the two of you completely naked in front of each other, yet instead of continuing, you weep over him. But now that you’ve seen it—those scars etched so cruelly and eternally upon his flesh—how do you look away?

"Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” Your voice trembled, tracing that scar near his ribs that had caught your attention since you first saw it. It stood out, raised and knotted in a way that spoke of a cruel blade—making you wince at the thought of the pain. “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Without any real weight, he said, “Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,” in a light intonation as if it were some kind of joke.

But it wasn’t. My God, you wished it was, but it wasn’t, judging by the scars.

Despite his effort, it couldn’t mask the horror he’d experienced. Your breath hitches in a sob, your hand trying to cover your mouth. Your airway constricts as you imagine how it must have felt for him then. Hanged by the ribs, feeling your skin tear from holding your weight, flesh on display like they do in a slaughterhouse.

And he still manages to shush you, drawing your head to his chest in a tight hug like you’re the one who’s been through it all.

“Twern’t nothin’ – doesn’t even ‘urt no more.”

Pressed against his skin, you seek the usual solace that his heartbeat brings. But your heart remains unsettled, a lingering question nagging at your mind and tongue, refusing to let you find peace until it's voiced.

Raising your head slightly, chin resting upon his chest, you meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "And... and the burn scars?”

“House fire during a mission.”

You know that’s not the full truth, but you don’t dare to press it, choosing to spare your heart from more details of his agonies.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said.

Simon gave a small hum in response. Reaching up, he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Then stop cryin', love. 'Urts more to see yer pretty face all red and puffy.��

The hands around your jaw bring you closer. This time, he's the first to initiate this new kiss, closing his lips around yours with almost hesitant caution. And you want to cry—you want to cry from how gentle his touch is, and yet someone has handled him in the cruelest way possible.

Here you are, bodies pressed together—chest to chest, skin to skin. You let out a gasp as he grips your ass cheeks, spreading them until the chilly air touches your soaked folds. Simon would rather have those pretty eyes rolled back in pleasure than cry; he would rather have those plump lips parted to moan erotic sounds than sob. He bucks his hips and brushes the fat tip of his cock against your entrance.

Breaking the kiss, Simon gives a slow thrust upwards, grunting as he feels your warm labia. You straighten your back to sit on his pelvis, doing your own set of hip rolls as his hands guide you.

“No more tears f’me, ye ‘ear?” He meets your eyes before lowering it to the tantalizing view of your glistening body, causing another twitch of his impatient cock. “I ain’t worth it.”

The tip of his cock brushes against your folds when he thrusts his hips once more. A small mewl escapes your moist lips, vertebrae drawn like a curve of a bow as his length slowly enters your hole.

“No—no, don’t say that. You’re—mmh!” You stumble over your words, voice shaking both from emotion and physical overwhelm. “You’re always worth it, Simon.”

Sweet thing, unaware of the effect her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheek have on a man as corrupt as him. Struggling to find words while he fills her up, trying to convince him that he's worth something.

“That so?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “Yes,”

“Yeah?”

Without waiting for a reply, he grips your hips and slams you against him in one swift thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut on a gasp as he sank home. He groans at the blissful feeling, the remnants of your last orgasm completely coating him. But he has never been a man of gratitude; the gaping hole near his ribs—right where the scar he has shown you and told you about—seems to consume every fulfillment he might have, leaving him perpetually feeling unsatisfied and not enough.

Right now, he felt utterly insufficient. His old soul was always left wanting for more. That stupid, almost pathetic desire for proof that he would never truly believe—

“Prove it then, love.”

And well, he is a selfish man after all.

Slowly, you begin to move, hips rocking sensually against him, stretching your cunt to take his cock. It’s sloppy at first, until you settle into a rhythm and set your pace. He takes in every beautiful detail of you – your kiss-swollen lips beneath the faint bite of your teeth, your skin shimmering with sweat, your bouncing tits as you ride him, and the way your walls tighten their embrace around his cock with each in and out.

“Tha’s it love, ride me.”

Your cunt fluttered at the encouragement. He traced your curves before stopping at your breasts, twisting and pulling your nipples, eliciting a whimper from your throat. Rolling your hips, you grind your clit against his pelvis. He gives a low grunt.

“A-ah, Simon-!”

Listen to that, his name rolling off your tongue like liquid sin, a constant he never gets tired of. The room temperature rises, an invisible fire burning in his groin as you bounce on his cock. Your fingers dig half-moons on his naked thighs.

The room seemed to burn, almost like reminiscent of the flames that once scorched his lower right side. But this time, the sensation that swept through him was one of pure euphoria. The suffering that had gripped him was erased, replaced by a fierce hunger to shed more than just your clothes. The overwhelming need to be swallowed whole, to reside between your viscera and become the first to be embraced there.

Like a fish out of a tank, your lips formed a perfect 'O'—an invitation he accepted as he slipped his rough fingers into your mouth and tucked them beneath the blanket of your tongue. The brush of warm flesh made his cock throb, drawing a muffled sound from you.

Simon put his free hand to continue steering your hips, maintaining their steady rhythm as they started to falter. The angry crown of his cock pulled out before slamming back in and disappearing between your plump labia. He let his ears feast on your cry, watching your eyes squeeze shut as he reached that sweet spot inside. Saliva dripped, running down the curve of your chin and down between your swaying breasts.

The ah-ah! sound becomes the only thing you can produce after he liquifies your brain into a tangled mess, trapping your tongue under the weight of his calloused fingers.

Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his length, your climax peeking and cresting, forming high waves. Simon growled through clenched teeth. Your back arched, head falling back as you surrendered to your second peak.

His grip on your hips tightened as a warning. “Off, love—fuck, ye gotta get off, now.”

You did not heed him, continuing to bounce on his twitching cock. He groaned, trying to hold back the inevitable tide of his release.

“Love,” he tries again before calling your name, his own hips stuttering.

“No, please- I’m—I’m on the pill,” you gasped—

And the lie slipped through your lips without thinking.

Even as a part of you knew this was wrong—that you were trying to trap him and you were being reckless—you kept going. Simon stopped trying to get you off him, letting you slam your hips one last time before he emptied thick ropes of seed into your womb.

Sex and your indifference to potential consequences permeated the air, screaming for your attention. A voice curses you in the back of your mind, full of snarls that you have gone too far; that you have hated Mother too much to dismiss everything she says—even the true ones—as nonsense. That you will only live to regret this.

But you have to—it's a necessity, driven by the roots that tell you to cement this bond between you. Sure, it may be born out of a desperate fantasy of your own insecurities, but you need this.

“Nothing can make them stay, my dear. Not for love, not for sex, for all your years of devotion to them, not even for their own flesh and blood!” Your mother is screaming in your head.

(Nonsense. Nonsense, all of it.)

You watch his chest rise and fall; somewhere deep within the confines of his strong ribs is a heart that beats in almost the same rhythm as yours. The dim lighting of the room you only acknowledge when it reflects faintly on the slick of his scar-littered skin. Those brown eyes stare at you beneath a canopy of blond lashes, moist lips pulled into a slight smile under his strong nose—and you return it with a wider one.

Would a child make you stay, Simon?

“Fucking ‘ell, love…” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath.

Unable to resist, you grind against his still-sensitive cock, earning a hiss and a hand on your hip to still you, making you chuckle.

“Don’t do that.” He mutters low and rough.

You nod, another giggle. Leaning forward, you press a quick kiss to his lips. “Okay, okay,” you say. “I’ll be good.”

Settling your head on his chest, Simon then pulls the blanket up before draping it over your naked bodies. You sigh in relief as he wraps his arms tightly around your smaller frame. Pulling you close, he buries his nose in your hair, breathing in your scent.

You trace idle patterns on his skin, murmuring: “My big performance is in a month. I got a special pass for you, so you better not even think about missing it.”

“The swan play?”

“Yeah,” you answered, lifting your head to gaze up at him. "Promise you'll be there?"

Promises are risky business, especially for someone like him. He's well-versed in the knowledge that when someone makes a promise, it means they're up for something that always comes along to fuck it up.

Even so, the words came out before he could stop them. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”

Hearing that, your smile threatened to widen, and you plopped your head back flat against his chest before he saw it. Wanting something to focus on, you settled your gaze on the old window at the end of the room. It was still raining outside, but it had softened. The pitter-patter of raindrops sounded more like a gentle, faint tap, reminding you of the squeaking of the bed when you were still making love earlier.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace. Then, there was a sudden urge to open up to him, created from a feeling of indebtedness to him. After all, he had been the one to step in earlier. There's still a lot Simon doesn't know about you, about Mother.

But just as you were about to part your lips, his arms tightened around you. The warmth of his touch made the courage to speak seep away, replaced by a crippling fear of ruining the moment. In the end, you clamped your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes closed as you forced yourself to let things be how they should be—unsaid.

The ghost of your mother's voice echoes in the back of your mind again. As you adjust your position, feeling the unfamiliar wetness on your thighs, you reassure yourself that this time is different; he is different. He’s going to stay. You feel his fingers gently carding through your hair, magically burning away any lingering doubts in the corners of your soul.

After everything, he has to.

The morning sun streams through the thin leaves as you and Simon get out of the car to stop for breakfast at the quaint little restaurant you came across. The chilly air still lingers, urging you to pull your cardigan tighter around you as you wait for the food to be served.

Taking in your surroundings, you notice the worn wooden floors, the mismatched chairs and tables. An old-fashioned cash register and shelves that hang various kinds of souvenirs typical of this small town and character key chains.

When the waiter—who also seemed to be the owner—placed two plates down, Simon ate without hesitation. You reached for your fork, but your eyes were drawn to the clock on the wall. Time was ticking fast—the sand in the hourglass slipping through your fingers with each second. You could almost feel the ground beneath you shifting, the earth seeming to swallow you alive.

Breakfast is over. Simon paid the bill and slipped out first for a smoke while you waited for the change. The owner disappeared into the back, leaving you standing there alone. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, the only sound filling the silence.

Casting your gaze around, you search for a distraction, something to stare at. Your eyes eventually land on the souvenir rack. And there, among the keychains and trinkets, a skeleton charm catches your eye, black and white reminding you of the one Simon hangs in his car.

The sound of the door opening jolts you back to reality. The owner returns with a handful of bills in his outstretched hand. Instead of taking it, you point to the skeleton charm, waiting for the old man to follow your fingertip before asking, “How much for that one?”

As the other door opens with the soft chimes of a bell overhead, you walk towards Simon with a barely suppressed smile. He smells of tobacco like he always does after a smoke. But, you hardly mind; all you care about is the delicate skeleton charm you hold in front of him.

“Look what I got you!” you exclaim, your smile bursting from your lips.

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed, dark eyes studying the little bone-white friend. You wait and wait for him to say something; your legs feel jittery as the small figure swings dangling between your thumb and forefinger.

“It’s..interestin’,” he says, finally taking it from you, studying it closer. “Where'd you get it?”

“The owner had it on the shelf over there,” you say, nodding towards the display. “I.. well, I saw it and thought of you. I hope you like it.”

You watched as crow's feet formed at the corners of his eyes, his mouth twitching into a smile beneath his mask. Then, Simon let out a sound—a chuckle, a genuine one which then turned into a short laugh that spread sensations in your chest.

“Thanks,” Simon said to the owner, who was standing behind the cashier with his own grin.

Then, he turns to you, his arms reaching out to wrap around your shoulders. “An’ thanks to you, too,” he says, almost a whisper, meant for just the two of you. “It’s… perfect.”

Without another word, he pulls you close, tucking your head under his chin as you make your way out of the restaurant. The birds chirping, celebrating a sunny day in the countryside. But this warmth… it’s not from the sun, not from the kinder wind. He opens his car door as he always does, and you slide inside, still with the gentle rumble of his chuckle ringing in your head.

You hoped this would never end.

You hoped—

The short trip to the English countryside was almost over; you had to go back to practice and rehearsals on Monday, and Simon had his agenda of disappearing to God knows where else. You didn’t question it; you didn’t ask anymore. You were comfortable enough with the many question marks that always seemed to surround him. He always came back in the end—that's what matters.

As you neared London, Simon pulled into a petrol station to refuel. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. The door closed, and you were left alone with your gray thoughts.

You watched Simon standing outside the car, focused on refueling the tank. Fumbling for your phone, you saw the time – well past midnight. After this, he would definitely drive you home, then disappear for weeks, leaving you to wait. He always came back in the end – that’s what matters, you kept telling yourself.

(But a man who always comes back is a man who always leaves.)

Your eyes drifted to your purse at your feet, where the other phone—the newer one, the one you bought on impulse—lay hidden. Biting your lip, you snatched it up, unlocking it and quickly checking the “Find My” app, making sure the two devices were connected.

Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself, internal debate building but you know which side you’re leaning. This is wrong, probably will do more harm than good to Simon, to yourself—but, you have to, you need this. The same old justification ringing like the old ringtone you’ve memorized by heart. You reach down and carefully drop the spare phone onto the car floor, kicking it to hide it under the seat. Out of sight, out of mind – for now, at least.

Simon slid back behind the wheel after he was done, groaning as his neck popped tensely. He turned to you, brows furrowed.

“Alright?”

Giving a faux smile, you said: “Just a little tired.”

He didn’t question further, just nodded before turning the ignition and buckled his seatbelt. “Not far now,” he turned the wheel out of the gas station. “Just a bit further an’ we’ll be ‘ome.”

The car sped back down the long road. In the darkness outside, you barely made out the shadowy landscape rushing by outside the window, just your faint reflection staring back at you. Everything seemed almost lifeless, except for the soft strains of the radio playing a late-night playlist.

Home, he said. Simon said it as if “home” were so close and existent.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

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[rainbowswirlything]

Neopets Lore (and Theory) - Faerie Aging and Faerie Populations

Here's another fun poking-at-the-Neopets-canon post about faerie aging and population numbers (this is a long'un, so to be nice I'll put a Keep Reading break in to make it easier to scroll past in the #neopets tag. ;))

1. Faeries are very long-lived, and don’t seem to grow old. In Fyora’s and Illusen’s Neopedia articles, their ages are listed as “Ageless.” (Jhudora’s age, for the record, is listed as “She’s certainly not telling.”)

"Go on. Ask. See what happens."

Neopets, in contrast to faeries, have been described as mortal (such as in the Altadorian Book of Ages—“Siyana, the First to Rise, blessed [the city's] mortal heroes with the gift of great longevity”—plus I’m pretty sure Jhudora calls you a pitiful mortal or something like that as one of her quest-completion messages), which implies that faeries are immortal—that they don’t die of old age. (They do seem to be able to die of other causes; there’s at least one faerie ghost out there—Valeane, from the “Aethia and the Battle Faerie” Neopedia article.)

2. Faeries appear to, at minimum, go through a “teenager” phase during which at least some of them attend a school called the Faerieland Academy, though what that actually involves, age-wise, seems to be ambiguous—in the Neopedia article for Kaia, whose backstory involves leaving her homeland of Shenkuu to attend the Faerieland Academy, her age is simply listed as “Younger than most of her kind.”

"I'm [ambiguous] years old!"

It’s not known whether Kaia is literally a teenager when she goes to the Academy, or if faeries age differently—it’s possible, as long-lived beings, that they age more slowly and reach the faerie equivalent of adolescence at a much older age than Neopets (or humans); likewise, it’s possible that faeries are “born”/created from magic and never go through a baby/young child stage, jumping straight from nonexistence to the equivalent of teen-hood. (I don't believe an infant or toddler-stage faerie has ever shown up in canon.)

3. The ongoing existence of the Faerieland Academy implies that faeries are being born/created at a fairly steady rate—there’d be no need for a school for young faeries if there weren’t an ongoing stream of faerie youths to be schooled.

(It’s not impossible that Neopets might attend the Faerieland Academy as well—there’s an old TCG card that references a “Faerieland Magic Academy” that Neopet would-be mages could attend. However, this may not be the same as the Faerieland Academy that Kaia and other faeries go to, and Kaia’s article doesn’t mention her interacting with other Neopets as students—only faeries.)

"And all of those faeries are jerks!"

4. It’s not clear how faeries are born/created.

At least one faerie mentions her mother—in the “Aethia and the Battle Faerie” Neopedia article, Aethia introduces herself as “student of Shyvara, daughter of Dreeana.” There is also an item called “Illusen’s Family Recipe Cake,” which means that Illusen presumably has a family that passed down the recipe for that cake.

However, it’s never clearly stated whether these familial relationships come about through birth or adoption. It’s possible that faeries reproduce through parthenogenesis, or--given that they're magical creatures--just use some sort of spell to conjure up children out of thin air. It’s also possible that faeries simply pop up spontaneously from Neopia’s natural magic (or something like that) and are then adopted by an adult faerie, though that option raises an obvious question—what happens if a young faerie pops into existence somewhere remote, without any faeries or Neopets nearby?

(The worst option, of course, is for faeries to be like ants or honeybees, in which the Queen is responsible for producing all the eggs necessary to keep the colony going. I would not wish that on Queen Fyora--it seems like an awful lot of work, and ruling a city-state seems hard enough on its own.) (Though there's a part of me that's strangely amused by the idea of faeries being insect-like enough to have a grub-like larval stage.)

"Why would you even suggest that."

5. However it is more faeries enter Neopia, here we run into a problem—that is, population.

If faeries don’t die of old age, and more faeries keep being born/created… eventually you’re going to start seeing overcrowding.

This presents a few possibilities:

a) Faeries do actually die of old age; it’s just that none of them have hit that age yet.

If Dr. Sloth's Neopedia article is to be believed, Neopia as we know it came into existence around 2,000 years ago—prior to that, Neopia was a wasteland without Neopets or faeries, until one day the world spontaneously became covered with greenery and Neopets popped into existence (much to Dr. Sloth’s dismay—he’d liked having a nice wasteland to fill with cool mutants!). It’s possible that faeries do have a maximum lifespan, but it’s simply higher than the number of years faeries have existed as a species. After a certain point, therefore, the faerie population could then stabilize.

b) Faeries do actually die of old age, and some have already done so, but faeries don’t like to talk about it—and might even deliberately hide their mortality from Neopets.

We know that Fyora has been Queen for at least 1,000 years (since she was the one to seal away the Darkest Faerie 1,000 years ago), so faerie lifespans would have to be at least 1,000-plus-however-old-Fyora-was-when-she-became-Queen, but (again, assuming the Dr. Sloth article is accurate) less than 2,000-and-change.

(As a side note, it’s implied that Fyora wasn’t the first Faerie Queen; according to the description of the (on-site item) book A New Day, Fyora was once an “up-and-coming faerie princess,” which raises the question of what might have happened to the previous Queen—untimely death, abdication, or something else?).

c) Faeries don’t die of old age, but after a certain point they leave Neopia in some manner.

Perhaps they abandon their physical forms and ascend to a higher plane of existence, or merge back with the natural magic of Neopia, or something… which seems a lot like death, actually, depending on one’s spiritual beliefs. Or maybe faeries have a retirement home on a planet next door (though that really just kicks the overpopulation can down the road).

d) Faeries don’t die of old age, don’t disappear from Neopia, and are, at some point, going to have to grapple with the whole overpopulation issue.

Digging too deeply into that train of thought could get a bit more dystopian than I’d necessarily like from a petsite, but hey, there it is.

"What a depressing topic..."

6. Leaving aside future concerns about faerie overpopulation—how many faeries are there, anyways?

There isn’t a solid answer for the whole of Neopia, but the Neopedia does give a few specific numbers that could be used.

The “A Dark Faerie” and “A Light Faerie” articles both have estimated populations for dark and light faeries—25,000 for dark faeries, and 33,000 for light faeries.

If we were to take those numbers and extrapolate them for the other elements—the mean of those two numbers is 29,000, so for this exercise we’ll assume that’s a reasonable average for each element—we’d get around 174,000 faeries in Neopia.

However, that is definitely not the total population, because there’s another source of faerie population data: the Neopedia article for Faerieland.

According to that Neopedia article, the total population of Faerieland is 1,620,000, 80% of which is composed of faeries. 80% of 1,620,000 is 1,296,000 total faeries—and that’s just in Faerieland; there are also faeries living outside of Faerieland (though the ratio of non-Faerieland faeries to Faerieland faeries is unknown).

Still, this leaves us with a few options:

a) Normal option: Whoever wrote the Faerieland Neopedia article simply didn’t use the numbers from the “A Dark Faerie” and “A Light Faerie” articles (which is fair enough; it’s not like those population numbers were a vital part of Neopets lore that would cause issues if retconned) Besides, other aspects of those articles are a bit outdated anyways--the dark faerie article straight-up says that dark faeries are evil (vs. the current canon that they can be good or evil, like any other faerie).

b) Hilarious option #1: The population numbers in the “A Dark Faerie” and “A Light Faerie” articles were accurate to the state of Neopia at the time the articles went live, but the faerie population has exploded exponentially in the years between those articles and the Faerieland article. How or why this could have happened is anyone’s guess, but now faeries have a massive Baby Boom generation.

c) Hilarious option #2: The population numbers in “A Dark Faerie” and “A Light Faerie” are accurate; dark and light faeries are extremely outnumbered by faeries of every other element.

If we were to assume that literally every dark and light faerie lives in Faerieland (demonstrably not the case, but let’s roll with it for now), then that’s a total of 1,238,000 faeries who are neither dark nor light vs. 58,000 total who are. Assuming a relatively-even population distribution between earth, air, fire, and water (though you could argue that there’d be a lower ratio of water faeries, as given that they have mermaid tails instead of legs they’d likely prefer to live in… well… the water), then that’s around 309,500 faeries of each of the non light/dark elements, which would mean there were a little over 9 faeries of any other of the “main” elements for every light faerie, a little over 12 faeries of any of the other “main” elements for every dark faerie, and, grouping the dark/light and earth/air/fire/water elements together, a little over 21 non-dark/light faeries for every dark/light faerie.

But again—that’s only using Faerieland numbers. The numbers from the “A Dark Faerie” and “A Light Faerie” articles appear to be for all Neopia, so the ratios would be even more lopsided as long as there are significant populations of faeries outside of Faerieland (which is surely the case; I don’t think Balthazar is walking right into to Faerieland and bottling faeries in the streets).

"Personally, I think we could use a few more of us around... but at least dark faeries are in the same boat."

But really, this one can probably be chalked up to those two older articles having relatively-arbitrary numbers slapped on them years before the Faerieland article was written and someone having to ask themselves "hey, Faerieland seems like a pretty big city... what's a reasonable population?"

[genericpuff]

Do you have any entry level recommendations for someone looking to learn a bit more about Greek mythology? I’d love to read up on it but I’m not sure how to find reputable sources and avoid Americanisation.

I mean, at the risk of sounding crass, you're likely going to run into Americanization no matter what you do because America itself was built on many cultures, especially that of Greek philosophy and storytelling.

Buuut if you mean you wanna read some actual Greek myth content that AREN'T modern American spins on classic tales, Emily Wilson is a popular choice for many people dipping their toes into translated mythology as her translations are both simplistic and concise in their language choices as well as fun in their structure to read both internally and orally (iirc her translations are done in iambic pentameter which is very familiar to anyone who's ever read Shakespeare). I've been working through her translation of The Odyssey, it's been pretty enjoyable :)

I've also heard great things about both Lattimore and Fitzgerald, the latter of whom I will be reading next after I finish Wilson's translation. That said, I haven't read either of their works yet, so take my recommendation of them with grains of salt! (I hope you enjoy them though if you check 'em out! If you beat me to it, let me know how they went!)

OH also, I know it's sorta the opposite of what you're likely looking for as it's VERY influenced by modern contexts, but thanks to another anon I recently got into Destripando la Historia which is a super fun animated Youtube series that retells the stories of various different gods from different mythologies. If you're into stuff of the goofy anime variety, you might enjoy them, it's a Spanish series but you can turn on captions to read the translations! It's super beginner-friendly, it covers a lot of different stories and myths without getting into so much detail that it's overwhelming (but gives you a good kickoff point to start with!) and the songs and animations slap, Afrodita is one of my favorites haha

Overall the biggest advice I can give you if you're trying to avoid fanfiction-y / "Americanized" retellings is just to cross-reference. If you find a retelling you really like but aren't completely sure of its legitimacy as a functional retelling, keep reading, watching, and learning more. It's a skill like any other, and the more you read, the more you'll be able to pick out what's a legitimate retelling from studied scholars vs. what's fanfiction that you don't need to take too accurately or seriously LMAO

And honestly, nothing wrong with the fanfiction stuff! Mythology, in its very nature, changes over time, it's an inevitability and many of the myths we still draw from today are often derivative in and of themselves from even older versions that pre-existed them (see: Ovid).

it's okay if your introduction to Greek myth is through derivative fanfic, stuff like Disney's Hercules and even Lore Olympus ARE fun to consume for a lot of people and make for a good entry point into learning more about the myths!

What's frustrating - and what I tend to criticize the most here - is when the fanfiction gets advertised / sold as legitimate retellings; when the fanfiction grossly misrepresents the actual mythology and yet tries to claim it as legitimate anyways which results in fanbases that are running around with completely false information claiming it as fact. If you can give the team behind Hercules credit for one thing, their rendition may not be completely accurate, BUT the folks who made it never bragged about how much smarter they were than other people about Greek myth or call themselves "folklorists" when they didn't even have any formal education/training/etc. in it cough like another creator we know cough 💀 If we want to make a comparison between LO and a Disney film in terms of how it grossly misrepresents the themes and cultural contexts of the original stories it was drawing from... Disney's Pocahontas does exactly that 💅

So if you want to avoid any "grossly" Americanized versions of Greek myth that are borderline disrespectful to the stories they're drawing from... yeah, that's usually a pretty indicative red flag LMAO

But outside of those very specific scenarios, just have fun with it, there really is no "right or wrong" way to engage with the mythology if you're simply just wanting to learn more, the beauty of it being mythology is that it's very diverse in its mediums and thus you don't have to be restricted to learning about it exclusively through academic translations or lectures. Of course, there are cultural intersections with these myths that shouldn't be ignored, we always have to treat it with care when engaging with it so that we aren't overwriting another culture's traditions or beliefs - but if you're simply wanting to learn about and entertain yourself with some amazing stories that have quite literally stood the test of time, do so however you see fit :)

[vyl3tpwny]

hihihihi!! im really curious how u go about mixing & mastering ur music cuz ur one of the few artists i know that can make such different songs but keep them consistently loud & not lacking in presence anywhere.. also despite monarch of monsters having alot of noise-rock elements, my eardrums don't bleed as much as when i listen to like jane removers stuff (no offense to her of course !!) so im just curious abt what ur process is like .. do u have any tips regarding mixing/mastering or mayb some resources i should check out? thxx

its a hard question to answer since mixing and mastering is both extremely nebulous and also different from engineer to engineer. for me, i know how to do both traditional engineering as well as stylized producer engineering. because of that, knowing both sides of a spectrum, i can do small adjustments on all ends of that spectrum to bring things closer to unity.

an example of this is because i'm extremely aware of how to work with phase relationships and resonance control, especially in low end mixing with drums and basses, i'm able to get acoustic sounding instruments to sound very beefy almost like im mixing electronic music. i also know how to take synthetic, digital sounds and make them feel more organic and real.

with making noise rock less abrasive but still intense, a lot of it is honestly watching the linear readouts and gently cutting things that get way too loud. rather than letting it all come through, or filtering it all, its just a slow approach of listening for frequencies that are unruly and bringing them down a bit. most eqs kinda suck at this if youre doing a lot of adjustments but fabfilter pro q3 is just the boss and makes shit like this super easy. but this is mostly for my own personal enjoyment. i love shit that makes my ears bleed too.

anyway i always recommend fabfilter products. two other indispensable tools for me this project cycle is oeksound's "soothe2" and "bloom". i tend not to use many shortcut methods of achieving a good mix, but these two get a fair amount of use for just automatically taming high and low frequencies. specifically for high end material i'll use soothe2 to notch out problem frequencies, and bloom to help maintain overall tonal consistency so as not to lose a lot of important frequency information!

[inexplicifics]

I have the headcanon goose trick that happened in the earlier days of Lambert and Milena courting. For the sake of not spending too much time on this and also because my lazy brain found it funny, Cedric named his horse Axe for Axel, so it would be an inside-ish joke on the Path that he was always riding Axe(l), and Axel felt the need to one-up him by starting off naming his horse Rick, which changed to Dick, which changed to Dicky.

Sorry in advance for the lazy writing, it’s 4 am and my brain is in slow mode right now.

** ** **

“They did what?” Lambert snarled, swearing vociferously.

“It was a joke, Lambert! A harmless prank!” Milena soothed.

“They’ll see how harmless that prank was when I see them on the training field!”

“Uncle Lambert.” Both adults turn to that voice that brooked no argument. “You’re forgetting something.”

“Forgetting something? What am I forgetting, Menace?” Lambert’s brow furrowed Try as he might, he couldn't think of what Ciri meant.

“Milena is sworn to Papa,” Ciri started, eyes glittering with mischief, “but she’s also sworn to me. My lady-in-waiting is mine to protect.”

The look in the kid’s eye said Cedric and Axel would be learning a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.

***

Cedric and Axel always spent some time with their horses after dinner, so they were full and happy as they wandered into the stable. That state morphed into confusion as soon as they opened the horse stalls to see no horse, just a goose with the same colouring.

Cedric looked in dread at the goose with Axe’s colouring, then turned back to his lover. “Goose trick?”

Axel was still staring at his goose. It had the same spot over its left eye as Dicky. “Medallion’s vibrating, so that would certainly be my guess.”

***

The first thirty minutes were spent trying to find a sorceress with the time to de-goosify their horses. Triss roped the two witchers into helping her finish some Swallows for Gweld and Aiden after a disastrous race down and up the Killer has left both with multiple fractures and Gweld with some nasty splinters from where he collided with a tribute wagon. No sooner did she turn to ask what she could do for the duo, did a human child crying over a sprained wrist come in.

Yennefer, on the other hand, set down her stack of papers with a grin. Cedric and Axel barely had time to give each other a look of wariness before she’d distributed a list of herbs and alchemical ingredients that they were to collect if they wanted her help de-goosifying anything and sendt them through a portal, an alert crystal thrown through after them.

Four hours and many scratches later, they returned with the moss, mould, buckthorn, and endrega queen embryos as requested, and Yennefer whisked the ingredients away with a smile, standing to follow them to the stables.

“They certainly have magic on them.” Yennefer reached out to Dicky and the spot disappeared, but nothing else changed.

“Change them back, witch.” Cedric growled.

“I removed the enchantments from one goose, but it is still very much a goose. The magic we sensed was the glamour. I’ll try my luck with the other one, but I wouldn’t expect different results.” Yennefer snapped back, walking into the other stall.

Axel dipped his head in apology for his lover. “We’re just a bit worried, is all.”

The magic stripped from the goose believed to be Axe is equally unimpressive. Yennefer sighed. “Goose tricks are harmless, if Ciri is messing with you, your horses are certainly safe. Supper will start in half an hour. Go wash in the hot springs, and ask her after the meal. If you’ll excuse me, I must go remove the stench of hay and horses.”

***

Cedric and Axel were rather sedate as they took their seats at the Cat table, Axel leaning into the arm Cedric had wrapped around him. Even as the table started to fill and their siblings started poking fun about the geese, neither put much effort into the banter.

Suddenly, Dragonfly poked Axel with a grin. “Menace looks smug, eh? Those are some handsome cats she and Milena have there!”

Axel felt Cedric’s grip tighten and turned to the Wolf table, where Ciri and Milena were carrying a cat each towards the Cat table. Milena looked somewhat apologetic behind her lady, who was grinning like a fiend. The cats in their arms also had the colouring of the missing horses, and again, Axel felt his medallion vibrate.

The girls held the cats out to Cedric and Axel, and Axel tried not to get his hopes too high, the Menace enjoyed causing maximum chaos, so this couldn’t be what it seemed.

“Don’t you think cats belong at the Cat table?” Ciri blinked up at them innocently.

The lovers stood and each took a cat into their arms. Immediately, their medallions began violently vibrating, and suddenly the animals in their arms were no longer cats, but horses. Carefully setting the animals on their feet, they looked a little accusingly at the Menace.

“Milena is under my protection.” The little girl announced proudly. “It seemed like you needed to be reminded.” She shrugged.

They only noticed the rest of the hall had filed in during the exchange when the raucous laughter started.

“I told you the geese were normal!” Yennefer called from her seat at the Wolf table, violet eyes sparkling with mirth.

“You’re cleaning up the shit!” Dragonfly guffawed as Axel watched Dicky lift his tail in horror.

Lesson learned: the Menace may not protect her people with a blade like her Papa yet, but that doesn't mean she skimps on her duty.

Delightful!

[gingacat]

twisted from: Myth of the Victoria Water Lily

name: Lily V. Maven

birthday: February 12 (Aquarius)

age: 16

height: 155 cm

homeland: Starway River, a river that starts in the Oniric Rainforest and crosses the Golden Cordilleras. (my fan made locations)

grade: Freshman

class: D

club: Film Research club

best subject: Astrology

worst subject: History of magic

dorm: Astromunay (my Yzma fan dorm)

hobbies: Stargazing

pet peeves: Heartless people

favorite food: Avocado with sugar

least favorite food: Meat

talent: Acrobatic diving

nicknames: Mavis (Cater), Seaweed (Floyd), Mademoiselle Clown (Rook), Leaf bug (Miyuu)

quotes:

“What am I doing? Well, I'm counting clouds. It sounds boring but it's lots of fun, I totally recommen— Hey?! Why are you walking away?!”

Personality

At first glance, Lily seems to be innocent and naive, but she is still a fae from the Oniric Rainforest, a place known for its mystical and mischievous creatures. She is a playful person who loves playing tricks on people and talking in ambiguous ways that leave others confused. She also finds it fun to pretend to be dumb, when in fact she's secretly really smart.

It's easy to get along with her, but you have to be careful not to believe 100% in what she says. She likes riddles and puzzles and expresses herself or her thoughts through either weird metaphors or by using sarcasm that sounds genuine. It is hard to know when she is joking and when she's not.

But Lily is not that complex, it's just her nature to act in a more playful way, she just wants to have fun and thinks her way of acting will also bring fun to other people. She likes teasing others, but if she sees that she has hurt someone, she'll immediately stop and apologize.

When she is upset, Lily becomes quiet and distant, seeming to be in an entirely different place inside of her head.

She is obsessed with astronomy and when someone awakens her love for it, she gets extremely excited, rambling about stars, planets, galaxies, the universe, etc. Lily gets really happy when people actually listen or are invested in what she says, loving to share an interest of hers to others.

Background

Her father, Levi, is a water fae and her mother, Rosario, is a wood fae. Lily is their only child.

Her parents were always fighting, always stressed by their own personal lives, and the overall mood of the household was dark, sorrowful. Levi was fond of Space though, and he enjoyed taking Lily to go stargazing. Ever since she was very young, she was enamored with the stars.

Lily's first memory with stargazing was unforgettable. She remembers she was very upset that day and couldn't stop crying because she was the reason her parents had fought. Not wanting his daughter to be sad, Levi took her to see how beautiful the sky looked that night. For the first time in her life, Lily had seen something that wasn't gloomy nor dark, but shining so bright that it had touched her heart. Just as she was looking at the stars, the stars were looking back at her, embracing her with all their warm and beautiful luster.

Lily imagined how it would be like to be there, shining right next to the Moon. She wanted to be like the stars, who make people happier, who brighten people's moods even when everything seems to be horrible, even when the entire world seems to be so dark and so lonely.

Although, because of her mischievous nature, she eventually found a more playful way to shine and bring joy: by making others laugh.

Trivia

Her age is counted in human years because her mother is half-human and half-fae so Lily is not 100% fae. (i had to humanize Lily bc fae years are just so complicated 😭)

Lily mispronounces Diasomnia for Dysnomia, the name of a moon. Sebek keeps correcting her, but she never gets it right. (she's doing it on purpose)

She can breathe underwater.

Lily is very interested in scientific theories and loves debating about them. (ex: wormhole theory, panspermia theory, things like that)

She is the class clown. She keeps asking the most outrageously stupid questions to the teachers and manages to make the entire class laugh. (except for Sebek, lmao)

Lily never met Malleus but she would probably call him her broski.

If anyone is curious, the Victoria Water Lily myth tells the story of a woman who drowned after leaning towards a river to touch the reflection of the Moon, since she was in love with the Moon. The Moon (or Goddess of the Moon) was known for choosing women and turning them into stars, but to honor that woman who drowned, the Moon turned her into a Victoria Regia (water lily), which is known as the "Star of the waters".

[letters-to-rosie]

Rosie!!!! Ep 7 had me pointing at the screen like that Leo DiCaprio gif when Jinx lit the match to blow up the bar and during the sweet Timebomb moment on the roof!!! I was like JUST LIKE ROSIE SAID AAAAHHHHHHH even timebomb only being possible in an AU is in line with that i think. AND you are giving us the revolution plot the show didn't!!

lol timebomb and roofs name a more iconic duo

the funny thing about the parallel is that Jinx is doing this tearful goodbye to a place that's been a home to her for so long and was owned by two successive fathers whose deaths she had a hand in and feels responsible for. and revolution!Powder is like "Ekko pissed me off" lmao. not to trivialize her feelings, because it's certainly more than that, but she didn't come there to destroy it initially. it's this explosion of all this pain and anger that then is released when she and Ekko fight in the alley. it's so much less deliberate than Jinx in the show. it was interesting for me to watch too lol I was like heyyyyyy I wrote something vaguely like that

I do wish the show hadn't given us the feeling that timebomb was only possible in an AU, just because it also explicitly shows us that Jinx heals when she has people to care for. I think Isha's death is to suggest that she'll never be anyone's true protector, but it really shouldn't have to be that way. because Jinx keeps saving people all throughout the season. Ekko even says her inventions change the world. and there's so much work to do in rebuilding Zaun and making it its own thing that Jinx could be a big part of. work that Ekko himself is going to be doing. this is all to say that we should've gotten Firelight Jinx lol. we kinda did with the final teamup, but we didn't get to see it, and that's a shame. I think that would have been a very natural ending for her, to hide away and then live amongst the people who have become her people. but noooooo we can't have nice things lol

and that kinda segues into the business of the revolution. I did figure that the two sides of the city would have to team up to fight off Ambessa, though I couldn't have seen her alliance with Viktor coming (though it makes sense given Singed's lore, in a convoluted way). really not a fan of how at the end of the show most of the problems that were present at the beginning as far as class and inequality go are left intact. the only real difference is that Zaun has some leverage, but not much. but this does align with my critiques of the first season having some pretty neoliberal underpinnings. the second season just doubles down on that super hard in a frustrating way

for me, a big part of why I wanted to do the fic is because the show gave me a world in which it was really easy to talk about a lot of issues I'm very serious about, and because I could see Jinx/Powder turning into a leader, even if not in a conventional sense, through traits that were evident even before season 2's direction was revealed to us. it's kinda crazy how it's so easy to forget that Ambessa only had such an easy in because of the oppression Piltover had been perpetuating against its poorer half the whole time. it's a good example of how oppression is dangerous for the oppressor as well (very Pedagogy of the Oppressed-core of me but it's me lol)

this got long anyway hope you're doing well!! we should talk soon!

fic we're discussing is here if anyone wants it

[fanficsbysteve]

Morning Bliss

Author Note: And thus ended this little trilogy of ideas that I had. Thanks everyone for the likes and reading these stories of mine. I'm working on some other ideas right now. I have a Christmas one that I love and maybe a few other ideas. I also accept Prompts if anyone wants to send those my way. Its not necessary but if you wanted to read them in order it goes Part 1 and Part 2

Rating: PG

W/C: 3408

***

                Tommy was comfortable in bed, relaxing, just staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. Three different bodies were snoring around him. Evan was sprawled across the bed, legs crossing Tommy’s, his torso pushed up against his own. Arms a jumbled mess. He was snoring lightly. The other two were snoring very loudly. Evan had wanted the dogs. So, after meeting them 4 years ago, the two decided to adopt them. So now Mitzi and Bitzi were lying sprawled across the end of the bed. Tommy had the barest sliver on the bed, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had gotten used to sleeping as a board on one spot, not moving during his army years.

                Another creature decided to make itself known. Their Orange cat Pickles jumped up onto the bed and started to knead on Tommy’s chest. No claws. They had not declawed her, that would have been cruel, but they did make sure that her claws were trimmed as often as they were brave enough to get scratches everywhere.

                Tommy brought his hand up and started to stroke Pickles across the back as she made biscuits on him. He never understood why everyone called it ‘making biscuits’. As far as he knew you barely kneaded biscuit dough. That’s how it got its flakes and everything. What cats did was more like kneading bread or buns. He was thinking way too into this. Pickles started purring gently as Tommy gave her the love she so desperately deserved.

                “Morning,” A voice came from Tommy’s side. Evan had woken up with the purring it seems. This man could sleep through anything, except the cat purring for some reason.

                “Morning,” Tommy leaned over and gave Evan a deep kiss, “Sleep well?”

                “I was until Pickles here decided to start making her crescendo,” Evan smiled and reached over to stroke the cat as well.

                “I’m still not sure how a cat purring gently wakes you up,” Tommy gestured to the cat, “While the pair of chainsaws at the end of the bed do nothing.” The two dogs both snored loudly at that, the perfect moment. The movement of the bed is not waking them up at all.

                “Well, I’m used to the chainsaws,” Evan said, “You aren’t exactly silent when you sleep,” Evan winked.

                “I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy smiled. He carefully lifted Pickles off his chest, “Ugh there is too much to do today,” He felt his knees being annoying as he stood up. The joys of getting older. All your joints crack like you are a walking talking glowstick, but they refuse to glow, which was very rude of them. As if on cue, he stood up and felt both of his knees crack and his back a bit.

                “Well, you are retired now you know,” Evan stated, “So you have all the time in the world to do whatever you want.”

                Tommy had retired from the LAFD. He was in his mid-forties now. And all the work he had been doing had started to catch up with him. He wasn’t worried though. Evan was still working for the LAFD, and they already owned the house. When they had decided to move in together all those years ago, Evan had sold his loft, and Tommy had sold his house. If they were going to move in together then they should start fresh. Not ‘Evan’s loft’ or ‘Tommy’s house.’ They wanted a place that was both of theirs that didn’t come with any previous baggage. They pooled their assets together and bought a nice house in Ontario. The drive to work for them was murder somedays depending on the traffic, but it was a home of their own. Evan got an amazingly huge kitchen to bake and cook and do whatever culinary endeavors he wants. Tommy managed to bring his Car life with him so he could still do that work. Within a few years of them moving, Evan had been offered a promotion to the LAFD in Ontario. He wasn’t sure he should take it, as it would have taken him away from his 118 family, but each and every one of them had pushed him to take it. So, in the end with everyone supporting him, and promising to come see his new firehouse, Evan agreed to become the Captain of the 368.

                Out of bed, and joints no longer making a weird popping noise, Tommy heads to the stairs heading down from the second floor to the first floor. This was one of the few two-story houses in the area. Being in California, they didn’t have many houses with multiple floors. Not very earthquake safe. But this house called to the two of them. So, the stairs and second floor were part of the deal. The floors were mildly cold this morning, but Tommy wasn’t bothered by it. The cold helped to wake up his senses while he walked down the stairs. As he walked, he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. The dogs had woken up and Evan was playing with them. He got down the stairs and went to the kitchen to start the coffee. Evan wouldn’t forgive him if he messed up the kitchen in his attempts to make breakfast. The kitchen was his domain and Tommy respected that.

                He walked to the front door, the morning newspaper sitting there waiting. Call him old but he did prefer to read his news in an actual newspaper sometimes. Plus, he got to do a crossword with Evan which was always fun. His husband and all this random knowledge made it easier. Setting up at the table, Tommy waited for the coffee to be done. A stampede of noise came from the stairs and Tommy knew that Evan and the dogs were on the way down. Breakfast would be soon.

                When they entered the kitchen, Bitzi beelined her way towards Tommy. Each of the dogs had their favorite human. Bitzi really liked Tommy while Mitzi loved Evan. That’s not to say that they didn’t like other humans, they just knew their favorites. Tommy reached down and started to scratch Bitzi behind her ear, “And how are you doing today my Bitzi-boo?”

                Her tail was wagging and beating against the table leg. He loved this dog so much, “Did you want to go outside?” he asked the dog.

                Saying the magic word, Bitzi and Mitzi both went into an insane level of zoomies around the house, Tommy stood up from the table and head to the door to the backyard. Opening the door, the two dogs ran outside to do their business. Tommy left the door open, while closing the screen door, letting a nice breeze into the room, “So what did you have planned for breakfast?” Tommy asked as he went towards the kitchen. Evan had already started to make something for them.

                “I’m thinking some biscuits and gravy. It’s something we had that time we went to Texas to visit the Reyes-Strands,” Evan explained, “It’s been a while, and I have all the stuff to make fresh biscuits.”

                “That sounds amazing,” Tommy said. He chuckled a little, “I still can’t get over how TK clocked you before you even knew it yourself. His 'I knew it!' and looking triumphant was worth it.”

                “Quiet you,” Evan playfully snapped, “I was still uncertain. Remember how I was all ‘I’m an Ally’ when we first went out? It took a while to figure out what I wanted. Besides, I think he expected me to be with Eddie which would have been so weird.”

                “That would have been very weird indeed,” Tommy winked, “So what do you want me to do to help with this?”

                “Well, I don’t trust you to make the biscuits,” Tommy’s face had a hurt look on it, “You just aren’t that good with baking. So, I won’t need your help until they are in the oven.”

                “Well, I guess I’ll just go sit over at the table and start my crossword then,” Tommy pouted as he went towards his chair. When he got there, he found Pickles stretched across the chair, belly up, “Excuse me miss, you seem to be sitting in my spot,” Pickles made a pawing action at Tommy which he found adorable. He scooped the orange cat up in his hands and brought her up close, feeling her purring into his chest. While the dogs were a joint adoption, Pickles was solely something that Tommy had brought with them. She was a stray that he had started feeding about a decade ago. Eventually she moved in with him and has been with him ever since.

                Sitting in his chair, Pickles purring contently on his lap, Tommy started to do the morning crossword. He did all the easy ones first. Something he didn’t need to ask for help with. Small victories at the start. Soon it got to the harder ones, so he sighed, “What’s a 6-letter word for ‘ear bone’?”

                Evan was busy working away on his biscuit dough. He had today off work, so he didn’t need to rush through breakfast. On these days, Tommy was spoiled. He really didn’t deserve this man but somehow, they have made it work for the past 7 years, “Stapes,” Evan said aloud and spelled it.

                “Thanks, love,” Tommy said filling in the boxes. That gave him the answers to another few before he needed help again. At that moment, however, there was a gentle pawing at the screen door. The dogs wanted to be let in.

                Tommy was about to put down his newspaper when Evan said, “I’ve got it. Need to let the dough rest a bit,” Tommy continued with his crossword, “And how did My Bitches enjoy their time outside?”

                Tommy sighed, “I really wish you wouldn’t call them that.”

                “Why not?” Evan was rubbing both their heads before letting them go towards their food and water bowls, “It’s the correct terminology. A female dog is referred to as a bitch. So calling them my bitches is just me calling them my female dogs.”

                “It just feels weird,” Tommy replied, “Seven letter word. ‘kneecap’.”

                “Patella,” Evan responded back in the kitchen. He washed his hands before going back to making the biscuits. The oven beeped that it had reached the temperature for baking, “You should know that. Aren’t you a firefighter?”

                “I was a pilot,” Tommy filled in the letters, “There were medics on hand for that kind of stuff. I just had to focus on making sure that we didn’t crash.”

                “I just had an idea,” Evan said, “Something to keep you occupied all these retired days.”

                “And that would be?”

                “Well, I know you miss flying,” Evan started to roll out the dough and start cutting it into circles, “And they always want either flying instructors or those ‘Fly over LA’ tour things. Could be something.”

                Tommy looked contemplative. He did miss flying. But did he really want to be some kind of tour guide to the city? He doesn’t really know much about the city he’s spent the past couple of decades living here, “Not sure I would be good as a tour guide. I know exactly nothing about LA except where stuff burned down.”

                “Oh, you can probably just be the pilot who flies people around,” Evan explained, “They give you a route you fly over. Someone else does the talking.”

                “I’ll look into it,” Tommy smiled. He really did miss the flying. And anything that could get him back into the air was very welcome, “Do you remember the first time we met?”

                “How could I forget,” Evan stopped what he was doing for a second to look wistfully into nothing, “Flying into a hurricane to rescue Bobby and Athena after their cruise ship pulled a Poseidon.”

                “I’m sure you know this, but after we landed and the reunions started,” Tommy looked at Evan, “The moment you touched my shoulder. That’s the moment that I knew you were the one for me. I don’t know how, but I just knew it then and there.”

                “And yet,” Evan continued with his biscuits, lying them nicely on a baking tray, “Let’s not forget the time you broke up with me. That wasn’t very smart of you.”

                “Yes well,” Tommy coughed. Evan smiled at him, “As we all know I’ve had to deal with plenty of trauma’s growing up and I didn’t think that I would live up to the ideal that you had for me.”

                “Well, you were the only man I ever wanted,” Evan replied, “And even during all that dating while we were apart, I could only compare everyone to you. This person wasn’t tall enough, this person’s eyes were the wrong color, this person didn’t have your way of speaking. Just a bunch of judgements that I couldn’t stop because deep down, I knew you were the one for me as well.”

                “Looks like we were both smart enough in the end,” Tommy smiled. He had stopped his crossword puzzle at this point. Just content with their cat on his lap, the dogs lying around the kitchen while Evan did the cooking like he always preferred.

                Once the biscuits were in the oven, Evan let Tommy know that he could reenter the kitchen and help with the cooking, “I’ll get you to start browning the sausage,” Evan should really have been a chef in a kitchen. He knew his way around a kitchen better than anyone else he knew, but he loved saving people as a firefighter more than anything. It had given him purpose all those years ago when he first started at the 118. It still gives him purpose today even though he does spend a large amount of time behind a desk now.

                Evan hovered over Tommy as he browned the sausage, “You do know that I can do this,” Tommy smiled as he kept moving the meat around the pan, but leaned in and snuck a kiss from his husband, “Browning meat isn’t the most difficult thing in the world.”

                “I’ve been watching my probies mess things up for too many weeks I guess,” Evan chuckled and stepped back, “I don’t think they could tell the difference between a farfalle, and a cavatappi if I didn’t point it out to them.”

                “I wouldn’t be able to tell either,” Tommy finished with browning the sausage, he then took a step ahead before Evan had a chance to tell him and started by adding a dab of butter for a bit more fat in the pan, and then started to sprinkle in flour to make the roux, “I only know the Italian names because you insist on using them all the time. Us non-culinarily inclined individuals just call them bowties and corkscrews,” letting the flour cook off a bit, to a blond roux, Tommy then added the milk into the pan.

                “Yes well,” Evan coughed, “You seem to have things handled here. I’ll check on the biscuits,” Thankfully they had decided to spend a bit more and had some high-end kitchen equipment ordered when they moved in. Evan had wanted a gas stove, so they got that, and kept the oven separate from the stovetop. That was one of the things he really wanted. That way when he was cooking, he could bake and cook at the same time and check on things. Or like right now, when Tommy was helping to cook, they didn’t need to worry about things burning while one of them was trying to move out of the way to get to the oven.

                The biscuits weren’t ready yet, but they were close, the sausage gravy smelled delicious though. Tommy dipped his pinky into the gravy, getting a slight burning from it and tasted it before starting to add some salt and pepper and a few herbs. Always taste and adjust as you cook is the motto in this kitchen. After mixing a bit, Tommy grabbed a spoon from the drawer next to the stovetop and scooped a little onto the spoon and offered it to Evan, “Let me know if it’s missing anything.”

                Evan took the spoon and tasted the gravy. He clicked his tongue a little and asked, “You added something new from the last time we made this.”

                “Bit more sage,” Tommy admitted, “I like the flavour it adds and the sausage we have doesn’t have enough for my liking.”

                “Tastes good,” Evan admitted, “I’ll have to keep that in mind. We should start making our own sausage instead of buying it all the time. Get the blends that we enjoy.”

                “We are going to turn into that couple that cans and stores and grows everything aren’t we,” Tommy laughed.

                “I mean it wouldn’t be that big of a stretch for me to do that,” Evan joked, “But I don’t think we have enough time right now with my work and you’re piloting.”

                “You know I haven’t decided on that,” Tommy said, “You only brought it up maybe 10 minutes ago.”

                “I know how much being in the air means to you,” Evan replied, “And I know that regardless of your thoughts on it, you will end up looking at something like the tour guide thing. I’m willing to bet on it.”

                “And what are you willing to bet?” Tommy asked, “You know we share everything already so there isn’t much you can bet with.”

                “Oh, I have my ways,” Evan pulled the biscuits out of the oven. Perfectly brown. Nice and fluffy. Tommy had no idea how he managed to do that every single time without fail, “Maybe I’ll show you some of my ways later tonight.”

                “Learned some new tricks?” Tommy was very curious.

                “That’s for me to know and you to find out if you think you can handle it,” Evan started to split the biscuits and dishing up the fresh made breakfast.

                They went to the table and started to eat, “So what plans have you made for us this weekend?”

                Evan took a bite of his meal and before replying, “Well I wanted to go check out that Market down in Orange. Maybe take a walk around La Brea if we have time. Just nice little things to get us out.”

                “Well,” Tommy had an idea that he wanted to bring up with Evan, “We could always ask your sister if we can take Jee out for a day. You know I love having her around.”

                “I love having her around as well,” Evan said, “It would be up to Maddie and Chim, but I don’t think we would have trouble with it. We might also get roped into taking Philip with us as well. Make a family day of it. Maybe check out Disney. They might have some new things to check out.”

                “Evan,” Tommy got serious for a second, “We’ve been together for six years, married for three.”

                “Best six years of my life,” Evan leaned over to give Tommy a heartfelt kiss, “I wouldn’t change anything. I have you, we have Pickles, and we have my bitches.”

                Tommy groaned, “Yes well,” He continued, “I’ve been wondering. Instead of me going off and being a pilot again. We could visit Hen and Karen. They could get us in contact with an adoption agency,” Evans eyes lit up at the mention of it, “I know one thing you’ve always wanted is to be a father. And let’s face it, the chances of one of us getting pregnant is impossible.”

                “And yet we continue to try,” Evan smirked.

                “Yes, we do,” Tommy laughed, “But what if we adopted. Someone would need to stay home and since I’m retired now. Well, I could stay home. Become a stay-at-home dad.”

                Evan’s eyes were just two balls of light and happiness, “This is one of the most personal things you have ever asked of me. I know you didn’t have a wonderful time growing up, so you didn’t want to have that kind of life for a child. But I know you aren’t your father. You would give any child the greatest life.”

                Tommy smiled. He didn’t want to become his father. He would try to not become that person, but having Evan think this about him? That was worth more than anything, “WE would give any child the greatest life,” Tommy reached out and gave Evan’s a hand a nice tight squeeze, “We would do this together. Let’s get your niece and nephew and do some practice this weekend. And let’s see if we can ask Hen and Karen about adoption.”

                Evan just squeezed Tommy’s hand. The look of elation on Evan’s face made all the pain in the past, any kind of troubles they have had worth it. They would do this and they would make a family. Evan, Tommy, Pickles, Mitzi, Bitzi, and a child. A child that needed a family and they would make theirs with them. Tommy smiled so all the crinkles in his face showed up. This would be the perfect future for them.

***

Thanks for reading this. Let me know what you think. I love reading comments on what you thought so let me know. Constructive Criticism is also accepted.

Love, Steve

[bookie-bookdust]

Sebastian Sallow Headcanons

Shitty attempt at headcanons for my morally gray, stubborn Sebby boy in Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks. It's long for literally no reason besides I don't know how to shut up.

My Seb has gone through it. He suffers - but he also deserves it for that whole "ignorant" outburst days after what happened in the Restricted Section on the night of the Yule Ball. So yeah, he's begging for forgiveness by the end when he realizes how torn he and MC's relationship has become - not without stubbornly trying to get under her skin first.

This idiot constantly wears tight clothes - not because he knows it drives MC insane, though if he noticed, it would get much much worse for her lol- but it's because he's so damn messy he grabs the first clean thing he can find in the morning (slutty little vests, tight sweaters, button downs with stressing buttons - RIP MC).

Reading glasses - enough said.

He's an extremely adept magic wielder. Not only can he cast multiple Unforgivables with shorter cooldowns, but his spells are obscenely strong. MC has not been able to beat him in a duel since that very first time.

That being said, he can't cast a patronus because he's a sad emo boy.

Fav spell: Confringo. Secret fav spell: Imperio.

It's not with the times, but he would definitely listen to metal music. You can't convince me otherwise.

The morally gray/dark wizard line is sooooo veryyyyyy thinnnnnnnn and will get worse.

He doesn't trust aurors and would NEVER BECOME ONE!!!!!!!! Why do ya’ll want him to be a cop so bad??? (Unless he's a dirty cop lol)

Career-wise, he'd be a curse breaker, healer, or a dark wizard 😌

Irrevocably dedicated to the ones he loves, and if he feels its dire enough, he will hurt them to protect them. Trust me on this - for no reason in particular😇

Not opposed to getting on his knees and begging hehehehe...

A skilled healer due to countless hours in the library studying up on a cure for Anne.

Has burned his fingerprints off with too many fire spells. And speaking of his fingers, it's common to spot him with ink staining his skin from all his note taking.

While he's charming and cocky, he sees himself as lesser, dispensable, and directly blames himself for all of his life tragedies.

Anger issues - duh.

Not sure if I'll even get into this in SSFS, but my Seb comes from a family of the Dark Arts - whether he's aware of it or not. We already know Solomon used them. I'd like to think his parents did as well, which is what led to their deaths. The Sallow line is cursed as fuck. Will be exploring this more in a future Dark Seb project where he has to break this curse.

Will make dick jokes. No one is safe.

While he'd make a great beater in Quidditch, his life just doesn't have space for trivial things. He's too busy with murder.

Speaking of body count LOL, he's charmed quite a few witches, but no one has shorted his brain quite like MC. He's intently studied some interesting books in the Restricted Section fantasizing testing out some things.

Idk when his birthday is lol. I'm just agreeing with everyone else.

Seb's relationship with Ominis is interesting....I'll be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if their friendship is going to survive in my world. Seb crosses too many lines. Obliviating your best friend really drives a wedge between you.

THE manipulator. We don't get to see too much of this in SSFS because we're in MC's pov. Particularly because he uses his wiles differently on her. But one of my favorite examples is even as he's mocking her for her poor attempt at lying in the broom closet, he's actively making her anxious (and hot and bothered lol) with that little thread on her sweater. And eventually she slips up. He's such a mother fucker lol.

Okay this post is way too long. I'm gonna leave now lol. BYEEEEE.

[mayonesamitch]

Why I Resonate With Ninjago So Much As a Trans Person

Contains spoilers

So Lego Ninjago. Honestly, the whole show is about accepting yourself and accepting others for their differences. Which is why as someone who's a trans person I resonate so much with it. I'm also an overthinker and a weirdo who spends time doing stuff like this!

First let's start off with Zane. He find out he's a robot, or nindroid, as Jay says, early on in the series and has a difficult time accepting that. When the ninja (Jay, Cole, Kai) find out, they accept him pretty easily. Even though they accept his differences he has a difficult time accepting himself, refusing to believe it at first actually. This is something that trans people and I struggle with. Even though we're accepted by everyone else we can't accept ourselves. Most trans people most likely went through a phase where they refused to believe that they were trans. Which is why when I rewatched the series and I saw this episode I felt connected to it. Later on in the episode he accepts who he really is, and actually hides it a lot less often. In fact, after season 3 (which we won't talk about today...) he rebuilds himself and looks a lot more robotic.

The way he rebuild himself makes him look a lot more like a robot, or in his case, a nindroid. (I'm just gonna call him a nindroid for the rest of this) He is also rather proud of being a nindroid. This is a journey of self acceptance that a lot of trans people and I can connect with. We often start out in disbelief and in denial of being trans. However, after we come to terms with our identity, we express ourselves the way we want. We're proud and aren't too bothered about it anymore.

Now Jay and Nya. I'm gonna talk about them both at the same time since they go together pretty closely and also cause they're a really cute couple. (We don't talk about Dragons Rising season 2 part 2...)

Anyways, they both deal with the same thing. Hiding who you are so people can have a different view on you.

For Jay, he changed himself to look better in front on Nya when he first started to love her. He also had to hide the fact that he some of the venom in his veins so she doesn't view him differently. Most trans people and relate to this feeling. Hiding yourself to look different in front of someone. You don't want to be viewed differently so you don't mention your identity at all. Of course, later in in the episode, Nya finds out that he got the venom in him and is slowly turning into a snake and tells him and he doesn't have to lie about who he is. This is something that also happens to some trans people. People find out that they've been hiding themselves. Some will react negatively and some will be like a Nya!

Speaking of Nya, it's her turn! She was Samurai X the whole time. She hid that fact because she didn't want to be viewed differently by her friends, brother, and everyone else. Again, similar to Jay, a lot of trans people hide who they really are so they don't get viewed as differently. Now, when they find out, they're all surprised and make a promised to not hide anything else from eachother.

While we're at it, I also want to mention P.I.X.A.L (I'll just call Pixal for the duration of this) had a very similar thing with her journey of being Samurai X. Hiding who she was so she want viewed differently. She's also a nindroid like Zane which shows the acceptance of the ninja team of different types of people. (Nindroids are people, right?) This acceptance really connected with me as a trans person. The way they show acceptance to each other no matter what is amazing and touching to me. They even were rather accepting of Cole being of ghost.

Speaking of Cole, I'm now gonna talk about the infamous coming out episode. Okay, its not really a coming out episode but depending on the way you take it, it can. Let me explain.

The whole just of the episode is showing how Cole isn't what his father wants him to be. His father wanted him to be a singer and dancer. However, Cole didn't want to take that career choice and became a ninja instead. He lied to his father about going to a performing arts school and tried to continue the lie when he was visiting him. Of course, the truth comes out later on whole the ninja (Kai, Jay, Zane, Cole) are backstage and are discussing stealing the Blade Cup (it's one of the fangblades that they need to stop Pythor, the main villain) When Cole explains how he's a ninja his father refuses to accept him. Of course after the big performance and winning his father finally sees that maybe it will be good for Cole to be a ninja. He accepts his son's decisions and happy ending yay fireworks pew pew pew.

Now doesn't this sound like a coming out experience? Hiding who you truly are out of fear that your parents/guardian will judge you? Yeah it definitely does. I believe the episode is the perfect allegory for a coming out experience. Whether it was intentional or not, it definitely was the perfect allegory. Which is why i connect to the episode so much. I'm sure many others can. We're afraid of not being accepted so we hide who we are. Now whether or not you'll be accepted or not when the truth eventually comes out is different for everyone. Some will be accepted and some won't. Which is why I believe this episode shows how it feels like to not be accepted by the person you should trust the most, your parents/guardian. Which is why this episode I can connect to as a trans person. I'm sure many other can too.

I also want to touch on ghost Cole. The change was very difficult to accept for Cole and everyone else since he's a whole different species! However, they still accepted him and treated him like Cole. Similar to Zane, when he accepts himself, he's rather proud of it. When he learns how to control his body and his new powers he's rather appreciative of being a ghost. Again, same thing, trans people have difficulty accepting themselves most of the time. However, when they accept themselves, they're proud.

Also I feel like I should mention this here but I won't be looking into the gay Cole theory today. That's for a different day. XD

Now I want to talk about Sally. She plays a big role in season 15 episode 10. Her main thing was running away from home to play her songs in Ninjago City. She later on regrets her actions and want so go back, but can't in fear that her parents will be upset at her for destroying their van and attempting to run away. Later on in the episode, Zane reminds her that her parents love her very much and will probably be relieved that she decided to come home. She ultimately decided to go home and when she arrives her parents are relived. Zane also turned on his emotion meter but that's besides the point.

This episode can be taken as another allegory for coming out. She runs away from her come so she can pursue her dream that she's afraid that her parents won't approve on. I know some trans people run away from their parents, guardians, friends, or people in general, cause they're afraid that they won't accept them. When Sally arrives home, her parents are relieved and glad she's home. Some trans people decide to go back and the people/person they ran away from accept them. I know this ain't the case for all trans people sadly, however, in the allegory in this episode, it is the case.

I'd also like to mention that I think she's canonically part of the LGBTQ+ community since the progress pride flag appears on her guitar and ln the back of her dad's van. Just thought that was cool.

I'm sure there are plenty of more instances of self acceptance and acceptance of other but I find that these ones I feel the most connected to. Ninjago is filled with it, which is why, as a trans person, I really resonate with this show. It really holds a special place in my heart.

I'd also like to mention that this can apply to the LGBTQ+ community in general, not just trans people. The whole community deals with self acceptance and acceptance of others. I also make a lot of generalizations about trans people, not all trans people are the same. They all have different experiences.

Anyways, I need to stop overthinking over LEGO Ninja. I think this is my hyperfixation of the year. I also might make a Ninjago edit today if I feel good. Apologies to everyone who followed me for Project Sekai and Bandori. I'll make a Bandori edit after that Ninjago edit I swear.

[quietwingsinthesky]

also also consider: human!au transfem michael who figures this out about herself years and years later than all her other siblings figure out their queerness because of The Repression™️ and calls Raphael up in the dead of night like I Need Your Help Right Now I’m Freaking Out

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.