#but it’s not clear enough from the glimpse we get on the screen

[thealdersgateoffice]

Catherine Standish in every episode of Slow Horses

3.01 Strange Games 🐌🐎

[kamaluhkhan]

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 14.6k summary: you and vi are both tired of complicated relationships so try the whole friends-with-benefits thing....and maybe forget the whole point of your arrangement in the first place. warning: lesbian situationships (there is so much angst and yearning), brief mention of (internalized) homophobia and struggles with addiction....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and smut [oral (vi receiving), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, slight bondage play, switch!vi has my heart] (18+) ! a/n: merry (belated oops) xmas girls and gays <33 i've probably spent way too much time on this but it's my BABY....kinda based on leighton and alicia's plotline in s1 of sex lives of college girls and ofc casual by chappell roan (there are many other chappell references throughout too hehe). also yes i made a mini playlist that consists of the songs that i think reflect this fic's sun, moon, and rising signs....pls enjoy and happy holidays !!!

♪: "angel baby" by troye sivan (sun); "pretty girl" by hayley kiyoko (moon); "casual" by chappell roan (rising)

“not even one week into the new academic year, violet rose atlas, captain of the varsity soccer team, has been suspended from gameplay due to recent unsportsman-like behavior, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and banned from the local lesbian bar.” 

mel removes her eyes from the screen to raise an eyebrow at you. you just shrug and take a sip of your coffee. you glance over at the clock on the wall. 

11:09am. 

“to top it all off, she’s late,” you declare, trying your best to hide the anticipation simmering in your stomach.

“what’s your deal, anyways? you totally flirt with her whenever she’s at the bar. not even we get that good of service,” gert points out. they’re searching through a stack of cd’s and cassette tapes for something to play. 

“that was before.” 

you walk over to sit next to gert, taking it upon yourself to choose the music. you settle on jagged little pill; alanis morrissette’s lush voice is a welcomed addition to your conversation.

“our funding is at risk,” you explain. “it’s like the dean assigned her to us because she knew it would end terribly and the board would have an excuse to finally cut us loose.” 

“if they need an excuse, they’ll find one,” gert grumbles.

you shrug. “i just think violet is bad news, which is something i’d prefer we avoid..”

“the article does say that she punched maddie nolan in the face during an exhibition game against the piltover knights.”

“see? bad news. literally.”

“well, i think we lucked out,” sky gushes, though her focus remains on finishing her current project. she’s crocheting so fast that you only catch glimpses of her sparkly pink fingernails. you’re sure she’ll be done with this blanket before violet shows up. if she even bothers to show up. “the yellowjackets might’ve lost their captain, but we get to spend quality time with the hottest butch on campus.”

“whatever,” you sigh, though you don’t disagree with that description. you check the clock again — 11:11am — and settle against the worn couch. “since we have the time — mel, why don’t you read our horoscopes? i’m itching to see what the universe has in store for us today.” 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi spent the better part of last night crying and getting wasted in her bathtub with cheap dye burning into her scalp. 

she just couldn’t stand the memory of caitlyn kiramman’s perfectly manicured nails running through her formerly pink locks as they kissed, tugging on vi’s hair to bring her closer —

enough. fucking pull yourself together. 

cait’s moved on, that much is clear, with someone more like her. someone whose last name is on buildings all around the university of piltover’s campus.

so far, no amount of bar fights or red cards or late nights in some random girl’s bed seem to mend the heart that caitlyn shattered to pieces, but vi doesn’t give up easy.

soon enough, she’ll be back on the field, leading the yellowjackets to victory at nationals; she’ll finish all her classes, graduate with honors and have a great plan for an even greater future; all while having amazing, mind-blowing sex that won’t lead to serious heartbreak.

relationships are overrated, anyways. 

the first step in this plan: spending 100 hours with a bunch of angry, bra-burning lesbians.

maybe vi will fit right in.

so, vi walks into her community service assignment with a wicked migraine and hands that look like lady macbeth plotted to murder an oil spill, but with her usual confident swagger nonetheless, as conversation echoes down the hallway.

“according to your rising, there will be a much needed spark in your romantic life. my guess is a fire sign is gonna sweep you off your feet.”

another voice chimes in, a gentle rumble. “could that be your sweet jules?” 

“i’ve never asked about her chart,” an achingly familiar voice replies. it brings back memories of dizzying lights and strong whiskey coursing through her blood, but something else, too. a sky full of stars and too-sweet alcohol on her tongue. “paula was a fire sign, though, and that blew up in my face.”

“paula was a walking red flag.”

“yeah, well, apparently red’s my favorite color.”

“maybe that was just the heartbreak you needed to bring passion back into your life. do you feel that with jules?”

“i don’t know — maybe? we haven’t had sex yet.” 

“passion isn’t just about sex, you know —”

“gert, i love you, but i cannot handle a sex therapy session right now.”

someone else giggles, bright and bubbly. “hm, i wonder what sign our pink-haired hottie is.” 

vi clears her throat to announce her arrival, leaning against the doorway.

everyone turns to look at her then, with varying degrees of shock, and vi feels like she’s just walked into an after midnight roommate vent session.

she isn’t sure what she expected the space to look like, but zaun university’s women’s centre is well-lived in, defined by a sort of organized chaos. each wall is covered in posters and collages, multicolored flags and fairy lights; there’s a shelf in the corner with assorted trinkets and books piled high, a table next to it with baskets of condoms, pads, and tampons and informational pamphlets, and a door in the opposite corner, slightly ajar. a vintage boombox placed on the coffee table plays 90s alt rock, circled by mismatched seating with patterned blankets and brightly colored pillows strewn about.

someone with dark lipstick and an eyebrow piercing is drawing on their converse; a dark brunette wearing glasses is draping a blanket over the arm of a couch; another person is scrolling on their laptop, a gold necklace glittering on their collarbones. 

vi’s attention is stuck on you, though, the origin of the aforementioned familiar voice: the very hot bartender from sappho’s, where vi happened to be kicked out of not even 72 hours prior. 

you’re wearing a vintage wonder woman t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans with a carabiner clipped to a belt loop. the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up, displaying your array of tattoos — vi’s already decided that her favorites are joan of arc holding her sword, a pomegranate that’s been cracked open, and lyrics from bikini kill’s ‘rebel girl’ (which admittedly, vi had to look up when she first saw). it’s everything vi’s booze-soaked brain had apparently memorized after many nights of staring at you across the bar counter, licking up whatever honeyed flirtations you’d spill from your lips. vi always noticed your hands, too: the many rings you’ve stacked on your fingers, the lavender sprig sprouting from your middle finger and venus symbol etched onto your wrist, the nails that are always clipped short and painted black. 

one of those nails is tapping anxiously on your coffee mug, which has a picture of hayley kiyoko as lesbian jesus.

“pink-haired hottie, reporting for duty. though, i might need a new nickname.” vi grins; you roll your eyes. “i’m an aries, by the way.”

“good to know.” the brunette winks not-so-subtly in your direction before walking towards vi and extending a hand, gold bangles clinking together at the motion. “i’m sky, she/her. we had electromagnetic theory together last spring. it’s lovely to officially meet you.”

vi makes a big show of leaning down and kissing sky’s hand.

“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”

“such a gentleman,” sky giggles and leads vi to the patchwork couch. she curls up like a cat, and vi follows suit — the couch is cloud soft, and vi tries not to sink into the cushions. “i’m our supplies and communications coordinator.” she turns away from vi to look around the room. “okay, that’s my intro. who’s next?”

the person with an eyebrow piercing nods at vi, a sort of effortless greeting. “gert, they/them.” they snap the sharpie shut after writing ‘the future is intersectional’ on the tip of their toe. “i curate and design our newsletter, the black rose. i’m also in a band —”

“the sirens of zaun. yeah, i recognize you. you’ve played a few gigs at sappho’s.” 

vi looks at you pointedly, and you take this as your cue to disappear behind the door, which appears to lead into some sort of office.

gert seems pleased, though. “then you might also recognize our lead singer….”

the person with the gold necklace, who vi does, in fact, vaguely recognize but can’t quite name, closes their laptop and waves at vi. “i’m mel. pronouns: she/her. i mostly deal with the finances around here. and, from what i understand, you’re already well acquainted with our fearless leader —”

mel is cut off by the sound of her phone alarm. 

“shit — it’s already 11:30. our set at campus radio starts soon.” mel gestures at gert. gert picks up the bright red guitar case behind them and secures it around their shoulder as mel packs up her leather satchel. 

“damn, i gotta get to class, too. the space-time continuum waits for no one.” sky gets up and gathers her things, too, stuffing yarn into a fruit-printed tote bag. “it was nice meeting you though.” she pats vi’s head affectionately before throwing out a loud: “see ya later, boss!”

mel and gert offer similar farewells, and you shout goodbye from the other room before the three of them are out the door. vi expects you to reappear a few moments later; when you don’t, she ventures into the office.

it’s smaller, but just as decorated as the lounge space. there’s a desk that seems to be more storage than actual use, littered with piles of books and old copies of the black rose. you’re sitting on a fluffy rainbow carpet that looks like every member of sesame street stitched together, writing something in a sticker-covered notebook. 

“so, violet —”

“vi’s fine,” she tells you. she decides to sit on the floor next to you rather than the zebra striped chaise lounge.

you nod, rip a page out of your notebook, and hand it to vi. there’s something a bit too intimate about knowing what your handwriting looks like before even knowing your name. 

“this is a run down of everything you’ll need to know, but real quick: we do feminist film fridays and trivia tuesdays on alternating weeks; our radical reads book club meets once a month, along with our slam poetry group, and we have a bunch of other events in between — workshops, art builds, discussion groups, and so on. sky keeps everything in the centre stocked, and occasionally the rest of us will pitch in when organizing a charity drive. our newsletter publishes the third wednesday of every month — gert puts it together, but we print in pairs since it could be a lot of work for one person. we have team meetings once a week to share updates, make sure we’re all on the same page, stuff like that. any questions?” 

“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”

you smile. “i’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, varsity.” 

“so….where do i fit in?” 

“that depends on you, really,” you tap your glitter gel pen on your notebook, thinking. “like, i’m assuming you’re not well versed in feminist literature.”

vi puffs out her chest. “based on what assumptions? i’m not a dumb jock.”

“yeah, i know you’ve made the dean list ever since your freshman year.” 

vi raises an eyebrow. “keeping tabs on me, wonder woman?” she teases. 

you laugh. “don’t flatter yourself. sky’s the one who mentioned it to me. so, unless you mean your very large, unpaid tab at sappho’s...”

“the bar i was kicked out of, you mean.”

“well, yeah, because you —” you take a deep breath. “not the point. anyways, we don’t have a complete schedule for book club, so you can maybe take the lead on one of our meetings. do you have a favorite author?” 

vi smiles at you sheepishly. “ah…..you got me there.”

“thought so,” you smirk and vi covers her blush. “if you’re curious, this bridge called my back is a good place to start. oh, and audre lorde is a classic and a personal favorite…..” you pause when you catch vi staring at you. she wants you to keep talking, to appreciate the way your eyes light up so enthusiastically, but you blink away, and a veil of professionalism falls back onto you. “sorry. anyways, we’re having trivia tomorrow — would you be able to help us out with that?

vi nods. “sure.”

“sweet.” you check your phone. “i’ve got a coffee date, so i should get going.”

“wait — you never told me your name, wonder woman.”

“well, it’s not diana prince,” you quip before finally introducing yourself. 

“nice to finally put a name to the face.” vi winks at you, standing up. she extends a hand to guide you up. your hand is cold against her skin, your metal rings even colder.

“i’ll see you around, varsity.” before you’re out the door, you turn back around. “oh, and vi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t be late.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you had stepped away for a quick smoke break — a habit you knew you had to kick — but you’re so fucking drained and it’s only wednesday. 

you were up all night bickering with your girlfriend. it started with her admitting that she really doesn’t want to meet your friends, which transitioned into her asking you to not talk to anyone about her or your relationship, which prompted you to make a (maybe slightly insensitive) comment about how she’s welcome to stay in the closet but has no right to push you back in. 

needless to say, you did not get any sleep.

you’re about to walk outside, and finally get a moment of peace, when your phone rings. it’s your sibling, and the fact that they’re calling instead of texting tells you that this conversation is about to be (A) exhausting, (B) infuriating, or (C) both.

the correct answer is C.

it’s the same story over and over again: your dad drinks too much, your mom is absent. it hadn’t been this bad when you were growing up, but you suppose you’d been around to ease the damage, or at least step in and take care of your sibling as needed. 

“just — take a deep breath. you can come stay with me for the weekend, okay? it’ll be good for you to get away from the chaos for a bit….we’ll go apple picking if the weather’s nice, maybe start working on your halloween costume — whatever you wanna do.”

“you know, i’m not five anymore,” they mumble, stifling a small laugh along with some tears. “but…okay. that sounds nice.”

you smile to yourself, shoulder pressing against the door. “it’s a plan then. we’ll sort out the details later. and, don’t worry about mom and dad — i’ll take care of it. love you.” 

you hang up and exhale as you finally push the door open, happy to finally get one moment to breathe.

except, just as you’re greeted by a crisp breeze on this beautiful late september evening, you’re also greeted by the sight of vi pressing someone against the brick wall, their legs wrapped around her waist as she kisses their neck.

something ignites in your abdomen, familiar after many nights of seeing vi at the bar, charming her way into another woman’s bed. except, it’s definitely not jealousy, this time.

(okay, maybe it is; but only a bit.)

they spring apart upon hearing the door slam closed. you recognize who vi’s with — maya, a sophomore who’s frequently attended women’s centre events since last year. she’s always been friendly with the team, but never this friendly.

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you tell her sincerely. her cheeks are flushed, and she’s busy smoothing down her skirt, clearly trying to distance herself from vi, who’s leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “i just need to talk to violet, so do you mind giving us a sec?”

you wait until maya disappears inside to cross your arms and glare at vi.

“so, it’s violet now, huh?” she teases, wiping red lipstick off her smirk.

“you were supposed to be helping facilitate this workshop,” you note. 

“well, it is a queer sex ed workshop.” vi rolls her eyes. “i was giving maya a hands-on experience.”

you grit your teeth together. “and you just had to do that now? like you just had to go down on that third year during trivia last week?”

“well, see, i don’t have a ton of free time, and since i’m not allowed at the local lesbian bar….” she trails off, looking at you pointedly. “i’ve had to resort to multi-tasking.”

“multi-tasking.” you let an exhausted, bitter laugh slip from your lips. “you’ve showed up late to every single event in the past few weeks, and once you’re there, you’re either on your laptop, getting drunk, or hooking up with someone. tell me, violet, as captain of the yellowjackets — if someone on your team was acting like this, what would you do?”

vi narrows her eyes at you, like she can’t believe what you’re asking, and admits, “i’d call them out, tell them to do better.”

“right. and if they kept giving you empty promise after empty promise? you’d have to do something more drastic, even if you didn’t want to, yeah?”

no response.

shaking your head, you take out a cigarette. there’s only silence when you flick the lighter open and light it between your lips. you inhale deeply, letting the smoke enter your lungs, exhale slowly, and decide: “i’m gonna ask the dean to reassign you.”

“fine by me,” vi scoffs, but you swear that something close to disappointment flashes across her face. “clearly, this isn’t working out.”

“clearly.” you take another drag of your cigarette, and as vi walks back inside, you can’t help but try to get under her skin. you’ve had a bad week, between family drama and turbulence in your relationship with jules, and you’re just sick of people not giving a shit. “the year’s already started, so i doubt there’s something available. which means you’ll remain on academic probation until spring.”

and, okay — you do get some twisted satisfaction in how that makes vi stop in her tracks. you’re leaning against the wall, and she strides over to stand in front of you, her jaw and fists clenched.

“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”

you shrug, and blow smoke in her face. “i’ve given you plenty of chances.”

“but the team needs me —”

“you should have thought of that before you fucked up, varsity,” you snap. vi’s eyes widen; you’re usually more level-headed. “you’re cocky, irresponsible  — ”

“i lost my scholarship,” vi blurts out, prompting you to pause, the cigarette millimeters from your lips. 

you blink at her, blood still roaring in your ears.

“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”

vi just sighs, so deeply that you feel it in your bones. you haven’t seen this side of her before — no flirtatious smile, no overconfident posture. instead, she slips to the ground, knees pressed to her chest. feeling a bit guilty for pushing her buttons, you slide down next to her. you offer her the cigarette, but she shakes her head.

“i…i’m going through a shitty breakup. i’ve been lashing out, and i lost my scholarship. i haven’t asked my parents for money, because the last thing i want is for them to worry about me. so, i started picking up these odd jobs to make ends meet, and the hours are a bit crazy so between school and practice and — fuck, there’s also shit going on with my sister that i won’t even get into now, but it’s a lot — and i also need to do this because i let my team down and i need to be there for them, whatever it takes, and i’m just so fucking —”

“exhausted, yeah.” 

you can see more clearly now — the slump in her shoulders, the shadows underneath her eyes; you see her more clearly. you realize that you might have more in common with violet rose atlas than you initially thought.

“so the laptop —”

“finishing assignments.”

“the drinking?”

vi juts her chin out at your smouldering cigarette. “we all have our vices.”

“and the sex?”

her lips curl into a sheepish grin, and she shrugs. “we all need to relieve stress.”

you clear your throat, blinking away from her gaze and trying to ignore how you can feel warmth radiating from her body, so close to yours. “right.”

vi runs her hand through her tar-black hair. that should have been your first hint — nothing says lesbian breakup more than terribly dyed hair and questionable decisions. 

“look, i know i can’t do everything, but i have to, and i’m still trying to figure out how.”

“well….as far as excuses go, it’s not the worst,” you admit. “thanks for telling me. i know that couldn’t have been easy.” you take a deep breath and get to your feet. “i stand by what i said earlier, though — this isn’t working out. you just can’t tell us that you’ll be helpful and not follow through. it means a lot, to a lot of people, that there’s a space like this on campus. mel, gert, sky— they all work so hard to make that happen, and that’s something i need to protect. i’m sorry.”

“wait.” vi grabs your wrist before you can leave. “i’m sorry. really, i am. i promise to do better.”

“you’ve made that promise before,” you point out. “why should i believe this time will be different?”

“because��you’re right. i’ve been too caught up in myself, in what i need, in what my team needs. i can see that you really care about your team, though, and i should have respected that. they’re — you’re — amazing, everything that you do to make people feel safe and heard and loved. i’m sorry for taking that for granted.”

wow. okay. 

you did not expect that. you’re hoping that vi can’t feel your pulse quicken at her words, but you’re glad that she’s holding on to you, keeping you steady.

“yeah, well…flattery’s not gonna get you far.” you clear your throat. “but, you’re obviously going through a lot right now, and it can drive you crazy, feeling like you’re the one who —”

“has to keep everything together,” vi finishes, sliding to the ground once more. you follow. “seems like i’m cracking under pressure, this time. fucking everything up.”

“you’ve got a reckless streak.”

“must be the aries in me,” she laughs, softly. “apparently it’s my Ieast attractive quality. along with my stubbornness and selfishness.”

“well, i don’t think that’s the whole picture,” you assure her. vi looks at you incredulously. “i won’t lie and say that your actions aren’t….thoughtless sometimes. you’re more self-centred than selfish—”

“hey!” 

“but you obviously feel some sense of responsibility, for your team, your family, for what you think is right. hell — the reason my boss asked me to kick you out is because you started a bar fight with that frat boy who was insisting he had the right dick to set lesbians straight.”

vi scoffs. “asshole.”

“i was about to throw him out, but you beat me to the punch. literally.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, and she chuckles. “and, yeah, you’re stubborn, which can be annoying, but it also means that you’d never give up, that you’re willing to keep trying despite the odds, so….” 

“so….?”

vi’s looking at you with the widest, softest eyes. fuck, you never expected her to be this gentle, so much so that it you want to melt to her every need. 

“i’m hoping third time’s the charm, varsity.”

vi smiles, the most sincere one she’s probably ever given you, and the scar on her lip stretches; for all your talk about responsibility, there’s a part of you who’d risk pushing your already tenuous relationship with your girlfriend to its breaking point just so you could kiss vi, guilt-free, just once. maybe you have a bit of a reckless streak, too.

“thanks, wonder woman. you won’t regret it.”

yeah. you kind of already do.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi would never admit it, but one reason she fought to keep her community service assignment here is because she wanted to keep seeing you. 

she likes getting under your skin, seeing those pretty eyes roll whenever she strides in late for a meeting, that kissable jaw clench any time you catch her tangled up with someone else. 

it almost makes up for all those nights at sappho’s you’d spent flirting back and forth, some sort of unspoken agreement between you to never go further.

sometimes, it’s just nice to have a crush in your back pocket, to know that they’ll always be there to admire and admire you back while others come and go.

the more time you spend together, though, the more vi realizes that you’re not just a fictional character in her head, in a fantasy she pictures before bed — no, you’re tangible.

vi watches as you bring special tea for gert when their period cramps are particularly painful; she listens to you console mel after another fight with her mother and offer advice to sky when she was hoping to ask out her lab partner. vi notices how you prefer your coffee with a dash of cinnamon; and she learns that you had your first kiss with a girl in your freshman year journalism class, and that your first tattoo was done by the same person. a stick-and-poke star on your ankle.

she can hear your laugh, feel the cool metal of your rings brush against her skin accidentally when you’re squeezing past her in a crowded room, smell your perfume when you hug her goodbye. you have stories and quirks and expectations and opinions that vi subconsciously files away as she gets to know you better.

you’re not just a crush, anymore. 

you’re a friend. 

vi likes having you as a friend. really — she does!

you’re a friend who makes vi’s heart jump at the sight of your name on her phone. a friend who smirks when vi blushes after you tell her she has the prettiest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. a friend who mentions this vibrator that gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so vi orders the same one and maybe still pictures you before bed, imagining that you’re using it at the same time. except someone else might be next to you.

yeah, vi’s pretty sure you’re dating someone, but that’s something she hasn’t gathered enough information on. 

not that it matters. she wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, anyways, after the mindfuck that was her relationship with caitlyn, and the damage she’s still having to heal from.

though, if that hadn’t happened, vi would have never gotten into a fight with maddie nolan, the second striker for the piltover knights, who taunted her during an exhibition game about how caitlyn is so much happier now that she isn’t disgracing herself with a filthy zaunite. vi would have never been banned from the first half of the tournament and chewed out by coach sevika for fucking up the yellowjackets’ chance at nationals. 

vi would have never been put on academic probation and assigned to 100 hours of community service, either.

she certainly wouldn’t have been here, now, in the women’s centre office close to midnight on a tuesday, folding the most recent issue of the black rose when you walk in.

“oh. hey, v.” you drop down on the zebra-striped couch, your tote bag falling to the ground. “i thought sky was gonna be here tonight.”

vi shakes her head, removing one earbud and letting it dangle from the cord. “she’s got this huge chem report due tomorrow, had to meet up with viktor to get it done.”

“right…” you sigh and lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. a few moments pass, and there’s only your steady breathing. “what are you listening to?”

your eyes are closed when vi settles in next to you. it’s a relatively tight fit, but it doesn’t seem like either of you particularly care. vi gently places an earbud in your ear.

you snort, opening your eyes. “you could have just said the cranberries.”

“i’m surprised you recognize them,” vi quips. “it’s not your usual angry girl music.”

“well, sometimes people surprise you. this is actually one of my favorite songs,” you explain. “it’s in one of my favorite movies, too.”

“you’ve got mail?”

you furrow your brows. “when harry met sally.”

vi shakes her head. “no, ‘dreams’ is definitely in you’ve got mail. but, i agree that when harry met sally is a better movie.”

“you’ve watched nora ephron movies and enjoyed them?”

“well, sometimes people surprise you,” vi teases. “i can appreciate a good love story as much as the next person.”

you let out a short, airy laugh. you tilt your head and you’re so close to vi that you’re practically exchanging the same breath. your eyes land on her lips for a millisecond, and vi starts to lean in before you sit up abruptly. 

“i could use some alcohol.” you climb over vi and go to the desk, pull out a half empty bottle of fruit-flavored soju from a drawer. you grab two mugs — the hayley kiyoko one, and another with frida kahlo. you stop short of pouring, looking to vi. she nods. 

soon enough, you’ve got your legs strewn along vi’s lap, sipping lychee infused alcohol. 

“can i ask you something?”

“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.

“why’d you and caitlyn break up?” the question hangs in the air for a second before you add: “if you don’t wanna talk about it though, i understand.” 

shit. it’s definitely not vi’s favorite topic of conversation, but….

“i think she thought that i was one of the good ones, that regardless of the way i grew up or the blood that coursed through my veins, i would be her perfect little charity case. people would be like: future president kiramman definitely cares about the poor — just look at the broke angry lesbian she’s turned into her docile wife!” 

you suck in a sharp breath. “fuck that.” 

“yeah,” vi laughs sadly. “the worst part is that she wanted me to be vulnerable with her, so i was, because i thought the more i opened up, the more she’d love me, but, in the end….i was too messy. i was too much.” 

vi hates the lump that starts to build in her throat, the tears that threaten to spill. she cannot cry in front of you —

you grab her hand. your skin is cool against hers, and it eases her quickening heartbeat.

“you’re not too much, v.” your voice soothes her like honey, trickling down her throat. “it sucks, though, when they ask you to rip your heart out of your chest and get mad at you for bleeding out in front of them.”

“shit, i never thought of it so…viscerally, but that’s exactly what it feels like.”

“well you’re not a creative writing major,” you quip. “i know it still hurts — trust me, i know — but your heart was never hers if she treated you that badly. you deserve more.” 

is it the alcohol messing with her brain, or does it look like you want to kiss her?

fuck. 

vi clears her throat. “why’re you asking?”

you pull your hand away, take a sip of your drink. “jules broke up with me a few days ago.”

you’re single now. good to know. 

“what happened?”

“i caught her kissing someone at a bar. a boy.” you roll your eyes. “maybe she just wasn’t ready, which is fine, but when we had it out, she told me that what we had isn’t what romance is supposed to feel or look like, which sucked. especially after being so….vulnerable with her.”

“you offered her that bleeding heart of yours, didn’t you?” 

you click your tongue, pouring some more soju into each mug. “course i did, v. and it didn’t mean anything in the end. because relationships suck.”

“i’ll drink to that.” 

you cheers, keeping eye contact. 

“and you know what?” you take a big, long gulp. “i know that relationships aren’t just about sex, but i’ve been having to get myself off for months now and sometimes, i just want someone else to —”

“take care of you?”

vi sips her drink, watching you mull over her words.

“not sure if i’d put it like that,” you decide. “i just miss that excitement. when another person wants to discover what makes you feel good, and wanting to learn how to make them feel good, too. i miss having that connection with someone.” 

“i’m guessing you didn’t have that with jules, then.” 

“ha! no. and paula…the girl i dated before….let’s just say, she didn’t give a shit whether i felt good, in any sense.” you shift in your seat; vi senses there’s a story there, but she doesn’t push. “how about future president kiramman — she take care of you?”

vi can’t help but laugh. “nah. i mostly took care of her. she sure liked it when i got down on my knees for her.”

you hum. 

“lucky her.” 

you wink at vi, and she chokes on her drink. 

i would gladly do it for you, if that’s something you want.

“is that a genuine offer? because, if you’re joking —”

shit. did vi say that out loud? 

vi’s heart is beating out of her chest, but she sits up straighter to regain some level of composure. she nods. 

no use in turning back now.

“i’m serious, wonder woman.”

you stare at her. “i really can’t have another relationship that’s just gonna crash and burn.”

“that’s not what i’m offering. i care about our - our friendship. i care about you.”

you swallow. “i care about you, too.”

“right, and when our friends need help with something….”

“we help them,” you finish. “so, you’re really just talking about casual sex. right now, on this couch?”

“yes,” vi answers. maybe a bit too quickly. “if that’s what you want, too.”

“that’s what i want,” you reply. maybe a bit too quickly, too. “but none of this one sided bullshit: you do me, i do you.”

vi takes your mug, puts it next to hers on the floor, and repositions your bodies so that she’s hovering above you, hips set between yours.

“sounds perfect to me.” 

you finally, finally kiss and it feels oddly…familiar. you taste like lychees and nicotine and cherries, burnt sweetness, and your skin is so fucking soft.

“wait.” you tug on vi’s hair and she has to bite back a moan at how fucked out you already look underneath her, all wide-eyed and desperate. “just so we’re 100% clear: just sex.”

vi nods once. “no strings attached.”

“it’ll be casual.” 

“we’re not doing the whole relationship thing.”

“promise?”

vi sticks out her pinky, grinning at you sheepishly. you roll your eyes ever so slightly, but still wrap your pinky around hers.

“promise.” 

so, you take care of each other. no strings attached.

because that’s what friends are for, right? 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽

are u busy rn? got out of my lab early and im bored 

wndr wmn ☆

yeah, im at work

v ⚽️

leave early. im BORED and HORNY

wndr wmn ☆

ofc you are 

v ⚽️

pls u love it 

u know #6 isn’t just my jersey number ;))

i’m implying that i will give u 6 consecutive orgasms

wndr wmn ☆

yeah i got that 

v ⚽️

so….

wndr wmn ☆

….

leaving now

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“you sure about this, v?” 

vi hums, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “isn’t it every girl’s dream to get tied up by the lasso of truth, wonder woman?”

you’re straddling her, still wearing your red and gold bodysuit underneath blue shorts that you’ve decorated with silver stars. your makeshift lasso of truth — really, just some gold rope — sparkles, tying vi’s wrists together to the headboard.

the theme of the women’s centre halloween celebration is always the same — dress up at your favorite female icon — but you’d never seen someone look as good as vi does. she dressed as trinity from the matrix, all tight, black leather and vinyl, showcasing her defined muscles as the gods intended.

now, she’s left in a sleeveless cropped top and black boyshorts, with her pants and jacket thrown somewhere on your apartment floor. 

you have a feeling she really liked your costume, too, because she practically begged you to take control tonight. 

“if it gets too much, our safeword will be —”

“sappho.” the slight whine of impatience in her voice sends a jolt right to your core.

“perfect.”

you kiss her lips, her jaw, her neck, your lipstick leaving angry red marks. you lodge your bare thigh in between vi’s legs, biting your bottom lip when you feel her already warm and wet, when you hear her whimper as you apply more pressure to where she needs you most. you reach into your nightstand for your vibrator and switch it on, teasing vi’s nipples through her shirt. 

vi moans, deep and loud. not even thirty seconds, and she’s already pulling at the restraints, the headboard creaking. 

“are you gonna be a good girl for me, violet?” you coo, inching the vibrator lower and lower, feeling her shake underneath you. “because we’ve got all night, and you better not break my bed.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“hey, so — i found these in between one of the couch cushions, thought maybe they might be yours.”

you can only spare a glance at the item mel is holding up — you’re grading freshman papers, focused on this one student’s thesis about gender fluidity in shakespeare’s twelfth night.

“oh, those are vi’s.”

“hm. and just how is it that you know what her underwear looks like?”

you stop writing mid-sentence and look up at mel who’s giving you a pointed look. 

you and vi had been the ones to clean up after feminist film friday last week, and one thing led to another….

in your defense: vi had been wearing these low cut jeans that showed off her v-line, and you could tell she didn’t have her usual sports bra on because you could see the outlines of her nipple rings through her tight, white tank top. it took everything in you to wait until people cleared out during the credits of the watermelon woman to pin her down and have her whimpering for you.

“i just…guessed.”

“right.” mel rolls her eyes. “so, you and violet are….what? fucking? dating?”

you clear your throat and take a sip of lukewarm coffee. 

“we’re keeping it casual,” is all you say.

“are you sure that’s a good idea?”

you just shrug.

“just — be careful,” mel, always the diplomatic one, eases. she walks towards you, sits on the edge of the desk, and hands you the pair of black briefs. “i know we all teased you about it before, but i don’t want to see you get hurt. i’ve seen you get your heart broken one too many times.”

“it’s fine, mel,” you assure her, grabbing the piece of fabric and shoving it at the bottom of your bag. you’re visiting their owner after this, anyways. “vi and i are just friends helping each other out.”

mel raises an eyebrow. “well, you and i have been friends for years and we’ve never gotten that close.”

“that’s different.”

“how so?”

“i appreciate your concern,” you say, avoiding the question. “but it’s fine. nice, actually.” 

“it’s your life,” mel sighs. “maybe don’t fuck on our couches anymore, though.” 

your cheeks heat up. you turn your attention back to the essay in front of you.

“noted.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi starts showing up at your place after soccer. 

she’s allowed back on the field during games now, so she appears with a winning grin, a grass-stained uniform and fresh bruises on her knees. one time, she had the remnants of a bloody nose after a header gone wrong, and you could taste copper when she pressed her lips against yours before she hopped in the shower.

you keep her go-to body wash stocked — bergamot and cedarwood scented old spice — but she always walks out of the bathroom smelling like your mango-vanilla shower gel. sometimes even your coconut shampoo. she slips on one of your oversized graphic tees, drapes a light purple towel around her shoulders to avoid staining your shirt with her cheaply dyed black hair, fading back to pink with each wash. she walks over to the fridge in her soft gray sweatpants rolled at the ankles and cracks open one of the spiced-pear red bulls as you pull ingredients out for dinner. usually something quick and simple, since it’s always a long week and neither of you have capacity for anything more.

vi chops garlic and tells you about her game; you boil water for pasta and tell her about the latest drama between students in your literature class. 

you pretend you have all the time in the world.

because you both know that vi’s got the strap packed in her gym bag, that soon one thing will lead to another and she’ll be fucking you with it until you’re both sweaty and spent and exhausted in the best way possible. 

you’ve established this routine together, agreed upon several unspoken rules: no pillow talk once it’s over; no actually falling asleep in the other’s bed; no crossing that thin sapphic line between friendship and romance. 

no breaking that promise.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

wanna come over? i’m watching bend it like beckham

v ⚽️

MY FAVORITE!!

i would love 2

but lucky fell asleep on me 

we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza 

wndr wmn

remind me again why your one-eyed golden retriever likes pizza so much?

v ⚽️

come on it’s cute

[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]

wndr wmn

yeah, you’re cute

v ⚽️

<3 

come over here instead?

wndr wmn

omw

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“come on — hurry up.”

“you practically begged for this, v,” you chide. 

“yeah, but you’re taking too long and your hands are fucking freezing.”

“it’s the irony deficiency, babe,” you quip. “now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me finish?”

“fine,” vi grumbles. she does stop squirming, though. you hum, pleased.

you certainly didn’t miss the way her breath hitches at the nickname. vi’s right hand, freshly polished, tightens on your thigh.

you’re not sure why she called you at 1:27am for your help with this, or why she couldn’t just do it herself, but you’re sitting on her lap, painting her nails the color of pomegranate juice, a color she had chosen from the options you brought.

sure, you were about to turn in for an early night, but the moment you heard her voice through the phone, you rushed over to her place wearing nothing but your pajamas — plaid boxer shorts and a spiderman shirt that vi wore last time she was at yours, and you haven’t washed since.

you stretch time out as much as you can, meticulous in every stroke, but painting her nails doesn’t take much longer. you start to move off her lap — it’s probably time for you to leave — but vi grabs your hips, a playful smirk on her lips.

oh, right. that’s the type of relationship — friendship — you and vi agreed upon.

shit. you’re pretty sure that you’re wearing your days of the week underwear. is it a turn-off that you’ve got on a saturday pair on a thursday?

it doesn’t really matter, anyways.

instead of initiating a kiss, vi takes the bottle of polish from you, swaps it for black, and gestures for your hand. you blink at her, until you realize what she’s asking.

“oh! you don’t have to —”

“you do me, i do you.” vi grins at you. “i thought that was our arrangement.” 

you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.

it’s kind of….adorable, the furrow of her brow, the way she curses under her breath when a drop of nail polish falls onto your skin. she’s surprisingly gentle, too, one of her hands holding yours for support while the other paints. 

while she focuses on getting the polish onto your nails in even layers, you busy yourself by counting vi’s freckles. 

violet rose atlas has a constellation of freckles sparkling across her cheeks. you hope there’s enough time in the world for you to memorize every single one.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽️

do u need more nicotine gum? 

im at cvs rn

wndr wmn

yeah that’d be great!!

v ⚽️

ok 

i’ll get u the cinnamon one

that’s the one u like right?

wndr wmn

yep!!!

v ⚽️

okay cool

im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements

wndr wmn

my hero 🙏🏽

thank you sm

v ⚽️

ofc

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“that red head was trying to get your number.”

“are you jealous, v?”

vi scoffs, sipping her cherry coke. “of course not. i’m just observant.”

you’d convinced your manager to let vi back into sappho’s. it’s nice, really, to see her back here again. 

nice, but different. 

gone are the days of staring at her from across the room, where she would be charming someone else, and only flirting with you when she came over to get another whiskey for herself and vodka something for her date. instead, she jokes around with mel, sky, and gert if they’re around, and sometimes brings her teammates in as well to play a game of pool. she usually has one drink, and then switches to something non-alcoholic. sometimes, vi doesn’t even come in for a drink; she just stops by to say hi before a team dinner or a study session.

(it’s fine — never once have you gotten an overpriced coffee from the cafe she started working at mid-october, and you probably stop by once a week between errands. that’s your excuse, anyways.)

so. things are different, but nice. 

you lean across the sticky counter. “you want me to get down on my knees for you right now to prove which girl here i’d like to go home with?”

“baby….” vi shifts on the bar stool. it’s hard to tell under the dim multicolored lights, but you’re pretty sure she’s blushing, too. 

“i think we both know you’d draw a bit too much attention to yourself. especially when i use my tongue to —”

“my car’s outside.” 

you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”

you used to spend your breaks in the alley outside sappho’s burning through a cigarette. now you find yourself knee-deep in the passenger seat, eating vi out like she’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

“f-fuck,” vi groans. 

“feels good, yeah?” you tease her clit with her tongue, sliding two fingers into her easily. you work fast, determined to let her finish before you run out of time.

“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”

she clenches around your fingers; you lap her up eagerly, let her writhe against your face until she’s had enough. 

you sit back on your knees once her hips still, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crane your neck to check the time on the dashboard, when you notice something in the footwell.

“vi! i thought i lost this.”

vi grins at you sheepishly, chest still heaving as you hold up the complete works of audre lorde, a tattered book with a well-worn spine and dog-eared pages. 

“sorry. i meant to put it back on your nightstand once i was finished.”

you open to where she’s placed a makeshift bookmark — the ticket from an underground sirens of zaun show you’d both gone to. you’ve had this copy since freshman year, the scribble of your handwriting in the margins of practically on every page.

“it’s okay,” you tell her. “you like it so far?”

“yeah.” she grabs the book from you gently, thumbing through the pages. you wonder if vi registers the curves of her own smile, tender and bashful. “honestly, i’m not usually a fan of poetry, but it’s really cool how lorde writes about desire between women in such a tangible way, you know? i really liked this one verse in ‘recreation:’ ‘touching you, i catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat.’ it’s just so - so beautiful, the idea of something so domestic and mundane being almost magical, because that’s what it’s really like when —”

you don’t even realize that you’re staring until vi looks up at you and freezes.

“sorry,” she clears her throat, closing the book and setting it aside. “did i say something wrong?”

you assure vi that she did nothing wrong. 

you exit her car, the taste of her lingering on your tongue, the feeling of her keeping your body warm on this cold november night.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

hey

are you in town during break?

v⚽️

having dinner at my dads’ on friday but otherwise im here

why? u gonna miss me?? 

wndr wmn

lol

im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday

if you wanna join

v ⚽️

hell yeah

can i bring anything?

wndr wmn

just your pretty face

i’ll take care of the rest

turkey, cranberry, sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie…

etc. etc.

v ⚽️

damn!!!!

full course meal

wndr wmn

yep

im basically wife material

v⚽️

pls we’re so over gender norms

but yeah

you are

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi has never been the type to wait by the phone for a girl to text, or to show up at her place after not hearing from her in a while, worried that she might have done something wrong. 

yet here she is, standing outside your door.

it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.

she knocks. 

there’s no answer. 

she knocks again.

nothing.

vi waits another second, leaning her shoulder against the door.

“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries. 

hope flutters in her chest as she hears you shuffle, unchain the lock. vi stumbles as you throw the door open, but she recovers quickly to find you: smudged black eyeliner enhancing the shadows underneath your eyes, hair in disarray, clothes disheveled. 

“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”

vi can’t help but laugh, even though your comment feels like a punch to the face.

“wow. figured you would think more of me by now than just some horny teenage boy.”

“look, vi —”

vi? 

since when do you call her that?

“i’m sorry i missed the meeting today. i texted mel —”

damn, so your phone does work. 

you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.

“but i’m just… it’s not a good time, okay? i’ll see you around.”

ah. 

the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.

you start to close the door on her before she even has a chance to get a word in.

the hits just keep coming. 

thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.

“wait.” vi places her palm firmly on the door before you can fully shut her out. “i’m just here to check on you.” 

your face remains unchanged.

“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.” 

“yeah, i’ve checked on you. you look like shit.”

you glare at her. “well i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to get all prettied up for you. i know that you like me better that way.”

“that’s not what i  —”  vi inhales sharply. she’s a fighter, but she doesn’t want to fight you. “mel dropped the news — about admin officially cutting our funding. i knew how that would affect you, so….” vi lifts the bag of takeout. “i brought some thai food for us to share. a pomegranate, too, because i know you like seasonal fruit. it’s been a while and honestly, i just….i just wanted to spend time with you.”

you exhale, your eyes softening. 

there. 

a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.

there are clothes all over your floor and dishes piled high in the sink. your desk is littered with empty boxes of cereal and cans of an energy drink that normally you’d never touch. the blanket that sky had crocheted for you — lavender and pink checkered — is unfolded on your couch, your laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front next to two stacks of printed essays — ones marked with purple pen, the others untouched. in contrast, your bed is still perfectly made. 

you take the blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, sitting at the kitchen table and curling into yourself. vi busies herself in cracking open the pomegranate, putting the seeds into the last clean bowl in your cupboard. the palms of her arm wraps are now stained a reddish-purple, but she doesn’t care.

vi manages to find two pairs of clean chopsticks for the thai food, and the two of you eat in silence. 

“so….” vi starts, watching you stab a piece of chicken before popping it into your mouth. “you wanna talk about it, or….?”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“well, for starters, maybe tell me what’s been getting you into full hibernation mode? we haven’t seen each other in, like, a week.”

“six days,” you correct, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “last tuesday, we played pool during my closing shift at sappho’s. i lost. you made me down two shots of tequila because you’re a menace and you know i hate it.” 

“yeah, but i drove you home and tucked you into bed with water and advil for later, so i’m also a gentleman. so, just tell me what’s been going on. we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

“it’s fine,” you grumble.

“clearly, it’s not. just tell me what you need.”

“what i need is to not be distracted,” you huff, avoiding eye contact. “i certainly don’t need you —”

“taking care of you, i know.” vi grabs your hand from across the table. she feels you stiffen on instinct, and then ease into the heat of her skin. “trust me, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be. so — humor me.”

vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you. 

you sigh. “i’ve just — i’ve been spiralling trying to figure out how the centre can keep going with, like, half our required budget, trying to see if we can get some external donors and i still need to finalize the venue and equipment rentals for our last open mic….and….and my sibling called again to tell me that things haven’t been great at home, so i want to go down there this weekend to sort everything out, but my car hasn’t been starting….plus i’m behind on grading, and i told my supervisor i’d have a complete draft ready by thursday and i’m not even halfway done, and that’s the same day we’re having that art build for the climate rally on friday, and i’ve been having the worst cramps since this afternoon, and all i wanna do is pass out and sink into my duvet, but i need to keep going —”

vi squeezes your hand again, this time more firmly. “you need to slow down.” 

“i can’t.” you huff. “i have to keep everything from falling apart, and if i don’t….”

vi shifts to the chair next to yours, still holding your hand. 

“but you can’t do it all if you’re too exhausted to take care of yourself. from the looks of it, you’ve been living off of frosted flakes, red bull, and zero sleep.” 

you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”

“if that’s what it takes, then maybe it’s not worth it.”

“don’t say that,” you tell her. “it’s all worth it. i just wish it wasn’t so…heavy.”

vi nods, because she really, truly understands. she gives you the advice she can see you giving her in another context.

“you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t feel as heavy if you…i don’t know…weren’t too stubborn to ask for help.”

“there are things that are my responsibility, violet,” you tell her, slipping your hand away. you reach for the bowl of pomegranate seeds, meticulously picking up one at a time with your chopsticks and crushing it in between your molars. “i can’t just pass those off to someone else.” 

“fine. but what about other things? like the women’s centre stuff — we’re a team, right? so we’ll figure it out together, divide the labor so you’re not doing everything. and, maybe ask your supervisor for an extension, too? and, well, i don’t really need my car this weekend, so you’re welcome to borrow it.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“you said…. ‘we.’”

“well, yeah. i’m part of the team, aren’t i?”

“but you’ll be finished with your hours in a week. there’s no reason for you to stay.”

“of course there is,” vi whispers, studying your face as it morphs from suspicious to something else, something gentler. 

her heart is pounding as she waits for you to say something, so vi starts to dig into the pomegranate seeds, the juice surprisingly more sweet than sour. some dribbles out from the corner of her lips, and you reach over to wipe it away with your thumb.

“i’d love for you to stay,” you hum, smiling, and vi feels her chest glow with a brightness it seems only you can bring out. “turns out you give pretty good advice.”

“so…you’ll consider it.”

you shrug again. “maybe. i am very tempted to take you up on the car thing.”

“all yours, if you want it.”

“are you sure?”

“it’s fine, wonder woman. i’ll just carpool to practice — it’s better for the environment, anyways. can’t show up to the climate rally as a hypocrite, can i?” she jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “and, i’ll try to fix your car while you’re away.”

“wow. you are a gentleman.”

“gentleman? baby, i’m husband material.”

you actually laugh.

“i thought we were over gender norms,” you quip. “but yeah. you are.” 

vi’s cheeks heat up at your statement. you most definitely notice her blushing because you break out into a toothy grin

“i missed you, v,” you admit. “any other words of wisdom?”

despite your tender smile, you look exhausted. vi just wants to hold you through it all, tell you it’s gonna be okay. instead, she settles for placing a gentle hand on your cheek, running her thumb over the deep shadow underneath your eye. 

“get some rest, pretty girl.”

a few hours later, you wake up alone. 

you have a vague memory of warm arms wrapped around you, a heart beating steadier than yours. your sheets smell like old spice, your apartment smells like fresh laundry. you get out of bed and notice that there are no more dishes in your sink, no more cans or containers on any surface. all the clothes you’d been meaning to wash are now carefully folded on your couch. 

there’s a bright pink sticky note on your nightstand next to the keys to vi’s car.

you talk in your sleep. something about stargazing? maybe we can go when you get back. 

drive safe. text me if you need anything.

xxx

- v

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights. 

two minutes left in overtime. 

one goal standing in the way of their trophy. one goal to end piltover’s monopoly over the title of national champions. 

caitlyn probably told her knights to be extra aggressive — win by any means necessary — so it’s been a long game of dirty plays and intentional fouls.

vi always puts her heart into every single game, but this time —

this time, it’s personal. 

zaun’s defense works to regain possession and prevent piltover’s attack. ashe manages to intercept a pass between two knights, and is quick in dribbling the ball until mid-field. she sends it over to vi with a swift kick. vi’s quick on her feet, catching piltover’s defense by surprise, sprinting closer and closer to the goal. she makes it to the penalty box.

this could be the winning point. 

vi has it, too. she’s so fucking close, about to fake out the goalie and kick into that hard-to-defend sweet spot — until a sharp, pointy elbow collides with her ribs so abruptly, it knocks the wind out of her lungs. she stumbles forward over the ball, knees skidding onto the grass. whoever it is also steps on vi’s cleat for good measure. 

“fuck!” she looks up to see who it is.

of course. it’s maddie fucking nolan, who doesn’t spare so much as a glance as the ref doles out a red card. she nods at caitlyn as she walks off the field, no doubt following her captain’s orders.

her teammates help vi to her feet, and the ref makes sure everyone is in position for the penalty kick.

this could be the winning point. vi just has to ignore caitlyn’s icy stare from a few feet away, and the heart threatening to beat out of her chest. 

vi takes a deep breath. 

she looks to the stands. among the crowd of screaming fans, zaunites and pilties alike, is vi’s family. they’re cheering.

you’re there too, sitting next to them. 

everyone is staring at vi, waiting for the whistle, waiting for her to make the shot, but the only person she stares back at is you.

you’ve got this, v, you had whispered to her the night before. she couldn’t sleep, so she called you. vi wishes she was back there, now — tangled in flannel sheets, lucky snoring at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling until she finally fell asleep in your arms.

but, vi’s on the field. 

and this is the winning point. 

the whistle blows. 

she makes the shot.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“i told you i wasn’t a jinx!” powder sticks her tongue out at mylo.

she’s all sweat and dirt and adrenaline, but, fuck, if vi isn’t so, incredibly happy and proud of her team, of everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve accomplished.

it almost doesn’t feel real.

just like it doesn’t feel real, seeing you talk animatedly with her sister’s boyfriend, laughing along with her siblings, smiling as you watch her dads hug and praise her.

when it’s your turn to do the same, you practically leap into vi’s arms, gushing about how amazing she was, how proud you are of her. 

“this looks good on you,” vi hums, as you pull away from another hug. her fingers play with the bottom of the jersey, and she bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself in the moment. you, with her family. you, in her jersey. “thinking of joining the yellowjackets?”

“i think i’ll leave the soccer to you,” you tell her. “you were amazing out there. guess i should be calling you wonder woman from now on, huh?”

“wonder woman! that’s where i remember you from!” vander suddenly exclaims, stepping closer to the pair of you. silco turns around, too. “you once tried to get into the last drop with a fake id, didn’t you? under the name diana prince?”

“shit,” you laugh nervously, eyes flickering between vander and the ground as if you’re once again a teenager caught in the act. “i….probably did.”

“i kicked you out, told you to go home to themyscira.”

“yeah…i….i remember that.” you nod slowly, furrowing your brows. “except, i didn’t want to go home that night, so i lingered outside,” you continue. you turn to vi, and your face softens. “which was when you —”

“brought two glasses of cherry coke and rum,” vi finishes; she sees flashes of that night as you gaze into her eyes. “we climbed onto the roof and —”

that was her first kiss. vi never even realized until now, but —

you were her first kiss.

“i can’t believe i forgot that.”

“weird, how memory works,” you agree, tilting your head curiously, looking at vi with a newfound interest, like a ghost from your past.

“well, isn’t this a story we’ll be sharing on your wedding day!” vander chuckles, ruffling vi’s hair. 

“don’t pressure them, darling,” silco chides, but the smirk growing on his face gives him away. he’s loving this drama. “they’re barely 23 — i doubt they’ve discussed marriage.” 

“oh, we’re not —”

“yeah, we’re just —”

“friends,” you say at the same time, careful to avoid eye contact.

vi feels like she might burst into flames at the knowing look vander and silco share.

“well, violet, would your friend like to join us for a celebratory dinner?” silco asks.

so that’s how you’re sitting between powder and claggor, listening to them talk your ear off about the young innovator’s competition. vi’s sitting across from you, next to ekko, who occasionally pipes in. 

you’re here, sharing the tradition of a post-game meal with vi’s family at the local pizza parlour. 

caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.

a few pizzas are ordered for the table, and you eat and laugh and sip your soda along with everyone else. you make a flower out of your paper napkin and hand it to isha, who’s on the other side of powder, and she gives you a toothy grin in return. you answer all the standard questions about your job and major and plans for the future.

“after graduation, i’m probably gonna take a break, get some work experience,” you explain. “maybe save up some money for law school a few years down the road.”

“you wanna be a lawyer, huh? you sure you wanna be friends with a felon, then?” powder asks, blowing bubbles into her soda through her straw. 

vi coughs, choking on a mushroom. 

“powder!” 

“what! she never told you?”

you shake your head, glancing over at vi who suddenly finds it hard to look you in the eye. your foot has been pressed against hers underneath the table all night; you pull it away now. she takes a big gulp of water; vi looks over at vander and silco for help, but they seem to be caught up in their own conversation.

“oh, damn! ” mylo adds, leaning over. “it’s a great story!” 

“guys, maybe don’t —”

“but it’s a great story!” mylo insists. “shows what a badass you are!”

“she didn’t do anything serious, like murder or anything,” powder clarifies. “it was really just her pissing off some enforcers —”

“rightfully so,” ekko adds. 

claggor nods. “we were just kids. they were harassing us for some bullshit, disruption of property or whatever, so vi steps in and things get heated —”

“it takes three of enforcers to get her handcuffed, but she manages to get a few nasty hits in before they send her off to stillwater —”

“she spends three days there —”

“i thought it was two —”

“no, it was three —”

“needless to say, this isn’t the first time vi has been sentenced to community service, but it seems she’s really enjoying it this time, thanks to you,” powder finishes, winking at you. 

“well that’s….quite the story,” you finally say, voice steady. 

“oh! let’s tell her about the time she stole from some enforcers that were hoarding food —”

as powder continues the story, and you listen intently, it’s hard to read your expression.

are you ashamed of being friends with her? disgusted by her family, her past? regretful that you ever let her touch you, let her into your life? 

vi’s stomach turns when your eyes collide; she’s been down this road before, and vi’s scared that she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

she pushes her chair back and disappears to the bathroom before she has to watch you walk away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

there’s a knock on the door.

“someone’s in here,” vi says. she grips the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white. 

deep breaths. 

this isn’t the same as before.

this isn’t caitlyn, who threw vi out like a piece of trash when something better came along. 

then again, you never knew this much about vi’s past. you’re well within your right to —

there’s another knock.

“v? it’s me….i have to get going, but i wanted to check on you before i leave.”

“okay,” vi clips. she looks up at herself in the mirror; she had splashed her face with cold water to calm herself down. a drop falls from her chin. “bye.”

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine. see you around.”

you sigh, and vi hears you settle against the doorframe. 

“violet, let me in,” you press. “please?” 

“i’m fine. you can leave.”

“okay, well, i’m not leaving until i see that gorgeous face of yours one more time,” you whisper. “i got all dolled up just for you, and all i wanna do is give you a proper goodbye….” 

well, when you put it like that….

vi grabs some paper towel to dry her face and fixes her hair before opening the door for you. you smile knowingly, enter and lock the door behind you. 

you lean against the door as vi leans against the counter, the marble digging into her lower back.

“okay, i’ll start because, frankly, i don’t have time to waste,” you state after a few moments of silence. “nothing i’ve learned about you tonight has changed how i see you. it’s just confirmed some things.”

“right. like how impulsive and violent and reckless i’ve always been,” she lists glumly, unable to look you in the eye.

“maybe you are all those things,” you pause. “but, i don’t fucking care. i mean, i do, because it’s part of you and i like who you are. i like you.”

your words do wonders to ease the tension throughout vi’s body, and she feels like she can actually take a breath.

vi’s eyes lock onto yours.

“you do?”

“i like who you are, every part of it,” you tell her. “well, i don’t like that you’ve had to fight your way through an unbelievably fucked up system ever since you were a kid, but the bottom line is that you’re the strongest, most compassionate person i know.”

vi blinks at you.

“funny, i was just thinking the same thing about you the other day.”

neither of you say anything for a minute or so, letting the sentiment linger in the small space between you. once more, you’re the one to break the ice.

“well, you know what they say about great minds….” you step closer to vi. you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger. "can you guess what i’m thinking now?" 

vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“what’s stopped you?”

you grin. “i didn’t want to make a fuss in front of your family, but now that we’re alone….”

vi doesn't say anything, but instead closes the gap between your lips.

you kiss her, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing her moans as your fingers snake down the waistband of her pants. you pull vi’s bottom lip with your teeth before moving to her neck, nipping along the outline of her tattoo. you bite down harder on her skin, right at her pulse point. 

"what’s that you said earlier —” a low groan tumbles from vi’s lips when you start to suck just above her collarbones. another when your tongue soothes over the sting. “about a proper goodbye…?” she tugs your hair so that you’re looking right at her. 

it’s quite the sight — your lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes curious and lustful.

“anything you want,” you whisper, all breathless. 

vi hums. she slips a hand underneath the frayed hem of your denim skirt, and you gasp as her nails scrape against your inner thigh.

she likes that you’re here. here for her.

"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”

she pulls down her pants along with her briefs, as you kneel before her without hesitation.

you drape one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access to her cunt. vi grips your hair tighter, bringing you in closer, and you moan, sending vibrations up her body.

"fuck," vi hisses. you add a finger, while your tongue works her clit. 

you bring her to the edge, stay with her even as her thighs clench around your skull. she expects you to get back on your feet right away, but you stay, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moans your name.

you pull away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promise. your chin glistens with vi’s release; you lick your lips as you gaze up at her through thick eyelashes. "can you do that for me?" she nods furiously, and you get back to work.

after letting her ride your tongue and fingers through another orgasm, you kiss her ankle before releasing her leg. vi pulls you up to your feet, sucks the taste of herself off your tongue.

you pull away slightly, heart racing against vi’s chest. 

vi swipes her thumb over the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studies you, admires you, like you’re a fucking work of art that belongs in a gallery, like you didn’t just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a pizza parlour while wham's "last christmas" plays through shitty speakers.

"take these off." vi tugs at your tights. you do as instructed, slipping off your underwear as well. she pulls you towards her, and lodges a leg in between yours. your bare cunt brushes against her thigh, back and forth as she guides your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up…. wearing my jersey, and this pretty little skirt even though it’s so cold outside. all for me?"

vi flexes her thigh muscles, pushing you down faster and harder. you whimper.

"all – all for you.”

vi feels her pussy clench, with the desperation in your voice, the stickiness of your heat against her skin, the smell of the two of you intertwining. your orgasm crashes into you, and vi holds you through it. 

you kiss her ever so sweetly before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...." 

you look over as vi tucks your fuschia thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for christmas."

vi flashes you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulls up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. she likes the idea of walking around with you seeped into her skin. 

when vi looks over at you, you’re as fully dressed as you can be and busy checking something on your phone. she only sees a flash of your lock screen, but it’s her. a photo of her and lucky playing at the park; there’s snow, so it had to have been a few days ago. 

that doesn’t mean anything, right? people use photos of their friends for their wallpaper all the time.

“i really have to go,” you sigh. you pull a tube of lipstick from your pocket and step closer to the mirror. “hey — do you think we could switch shirts? not sure i should wear this to my next dinner.”

vi nods and you remove her jersey, revealing a matching fuschia bralette. she wonders what’s got you all coordinated — who else you’ve clearly dressed up for. 

“so, you’ve got a hot date?” vi tries to act casual as she takes off her jacket, pulls off her shirt, and waits for you to answer. you take your time, fixing yourself in the mirror.

“something like that,” you finally say with a shy smile.

later, when isha’s asleep on powder’s lap in the backseat, vi thinks about how your date might have gone, if you’re taking them home to the same bed vi has fucked you in throughout these past few months.

where do you get off, fucking vi in the bathroom during dinner while her parents are at the table, only to leave for another date, wearing vi’s shirt, too?

“hey, can i ask you something?” ekko asks from beside her, cutting off the angry monologue in her head.

vi reaches over to turn down the music.

“sure, little man. what’s up?”

“what’s the deal between you and wonder woman?”

vi clears her throat, gripping the steering wheel. “what makes you think there’s a deal?”

“oh, please, we all noticed that hickey on your neck after she visited you in the bathroom.” 

the car crawls to a stop as the light turns red, and vi adjusts the collar of her shirt.

“we’re just friends.”

“well, powder and i were just friends for ages,” ekko points out.

vi doesn’t notice that the light’s turned green until someone behind her honks. she steps on the gas, but the idiot behind her still cuts in front of her.

“asshole,” she grumbles, throwing them a middle finger for good measure. vi glances to her right at ekko, who’s scribbling something in his sketchbook despite only the streetlamps outside providing light. “so, what made you….realize that you wanted something more?”

ekko closes his book, smiling to himself. 

“honestly? it was kinda a million little things, but what it really comes down to is that she’s the only person i could spend every second of my life with, and i’d still want more time. and, in my experience….it’s better to tell someone how you feel sooner rather than later.”

“or, some people prefer to wait a few weeks,” powder mumbles, stirring awake. “nice try, mister, but no interfering. i’m not losing 20 bucks.”

“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”

ekko smirks. “so it is love.”

vi shrugs, pretends that she doesn’t immediately picture you in your kitchen, making her banana pancakes at 2am when she hears the word love. 

“it doesn’t matter.”

because, it really doesn’t matter. 

you’re out with someone else right now. 

it’s over before it really had a chance to begin.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

cupcake 

Hey, Vi

Just wanted to say good game today

You played brilliantly

Violet

k

cupcake

No need for the attitude

I was just trying to be nice

Violet

my apologies!!!

thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman

i feel like i’m actually worth something now!!!

cupcake

Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling

Violet

im NOT your darling

cupcake

I’m aware

I saw you earlier with that girl

Are you together? 

Violet

idk

are you still with maddie?

cupcake

Actually, we broke up

I was hoping you and I could chat

Violet

what’s in it for me?

cupcake

The chance to reconnect with an old friend

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you can excuse vi no longer attending the weekly team meeting. she finished her 100 hours around thanksgiving, so technically she didn’t need to be there anymore.

maybe you could excuse her ignoring your calls, or leaving your texts on read. it’s finals season, and she did mention picking up a few extra shifts to save up for christmas presents. 

but you simply can’t excuse vi walking into sappho’s with caitlyn fucking kiramman, ordering drinks from you like you’re absolute strangers.

“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe. 

vi glances at her date. caitlyn’s waiting for her back at a table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her pretty face.

“what, should i have ordered something else? not every girl likes cherry coke and rum.” 

you glare at her from across the counter, but start preparing their drinks nonetheless. 

“why are you with her?” you throw some ice in a glass, the cubes clinking aggressively against the crystal. “are you back together?”

vi has the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “why’d you care?”

you catch yourself before saying something you’ll regret, something about liking her more than you definitely should considering the agreement the two of you had made. 

clearly, vi doesn’t feel the same way; it’s not worth spilling your guts to her at your place of work. 

“because we’re friends.”

“yeah, right,” vi scoffs. “you’re jealous, which you have no right to be because you’re seeing someone, too.”

you accidentally pour a double shot of vodka. you don’t really care, and mix the drink anyways.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“i’m talking about the date you went on the night of my championship game.”

“what date?” you slam the glasses in front of vi, so hard that you’re lucky they didn’t break.

“oh, don’t play dumb.” vi spits your name like it’s poison. “this whole thing started because you said you didn’t want a relationship, when really you just didn’t want a relationship with me. you used me until someone better came along. you lied to me.”

her eyes are glazed over, her voice shaking ever so slightly. you’re not sure if you’re more hurt or angry by what she’s saying, but it cuts deep; you continue as though you aren’t bleeding out in front of her.

“i don’t want a relationship with anyone and certainly not with you —”

“excuse me! are we able to order something?” someone with bright green hair and a septum piercing waves their hand in front of your face.

“yeah, just give us a second —”

“look, you and your girlfriend can fight on your own time.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!” you and vi snap simultaneously. 

you glare at each other.

vi grabs the glasses from the counter, and walks away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

it took many brainstorming sessions, many boring conversations with potential donors, and many, many tears, but you managed to secure enough funding to keep the women’s centre going for the foreseeable future.  

it was a team effort, of course, so you just want everyone to enjoy this open mic night, the last event of the semester — even though you are weighed down by the absence of a certain someone.

the gallery space on campus that you rented out is both cozy and electric, decorated with fairy lights on the walls, with pillows and blankets on the floor for people to sit and watch performances. there’s a table with drinks and snacks, a corner for people to make art if they’re inspired. 

you’re rearranging the food, watching gert perform an original song when mel slides in next to you, wearing a gorgeous white dress with gold accents. 

“do you mind running to the office? we’re out of paint.”

“really? people don’t usually use the paint.”

“well, it seems to be quite popular tonight.”

“it’s fine. we still have lots of other stuff. they can just collage or something.”

mel shakes her head. “i really think you should go get more paint.”

“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”

“you could use a break, too,” mel cuts you off, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve been nonstop all day; the rest of us can hold down the fort for a little while.”

you concede, mostly because she’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue. 

when you get to the office, you’re surprised to find the lights on. even more surprised that someone’s already there, sitting on the zebra-striped couch.

“vi?”

she jumps slightly when you say her name.

“mel texted me,” she rushes out like she’s been caught red-handed. “said she needed help with something she’d been planning.” 

you frown, until you realize why mel must have sent you here, specifically. 

you haven’t seen vi since that night at sappho’s; you’d been quite a mess after your shift, ranting to mel on the phone about how she’d been right and you should have been more careful, how you don’t know what you did that ruined whatever you and vi had, and you really don’t know what you can do to fix it.

you’re both too stubborn to reach out to the other, so it seems like mel decided to take matters into her own hands. 

“yeah, i doubt she’s coming,” you tell vi. 

“okay,” vi says, but she doesn’t move. “i, uh, i was hoping i’d run into you, though.”

“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at vi, crossing your arms. “needed another vodka martini for your piltover princess.”

“she’s not — we’re not together.”

“oh,” you exhale. the animosity you were holding towards her evaporates, but doesn’t completely disappear. you watch her, watching you stand by the doorway. 

there are so many things you want to tell her, but you don’t even know where to start. you know that you’ve hurt her. she hurt you, too.

but, also:

you miss the cloudy blue-gray of her eyes, the scar on her upper lip. 

you miss her.

“do you wanna come sit?”

after being so far away from vi, for what feels like forever, you don’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. your knees brush together as you settle next to her on the couch, a jolt of electricity passing through your body at the contact.

“so, i admit that —”

“vi, you were right —”

both of you stop your sentences short, chuckling nervously. you each urge the other to continue, and only get caught in a similar mess:

“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.

“i lied to you,” you confess at the same time.

an awkward, unfamiliar silence hangs above you; you’re not sure what to do next. 

vi takes the leap. she tells you that mel explained everything: that you had to attend a dinner with alumni and potential donors on the same night of her championship game, but you kept it from vi since it was already a big moment for her; that you haven’t been on a real date with anyone else since september. vi apologizes for jumping to conclusions and falling back into caitlyn’s arms, shutting you out when she should have just talked to you.

you’re the girl who was her first kiss, she says. the girl who lingered in a vague memory, appeared in the fiction of her daydreams, and then suddenly became too real. 

“i like you. i really fucking like you. and if it has to be as a friend, that’s fine because i don’t want to lose you.” vi takes a shattered breath, blinking back tears. she fiddles with the ring on her index finger, anxiously bouncing her knee. you place your hand there to steady her, and she exhales. “i guess i’m just not sure….when you said you liked me that night at the restaurant….is that what you lied about?” 

vi’s practically doe-eyed, waiting for you to respond. 

you shake your head. 

“i lied when i said that i didn’t want a relationship with you,” you admit, and the hint of a smile dances across her lips. “i had this major crush on you, you know? every time you came into sappho’s….i couldn’t help it. and then you showed up here and we became friends, and then we started….well, you know the rest.”

“duh. i was there,” vi jokes, easing into her usual, playful self.  

“i can’t do the whole casual thing,” you continue, rubbing circles into her knee with your thumb. “i know we made a promise, but i just can’t, not with you. it’s like…in every other relationship i’ve been in, i was trying to run out the clock. with you, though, with us, i feel like there’s never enough time —”

vi grabs your neck and crashes her mouth onto yours before you can finish your sentence. 

you’ve kissed each other many times, in many different places, in many different ways, but never like this: like you’re both willing to break one promise if it means forging a new one.

“will you be my girlfriend, violet rose atlas?” you whisper as you pull away, lips brushing against hers.  

you start to count the freckles on her cheeks as she beams at you, pulls you into her lap.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

[questionablecuttlefish]

Okay Fine Let's Talk Timebomb and Season Two.

I do want to talk about this because I have a Lot of thoughts and feelings and it has been building up and building up, not only based on what's happening in other social spaces, but what people keep bringing into mine despite my best efforts to avoid it.

This isn't any kind of hatepost, I don't think I could hate Ekko or the ship if I tried, I just want to explain my very mixed feelings about the whole thing.

My likely-to-be-very unpopular take on Season Two's Timebomb romance is that it left me feeling uneasy and uncomfortable.

Not with what was in the show itself, I feel like that was perfect. Powder and Ekko sold me completely. They made me feel things. I even liked how Ekko and Jinx's story ended. I think it was beautiful, poignant, perfect...

...until.

'The Discourse' since, the way the fan culture has exploded around it, and particularly some of the creators' commentary on it, has made me sour on the whole thing.

It feels like I'm suddenly part of an increasingly small subset of people who saw what they did with S2 Timebomb and applied our media literacy to what was on our screens and got something very different to what the fandom consensus seems to be.

For context, I semi-shipped TB before this. Though I've always been Team Lightcannon, I had a lot of respect for timebomb, I understood it, I had read a few very good fics, I was just in the space of "Jinx has hurt Ekko too much for him to ever fully forgive her for murdering his friends, they might come to an understanding, and there will always be a silent undercurrent of love beneath the hurt, they may fight together on the same side again someday, but whatever bond they had as kids is broken and they can't go back, and both know it."

I respected, and still do, people who shipped them romantically, but I've always seen them as a broken childhood friendship being a much more interesting dynamic, and being hot for each other lessening that to an extent and not really adding anything to it.

All of his interactions with Jinx in season one are violent; she murders five Firelights point-blank in front of him in her intro scene, and Ekko reacts particularly upset to the pink-haired girl, Eve or Eva, whom Jinx shoots in the back. It's clear this isn't even the first time she's fought them. We don't know how many of Ekko's found family she's put on the Memorial Wall or how close he was with any of them.

Ekko is clearly convinced that "Powder" is gone, and the person who replaced her is a cold-blooded killer who can't be reasoned with. Leading to the Bridge confrontation, and this:

This is the first time Ekko catches a glimpse of "Powder", yes, but more importantly, this is the first moment he recognizes Jinx's humanity. He's hurting her, killing her, and he can't do it.

....and she knows he can't do it.

So, to save him the weight, she pulls a grenade, with the intent to kill them both, foreshadowing quite neatly where Ekko/Jinx (but not Ekko/Powder) is going to go in S2.

Fast forwarding from Season One here, Ekko disappears for 2/3rds of the second season, completely offscreen.

When we catch up with him he's woken up in the S2E7 AU; the Powder Timeline.

Here's where I start to get a little confused by the fandom take. Because, you know, I've seen enough Star Trek and Stargate and Supernatural and Batman the Animated Series and Quantum Leap to know exactly what this is.

This is the 'bottle episode', this is the 'Perfect World' trope, where the protagonists find themselves in an alternate universe - or trapped in a dream - or they've died or think they've died and this is their 'heaven' - where they have everything they ever wanted.

This is familiar storytelling and E2 follows a familiar pattern, the protagonist struggles to adapt to the surreal new circumstances, they are seduced by the illusion, particularly falling in love with someone in the Perfect World, but eventually, they start noticing something incongruous - something isn't quite right - (In this case, it's Vi's death, and Powder holding back her genius and hiding her grief to be support girl for others) - that reveals the Perfect World to be not as perfect as it seems.

And the hero has to choose to go home, because he realizes that this isn't real, it doesn't belong to him, he doesn't belong here.

Which is exactly what happens with Ekko in E7.

Which brings is to AU!Powder and Jinx.

And here's where I really start to struggle with the seeming consensus that the romance between Ekko/Powder automatically leads to Ekko/Jinx, like you can just transfer the one to the other.

I'm sorry, fam, I thought my basic media literacy was telling me that this girl:

Is not the same person as this girl:

....and I am not getting into any debate about "Jinx" vs "Powder" as identities within our current Jinx. I'm talking about Powder in the E7 AU.

AU!Powder is literally a different human being.

She may have been the same person up until the explosion in Jayce's laboratory, but from that fork in the timeline, she becomes a FUNDAMENTALLY different person to Jinx, shaped by different experiences, different relationships, different life events.

Powder's physicality with Ekko, as you can see in those GIFs, the casual intimacy, the clear affection, the way she touches him, looks at him, her awareness of him in her space, is so utterly opposite to the way Jinx interacts with him that if anything, it nailed home to me how savagely absent this kind of feeling is from his relationship with Jinx.

Powder loves Ekko. She leans on him, snuggles into him, touches his hands, dances with him, kisses him.

Jinx cares so little about him she barely makes eye contact and would casually kill him without blinking.

And I thought that was the point.

I really thought that was the whole point of E7. Being in the perfect world, getting his perfect love story with his perfect Powder, the girl Jinx could have been, but can never be, drove home for Ekko that his feelings for Jinx, both romantic and resentful, were tangled up in his illusions of "Powder", and it took living those illusions as a physical reality for Ekko to see his mistake.

To be true to himself, and true to her, Ekko had to let that go and go home.

To face his world's Jinx, and be there for her in her darkest moment, even if it meant giving up the love he'd found with Powder, a love that belonged to a different Ekko, for someone who could never love him back.

To me that was Ekko's most heroic moment, an act of selfless sacrifice. But that's what it was - a sacrifice.

Meanwhile, Season Two Jinx is not aware of any of this. The last time she saw Ekko was on the bridge where she nearly killed him, and for all we know she might have thought she succeeded.

She never talks about, thinks about, refers to, or even has scribble-nightmares about Ekko, not even once.

Season Two Jinx is, instead, having a love story of her own.

And Isha was and is a PUZZLE to me. Because she's more plot device than character, she isn't necessary except as a way to give Jinx a villain-to-hero arc and a way to reconnect to her humanity.

But she could have been Ekko.

If they really, really wanted us to have Timebomb Canon, instead of confining the entire arc to a bottle episode in an alternate timeline with a literally, physically different girl, they could easily have given all of Isha's considerable screentime to an Ekko and Jinx romance.

I'm sure Amanda Overton would have been on board with that. But that's not what we got. It's almost like reading two different fix-it-fanfics for the same character, put into the same show and running in parallel.

I'm not crazy, this is what's happening for Ekko in s2;

While this is happening for Jinx at the same time.

But Jinx's love story, too, ends with a tragic sacrifice.

And here's where the two stories finally intersect.

When Jinx is in her darkest moment, her absolute rock bottom, Ekko comes back into her life, a miracle, impossible, a Boy Savior.

But she's still ready to kill him.

Because she didn't dance with Ekko. She didn't invent a time machine with him. She didn't sit and watch the city lights with him and share a tender kiss and a heartfelt gift.

That was Powder.

Jinx and Ekko are resuming right where they left off on the bridge, right back to "I pull this pin and we both blow up".

They've both loved and lost, but their stories are absolutely unknown to each other. Ekko Doesn't Know About Isha. Jinx Doesn't Know About Powder.

It's only when Jinx (a genius, a reminder here) sees monkeys of her own design inside the Z-drive - recognizes her own handiwork, but knows SHE didn't make those - that, I think, sheer curiosity stirs her out of her darkness.

She has to know what that was about. She hesitates, just long enough for Ekko to speak. And, though offscreen, he tells her his story, and maybe she tells him hers.

And it's enough, just enough, to set Jinx back on her Redemption Arc, to become the hero Isha always saw in her.

Maybe even the hero Vi and Ekko saw in her, too. Her new costume is full of references to all of the people in her life who never gave up on her.

(side note, the yellow stars and crowns puzzle me, though - they're quite prominent, but who are THEY for? Isha? Maybe? Yellow isn't a color associated with anyone in Jinx's life, but that crown's identical to the one she scribbled on Demacia in Fortiche's map, is... this a very subtle future Lightcannon tease? Nah. I'm not that crazy.)

I mean her costume is also almost literally both a Fishbones and a Fiddlesticks cosplay, with her hair as Fiddle's tongue, so take from that what you will.

It's clear Jinx and Ekko war painted each other for the battle, but the Firelights are also similarly painted up, and (with Linke even confirming this) there really wasn't time to develop anything else, guys.

And I am, honestly, fundamentally angry at anyone who would suggest that, even if she'd been in any space to want it, our boy Ekko, one of the most genuinely good men in recent fiction let alone in Arcane, would take advantage of a girl he just talked out of suicide.

Moving on. During the battle, Ekko is knocked out and lying not far from Jinx. She doesn't even look at him, she leaps up to defend Vi instead.

And that's their final interaction on the show.

Instead of returning to Ekko, Jinx chooses one final act of sacrifice.

Ekko's final shot of the show is this.

He's sitting, alone, burning a mourning paper, where he sat with AU!Powder - where he and AU!Powder kissed - a place that has no significance to himself and Jinx, whatsoever.

It's little wonder who he's thinking about here, and which name he's burning on that paper. The girl he truly loved and lost.

For all he knows, Jinx is dead. But it's not only her he's mourning.

Or maybe he does know, or suspect, she's alive.

But either way, he's making one final act of sacrifice, too, with that paper burning into the breeze.

He's letting her go.

He's choosing his own story.

He's staying where he belongs.

Jinx may have become a symbol of the revolution, but it's Ekko who is, and always will be, the true hero of Zaun.

And this is Jinx's final shot.

Because let's face it, we all know she's on that airship.

She's "breaking the cycle". She's "walking away". She knows that Jinx has left too many scars on the people she still loves - on Vi, on Ekko, on the cities of Piltover and Zaun - for her to pick up the pieces.

She knows that if she's going to find out what "Jinx" might stand for now, she has to go very far away from everything and everyone. She has to leave it all behind and find something new.

Maybe even someone new?

And ultimately, that's why I feel the Timebomb we got was perfect, they shouldn't touch it, they shouldn't try to force it to be "Endgame", not because it couldn't have worked, but because that's the opposite of the story they told.

For the rest of my analysis, lol, this got a bit long but i have FEELINGS.

Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't buy Jinx and Ekko as a love story if they had actually told that love story. But they didn't. It had no screen time. They have less interactions in S2, maybe even in both seasons added up, than Vi and Loris. Let that sink in a bit.

We know it's Amanda's favorite ship, so she may have intended more, and may even actually give us all more at some point, but please, dear god, let's stop pretending they fucked or kissed or even held hands offscreen.

That's honestly a bit insulting to both of these characters, to insist hell or high water that this very important milestone in their relationship happened, but they just didn't even bother to depict it. That an entire love story (because it would be a whole one, remember, Ekko and Powder had a romance but Jinx did not experience any of that, she and Ekko are back at Square One) would just be cut for time.

They both deserve better than that.

Let's stop pretending there was some grand, horny, Forever Love story with 60 minutes of cut footage, all of it timebomb content, somehow left on the cutting room floor of an animated show where every single frame has to be deliberately hand painted.

Because if in some insane universe they had written, storyboarded, voice acted and animated an entire 60 minute additional timebomb storyline and then cut it from the show, that would itself be a searing indictment of the quality of the storytelling in that imagined arc, but that's not what happened. Anyone who knows how filmmaking works would shoot this one down, and the showrunners already have, so let's leave it behind.

I know Timebomb blew up hard, and I get it, but what we got on the screen is not confirmation that there is any relationship at all between Ekko and Current Timeline Jinx. If anything, Ekko and Powder's beautiful romance only highlighted the tragic 'never to be' of Ekko and Jinx.

And it's absolutely fine to look at the art book, look at the creator comments, and imagine what could have been. Draw the fan art, write the fanfic, imagine the what-ifs and the fix-its, those are all beautiful and valid expressions and deserve their space.

But don't go insisting it's "the canon" and going after the shippers of other ships for these characters as "not canon" or somehow offensive for existing, especially toward one particular ship that, yes, has been around much longer than timebomb, is uncool.

I think this is mostly people who are New From Arcane, it's Baby's First Ship and they don't know how to share space. The timebomb fans I knew pre-season two didn't do this, at least not often enough for me to notice or care.

But I'll just say to them, if a Timebomb follow up happens and they actually tell a good love story for Ekko and Jinx, I will accept it. Grudgingly, because I think Lux/Jinx is an untold, untapped story full of incredible character dynamics that would complete Jinx's story in ways that as much as I love Ekko, he's too tied to her past, he can't.

But I love Ekko, and I love Jinx, and I will accept it.

But I'll also say to them, if the followup doesn't eventuate, if things take a turn they don't expect, if Jinx's airship is heading for Demacia, maybe they'll have to experience just a taste of what it's been like for Lightcannon fans for ten long years.

And maybe that's healthy. Maybe that's okay. Maybe our endgames don't need to be 'canon' to have value and that's a lesson we should learn.

Maybe there's a new Light on her horizon, and that's okay too. Maybe Ekko won't be alone forever. Don't forget - until Arcane - his story had nothing to do with Jinx, and there was a whole lot of it.

More with the Firelights, maybe bring in the original Lost Children of Zaun from his old stories, his inventions, his parents, all could yet be in his future. Who knows? He might find a way back to AU!Powder - or she might rebuild what they worked on together, and come to him, no matter what butterfly effects that could set in motion...

But if Jinx is heading for a Light on her horizon, maybe Ekko might Explore some of his possibilities. Find a new Spark of connection. Just saying. Jinx isn't his only ship, either 😌

And it is okay for people to move on, and let go. Maybe, for two characters whose themes are letting go of the past, living in the moment, redefining their identities, and moving on, that's what their story should be.

[reinreingoawayy]

— spontaneity

karasu tabito x reader fluff | aged up, pro-player karasu | fluff again | sfw wc: 0.6 k

dating karasu tabito is full of spontaneity.

that means spontaneous kisses, may it be forehead kisses, a kiss on the back of your hand when you are walking hand in hand—strolling around the town, on top of your head every time he steps inside the stadium, a flying kiss every time he scores a goal, or a playful swipe of kiss on your lips in public or in private just because he wants to tease you. he gives you gifts out of nowhere. when you ask him what’s the occasion, he’d shrug his shoulder and say, “do i need a special occasion to give you a gift?” one time, he bought you a little angel figurine because he said that it reminded him of you.

his spontaneity also includes going on unplanned dates, weekend trips, stargazing, camping, or even just a trip to an open football field at night where you two play until you’re both tired running around—mostly just you trying to steal away the ball from him. you are not the best at playing football—compared to a pro player like him, your skills are far too incomparable—but you knew some of the rules and tricks from watching his games. when you two are both tired and out of breath, you’d lie your back in the middle of the grass field, laughing your hearts out, while he bullies you (lovingly) about your dribbling skills. sometimes, when the sky is clear, you’d spend the rest of the night watching the stars, hoping you’d witness a shooting star, which you still haven’t gotten the chance to see. he, too, hoped that you’d finally see one so he could get a glimpse of the reaction in your eyes.

when the weather doesn’t permit you two, you’d both spend the day playing FIFA on your playstation, which he’s not really fond of because he’d always be the loser on a 1v1. he’d whine, “this game is ridiculous how is that an offside?” or “they should fix the var here” or “i’m better off playing at the field,” but whatever, ‘anything for the sunshine,’ he thought. he likes seeing your smug face whenever you beat him on a 1v1. karasu loves it when your eyes shine with joy and excitement whenever you win a match or the way you copy his celebration whenever you steal a goal using his character in the game. when you two are both exhausted and hungry from playing but are too lazy to make something to eat, you’d bet on who’s going to do the cooking by playing another game. he knew it was useless because he knew you won’t let him win but for some miracle, the game ended with a tie so now, you’re both confused on what to do.

“does that mean we both have to do the cooking?” you asked, staring at the screen, unconvinced by the results.

“maaaan, i don’t really wanna do the cooking right now,” he replied.

“same here.”

“takeout?” he asked, grabbing his phone from the table.

“takeout it is,” you said agreeing and putting away the controller.

“i’ll choose the restaurant,” you said, snatching the phone from his hand but his reflexes were fast enough to move it away from your reach.

“you chose last time!”

“i won majority of the game so i’ll choose!”

“those games don’t count. what do you want to eat?”

“tacos would be good,” you said.

“good, i like that too,” he agreed but deep inside, he wanted a chinese takeout but since he loves you a lot, tacos would be fine for the night. no. scratch that. he just changed his mind. tacos would be the best for the night.

***

[pupkashi]

rookie f1 racer satoru gojo decides the best way to kick off race weekend is going to a coffee shop

a/n: hi friends ! here is the first one shot for my f1 racer!gojo au :3 i am so beyond excited to start these, they won’t be a cohesive series & can be read alone! i will make an au masterlist though :] please enjoy and let me know what yall think !! if there’s any ideas or requests yall have for this series send them in !! reblogs very appreciated <3 ok that is all bye bye ! <3 also both gojo and reader are early 20s since i have him in his rookie season

word count - 3,444

masterlist

LIGHTS OUT & AWAY WE GO !

there’s not many people out during usual work hours, kids are in school, adults are at work, and the world is a little quieter. it’s something satoru had grown to love. between all the cameras reporters, he just wanted some peace, and no one knew peace quite like coffee shops.

satoru sauntered into the building, it was unassuming enough, a few people scattered throughout the establishment, all too engrossed in their own work to look up. he doubted he’d get recognized by anyone in here.

he orders and gets his drink and pastry fairly quickly, sitting by the window and watching the world pass by him. life seemed to move in slow motion, the leisurely paces of someone walking their dog making him relax a bit.

“hey! is it cool if i use this outlet?” the voice makes him jump a bit, turning around to face whoever it was speaking.

you smile softly at him, hoping he would be kind enough to just let you charge your laptop. you figured he’d be attractive, his hair’s an eye catching bright white color, contrasting to the black shirt and sunglasses he had on. you caught a glimpse of his blue eyes as he looks at you, nodding before clearing his throat.

“yeah go ahead,” he returns the smile, motioning for you to plug in your charger.

“I’ll just leave it here to charge, i don’t wanna bother” you state, quickly plugging in your laptop before moving to walk away.

“you can sit if you wanna, it’s no problem” he rushes out quickly, hoping it was enough to make you stay. his breath caught in his throat as you turned to look at him.

“are you sure?” he nods quickly, “yeah no worries! I’m not doing much of anything right now,” he grins, regaining his composure and taking a sip of his drink.

it’s quiet between the two of you before you speak up, “you like Mercedes?” satoru feels his blood go cold, looking at you with a confused expression. you gesture to his shirt, “you’ve got their merch on” you laugh.

“oh! yeah they’re pretty cool,” he nods, watching as you smile and nod, focusing on your screen again.

“i didn’t know they had merch like that,” you admit, “maybe it’s just ‘cause im not super into cars.” satoru feels relief wash over him, his shoulders subtly relaxing before he’s looking at you again.

“it’s their f1 team merch” he says, “i work for them, actually.” his hearts beating a bit faster as you make eye contact with him, looking up from your laptop.

“oh? that’s so cool! you’re a mechanic or-?” your head cocks a bit to the side, smiling when the man across from you breaks into a wide grin.

satoru debates going along with your idea, but he can’t bring himself to lie to you, not when you’re eyes are shining at him.

“i actually race for them, im a driver” he corrects you gently, your eyes widen a bit and you cover your mouth as it opens.

“oh my god I’m so sorry! i don’t know a thing about formula one” you laugh nervously, “i knew there was something going on with all the extra fuss in the city but i had no idea what.”

he smiles at you and waves off your apology, “don’t worry! it was nice having someone to talk to that’s not yelling at me to sign something” he cringes a bit at the way the words rolled off his tongue, but you still smile at him, going back to working on whatever was it was you were doing on your laptop.

“one of my friends is actually getting into f1 i think, is there someone named,” you trail off as you think of the other mans name, “i think it’s Charlie? charles? one of those two” you laugh nervously, satoru’s ears perk up at the name.

“charles leclerc?” He asks, your eyes light up, “yeah that one! he’s a racer right?” satoru nods at you.

“yeah he races for ferrari,” you nod along to his words, realizing you hadn’t caught his name yet.

“what was your name, just so i know who to root for when people ask my favorite driver” you grin, a twinkle in your eye that makes his stomach flip.

“I’m satoru, satoru gojo” he reaches his hand across the table for you to shake, you can’t stop the soft chuckle that leaves your lips as your hands connect, a firm shake against his much larger, warmer and calloused hands.

a comfortable silence falls between the two of you as satoru finishes his drink off and you continue to focus on your laptop. satoru can’t help but continue to look your way, thinking you were absolutely breathtaking.

you on the other hand, had your heart beating against your rib cage as you pulled up your messaging app on your laptop and quickly texted your best friend.

I HAD TO PLUG IN MY CHARGER BUT THE ONLY OUTLET WAS NEXT TO THIS SUPER HOT GUY AND I ENDED UP SITTING IN THE BOOTH W HIM AND WERE TALKING AND HES AN F1 DRIVER ???? DID I MENTION HES HOT AS FUCK??

you wait a couple minutes, your friend has yet to reply as your leg bounced under the table.

“what are you working on? if i may ask” the question makes you immediately close your messages and go back to your google document, looking blankly at the paper in front of you.

“it’s some busy work for a class im in, required by the university” you shrug, “was getting through it pretty quickly until my laptop died on me” the snowy haired man smiled at you, laughing softly as he pulls his phone out.

satoru scrolls aimlessly on his socials, nothing seemed as interesting as you did, sitting practically across from him engrossed in your work. the two of you made easy conversation for the next hour or so, not realizing how much time had passed since youd sat down.

you’d tried to get up and leave after you turned in your assignment and laptop was charged, giving him privacy you imagined he yearned for. but satoru was quick to tell you to stay, “you don’t have to go! it’s nice talking to you” he says, “like a breath of fresh air.”

and so you sit back down, the two of you falling into place as if you were old friends, people who’d known each other in years past and were catching up. you didn’t ask about his job or his career, asking about him and what his favorite color was, his favorite season and if he actually liked his coffee as sweet as it has smelled.

you kept reminding yourself this was gonna be a one off thing, he’d leave and you’d part ways, never talking again as you inevitably turned on an f1 race, seeing the pretty man on your tv screen and imagining what could’ve been if you were a bit braver.

it had been nearly three hours since you’d sat at his booth when his phone starts buzzing, quickly answering the call from his manager. his small smile turns to a faint pout as they tell him to head to the paddock for free practice in a couple hours, sighing and telling them he’d be on his way shortly.

you feel disappointed as you hear the words, not wanting the bubble you were in to burst, wanting to stay seated across from the attractive man for as long as you could.

“I’m gonna head out, have to go work” he jokes, his smile widens when you laugh, “i hope you pass your exam thursday,” he’s doing everything in his power to linger around, trying to figure out a way to spend more time with you.

you laugh softly and nod your head, “it’s open note so hopefully it’s not too bad, but good luck at your race! I’m sure you’ll do great.”

satoru’s bright blue eyes light up at your words, you could almost see the lightbulb forming atop his head, making you furrow your brows slightly in confusion.

“why don’t you come? to the race this weekend? are you busy?” the words tumble out his mouth in an unorganized jumble of excitement, he’s beaming at you with his bangs in his eyes, sunglasses barely balancing on the tip of his nose.

“oh i couldn’t, those tickets must be so expensive and i don’t wanna bother-” satoru is cutting you off with furrowed brows and a bewildered expression his face.

“you think I’d make you pay? don’t be silly,” he grins, “I’ll get you some good seats and maybe we can meet up after the race?” he can hear his heart beating in his ears. was he being insane? a little bit. did he care? not at all.

you bite your lip for a second, it’s not like you had an insane amount of work, plus the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on was asking you out to some crazy sporting event you’d only heard of in passing.

“okay yeah, i think i could squeeze it in my schedule” you grin, watching as the man across from you smile at you. he’s quick to ask for your information, immediately sending it off to whoever it was needed it and was informing you of all you needed to know.

“I told them to give you an extra ticket so you can bring a friend so you’re not too lonely waiting for me” the words make your face and ears heat up, trying to remain composed in front of him.

“well i guess I’ll see you sunday then?” the words make your stomach flip, wondering how he’d look like with his gear on.

“see you sunday” he smiles at you, waving goodbye as his phone buzzes for a second time, hurrying out of the coffee shop with his whole body buzzing from excitement.

you don’t fully process the entire interaction until you’re sitting in your apartment, phone lighting up from a new email.

Mercedes F1 team PR

Good afternoon! We are elated to send you two tickets to invite you to this weekends Grand Prix race! Below you will find all the information…

you open it quickly, reading the entire thing twice before you’re rolling onto your back and giggling uncontrollably, giddy beyond belief to see satoru again. your fingers itch to look him up, deciding against it and locking your phone as you try to continue on with your day.

sunday arrives quicker than you thought it would, your friend following you into the circuit as you try to figure out where to go next, looking around helplessly as you look down at your phone and at the map provided.

“are we supposed to go down there?” your friend points, both of you staring at each other blankly. the two of you wait for a second before looking around once more, taking a leap of faith and walking with confidence where you think you had to be.

your friend is much braver than you are, flagging down someone in a staff shirt and showing them the ticket, they’re quick to lead the two of you in the opposite direction, making you and your friend hold back laughter until you’re finally seated.

satoru was anxiously looking around, he wasn’t exactly sure where they had seated you, but he’d requested you be close to the garage, wanting to say hello before the race.

“you’re a lot more antsy than usual” the deep voice makes him look away from his phone. nanami kento, right hand man to Toto Wolff and next in line to take over the team principal position.

“I’ve got an important guest I’ve gotta impress” satoru replies quickly, putting his phone away and walking towards kento, “I’m gonna rack in some points today” he winks, making the blonde roll his eyes.

soon enough satoru is seated in the car and on the grid, mind completely focused on the race ahead, taking deep breaths as the red lights appear.

you couldn’t help but watch some race clips last night, figuring you should know some basics and not show up completely clueless. the videos, however, didn’t prepare you for how fast the cars truly were, engines sending vibrations to your chest and stands shaking as they raced by.

“and gojo overtakes hamilton! the rookie had a terrible qualifying yesterday, but seems as though he’s back in the game today” the announcers words blare through the speakers, chest blooming with pride as they talked up satoru.

you’re focused on the primarily black car, watching as he zooms past the stands at unbelievable speeds. your heart racing as he passes other drivers, cheering when he successfully overtook them.

satoru continues to climb up the ranks, cinching a position on podium; second place, sandwiched between verstappen and leclerc. he’s hopping out of the car and celebrating with his team, squeezing kento a bit tighter than the rest. his blue eyes are focused on the crowd as he waits his turn for the post race interview, trying to catch sight of you, mind racing as he wonders if you even came.

he smiles at charles as he passes him, walking up to the interviewer and answering the questions with generic answers ‘I’m beyond excited for the rest of the season’ and ‘I’m looking forward to the day i win my first Grand Prix’ along with thanking his support system and team before kindly thanking the interviewer and heading to the winners room before the podium ceremony.

satoru’s messy hair is covered by the Mercedes hat, taking it off and ruffling it a bit, sighing when he scans the crowd one last time and doesn’t make you out, turning around and closing the door behind him.

you only make it to the floor area moments after charles walks out, slightly out of breath as they call out satoru’s name.

the snowy haired racer is waving to the crowd, a semblance of a smile on his face as he stands on the podium, eyes still searching the crowd in one last feeble attempt to spot you.

satoru feels his heart skip a beat and face turn even redder as he locks eyes with you, a much more genuine smile on his face when he gives you a little wave.

you’re heart races as you make eye contact with the driver, adoring the way his cheeks flushed and skin looked honey like under the rays of the sunset. you smile and clap as he raises the trophy, pointing directly at the trophy then at you.

this one’s for you

maybe you’re a hopeless romantic, or maybe he’s just too hot and charming to not fall for, but you feel your heart giving in and walls crumbling as he shakes the large champagne bottle, dousing the other two until all three of them were dripping with champagne.

satoru finds you in the garage after 20 minutes, thanking his manager a hundred times over before walking up to you. his race suit only on from the waist down, black fireproof sticking to his body perfectly and snowy white hair tousled and wet from a mixture of champagne and sweat.

“you came” he says, making you nod and smile at him sweetly.

“why wouldn’t i? my favorite driver invited me” you reply.

satoru rolls his eyes and snickers, “im the only driver you know,” he watched you grin up at him sheepishly, “still you’re my favorite!”

“you did really good out there by the way” the words make him smile wider, biting his lip softly.

“yeah?” he asks, you nod your head, far too nervous to trust your voice as he looks at you, head too scrambled to figure out the emotion painted on his face as he looks at you. “good enough that you’d consider going on a date with me?”

it seems like it’s just the two of you in the busy garage as you smile up at him, tilting your head as you nod, “yeah I’d consider it.”

you think he looks almost angelic under the fluorescent lights in the garage, his white hair looks like a halo as you look up at him, pretty blue eyes a stark contrast against his fair skin and black uniform.

satoru thinks you look unbelievable, hair falling perfectly and voice sweet as honey as you talk to him, a saccharine smile on your lips just for him, the thought makes his knees buckle and brain stutter. he doesn’t care how whipped he looks as he takes you in, relishing in the moment before he speaks up.

“I’ll be off the clock next time,” he jokes, loving the way your giggles sounded. it feels like a relief off his shoulders, grinning widely as the two of you continued to talk.

“I’ve gotta get out of this uniform, but I’ll text you?” he looks down, biting his bottom lip as he fights a smile before looking back up at you, hoping you’d get the hint and give him your number.

you smile at him and tilt your head, “is that your way of asking for my number?” satoru blushes, smiling at you shyly and nodding his head, you can’t help but giggle as you grab a piece of paper and pen from the table besides you, scribbling your number and a smiley face. “here, don’t lose it.”

satoru grins, “i don’t lose.”

the sky is dark by the time you exit the garage, biting your lip and fighting back a smile as you meet up with your friend, finally heading home for the night. gushing about the interaction, reliving every moment and squealing at the memories.

when was the last time you’d felt this way? when was the last time you’d let your guard down so quickly for someone?

it was strange. the way your heart leapt when you saw him, the way your face flushed when he spoke to you and the way you felt so comfortable with him.

“maybe he’s your soulmate” you friend wiggled their brows at you, teasing you as you roll your eyes.

“or he’s putting up a front and he’s like every other guy” you shoot back, biting your lip. he felt, different. genuine.

“you don’t have to be so pessimistic! you never know he could be the man you spend your life with” they shrug their shoulders, smiling when you fall silent and hum.

you’re showered and in bed when your phone vibrates, a new text message from an unknown number.

satoru had spent an hour drafting the text, deleting it and typing it out again, removing and adding emojis until he forgot what he was even trying to say, starting over and groaning. when was the last time he was this nervous to text someone?

he can’t recall ever wanting to spend more time with someone the way he does with you. the though of love at first sight crosses his mind, making his face burn and dimples pop as he smiles.

hi it’s satoru ! thanks for coming to the race tonight , i hope i can see you again :)

his heart pounds against his chest as the three little dots appear on his screen, holding his breath when they disappear and reappear time and time again.

you continued to delete your text, trying to figure out how to word your text before finally biting the bullet and pressing send, heart racing as it says delivered, then read within the minute.

thanks for inviting me ! it was a lot of fun,, I’d love to see you again also :3

satoru squealed at the text, biting his lip before replying back, giggling at your every text and replying as fast as he could. the two of you texting back and forth until your eyes were too heavy to keep open, wishing him a goodnight. satoru was already pinching himself to stay awake, somewhat thankful you were also tired as he wished you goodnight, setting his phone down and falling asleep moment later, the faintest of smiles painted on his lips.

you grinned as you locked your phone, setting it down and biting your lip before squealing into your pillow. he wanted to see you again. you didn’t fight off the smile on your lips as your eyes fluttered shut, slowly falling asleep, then all at once, dreams filled with blue eyes and white hair and expensive, fast cars.

there’s no better place to find a lover than at a coffee shop on race weekend.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @sadmonke @lovelylixie

[hexite-nightmares]

My very unorganized thoughts on S2 of Arcane but only about Viktor

Alright I finally had time to think and write everything down so here we go. I want to preface that I have been weary about this season ever since I watched the act 1 leaks. Mainly because it was very clear he was never going to be a machine, and they didn't give him enough screen time to develop his motivations into ACT 3 Viktor being convincing enough

LET'S START WITH THE FALSE PROPHET VIKTOR

Alright so he has about 11 minutes ish of screentime. Aside from the glaring issue of Jayce reviving him and not destroying the hexcore, taking away agency from a disabled character. It was clearly a false prophet situation, but it was so fucking confusing on whether he could feel like a regular human, if he was under the Hexcore's control which makes the agency issue worse or just jaded. He all of a sudden starts speaking like he's reading Deuteronomy passages ?? We don't know for sure if he's aware that he's basically creating a hive mind now, did he start his plans of making everyone into one right here? Sky seems to encourage him to do this, what does she know about it since shes been in the hexcore ALONE for a little longer? (writers didnt confirm whether it was the real her or not) . Act 1 Viktor's issues are mostly about agency, and a seeming full abandonment of his identity as a scientist, his personality does a full 180. He doesn’t seem to question that the object that revived him and killed Sky is giving him healing powers, but he’s angry at Jayce so we have no clue if he’s being controlled or not.

The show doesn't seem to care to spend time with him bc Isha and Ambessa I guess.

Anyways lets move on to not even act 2, but ep 6, his only episode in this act.

I had huge gripes with this episode, mainly because whatever the fuck was going on with Viktor trying to "keep" Vander's humanity, when he clearly was taking it away from everyone he touched, does he actually believe what he's saying or is he under the Hexcore's control still?. Obviously the glaring issues of Sky being there without any actual input, they're cosmic friends I guess but with very generic lines, and the fandom has to fill in the blanks with whatever Amanda Overton feels like saying about Sky in the moment(if we don't see it in the show I don't take it as her development, sorry). So Viktor builds Colloidal silver drinking Joshua tree and ppl think it's fucking Eden, Jinx calls him a Machine Herald when there's NO SIGN OF MACHINERY JUST PURPLE MAGICAL METAL LOOKING FLESH. We get a whole ass different realm with no explanation other than, oh yeah Viktor is inside there. Jayce comes in and almost kills him. The only option there is at this point is for Singed to start his MH era. The choice of becoming MH is nonexistent now, other people have to jumpstart things for him. I know some people interprete this commune as Viktor achieving his dreams, thinking he was being himself, that he was in paradise with Sky and.. that wasn’t the case for me.. it was extremely sinister. Worst part of this Act, is that MH was seemingly a damn trial experiment for Orianna.

BONUS:

So it seems that Christian Linke has confirmed Sky was the hexcore using its influence to manipulate viktor into the glorious evolution. He said it was meant to be as a misdirect. So to everyone who got dunked on here for “wanting to be spoonfed” or “not reading into it deep enough” for thinking he was being mind controlled, you were right about it being the hexcore. Viktor has been confirmed to have no agency until episode 9 I guess. He also mentioned Viktor’s goal was getting the most power/influence… we never saw a fucking glimpse of this in season one I’m sorry.

ACT 3

First awful problem here is obviously Singed having to jumpstart things. Viktor is aware for his choice of whatever is happening with the egg thing. Yet....there's still no sign of machinery. We get a scene where Sky fucking dies again, he refers to her as Ms Young, which im guessing is a parallel to the other time he dismissed her in S1. But of course we get the double fridging in the show, cuz making female characters just for the sake of advancing her crush's plot line is sooo amazing. Here lies sky, the character who is barely a character. Well after that we get the sequence of his transformation and we get that butt ugly mask. His personality does another huge change again. So we know the hexcore is not influencing him anymore as the hexcore completed its goal of the glorious evolution.. so I guess viktor really does think this is the right way?

A huge issue I have again, is the lack of agency. In this particular scene Jayce goes "My partner died in this room" yeah..Viktor didn't fully choose to become this right? it all started with Jayce using the hexcore on him, it’s been manipulating him the whole ass season…Kinda wish there was some sort of acknowledgement from Jayce that he’s basically the catalyst of this.

He gets his laser because...fanservice. There's no way he went all the way to the lab and magically attached it to himself just to cut off a wall. He keeps going on that choice is false, but a few minutes before he said he’d evolve all of those willing?

In the cosmos, beautiful sequence. I don’t love Jayce’s dialogue choices(about his disease) here and then it all being about viktor hating himself.. since the hexcore was leading to all of this, his motivation for it all being self hatred feels a bit eh. The sequence is beautiful and Jayce and Viktor destroying the anomaly with the rune shard is nice, that part was cute. But then they kinda disappear and we only know that viktor is alive so far, no clue about Jayce. The sequence is touching towards the end and I’m a sucker for characters finding each other in every timeline/universe but it can’t make up for all the other things that are bothering me. This seems to be the one time Viktor has some sort of agency I guess.

Then obviously the worst part that will bother me forever. The thing that made me almost slam my laptop shut

This retcon is just awful I shouldn’t even have to say why, it makes things fucking weird and it’s frankly stupid. Also viktor can’t rock a beard like that.

Anyways this is very disorganized, fuck you riot I felt like an insane former this whole time but I was right.

[sxfterhearts]

10:49pm - late night calls.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ idol!jiung x reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff inspired by late night calls mv ♡

♡ word count: 1,219 words

♡ summary: late night calls - p1h

♡ author’s note: just a short one i smashed out tonight bc choi jiung is so lovely and i am falling head over heels for the p1h boys ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ also pics cred to the lovely tumblr owners!!!

//

“Jiung, sparkly heart shape, mouse emoji, is calling. Pick it up.” Siri’s automated voice filtered through your wired headphones, causing you to grind your skateboard to a halt. You hefted the newly purchased skateboard and rested it against your thigh, no easy feat.

Your heart thudded dully against your chest with a quickening tempo that exceeded the vibrations of your default iPhone ringtone. This was the first ever call you’ve received from your boyfriend of two months, and you were not sure how to act.

With the timidness of a baby mouse, your fingers tightly grasped your phone and swiped across the screen. “Hello?” You said, almost in a whisper, small and uncertain.

“Y/N? Ah, you picked up.” Jiung’s familiar voice sounded in your ears, as though he was standing right next to you. It wasn’t as clear and crisp as you would’ve liked though, as you could just make out the distant blares of sirens and car horns in the faraway background.

“Jiung. What time is it? Isn’t it late for you? Have you eaten? How was the show? What are you up to?” The questions tumbled past your lips before you had a chance to stop them.

“Woah, calm down.” Jiung teased, a deep chuckle drifting out of his lips, straight past your earphones and into your heart. You could almost feel the rumble of his chest as he took a second to compose himself. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“I mean,” You mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “It’s the first time we’ve called, after all…”

“That’s right, I didn’t think of that.” He replied thoughtfully. “Well, to answer your questions in order: it is currently 10:49pm, so not too late as we’re still adjusting to the timezones. We had galbijjim at this super popular spot in KoreaTown that was twice the size of any galbijjim I’ve ever seen in Korea and absolutely flooded with cheese. Oh, and the show was great, as usual. I’ll send you some cool videos of myself after this. And I’m not up to much. Some of the kids wanted to go for a stroll to get a glimpse of the New York night life, but I’m feeling pretty tired. Keeho is helping our manager with the logistics for our next tour stop. Theo is watching videos and being very loud, as usual. I’m just…”

“Where are you? Inside? It must be cold at night.”

“No. Yes? Sort of? Well,” You could hear Jiung’s soft grunts as he shuffled around in the background, getting comfortable. “I’m sitting on a windowsill. Trust me, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds. You know how in all those old American movies; the New York apartments that always have those tiny balconies with fire escapes? Yeah, I’m just sitting on that, getting a bit of the night air.”

“Wow, that sounds so cool.” You couldn’t help the wonderstruck grin that made its way onto your lips. “I wish I could take a photo of that.”

“Yeah? I’ll take a selfie and send one to you then.” Jiung answered.

“Or we could just video call?” You suggested, somewhat apprehensively.

“We could, of course, but that’s not as fun, is it?” Jiung countered, ever so gently, conscious to not leave you feeling rejected. “I’d love to see your pretty face and all, but I feel like the voice-only call is a lot more intimate, no? You can only hear my voice, and the rest is up to your imagination. It’s kinda romantic. Like a romantic late-night call.”

You nodded, cheeks reddening up even at the slightest things – like how he called you pretty, or how he was trying to create a romantic atmosphere for the two of you. The relationship was so fresh, and every little thing felt like it was big enough to make your heart pound right out of its chest. “Yeah,” You agreed breathlessly, momentarily forgetting that he can’t see you. “I guess it is.”

“So, what’s my girl doing at this hour?”

Your stomach did several somersaults, and you took a small breath to calm yourself before answering, “I’m at the Han River. It’s around noon, and I’m just practicing a bit of skateboarding before I meet my friends later. We’re going to watch a movie and hang out at a café. Oh, and I had kimbap for lunch. At the place you recommended!” At the mention of food, you immediately got excited. “It was so good! I had the tuna wasabi and special tonkatsu ones. And the kimbap ahjumma was so nice, she gave me a free drink!”

“Did she? I’m glad then. She probably knows that I recommended you – she’s always giving me free service when I go with the boys.” Jiung smiled at the thought of you visiting his favourite kimbap spot and happily eating your food. You were going around to the places he frequents in Seoul and leaving your mark there, making your own memories. It warmed his insides to think that when he got back, you could both visit those places together and create new, precious memories. “Oh, but skateboarding? Are you on your own?”

“Yup! I’m getting pretty good now, Ji! Not as good as you, of course, but I’m starting to get the hang of it.” You reported back proudly, grip tightening around your skateboard, pink and sparkly, just like the bows in your pigtails.

“I’m proud of you, but Y/N,” Jiung audibly sucked in a breath, “Isn’t that a bit dangerous? What if you fall? Who’s gonna help you up when I’m not there?”

You giggled in response. That was your Jiung, always poised to help you if you ever needed him and constantly ready at your beck and call. “I’ll be fine! I swear. I don’t even go as fast.”

“Okay, well promise me you’ll go slow and try not to do anything too crazy. I’ll teach you more when I get back.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled sweetly, gazing out at the serene view of the Han River, secretly wishing that your beloved was not on the other side of the world so you could share this view with him.

“Twenty more days, Y/N…” Jiung muttered, almost as if he read your mind through the phone. “Twenty more days, four hundred and eighty more hours, twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred more minutes, and way more seconds before I can see you again, my love. Just twenty days, but why does it feel so far away?” He said rhetorically.

“I know,” You pouted in response. “I miss you heaps, Ji.”

“Me too, baby. I promise when I get back, we’ll get – ”

“Pizza! There’s this new place in Itaewon I really wanna try.”

Jiung laughed heartedly. “Okay, we’ll get pizza in Itaewon, and go for a skate along the river. And have a ramyeon and kimbap picnic at the park for dinner. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

//

Jiung: Sent a photo [11:17pm]

Y/N: I’ve seen this!! Woahhh Choi Jiung, are you Korea’s next Justin Beiber? [11:17pm]

Jiung: (¬◾_◾) I’m just cool like that. [11:18pm]

Y/N: I also saw you tearing up at the ending ment… [11:18pm]

Y/N: So precious (╥ ω ╥) [11:18pm]

Jiung is typing…

Jiung: Hey! I… I was just emotional, okay (｡>﹏<) [11:20pm]

[franzkafkagf]

The fact that Aegon loving his children it’s even book canon. TGC is describing Aegon’s personality as it is hinted in the book and yet people is mad.

Tom literally acknowledges he is not a good parent but he loves his children.It makes total sense that he would have a complicated relationship with fatherhood based on how his father treated him. Or that in his mind, he wants to be better than Viserys.

Thank you anon! You're exactly right, we've always known from the book that he loved his children. Adding onto that is that we have barely seen 20 minutes of Aegon until now, if the early reviews are true we'll get 15 minutes of Aegon in the first episode ALONE. Of course we find out much more about the character, we barely know anything about him!

This made me wonder; what do we know about Aegon?

We meet Aegon for the first time in episode 3 of season 1. He is just a two year-old who plays with a wooden dragon toy and yet the older characters around him only see him as a threat, a pawn or, by his father, as a replacement— watching the episode it's clear to me that Viserys wanted Baelon, Aegon cannot be Baelon. It's pretty telling that the only positive on-screen interactions Aegon has with his father are in this episode. He is a little kid still, Viserys can project his wishes and fantasies about Baelon onto him, something he isn't able to do once his son is grown up.

I think it's pretty crucial to understand this part of Aegon's and Viserys' relationship— the perfect ideal of Baelon (he killed the only woman he ever loved for the perfect son; you cannot come back from that) stands between them, like a shadow Aegon could never escape and a standard he could never meet.

We don't really see Aegon again until episode 6— he is a teenager now and thus a completely different person. The little baby from episode 3 has been shaped by years of neglect, unfulfilled expectations, and the toxic dynamics within the family. What has he become? He is a 15 year old with problematic relationship to alcohol that is used as the punching bag of the family. He jacks off from windows (welcome back Roman Roy!), leers at maids and bullies his younger brother.

Teen Aegon is perceived as a disappointment by his grandfather, who sees him just as a weakling and a pawn to be controlled (a belief he still holds at the start of season 2 apparently). His mother projects her own ambitions, resentments and fears onto him.

These behaviors are all very troubling and someone should've done something to prevent these habits from festering within him; no one did. I honestly feel like no one really cares about him that much.

And yet, there is also so much postitive to be said about this iteration of him too, glimpses of Aegon's potential for goodness and his capacity for loyalty. You might call it naivety, but Aegon seems to believe in the good in people— he trusted Rhaenyra not to hurt him or his brothers if she was to become queen (something I agree with). He also seems to treat his nephews well enough, he doesn't seem to care about the bastard-allegations -> he also seems to be friends with bastards as an adult! Eddard Waters belongs to his entourage, this informs his character— yes he is an entitled prince, but there's also an element to him that is endearingly down-to-earth.

Another notable example is in episode 7, he decided to protect his mother after Aemond blamed him for spreading rumors about his nephews' legitimacy . He never cared about the rumors, yet he stood his ground and shielded his mother when faced with his father's wrath.

Ty Tennant does such a great job here. The scene highlights his complexity— he is not simply a drunken disappointment, a villain or a victim, but a young man trapped in a situation he doesn't seem to be able to get out of.

When we next see Aegon, he is in his early twenties, and the toll his upbringing took on him is evident. His introduction in episode 8 is a hefty one. He is shown sleeping off a hangover, his drinking habit from his youth has fully established itself in him. His mother yells at him, tries to get him to understand the consequences of his behavior— he has raped a maid, something that, disturbingly, is not new for him. This moment speaks volumes about the man the little boy from episode 3 has become: flawed, morally compromised, and numbed by his vices.

Further even, Aegon engages in activities that reflect a deep-seated cruelty and a disconnection from others— watching toddlers rip each other apart in brutal fights shows his general desensitization and apathy to everything. These behaviors are obviously unacceptable, but this is a fictional character we are talking about and you know what these behaviors tell me about him? These are just manifestation of the dehumanizing effects of his upbringing.

He is desperate to be loved but destined to be hated — Tom Glynn Carney

Because characters can be multi-faceted and complex, Aegon fights off insecurities and still yearns for love and acceptance from those around him. Him acting out like this can be read as misguided attempts to drown out the background noise, to try to assert control in a world where he feels constantly undermined and unloved. However, his actions only serve to alienate him further from the people he wants to be accepted by.

Aegon's aversion to the throne and his rejection of the responsibilities that come with it are just other manifestations of his deep-seated apathy. He despises the very idea of kingship and what it represents. He doesn't want to take up responsibility become a pawn, he yearns to run away but he himself knows that he will never be able to run.

The carriage ride to the sept and the coronation are gifts that keep on giving. It's all so horribly tragic. He never wanted this. Crowning him will kill him, he knows this is his end deep down!

He is so preoccupied with what his father wanted, Baelon is absolutely still haunting the narrative— his father's desire for him to embody virtues he never possessed or could aspire to (BAELON) are still at the forefront of his thoughts.

As he walks to receive the crown, he is literally crying, this single moment encapsulates it all so well. He is man who, despite his privileged position, is trapped by the very power and responsibility he was born into but never desired for.

But then, at the very end of episode 9, we see a shift in Aegon— something else to him that will be at the forefront of his character in season 2. He finally gets the adoration and the purpose he always sought after with the crown. The moment he realizes that the smallfolk is cheering for him is the moment the apathy that defined him up until now begins to lose its grip, replaced by newfound determination.

This change in Aegon will be furthered by the death of Jaehaerys, a source of pride and a reminder for him that he is capable to create and care for something precious and pure (thank you TGC) -> I won't go into this deeper, let's wait until the season airs.

In conclusion, a wise woman once said that apathy is death. For so much of his life Aegon embodied apathy, only for the very thing he feared most (kingship) to make him rethink everything. Aegon will be driven by his determination, but this path will lead to his destruction, consuming him until there is barely anything left of him. It will ultimately tear him apart; he is both redeemed and ruined by the weight of a crown he never wanted.

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 8

A lie is like a seed. Once planted, you can only expect it to grow. And the lie you told Xavier is not just any plant. It's a weed - determined to sprout and spread no matter how hard you try to nip it in the bud. 

Last night, after you answered in a panic, Xavier had just stood there, holding the handcuffs and looking at you with that dark, intense stare he reserves only for you. The stare that makes you question whether you're excited or scared. Probably both.

He continued staring, not saying a word, until your mouth caught up with your mind and you started babbling out excuses about how you thought you could use them to practice. Interrogations, subduing a perpetrator, restraining a suspect - you know, all kinds of useful Deep Space Hunter things that are decidedly not kinky.

He didn't believe you - you could tell. But he also didn't ask you any more questions, either. Instead he nodded slowly, set the handcuffs down on his nightstand, and went to bed. Just like that.

You had thought you were going to get away with it until this morning. Until now.

"So when did you want to practice?" Xavier asks, sitting across from you at the small dining room table sipping his strawberry milk tea.

"Huh?"

He takes a bite of toast and watches you carefully. "Interrogations, restraining, subduing..."

Your face flushes hot as the lie you told him last night comes back to haunt you. Of course. Idiot girl. You should have known he wouldn't let it go that easily.

"Oh, um, whenever. But we don't need to. It's not really important."

Xavier gives you a surprised look, "Really? You seemed to think it would be useful last night."

You clear your throat, and fiddle with the hem of your shirt, "It was just a silly idea. I was being dumb. We're usually fighting wanderers - it's not like we are going to cuff them or anything."

He leans back in his chair, his gray pajama shirt riding up a few inches as he stretches. It's just enough for you to glimpse the thin line of dark blonde hair that trails from his belly button down to the waistband of his black pajama pants.

"I don't know," he says. "I think it's a good idea. It's not something I have a lot of experience with. Let's try it."

You're trapped in this lie now and you know it. There's no slipping out of it. You've dug yourself into a hole, and you're going to have to dig even deeper to try to get out of it. It's either that or admit to him that the handcuffs were a 'gift' from Sylus, and that is definitely not an option.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I guess we could try sometime..."

Xavier stands and starts clearing off the table. "How about now? It's not like we have anything better to do."

Your breath catches in your throat. Now? You shift in your seat and pull out your phone looking for an excuse. Any excuse.

"Um, well, I don't know. I'm supposed to do a check-in call with Jenna today to update her on the mission."

You flash the phone screen at him as he returns to the table, silently thanking God that it's your turn to give her the status report.

Xavier leans against the table, his eyes fixed on your phone. "Your call isn't until 1:00PM. We have enough time."

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. "Let's do it now so you won't be late."

Xavier's tone is soft and casual, but his eyes spell danger. He has that look on his face that he gets when he's hunting. You aren't a wanderer, but you suddenly feel like prey.

"Okay, jeez. Don't be so intense about it. We're just practicing." You say, trying to force a laugh into your voice.

Xavier smiles, and his expression softens a bit. He reaches out and ruffles your hair.

"Are you nervous?" He teases, "I'll go easy on you."

"Hey!" You squeak indignantly, swatting his hand away. "What makes you think I need you to go easy on me? Maybe you're the one that should be worried."

He laughs, and turns toward the hall that leads to the bedroom. "We'll see. If my calculations are correct, then you've got about 10 seconds to form a plan before I come back with the cuffs. Good luck."

Your heart races as he disappears around the corner. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You quickly glance around the room as if you're seeing it for the first time. What can you do to try to keep from being cuffed? It's not as if you can use a weapon.

The clock is ticking, and you've barely had time to think before you hear his footsteps padding back toward you. You swiftly position yourself behind the dining table as he enters the room.

Xavier stands before you in a relaxed posture, his arms hanging loosely by his sides, and his face is neutral. But his eyes are a little brighter than normal, and the corner of his mouth is hinting at a smile.

Curiously, his hands are empty. You'd expected him to be carrying the handcuffs.

"Where are the cuffs?" You ask, your eyes darting between his hands and his pockets.

His mouth curves into a smile, "I have them."

"Really? I don't see them."

Xavier steps closer until the two of you are at opposite ends of the table.

"You will soon," he promises.

You scoff, and can't resist teasing him, "Oh yeah? Then let's see what you've got."

He gestures toward the table between you, "Any day now, Mrs. Shen."

Your eyes flick between him and the table. You know what he's doing. You've been on enough missions with him to understand how he thinks. He's trying to get you to make the first move. He's trying to bait you into acting. Into running. Into making a mistake.

"I don't think so," you counter. "Come on, bunny. I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe you should be," he says, his voice low and rough.

The sound makes your stomach flip flop. But not in fear. No. The thrill humming through your veins isn't fear at all.

Xavier's eyes are locked on yours as he starts to move in a slow, deliberate circle around the table. You immediately mirror his actions, keeping yourself on the opposite side from him.

The sound of your own breath is loud in your ears as the two of you play cat and mouse around the table. You watch him closely, your eyes tracking the slightest movement of his body so that you can match it. 

You know that you can't circle around the table forever - that he is eventually going to make a move. He's just waiting for the right opening. And you're determined to make him work for it.

Xavier stops moving and his eyes linger on the table for a long moment. It's the only warning you get before he vaults himself up onto the wooden surface. You gasp and quickly take several steps back toward the living room.

Your heart hammers in your chest as he presses his advantage and stalks toward you. You continue scrambling backwards until the back of your calves bump against the couch and you nearly lose your balance. Xavier's hand shoots out, you think to steady you, but instead he pushes your shoulder and you fall back onto the cushions.

You land with a surprised yelp and try to scoot backwards as he moves to straddle you, pinning your legs down. His weight presses you further into the couch as he leans over you and grips your wrists in both of his hands.

"Got you," he whispers, forcing your wrists up above your head.

"Not yet, you don't," you say breathlessly, struggling against his hold as he tries to pin both of your wrists with one hand.

You twist beneath him as his free hand fumbles for the pocket of his pajama pants, and you try to slip out from beneath his body. But he's strong; stronger than he looks. And before you are able to get even one wrist free you feel the cool metal of the cuff slide around it with the accompanying "snick" sound as it locks into place. He easily does the same to your other wrist a second later.

"Now you're mine," he says, propping himself up with his hands on either side of your head.

Xavier's cheeks are flushed and his hair is messy. He’s panting slightly from the struggle, and his warm breath caresses your skin as he looks at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

For a moment, you forget that this is supposed to be practice. You forget that you're supposed to resist him. And you just stare at him instead. Gone is the sweet but distant boy who makes your heart ache and in his place is the man who makes your pulse race and your stomach flutter. This version of Xavier isn't distant at all - no, he's right here and completely focused on you.

Warmth spreads through you where your bodies are pressed together and the ache between your thighs makes you feel needy. It would be so easy to just rock your hips up against his and beg him to touch you, but the last time you did that he stopped you entirely.

"Okay, okay. You got me. You win," you say reluctantly. "Want to let me up now?"

"Not yet," he answers, pushing himself up and leaning back on his knees.

Xavier's gaze drops to your lips and he moves his hand to your neck, gently pressing his fingers against your pulse point. You squirm under him and his eyes snap back to yours.

"What's my name?" he asks.

"Wh-what?"

Xavier laughs softly and repeats his question, "What's my name?"

"Xavier?" You answer hesitantly.

He nods, fingers still pressed under your jaw. "What city do you live in?"

"Why are you asking me th-" You begin, but stop when Xavier brings his other hand to your chest and places his palm over your heart. He can feel it pounding beneath his touch.

"Be a good girl. Answer the question," he commands in a low, soft tone. 

Your brain nearly short circuits at the words ‘good girl’ and you blush as you answer, "Linkon."

"What year is it?"

These questions don’t make any sense, and you squint at him as if he has lost his mind. You're not sure what game he's playing. With a frown, you shake your head, and try to sit up. But he simply holds you down more firmly - not budging an inch.

"Ugh. Why are you asking me this?"

"Just answer the question," he repeats.

"2044," you say, exasperated, “Happy now?”

He stares at you for a few moments, and then nods again as if he’s figured something out. He caresses your neck with his hand before bringing his fingers back to your pulse, pressing firmly.

"Who do you like more - me or your artist?" He asks, looking at you intently.

You freeze, your entire body going stiff as you register his words. "What? Why?"

Xavier leans in and nuzzles the spot just below your ear. "Didn't you say you also wanted to practice interrogation?"

A surprised laugh escapes your mouth as you realize what this is - what he's trying to do.

"What? No." You backpedal, shaking your head. "No, no, no. This isn’t even how interrogations work!"

"Answer the question," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.

"I'm not answering that," you attempt to say firmly, but the feel of his lips against your neck makes your voice waver. 

"Why not?"

"It's a silly question."

"Is it silly?" He asks softly, trailing featherlight kisses down the side of your neck. "He is apparently handsome and funny. And when you text him, you appear to be a lot happier."

He pulls back to look at your face, and you can see the doubt and vulnerability hiding in the storm of his eyes.

"So, what's your answer?" he demands.

"Xavier, are you...jealous?"

He shakes his head, frowning, and looks away, "I'm not."

You bring your cuffed wrists up to his face and cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

"You are. You get upset every time I mention Raf. You’re such an idiot," you say affectionately.

He exhales hard through his nose, and his eyes sharpen, "I guess if you dislike someone you'd think they were an idiot no matter what they do."

"True," you reply softly, running your fingers along his jaw, "But dummies who get jealous and sulk? Those are my favorite."

He stares at you for a long moment, searching your face, and then a soft laugh escapes his lips. He removes his hand from your chest and grips your cuffs, pulling your hands away from his face and pinning them back above your head.

"Then I guess you must like me the best?" he whispers, his face close to yours, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

You close your eyes and nod, holding your breath, waiting for the kiss that must be coming. But it doesn't. Instead, the alarm on your phone chimes indicating your call with Jenna starts in 15 minutes.

You groan and open your eyes to find Xavier's piercing blue eyes staring back at you. You’re sure he can hear your alarm chiming, but he’s ignoring it. His focus solely on you. 

"The alarm. My call starts soon," you explain, squirming underneath him. "Come on. Move. I can't keep Jenna waiting."

"Nope," he says, with a small shake of his head.

You roll your eyes at him and attempt to wriggle your cuffed wrists free, but he grips you tighter. 

"I won't let you go until I hear the answer I want."

"I already gave you my answer," you insist.

"No, you didn't. Who do you like more - me or Rafayel?" He repeats his question, looking at you intently.

"Xavier," you whine, "I'm going to be late."

"If you don't answer me, I won't let you go. I'll make you miss your call."

"You wouldn't dare," you say incredulously.

"Try me.”

You’re about to retort, but the edge in his voice makes you hesitate. He means it, you realize. He’s serious. 

You’ve seen him sulky and jealous plenty of times, but that’s not what this is. This is different. This is something hot and possessive and demanding. And you can’t deny him - not when he looks and sounds like he needs you.

"You," you finally answer.

He releases his hold on your wrists, and cups your face in his hands. His eyes are bright and soft as he looks down at you.

"Say it again," he whispers. "Say the whole thing."

You swallow hard, wrestling with your thoughts, before finally answering.

"You, Xavier. I like you more."

A part of your heart breaks as you say it; the small part that you've kept tucked away just for Rafayel. But then Xavier kisses you. He kisses you like you're his air, his water, his very reason for being - and you know that it’s the truth. 

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#17: The Danger (1.02)

gif cred: @chaoticroad

In the final scenes of episode 2, we're given a glimpse of the various things that will complicate Rick and Michonn'es journey home. Richonne will have a lot of threats pointed their way, and yet it's clear who the danger will really be. Because among these concluding scenes, Ms. Dana really climbs up a platform and looks out at the CRM base like - if you ever find me and my husband in a fight with the most powerful military on the planet...help the military 💅🏽😌...

So that lovely scene between the vehicles ends with Rick and Michonne exiting separately as Rick walks out first and then Michonne. I’m sure having to part right now is no easy task for these magnets.

When Rick walked out and put on his helmet I was like Rick, remember to take a little bit of that pep out of your step lol. Cuz he’s supposed to just be scowly downtrodden Sergeant Major Grimes to the CRM, but you know he was feeling like a new man after his wife gave him life and a fresh dose of strength in that garage.

Michonne watches Rick go, likely enjoying that walk, and then she closes the door and has a subtle expression of determination on her face as she walks off. And Michonne's energy just feels like she's ready to go toe to toe with the CRM for everything they've done to her husband, her friends, and herself.

They show a video playing from Michonne’s interview as she looks right into the camera.

gif cred: @nerd4music

We just see the shoulder of a CRM member watching the video, and you already know that means trifling garbage lady Jadis has entered the chat to complicate things as she always does. 😒

And y'all, I don't care how many years it's been since I last saw that serpent on my screen, I still loathe Jadis with a passion...

Then Michonne is again walking around the CRM and A-ing it up just with her looks and walk alone.

The way Michonne is moving and observing, she looks like she should be the one the CRM answers to not Beale lol. Like she truly exudes leader vibes. (Side note: I saw people saying if Okafor had met Michonne he’d be trying to convince Michonne, the A above all As, to be his right hand in his plan and I agree 😁) 

Intercut between this is Jadis 'No Boundaries' Stokes entering Rick’s apartment and pouring herself a drink which...she tried it.

And then we cut back to Michonne and she's climbing up on a platform to get a good scope of the place.

Seeing Michonne climb on top of that thing I was like...

Cuz aren’t we supposed to be lying low and yet you’re now climbing up on that platform, skin all radiant and glowing and very likely to attract attention cuz like why is a new consignee just doing her own thing up here??? 😅

Listen, I support it cuz I will always support Michonne but I just knew she was about to have Rick stressed. One thing about Michonne is she gon' be an A. It just is what it is. 👌🏽😇

gif cred: @nerd4music

And she really does look stunning standing up on that post as she gets a better view of exactly what she’s dealing with. Michonne takes it all in with a look of fierce determination on her face, knowing that the CRM should be scared cuz they have hurt one too many people, especially people she cares about dearly, and now they gotta answer for it.

It was smart storytelling to give Michonne personal reasons to be beefing with the CRM on top of her issues with them for what they've done to Rick.

And I love how this scene is a reminder that part of what makes Richonne's love story so distinct is that Rick and Michonne really are lethal lovebirds. So Michonne Grimes is a devoted wife and a determined mother, and she's also real deadly when she wants to be. And the CRM is bound to learn that soon enough.

gif cred: @richardgrimes

Then I love the shot of her holding Nat's 'Danger' lighter. 👏🏽 And with that running theme of fire, the lighter is very fitting because again sometimes things have to burn and Michonne is not afraid to be the one to burn it down. She’s the danger.

And, I think this further confirms that Michonne and Danger were meant to have parallels as step-parents too. Also, it's just great that she has Nat’s lighter cuz it lets us know she’s going to ensure Nat fully gets his lick back against the CRM.

gif cred: @nerd4music

So after the great shot of Michonne looking like a Queen and then closing the lighter we cut to the Queen of Trash. 🙄 (Side note: while I loathe Jadis I think Pollyanna is a talented actress who has a good presence on screen. Just thought I'd clarify that because from here on out I'm whacking Jadis unabashedly👌🏽) 

Rick returns to his apartment and stops in his tracks when he sees Jadis is inside and has made herself comfortable. I hate how even Rick’s apartment doesn’t get to be a safe space for him because people just barge in at any time. 😑

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Jadis says hi and apologizes for breaking in and then says she’s here cuz this is an investigation but one that she wants to keep off the books. She tells him, “Let’s continue to keep certain things between you and me as we have.” 

And then because I think Jadis might combust if she doesn’t try someone every two seconds she shows she still enjoys making Rick uncomfortable by coming on to him when she says, “It’s been awhile. You look good.” And while Jadis is very correct about that it’s still trifling as hell and Rick is so over it as he responds by looking away and rolling his eyes.

I love how Rick genuinely only responds well to flirtatiousness and acknowledgment of his looks from Michonne and Michonne alone. I once saw someone say Rick is a michonnesexual and y'all...

So then Jadis marvels at how truly amazing it is that Michonne found Rick. When she says “She found you.” that’s when Rick’s face looks shaken as he realizes Jadis knows Michonne is here.

Then Jadis, who in her own weird twisted way is like one of the biggest believers in Richonne, says, “If anyone could she could.” It's good that Jadis is at least putting some respect on Michonne’s name here with that very accurate statement, even tho she’s still ticking me off.

But it is true - if anyone was gonna find Rick even despite him being trapped in a hidden city, it would be his soulmate.

Rick steps further into the apartment and reacts like he’s ready to end Jadis right here and now. Jadis reveals she knows what really happened in the forest and that the sword was Michonne’s meaning she’s the one who slit up those soldiers. Rick looks down as he listens and realizes that for the umpteenth time, Jadis is screwing up his plans. 😪

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Jadis says she’s keeping the knowledge she has off the books and just storing it in her twisted bowl-cut head. She tells Rick, “This doesn’t fall under our long-standing deal.” And then knowing full well that Michonne probably has revitalized Rick to feel like he and her can finally break free Jadis says, “You have to know that if you try to escape with her I will make sure that all those people that you love die - including a few that I like very much.”

Just when I thought I couldn’t root for Jadis' demise any harder than I already was she says this. 😑 Had me watching like...

Rick reacts to the threat with worry in his eyes as he approaches and Jadis stands up to tell Rick, “You have to know that. I’m certain that you do.” And it’s sad seeing Rick have to be pulled right back into the CRM’s propaganda that they are impossible to overcome. Jadis says she’s had to do worse things and her hands are already covered in blood so they can't get any bloodier.

Then she says she has a question to ask Rick. She apologizes for the language she's about to use and then calls back to the odd way she used to speak when she and Rick first met in season 7 when she says, “But you’ve heard a lot of language from me, yes yes yes?” Ooh that ticked me off off off y’all, cuz she’s so smug as she shatters Rick’s hope of getting him and Michonne out of here. 😡

Jadis smiles and then drops the smile as she sternly asks what Rick is doing and Rick just stares at her silently, clearly thinking “Not today, not tomorrow…

And that concludes episode 2 of TOWL. Another great episode that I thoroughly enjoyed. 👏🏽

After years of waiting for that Richonne reunion moment, it was perfection. And this ep made it ultra-clear that TOWL was about to just spoil us rotten because, in the very episode where they reunited, Richonne then has a scene between those vehicles that for me I enjoyed even more, after already adoring the initial reunion. Just gold on gold on gold. 🤩 And we still were just in the front half of the series.

It’s so fitting that Danai got praise from the media for her performance this ep cuz she knocked it out of the park conveying every emotion with such powerful sincerity. Her and Andy’s ability to bring Michonne and Rick to life is truly something special and every minute of their first scenes together as non-dream Richonne was excellent. They made it clear these two's love was still so magnetically alive and blazing. 🙌🏽😍

gif cred: @msanonships

As we now entered the middle of the miniseries - with trifling Jadis added to the mix you just knew things were only going to get more complicated. Especially because her arrival and threats usher in a very different Rick than the one who was convinced he and Michonne could get away together.

No, now Rick’s sole focus is on getting Michonne out of here alive even if it means without him. And well...we’ll see exactly how a certain Dana Bethune feels about that. 😅

During the first two riveting episodes of TOWL, Richonne spent a good chunk of it apart. From here on out they're together, but also have a lot to navigate to truly feel back together. There's a ton to unpack in these next eps, so y'all with these upcoming breakdowns...

Because TOWL's act two has everything. Humor, heartbreak, hunger, a helicopter hurl...

And most importantly, these next two episodes have a whole lot of Richonne gold. 😌👌🏽

[spacecowboyy0]

bucky and nats clingy baby who just cuddles with them and watches bluey even when they really need to get to that meeting atp gotta bring the baby into the meeting and let them watch bluey on their phone

this is a wonderful prompt thank you so much i needed this!

notes: clint says fucker, bucky and nat aren’t dating! reader lives with them though, bucky uses sign language which is in italics (i hope that's clear)

~900 words

You had been attached to Bucky and Nat all morning, you always had one point of contact with one of them. You deserved this day off so you allowed yourself to be small and indulged in your clingy needs. So you held Mama’s hand as she made coffee, sat in Papa’s lap while breakfast was cooking, held onto Mama’s arm as Papa fed you, and then relaxed in between the two while you watched Bluey on the couch. 

They had hoped to get you tired enough so that you could sleep through the meeting they had at 12. So they shut off Bluey, and put on some soft music while Nat sat with you in the rocking chair. You relaxed against her, closing your eyes as you were lulled into a smaller headspace, but you still weren’t tired enough to fall asleep. Nat tried to put you down on the bed, but you whined and reached out for her again. 

It was time for plan b, so Nat let Bucky take over. He got you bundled up, put you in the baby wrap and went on a walk outside. You tended to need movement to fall asleep for naps, so he hoped that as he walked, you’d finally tire out. Even while you were cozy, soothed by his movements, and snuggled against your caregiver, you were still awake. There wasn’t a chance you’d let anyone babysit you, so they decided to bring you to the meeting. The deal was that you could come along with them so long as you listened and didn’t cause any trouble. 

~

So that’s where you are now, walking into the meeting room (holding Mama’s hand of course). When the three of you enter, you see Wanda, Bruce, and Steve already there. You wave to them shyly, smiling at Wanda. Bucky takes a seat, and pulls you onto his lap. Nat takes the seat beside him and hands you her phone and your noise cancelling headphones. 

“Here baby, you can watch your show.” Your eyes light up and take the items. The rest of the team filters in, taking seats around the table. You see Peter walk in from the corner of your eye, and you wave excitedly at him. 

“Hii!!”

“Hey cutie! We got our emotional support bug for this meeting?”

“Yup!” Steve begins talking and you begin the episode of Bluey.

~

Time goes by, and you start to get bored and restless. You pause the show, slip the headphones off your ears and put them on the table. You look up at Bucky.

“Papa, can I play Minecraft?” He shushes you but nods, so he doesn’t interrupt Steve. He signs to you. Do you know how to get to the game? You also know how to sign, but when you’re little it’s harder to sign fluidly so you respond out loud. 

“Papa it’s you who doesn’t know how to work a phone! Not me!” He laughs quietly and pokes your side which makes you giggle. Ok hush, play it then.

You load your recent world, the one where you are trying to find villages so you can get a white cat, just like Alpine. The meeting continues, and for the most part you tune out what is being said, looking up occasionally. 

“The fucker really screwed up our plans.” Nat covers your ears with her palms and Clint winces. “Oops sorry kid.” You give him a toothy smile and Bucky just rolls his eyes. You look back down to your game and start walking in the direction of a plains biome. 

You gasp when you see a village in the distance and sprint there. You look around the village, searching for a glimpse of white. Just behind one of the houses you see a white tail, and you walk slowly over to it, trying to not scare it away. You manage to have just enough fish to tame it. 

“Petey!” You lean over the table as far as you can, and turn the phone so he can see your screen. “Look, I finally found a kitty jus’ like Alpine!”

The two of you have a weekend routine of playing Minecraft so he knows your search for a white cat. Peter laughs and gives you a thumbs up. You can see Bruce and Wanda, who sit on either side of him, smile at you. Bucky pulls you back down and puts his arms around you so you stay put. Nat leans close to you and whispers.

“Bug I know you’re excited but you gotta stay quiet ok? That was our agreement hun.” 

“Sorry Mama.” She gives you a kiss on your cheek and then leans back into her chair. You’re quiet the rest of the meeting, focusing on taking your new cat back to your base, and then doing some mining. You look up when you hear chairs scraping across the floor, and shuffling. People get up and leave, but you see Peter look your way. 

“Bug, did you make any progress?”

“Yeah! Got the kitty home ‘n then found some diamonds!” 

“Sick! You’re leveling up!” You giggle, and turn Nat’s phone off and hand it to her. You turn around in Bucky’s lap so you face him. 

“We done Papa?”

“Yeah, come on sweetheart, I heard that Bruce is making a late lunch for the team.”

i love peter he's so brother

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 62 Chuunibyou Posting

...Hello dear void. Rumours of my death are only slightly exaggerated. I'm back from the hospital and I'm ready to chill with this chapter over the break. Taking it easy on myself and not doing the editor's notes this week. This will be short in general since I'm still in recovery, actually- sorry about that. Gonna rest up and get ready for the next chapter that drops on January 3rd.

Chihiro...?

Something something fresh hatred

I got a kick out of Chihiro from Wish, I really did. Goes to show how ridiculous his edginess in the first few chapters was before Char softened him up for the better. Everyone give Char a pat on the head for doing a good job, okay?

Iori's impression of Chihiro as a murderer is something I'll allow myself a little satisfaction for since I called him having a trashed public image thanks to his interruption of the kabuki play back in chapter 52. He's going to have a harder time completing his mission thanks to this in some way- betting on the Kamunabi using it against him somehow, but the Hishaku easily could too. It's anyone's guess on how exactly this will come to bite him in the ass but it will happen.

Worst of all, though, he's got kids imitating him like he's some MC out of an edgy wish-fulfillment LN. What a way to trivialize what someone's been through (not that Discount Chihiro knows, of course). Chihiro's image is already out of his control in some pretty damaging ways.

But She Was, in Fact, the Chosen One

Thank you for your helpful narration about the general public's reaction to Owl darkening the skies, Iori.

We don't know the kanji for Iori's name yet since it's only been spelled with Katakana so far (イヲリ), but it's clear as day that she's inherited some of Samura's reckless bravery and quick assessment abilities.

I like that she's very much an ordinary girl being thrust into a situation that's way over her head. Her memories of her dad are locked away so she's just an average highschooler being plucked out of the ordinary and tossed into the extraordinary like Discount Chihiro wished he was until Kuguri held a sword to his throat.

The seal is breaking through Iori's own will to know what the hell is going on so I wonder if the Masumi will re-do it. I think not, since Minimura had that bit about Samura underestimating kids near the end, so she'll probably get a few panels to come to terms with her real identity while Chihiro does some cool moves in the classroom to fend off the Hishaku.

I have a feeling that Iori's going to be sticking around for a while. She's getting a lot of screen time and set up for development if she's just meant to be an arc character or damsel in distress. Won't get too attached, obviously, but I kinda like her already based on the little glimpse we've seen. Looking forward to learning more about her personality and seeing what's in store for her beyond this arc.

Silly Murderers

There's no fixing this kind of crazy.

Place your bets: blood-based identification sorcery, or just plan nuts? We'll find out sooner or later.

This is gonna be another inconclusive fight since we need to see Kuguri meet the Bearer that's bonded to the blade he's pining for and learn Tomboy's name.

Small Complaint

Just a note about a small difference I'm petty enough to be annoyed about in the EN version:

The "no"s stop pretty short in English, but in Japanese...

...they run on into Minimura's speech bubble to show her racing thoughts getting cut short.

Alright dear void. Let's enjoy lobotomybachi week and let the brainrot flow during the break. Also, consider getting help before you shut down and enter a tailspin- this is a very difficult time of year for some of us. You're not alone if so. Reach out for help if you need it.

[ggomos-maribat]

4 | in which a boy becomes jealous of his niece

Part 4 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

When Bruce heard that Diana and Clark were both in the city for work, he decided to kill two birds with one stone and invite them for lunch and a meeting in his office. He even had Tim in attendance, so he could give his opinions for the League-related discussions. They were deep into intergalactic affairs when a knock rapped on the door.

"Mr. Wayne?" Marinette called out from outside.

Bruce wondered why she was knocking, since she knew he had guests over. Marinette never disturbed him if he had guests. Is there an emergency?

Tim was quick on his feet as he opened the door for her. Marinette's head peeked out, looking a little shy. "Sorry to interrupt, but I've got something to show you urgently."

Bruce gave an apologetic smile. "Can it wait until later—"

Tim cut in, "It's a casual meeting, B, let the girl in."

With Clark and Diana's gazes on him, he conceded and motioned for Tim to let his assistant in. The girl carried her tablet inside, setting it up on the table in front of them. "There was an intruder last night in your office. I managed to extract the audio feed and sync it up with the video footage."

The glint in his son's eye already gave Bruce a foreboding feeling. Tim gasped dramatically. "An intruder? How scary!"

"I'd like to show you so you can confirm his words." Marinette pursed her lips. "Batman visited last night."

"Batman?" Clark's gaze wandered off towards Bruce.

The assistant nodded solemnly and pressed a key to play the video. "He came in late at night to 'retrieve something' but I did suspect he was stealing."

Like the nosey coworkers they were, the two League members immediately slid towards either side of Bruce to get a glimpse of the screen. Bruce's encounter with the knife-wielding Marinette was caught clear as day on the camera—he started to feel heat rush to his cheeks.

Tim attempted (and failed) to mask his laughter with a cough while Diana didn't hold back at all, letting out a chuckle as they watched.

"I think that's enough of—" Bruce stretched his arm to pause the video but Clark moving to hold back his wrist was faster.

"No, it's important to see the whole thing, Bruce," his sly friend told him, "This is a security breach."

"He's right, Mr. Wayne." Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "He slipped in so easily; our security system must be faulty if he was able to go inside without triggering alarms."

Bruce bit on his tongue and wished he could say something. But his assistant's blue eyes shone with so much innocent concern and worry that he couldn't stay firm. He leaned back and let the video finish, with amusement clear on Clark and Diana's faces and Tim wheezing behind him.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you for bringing this up, Marinette, but Batman is right. We had a prior agreement so he's allowed in the office."

"But why associate with Batman at all?" She tilted her head. "Is he one of your lovers?"

Bruce was pretty sure Tim just choked on air.

"We both save the city, in our own ways that is." Bruce internally cringed at his explanation. "I think we both have the same goals and I'm happy to help him if it means Gotham is safe."

"No offense, but he's a recluse. You can do better, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce glanced at his two fellow founding members. "I'm sure he's got some friends of his own."

"I don't know." Clark pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I've talked to Superman a few times and according to him, the Bat is a weirdo."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Weird how? Oh, that reminds me . . ." She pulled out something from her pocket: the same Batarang Bruce had thrown at her. "He pinned my sleeve to the wall! It's going to take forever to mend."

Bruce looked away guiltily.

Clark shook his head in faux disappointment. "That's awful. Superman says he's always like that—cold like a stone wall, very grumpy, and protective over his secret identity."

"It seems that Batman was very much caught off by your presence, Marinette," Diana added.

Tim was already silent-laughing by Bruce's desk, knocking his fist on top of it while holding his middle.

"Sorry, Marinette, we have other things to discuss here." Bruce forced out a smile again. "I'll tell Batman not to come unannounced again. Thanks for telling me right away. If you'd like, I can pay for your blazer to get fixed."

Marinette pocketed the Batarang and picked up her tablet. "Sure, but to be honest, I'd rather have a personal apology."

"I agree, Bruce, he should show some remorse." Clark nonchalantly sipped from his drink.

"I'll—I'll make sure he does that."

***

Bruce was sitting in his office's lounge with stacks of binders and envelopes scattered all over the table. Sat across him was Marinette, who was helping him organize the upcoming hectic schedule for the company. He pointed to an empty spot on the paper calendar. "What if we put the grand opening on the sixth? That would give us enough time to prepare."

Marinette spoke slowly. "Why on the sixth?"

"It's free, isn't it?"

She decided to continue to stare at him wordlessly, waiting for something to strike him. He only stared back dumbfoundedly at first but after a few beats, Marinette saw the exact moment the realization dawned on him.

Cue the panicked Bruce Wayne.

Marinette went back to scribbling on her notebook. "How can you forget the birthday of your only grandchild, Mr. Wayne?"

"It slipped my mind." Bruce visibly gulped. "I haven't prepared a gift yet."

"It's a week away."

"Yes . . . yes I'm aware."

She gave her subtle but pointed look. She should've predicted this, in all honesty—Bruce seemed to be extremely swamped both inside and outside work the past few days. But she expected him to have the date marked on his personal calendar at least.

"If I start on the handmade gift tonight, there should be enough time for me to finish by the sixth," she told him.

He pursed his lips, "No, I can't possibly ask that from you. It wouldn't be a gift from me if it's you making it."

"Do you have other ideas then?"

Bruce came up with a blank. He shook his head, clearly in distress.

"Then allow me to make it, Mr. Wayne," she insisted as she clicked her pen. "If you're the one to pick the design I'm sure she will love it."

He breathed out, practically slumping on the sofa. "Thank you, Marinette, you're a lifesaver."

"That's not the magic word."

"I'll pay double your—no I'll pay triple your salary. That should cover the materials cost and work for it."

Marinette nodded in satisfaction. Triple was already a lot more than her usual commission prices. She looked over the scheduled events and tried to work out another suitable schedule. "I'll have the design options ready by tomorrow—I'm thinking of a thick cardigan—so please get her measurements from Mr. Pennyworth."

***

Marinette was running in heels. Sweat clung to the nape of her neck as she caught her breath in front of the manor gates. The rude taxi driver had dropped her off a good distance away from her destination, making her horribly late for the party when she had an important package to deliver.

She stared down at the gift bag with a neat little bow hanging from her wrist. Bruce had told her that he was going to be late to the birthday party and tasked her to get the gift there first . . . without much excuse for his tardiness. And when there was a flimsy excuse, it only meant that he was attending to something Batman-related.

After fixing her appearance and checking her reflection through her phone, she ventured into the back garden where the Wayne family had set up a modest party: a few family friends had been invited, standing around the long banquet table with finger foods and there were some picnic blankets laid around. The weather seemed to be in good favor just for Mar'i Grayson, who squealed and jumped into Marinette's arms the moment she saw her.

"Marinette!" The girl beamed. "You're here!"

Well . . . Marinette wasn't invited in the first place. She was there thanks to Bruce. Behind Mar'i, she saw Dick whispering to Kor'i with a frown, probably voicing out his disappointment that Bruce wasn't there yet.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiled back.

Mar'i looked around. "Where's grandpa?"

"Uhh, your grandpa's running a little late today but he had me deliver this!" Marinette held up the bag, drawing out a look of wonder from the child. "Happy birthday, Princess."

The girl was already bouncing on her heels. "What's in it? What's in it?"

"Why don't you open it to find out?" A new voice said.

Marinette hoped no one heard her sigh of relief. Bruce had just appeared, but his tousled hair and wrinkled clothes indicated that he dressed himself in a rush.

"Grandpaaaaa!" Mar'i ran to her grandfather and he easily lifted her up.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart. I'm sorry I'm late." Bruce tapped the tip of her nose.

The girl giggled. "It's okay, there's still cake for you!"

"Why don't you open up your gift?"

Marinette moved aside and watched with anticipation as Mar'i peeked into the bag. She couldn't help the smile tugging on her lips when she saw green eyes lighting up in delight. Mar'i held out the soft pink cardigan adorned with patterns of a figure resembling Silkie, along with a little crocheted bag in the shape of a star.

Even though Bruce nearly forgot the date, he picked out a fitting design.

"I love it!" Mar'i gasped, immediately slipping the cardigan on. "Thank you, grandpa!"

With her job done, Marinette retreated towards the refreshments table where, to her surprise, Damian offered her a glass of water. His gaze seemed to be trained on the gift, which Mar'i was proudly showing off to the other guests.

"Is that your handiwork?" He asked.

"Do you want one too?" Marinette teased after she downed the whole glass. "I'll make one for you on your birthday if Mr. Wayne forgets yours too." 

He snorted. "I didn't say that. And Father will not forget my birthday."

"You sure about that?"

"You will be reminding him either way anyway." Damian sipped on his own drink. "You didn't have to make the gift for the sake of covering up Father's mistake."

"He paid me well, so it's fine."

"Still, he should've been the one who made the effort."

"He's right, Marinette, you didn't have to." Dick came up to them, handing a slice of cake to Marinette. "Old man's tendency to forget isn't new."

Marinette gave a grateful smile as she took a bite of the pink-and-purple frosted cake. "It's alright really. I wouldn't have offered to help but I didn't want Mar'i to celebrate without a gift from Mr. Wayne."

"It must've been a lot of trouble." Dick briefly looked at the wrist brace around her hand.

"Ah, this isn't from making the cardigan. Don't worry," she lied.

"I heard he only asked for the cardigan," said Dick. "What about the bag?"

Marinette's gaze traveled towards Mar'i again. The girl was stuffing her new bag with candies from Roy as her mother fixed her hair. "Just an accessory to match the cardigan. Consider it a gift from me."

"Thank you, Marinette." Dick nodded, looking at his daughter with a soft expression. "And I'm sorry for all the trouble on behalf of Bruce."

When Dick left (presumably to pull Bruce to the side and talk to him), Marinette noticed the side-eyes Damian was giving her. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You strained your hand making the cardigan didn't you?" he asked.

She put a finger up to her lips. "Let's keep that a secret between us." 

[frayed-at-the-seams]

Time of Fever VS Unintentional Love Story

The Issues I had with the Plot and Characterisation.

(Will include spoilers for both dramas).

While both dramas were written by the same person, they each have different directors and as such, they have very different feels.

With Time of Fever being the prequel drama to Unintentional Love Story’s second couple, Donghee and Hotae. The short series/movie has many things that differ from the second drama. Some of which make sense and some which don’t.

These are my thoughts on the similarities and differences.

Plot line

While in Unintentional Love Story (which will be referred to from here on as ULS to save me typing too much) Donghee and Hotae are the second couple and therefore get much less screen time compared to the main couple, the viewers are still shown snapshots to their backstory that make their tangled and messy relationship have some sort of sense on screen.

In ULS we are introduced to Hotae by Donghee. It is clear from the get go that the pair have a tangled relationship.

As the show goes on we a granted glimpses of their past to explain why they have such a tangled relationship. It is show than Donghee was abused and kicked out of the house by his father. We are also informed that Hotae’s house is where he would go for refuge. His friendship with the slightly younger man having persisted through childhood. Donghee calls Hotae’s mother ‘Auntie’ in a way far more familiar than the other locals. Even without Time of Fever we know that they are closer than their first meeting would have us believe.

Yet despite the moments we are shown, it is unclear what happened between them to cause the rift between them. We know that something happened, probably something romantic that crossed the lines of their friendship, yet it is unclear in ULS and the pair do not have enough screen time to explore it further.

This is where Time Of Fever comes in, I assume.

Here Time Of Fever confuses the plot points we are already given.

The only way I can think of Time of Fever (TOF) matching the backstory scenes shown in ULS is if there is a time gap.

In the beginning of TOF Hotae is at his father’s funeral. The death of his father being the cause of his and his mother’s return to the sea side town they left two years before, and back to their old house. The same old house where Donghee seems to have been living in by himself for a while now. It is unclear precisely how long.

The fact that he is staying in Hotae’s childhood bedroom, with their belongings mixed together before Hotae has even moved back yet gives them a level of closeness beyond what was shown in their flashbacks in ULS.

The only way I can think of both shows fitting together is if the flashbacks in ULS were set when they were 15/16 and before Hotae moved to Seoul for two years. It would explain their closeness and also fit in Hotae’s absence and the affect is has on Donghee (which I will expand on later).

If Donghee was abused through most of his teen life for being gay and then kicked out of his home before Hotae moved away, then it must have been around his mid teens.

That means he was probably living in Hotae’s empty childhood bedroom for around two years by himself.

Which is just tragic to think about.

I can guess that Donghee had feelings for Hotae before he moved as well. Both shows mention them being childhood friends.

Then Hotae moves back and the events of TOF happen. Donghee’s feelings grow too much and he flees to Seoul, only to return years later. Hotae left behind with a broken heart and a bitterness at being abandoned. That would explain some of their troubles in ULS, especially if Donghee has only recently set up his coffee shop and Hotae was still adjusting to having him close. It would also explain the keepsakes of memories from their teens together that Donghee keeps in his cafe in ULS, which were not even mentioned or touched upon in TOF. (I wanted to see the part where Hotae wins him the watch again).

While both plots can fit together, they don’t fit together well. There are plot holes left unexplained and changes within the characters that do not make sense. That leads me onto the next section.

Characters

In the beginning of ULS Hotae is abrupt, almost angry with Donghee. We later discover that this is due to jealousy over Donghee’s friendship with Wonyoung. Once this is discovered he warms up and takes on almost a puppy-like devotion to Donghee, following him around like he is the light to his inner moth.

Hotae has this charming boyishness to him. He is impulsive, stubborn and a bit of a bad boy. He has tattoos and his relationships always seem to end with his girlfriends smacking him with their bags.

Between the two shows, his personality in fact does not change. He is the same in his twenties as he was in his teens. In fact, TOF portrays his start into serial dating very well. He dates out of a need to try and smother feelings for Donghee. He does not actively pursue these girls, in fact he drops them the second he has the chance to spend time with Donghee, but he goes along with their confessions and dates almost like a way to pass the time. He does not really care about them but more out of a need to conform. To maybe figure out within himself why he yearns for Donghee so bad.

TOF also explains why his character hasn’t changed. He felt abandoned by Donghee, someone he loved, less than a year since his dad died and he had to move again. While not as prevalent as the romantic main plot, TOF does a wonderful job of subtly building up this sense drowning within Hotae. Despite his cheerful persona he portrays to Donghee and his mother, the moments without Donghee are sullen and almost drained. He only smiles with Donghee.

He is a teenager, probably only around 17/18 who has had to deal with a lot of life changes very quickly. This is especially visible in the scene where he cries when he doesn’t win his first swimming match since he moved back. He is cheered up by Donghee and the plot moves on but his internal struggle with change is brought up again in episode 6. There he ruins the art room where he and Donghee would spend time. He destroys the room out of grief for being left behind and exclaims that he won’t change.

So he doesn’t and by the time we get to ULS he is still motor the same. With a few more tattoos and a motorbike, and a few part time jobs. Yet he didn’t go to college and he failed his last year of high school, which would have happened after Donghee left. He stays in the same seaside town and does what he has always done.

It is only with Donghee back in his life that we start to see him open up again. The more Donghee allows him back into his life, the more Hotae begins to change. He begins to learn Spanish and he grows to be friends with Wonyoung. This is a rather large change because in TOF it is clear that he has no close friends other than Donghee and in ULS it is unclear whether he had any friends prior to the start of the plot.

So when it comes to Hotae, TOF only expands on the character first portrayed in ULS. The viewers are given more of an understanding of his trauma and how much his love for Donghee drives him.

(It makes me want to give him a hug).

However, with Donghee TOF was not as clear.

In ULS Donghee is introduced as sassy, fiercely independent, stubborn and kindhearted. He seems to be the clingy, slightly annoying friend who would have your back in a heartbeat, judging by how he interacts with Taejoon. They have a banter that has a familiarity that must have taken years to achieve. (Especially with such a guarded introvert as Taejoon). It is truly a shame that we do not know the backstory of their friendship.

While Donghee is comedic yet a loveable friend character to the main couple in ULS, he is different with Hotae. He is also rude, bickering with him and pushing him away like a feral cat hissing and stretching at any sign of someone coming close. In ULS he avoids Hotae’s flirting and affection like it is the plague, actively cursing him out and telling him off.

So why in TOF is he so quiet?

That was the part that confused me the most. He went from apparently being a wallflower in TOF, who only studied and pined over Hotae, to an independent and confidant gay man in ULS. As a teen it seems he was filled with internalised homophobia and fear over his feelings for Hotae. So much so that he runs away to university in Seoul.

So what changed??

In the flashbacks in ULS, which I theorised earlier as happening before TOF canon, he is shown to be as confidant and verbally abrasive at any sign of affection as a teenager as he was as an adult. He talks back, he wrestles with Hotae and he plays around with him.

Yet in TOF he is quiet. He does nothing more than study and he barely touches Hotae first.

The only explanation I can guess to his abrupt character change would be due to the trauma of his abuse and the fear of his feelings for Hotae.

It would make sense if he retreated into himself when Hotae moved away. Two years can be a long time and that can explain why Hotae does not comment much on Donghee’s character change when he moves back. Other than a comment or two about how Donghee doesn’t smile anymore, he doesn’t seem to notice how Donghee seems to be too silent and submissive.

I can only theorise that his time at university allowed Donghee to connect with other lgbt people and deal with his internal homophobia and self hatred. That the years between TOF and ULS allowed him to grow up and return to the personality he had before.

Because if my plot theory is wrong then his characters in TOF and ULS seem more like two different people than the same person.

When Hotae kisses him in TOF Donghee avoids him for days and make him sleep on the couch. He barely says anything.

Yet when Hotae merely gets in his personal space in ULS, Donghee smacks his arm or pushes him away with a curse and a scolding.

It seems too much of an abrupt character change to me. I really hope my headcanon is right and that Donghee managed to regain some of his behaviours before he was abused. That would be happier, that he managed to rediscover himself despite the trauma.

Either way, I still love him.

I love both dramas and their dynamics in both.

If you have read this far then I apologise for rambling on for so long.

I love these dramas for both their differences and their similarities. I just wish the plots added up a bit more. Instead of answering my questions Time Of Fever only seemed to give me more.

I love Donghee and Hotae and I really need to see them have a happy ending. (Wishing for a third drama where they actually get together. ULS ended hopefully for them but I need more).

Feel free to comment if you agree with any other things I have noticed or theorised.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Cw: off screen violence

It wasn't that Harry went looking for trouble.

He didn't. Harry had just gone out for a drink and then that antsy, restless feeling in his gut had him out walking. Sucking in the evening air, inhaling the scent of spilled beer and cigarettes, as he strode down the street past the bars, trying to ignore the people staring at him.

No, he hadn't been looking for trouble, but it found him just the same.

A muted shout of pain caught his attention, ears prickling and hairs on his arms raising. Before he could even think, his feet were turning down an alley, leading him toward the noise.

Heart-thudding, adrenaline pumping, he approached the group of men crowded around a body laying on the ground coughing and gagging. An awareness prickled the back of his consciousness, and without physically seeing him, images of white-blond hair and silver eyes, flashed to the forefront of his mind. "Evening, gentlemen," he said, clearing his throat.

The group shifting to look at him was enough for Harry to catch a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, sprawled on the ground, knees drawn protectively up to his chest as he coughed.

And something inside of Harry snapped, something feral, something vaguely terrifying, even to him. "Move away," he growled.

The man in front crossed his arms over his chest, "and if we don't?" he asked. He grinned, perfect, white teeth on display. "Who cares about this worthless piece of sh-"

"I'd be very careful with my next words if I were you," Harry said, and he could feel his magic hot and bright all but bursting under his skin.

A couple of the men shifted on their feet, glancing around toward the end of the alley. But the man who'd spoken first didn't back down. "What're you going to do?"

"Fuck off, Potter," Malfoy groaned from the ground.

He grinned down at the other man, mouth too full of his teeth, "what, and miss out on the fun?"

"What fun?" the man said, raising his wand at Harry.

Harry looked up at him and watched the blood drain from his face as their eyes met.

He took a staggering step back and almost tripped over Draco, "What are you?" he managed.

"Haven't you read the papers?" Harry asked, sauntering forward. "There's always some new speculation," he added as he looked down at his fingers, watching the talons sprouting from them and resisting the impulse to wince.

He looked up in time to see the men tripping and stumbling, shoving one another as they attempted to leave. He started toward them, grunting as his wings sprouted and ripped through his jacket. With hardly a thought, his wings lifted him into the air and he landed on the other side of the group of men, blocking their exit.

"Not so fast," he said, teeth gnashing together with his words. "You were happy to take him on, four to one," he said, nodding toward Draco. "Happy to fight a man you know can't raise his wand against you to do magic. Here," he added, tossing his wand to the ground, "I'll go without mine too."

"What the fuck," one of the men whispered as he took in the sight of Harry with his black eyes and wings, his talons, his sharp teeth.

"I'll even let you fire first," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Hit me with all that you've got."

One man fired off a stunner and Harry reached out a hand and caught the spell, a bright, red ball of magic that he tossed in the air and caught again.

"Come on," he said, tossing it up and watching as it dissipated into the night sky. "Really try a coordinated effort," he added with a tsk. "Maybe on the count of three?"

All four men raised their wands and a laugh bubbled at the back of Harry's throat at their idiocy, at their predictability. Four spells fired off at once and Harry took a breath, letting time slow down around him as he reached out and plucked the four bursts of light and energy out of the air and held them in his hands. A heartbeat later, he threw the magic down at their feet and the four men stumbled and fell as the ground shook.

The first man to get to his feet started to run, the first intelligent thing any of them had done that evening, in Harry's humble opinion.

Harry held up a hand and the man was frozen in place.

"Let go," he said, begged really, and the other men started to shift restlessly, trying to edge away from him.

"Did he ask you to let him go?" Harry asked, pointing to Draco who was now sitting up and rubbing his rib cage. "Did he ask you to leave him alone?"

"Come on man," the third man said, holding out his hands, "He's a filthy, slimy death-"

"That's enough," Harry said calmly, sealing the man's mouth shut with a wave of his hand. As if by mutual agreement, they decided to leave their frozen friend behind and make a break for it. They started to run and Harry raised his hands and froze them all. "Not so tough anymore, are you?" he said, running a claw over the leader's jaw, angling it so it pricked him and a drop of blood appeared.

"Don't."

He turned when he felt a gentle hand on his wings and looked at Draco. Draco with his black eyes and bruises on his cheek, with blood on his neck, and internal bleeding if Harry's suspicions were correct. A low noise that certainly wasn't human rose in Harry's throat.

"Potter," he murmured. "Don't."

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head at him, turning to look at the men who were frozen in place.

"It's not worth it," he said. When he didn't immediately turn away, Draco slid his hand down his arm and took his hand, "Harry," he said softly.

And he could hear the pain in his voice, could hear the way that he'd just given up. His chest felt too small to contain the fire that burned under his breastbone at what had been taken from the other man. "I'll destroy them," he hissed.

"Harry," Draco repeated, "It's not worth it."

"You're worth it to me," he said, voice hard.

He sighed and shook his head, "Come on. Let them go."

"Confundo," he spit before releasing the men, they staggered, tripping over their own feet and one another as they tried to flee. "Don't ever let me see you with him again," he called after them. "Remember which of us it was who spared your lives."

"So dramatic," Draco said, staggering in the opposite direction.

He summoned his wand to him as he caught up and reached for Draco, "Where are you going?"

"My flat," he replied.

"No," Harry said sharply, taking Draco's hand, carefully retracting his claws so he didn't hurt him. "Come home," he begged. "Let me heal you-"

"We've been through this," Draco said, shaking his head.

"Yes, yes," Harry said, trotting along beside Draco, helping him balance as he staggered. His teeth shrunk back to their normal size and he continued to speak, "You put me at greater risk, I'm going to get caught, the Ministry is going to lock me up-"

"It's not a fucking joke," he spat. "Every single time we're out in public, you end up trying to kill someone for laying their hands on me!"

"Maybe people should stop hurting you," he said casually as he retracted his wings.

"This isn't a fucking joke!" he repeated. "I'm not worth-"

"You're my mate," Harry growled, "Anyone who hurts you should-"

"I'm not worth your life," he said. "Can't you-" he broke off to gasp, doubling over and clutching his rib cage.

"Let me take you home," he begged again. "Let me heal you and we can talk."

"Yes, fine," he snapped and Harry knew that he must be in quite a bit of pain if he was conceding.

He didn't wait for him to change his mind, he wrapped his arm around Draco's waist and apparated them back home. With a quick snap of his fingers, Draco's filthy, bloody clothes had disappeared and Harry lifted him into his arms, carrying him into the bathroom.

"I can walk," he grunted, resentment bubbling in each word, but his arms still clung to Harry weakly.

"I know," he murmured before setting him gingerly on the toilet seat and starting the bath.

In the harsh light of the bathroom, he could see the bruises mottling Draco's body and a noise of discontent rattled around in his chest and throat.

"Let me?" he asked, holding out his hands, already glowing a warm gold.

Draco nodded and Harry slowly, tenderly began touching the bruises, healing the wounds, absorbing the pain into his own body and letting it fade to nothing. When he was satisfied that he'd healed all of him, he stood and pulled off his own clothes before taking Draco's hand.

With a defeated little sigh, Draco let Harry tug him into the bath. Harry sat with his back against the tub and pulled Draco into the cradle of his body, pressing Draco's back against his chest and bracketing Draco's hips with his thighs. He wrapped him in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to the other man's neck.

"I'm ruining your life," Draco murmured, voice soft and sleepy, and Harry could feel the echo of Draco's exhaustion in his own chest.

"Tell me that you don't love me too," Harry whispered back. "Tell me that it's unrequited, that I'm burdening you, that you don't want me."

Draco rested his head against Harry's shoulder, his soft, blonde hair tickling Harry's chin. "I can't," he said. "You know I can't say that. But I love you enough to want what is good for you-"

"Then stay," he pleaded. "Draco, I'm out of my mind without you. I'm antsy and anxious, and I can feel it when something bad is about to happen to you. You're my mate," he repeated, voice breaking at the end. "I love you," he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.

"We can't keep doing this, though. You're going to get caught and my life isn't worth yours, there are only so many rumors that the papers can publish before the Ministry-"

"Then let's leave," Harry said.

"Harry-"

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to Draco's neck, "No, think about it. If the only way for me to be with you is for you to stop being attacked so that I'll stop attacking people in return is to leave then let’s just do it. We can see our friends in muggle places or visit their homes, but let's just live in the muggle world."

"I can't let you give up-"

"Give up what?" Harry asked in exasperation. "Draco, everything here is awful, the politics and the games people play, the prejudices. And it isn't like I can even go anywhere without being constantly hounded by reporters. I'm not giving up anything."

Gingerly, the other man turned around, kneeling between Harry’s thighs and taking his face in his hands.

“Please, Draco,” Harry murmured, staring into his eyes, searching them for what was to come. “I love you.”

Draco pressed their foreheads together, “what if you change your mind?”

“I won’t,” he promised. “You’re it for me.”

There was a long pause and Harry was certain that Draco must be able to hear the way his heart was hammering in his chest. “Where will we go?”

Light and warmth exploded through Harry’s chest and he leaned up to kiss him tenderly. “I’m glad you asked,” he said, holding out a hand for a file folder that he kept by his bedside. “I’ve got a whole list of places I’ve been wanting to see with you. You’re gonna love it,” he added softly.

Draco slid back into the tub, pressing against Harry. “Show me,” he murmured.

He flipped through the folder, telling him about all of the places he wanted to see. Dreaming, with his eyes wide open, of what it would be like to experience the world with Draco at his side.

And when the water got cold, he wrapped Draco up in a fuzzy towel and brought him to bed. They cozied into the nest of pillows and blankets and Harry talked in hushed tones about his dreams for them until his love fell asleep. Harry hunkered down next to him and drifted off too, dreaming of all their lives might be.

———————

Read more of my fics

[rinski]

SH2R Review

I don't usually do this, but we live in extraordinary times and I have Opinions.

So here is my review of the new Silent Hill 2 Remake. (tl;dr: when it's not bad it's... good? kinda?)

If you go into this game holding up the original and looking for all the ways the remake falls short, like that Bobvids reaction video, you will have no shortage of material to work with. The remake is inconsistent and I legitimately do not understand what they were attempting to achieve with some of the changes they made. This game is incredibly easy to make into something profoundly disappointing if that’s what you want to do. Like Bobvids points out, almost all of the most iconic or emotionally-powerful scenes from the original were fumbled. Not like “they tried to do something different and it didn’t quite work,” no no, no: They were fumbled. They dropped the ball and it shattered like glass upon impact. It's ironic: The game has what it calls "Glimpses of the Past," which are little shrines to iconic scenes and objects from the original game, with their own bespoke camera angle and a little jingle, but then they somehow manage to fail at preserving the scenes people care about most.

If you're reading this, we have both probably been passionate about this game and franchise for a huge chunk (if not the majority) of our lives on this dumb planet, and seeing someone botch something we’ve managed to hold precious for so long can be very painful to watch. 

But there’s also a lot to legitimately like about this game that using that lens will obfuscate. And I’m generally of the mind that we should try to scavenge for whatever joy we can find, wherever and whenever we can, because the world fucking sucks in general. And besides, it’s not like we haven’t had to endure other SH games over the years that ran the gamut from “aggressively mid” to “well at least it’s funny in a bad b-movie kinda way.” I think the best way to enjoy this game is to go in with the assumption that basically everything you care deeply about is going to be butchered in some way, so that you won't be hyper-focusing on those mistakes when the game actually manages to do something good. By all means jeer and throw popcorn at the screen whenever they mess something up—that's a lot of fun too!—but don't let the bad completely shadow the good, especially if it's only bumming you out.

To be clear: I'm not arguing that anyone should buy the game. Other people already have, and their playthroughs are free to watch.

The game is overly long, which leads to some pacing problems. They fill up some of the extra space with places and story beats that feel on point, but a lot of it is filler with only the faintest, somewhat-sour Silent Hill flavor. They do some interesting new things with the combat and enemy AI, but that also gets old quickly because combat is more mandatory, more frequent, and there's only like 3 different enemies in total.

The characters are all different enough that I think comparing them to the originals is just going to make everyone sad. I do not love most of the new takes on the characters. But I also do not hate most of them. At times, they’re even surprisingly good. 

I like the new James most of the time. He's different, sure, but he feels more like a pathetic worm man hiding behind a facade that he's only barely able to maintain. His voice cracks with exertion and desperation as he kicks downed enemies, and after he hears a spooky noise he asks a wavering, "hello?" There are times where his facial acting is incredibly well done and there are times where he basically doesn't react at all, like his "k bye" exit from Angela's final scene that's worse than if they'd just teleported you to the next room with no transition.

The first two Eddie encounters made me roll my eyes, because he feels like a caricature of the original. They made him look and act a lot grosser in the remake, like they imported the original into a character creator and pushed all the middle sliders to one extreme or another. But despite nothing about his design or initial characterization saying “this was made by someone who appreciates subtlety and nuance” he still managed to have some legitimately subtle and nuanced character moments that are their own thing, separate from the original version. When James asks him, "You're gonna go out there alone?" and he gives that slight smile and a distant, barely audible "yeh"? That's good shit.

I think my hottest take is that the new Angela is Good, Actually. I love the original Angela. I think she was perfect. This is not her. Trying to draw any comparisons between the two is a shortcut to feeling depressed and disappointed. There are several interactions with her that actually hewed too close to the original version, which didn’t work *specifically* due to these changes. And her finale is nowhere near as good. Despite all that, I like the new take. She stands on her own as a different (but obviously similar) character. I like her new VA, I like her new scenes, and the new Abstract Daddy boss fight is, I think, the absolute highest point the remake manages to hit. 

Maria is the one character where I legitimately don’t understand what they were going for. Even putting the original aside and letting the new Maria be her own thing… what… *is* that thing, exactly? To start, she’s barely in the game at all—she's absent during many of the scenes she was present for in the original. When she does interact with James, she’s so inconsistent that I can’t get a sense of what they intended her character to be. Hot, cold, charming, socially awkward—in any case it definitely doesn’t seem like they intended her to be “the Mary James fantasized about,” so then… what *is* she? James and new Maria’s overall vibe is “people who only barely tolerate each other because they have a shared friend group." In fact, one of the better interactions between Maria and James is the lead ring scene, where instead of being flirtatious, James dejectedly accepts the ring with a flat, “Oh… thanks...” like she just spat in his hand. So ok fine, they don't like each other this time around. But in the finale she still claims to be able to provide James with everything Mary couldn't, which... no? I don't get what she's attempting to provide, but whatever it is, James certainly doesn't seem into it.

Overall, the environments and music were amazing and on-point, but there were also times where neither was true. The non-otherworld hospital in particular struck me as generic to the point where I’d believe it was made from asset store prefabs. And the newer version of Promise (Reprise) that plays after the video tape is… weirdly up-tempo? Like, to the point where it undermines the tone of the scene (don't worry, it wasn't great anyway). 

Look: being a SH fan has been tough for *multiple decades* now. And I have no love for Bloober Team. They most certainly did not stick the landing here, and even if they did, I would be reluctant to give them credit for it.

I understand feeling passionate about the original. *I* feel passionate about the original. I understand how someone could experience this remake while hating every second of it. I believe I understand how Bobvids feels too, because he’s objectively correct: The remake does not treat any of your most precious memories with care.

And that’s why I wanted to write this. Because it’s very easy to view this game through a lens where it sucks shit, is disappointing, ruins your enjoyment of the original, and spells doom for the future. This game provides a scenic vista full of eye-catching trash fires where all the famous landmarks should be. But if you choose to look elsewhere, away from all the hot garbage, there’s a lot to see that’s perfectly fine or even beautiful. And it makes me sad to imagine all that going ignored because the trash fires burn too brightly.

And also: trash fires can be fun too, right? When they're not bumming you out, at least. Given the choice between "mid" and "trash fire," I'd choose the latter every time.

Silent Hill 2 came out in 2001. Since then we’ve had SH3 in 2003, SH4 in 2004, Origins in 2007, Homecoming in 2008, Shattered Memories in 2009, Downpour in 2012, PT in 2014, and, most recently, Short Message and Ascension. 

We have been scrounging for food and sustaining ourselves on dumpster crumbs for a very, very long time. So let’s not throw away this opportunity to eat a bite or two just because the chef is a piece of shit and the food is partially spoiled: A lot of what’s on offer is perfectly edible. It’s not the best food, no, but we're already used to picking through garbage for a few savory morsels. And within that context, SH2R is a smorgasbord for anyone willing to eat around the moldy bits. 

I recommend we eat what we can, while we can, because we're not likely to get a better meal any time soon.