#but she only does this to people who wronged her

[ashleyishere24]

the characters in Arcane are incredibly well written so they’re flawed that doesn’t make them awful it makes them human

15 year old Vi wasn’t awful for leaving Powder she was 15 and traumatised from watching her entire family get killed in a rescue mission she planned that Vander had made very clear that she’d be responsible for them

jinx wasn’t awful because she blew up the council she’s a mentally ill teenager who had spent the last 7 years believing she’d killed her family only to while being overwhelmed kill the man she saw as a father who used that to emotionally manipulate her into being his puppet

Caitlyn wasn’t awful for being forced into being a dictator by a woman who used her emotional repression and her anger to manipulate her into believing that what she was doing was right secretly controlling her whole life to drown out any possible doubts

while it does not excuse their actions it explains them their flaws despite how much they think it are not the sum of their character

On the other hand Silco is awful because despite he himself being traumatised by the failed revolution and Vanders betrayal he uses that trauma to excuse and justify his wrong doings that far outweigh his good every good deed is far counter acted by his wrongs he adopts the abandoned Powder but uses her belief that she is a jinx to control her emphasising it to the point she names herself after it making her believe it’s the sum of her parts or creating a more independent Zaun through flooding the streets filled with systemically oppressed people with an addictive drug that eats them alive while giving them that fleeting sense of power

Same with the other actually awful characters in Arcane like Marcus (his genuine love for his daughter and his corruption) and Ambessa (her love of her family and her ego that drives her towards power no matter the cost) they all love and have some good qualities but they’re far overshadowed by their flaws

like all people all of the characters in Arcane are flawed but the flaws aren’t who they all are some are far more flawed than others and use those flaws to justify their hurt of others

Arcane is so much more enjoyable when you approach it accepting the fact that everyone except for Ekko is kinda awful and regularly makes bad decisions.

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Ducati 350 Desmo : rev my engine

Contents: 18+ mdni, huge foreplay, teasing, insight into that one text between modern au!Suguru and reader, inappropriate workplace behaviour, not proofread (literally wrote this just now and felt an urge to post immediately)

A giggle escapes you. 

Your boss just texted you to come to his office for a consultation on a possible tattoo. And you’re biting your lip, walking over to his door, weaving around the different stations of your fellow co-workers who simply grin at you. They have eyes, they can see he treats you differently, see that he’s softer, more patient around you. 

And they definitely see the blush that stains your cheeks every time he winks at you or breezes past. You just hope they can’t see you press your thighs together when he places his large hand on the small of your back and whisper an ‘excuse me, pretty’ in your ear.

It’s a little silly to be getting so worked up over your boss — your sister would certainly not approve, but she’s not much better than you — but your boss is tall, dark and handsome. Anyone in your position would feel the same way. 

You hear him say ‘come in’ when you knock, so you slip inside and close the door with a nervous smile. Suguru is sat behind his desk, hair tied up into a bun at the back, flicking through a portfolio. His leather jacket is strung on the back of his chair, tight black shirt clinging to his lean but muscular body in a way that makes you jealous. 

“Hey, boss.” Your voice has a slight waver to it, a nervous tremor that catches his attention. He looks up through his thick lashes, a small smile pulling at his lips. Beckoning you to sit across from him, he leans back in his chair, seemingly taking in your figure. 

Thank goodness you stole your sister’s pink sweater with a low v-line dipping to your cleavage. The simmering look he gives you makes facing her wrath so worth it. 

Sitting down, you clasp your hands in your lap. You’ve been in his office many times, but those were quick moments: giving him coffee, informing him of an emergency or a sudden cancellation, grabbing something from his shelves. But you’ve never quite sat and basked in the slight vanilla smell in the air, never been on the opposite side of his desk like a client, and you’ve certainly never faced his flirtations head-on like this. 

Suguru sits up, leaning on his elbow and tilting his head at you with a patient smile. A lock of hair follows with him and you want to feel it. Gosh, his hair looks so pretty. You wonder if it’s as silky as it looks. 

“How have you been finding working here, Y/n? I hope you’re finding it easy enough to balance your studies with your part-time job.”

You pout at the paternal tone he’s taken on. “It’s great. Everyone is so nice. No matter how many times I mess up, no one gets mad at me. Everyone’s so patient, I really feel at home.”

He nods, smile widening ever so slightly. “Good, good. I’m glad to hear that.”

The pink polish on your pointer finger is flaking off as you scratch. You’re fidgeting, suddenly feeling alert and aware of every movement, every shuffle outside the door as people walk past. It feels wrong to be hidden away like this with everyone still working just behind that door. It isn’t even locked. 

“So,” Suguru begins, a teasing lilt to his voice, “you want a tattoo.”

“I want to be tattooed by you,” you hurriedly correct. Why did you do that? That sounded so desperate. You wince but he only smiles wider, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. 

You’re too obvious. 

Suguru opens a drawer and places the leather sketchbook you found the other day. It’s thick, with scraps of paper poking out, and held together by an elastic band. The only thing in his entire office, and in his entire studio, that is messy. It feels scandalous, like you saw a peek through his soul and he had let you. Your heart clenches. So does your pussy. 

Nope.

Behave, you tell your body.

When you catches his gaze, he motions you over to his side. So you stand, pulling your short skirt down as discreetly as possible, and round his desk. This feels even more scandalous. You’re on the boss’ side, seeing the world from his perspective. He’s still sat down whilst you stand beside him, shuffling on your feet awkwardly. 

Then he pushes his chair back ever so slightly to give you space to lean forward and look at the page he’s opened. It’s of the dragon you saw. A pearly white, elegant looking creature with captivating yellow eyes. Its body is twisted, curling as it takes flight, rising through the heavens. You had no idea tattoos could be so beautiful. 

“I’m happy to broaden your perspective, pretty girl,” he replies. 

You hadn’t even realise you said it out loud. You blush again. 

You’re looking down on him, and he’s leaning back in his chair, legs spread in the loose trousers he wears, but it’s settled on his thick thighs, revealing the delectable muscles there and the bulge you’re trying not to look at. 

When you glance back up at him, he’s pressing his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. Heat rises up your neck to your face. You should be fired.

Clearing your throat, you point to the dragon. “I want that one.”

“Yeah?” He’s studying you, no doubt trying to determine if you’re worthy. “Can you handle being tattooed, pretty? You’ll have needles poking you, will you manage?”

It’s clear he’s trying to test your limits, which is fair because you don’t have a single tattoo, unlike everyone else in the studio. You stand out with all your pastels and pinks contrasting with the sharp metals and ink of the place. But Suguru thinks you’re a scaredy cat. He thinks you’d tap out immediately and cry home about how he was too rough or too mean. 

You raise a brow, trying to imitate that arrogant look your sister always has. “I think I’ll be able to handle whatever you give me,” and then you add, almost like an afterthought, “boss.”

Always smiling, Suguru lifts a hand and curls two fingers. You shuffle between his spread legs, slotting in so perfectly it makes the tips of your breasts tingle. It’d be so easy to just kneel between them, to take out that part of him you’ve been dreaming of since he interviewed you, and ask for his cum like a good girl. Or better yet, to just plop yourself down on his lap and ride him to oblivion. 

You don’t do either, of course. 

It’d be wrong to do any of that with your boss, though you’re sure you wouldn’t regret a thing. But you have no experience with men. Your fingers, and a couple times a pillow, have been your only company on night where the frustration has boiled over. 

Suguru runs his gaze up the length of your body, from the smooth thighs peaking from your skirt, to your waist, to the nipples pebbling under your thin sweater, and the curves rounding out beyond the neckline, your neck, and your face. Then back down again. 

You gulp. 

There are phantom grazes running along your skin, tickling your skin wherever it goes. It’s making you ache between your legs and you want to rub yourself along his thigh, or his face, or both. How is he doing that?

Slowly, like a panther stalking its prey, he straightens his posture and his hand lifts. You’re both watching his fingertips graze the side of your thigh at a snail’s pace, as if intent on carving the feeling of your skin to memory. 

Your heart is pounding in your ribcage, threatening to burst out and dance on his desk. It’s pulsing at a beat that matches the down at the apex of your thighs. Can he hear it?

His eyes meet yours. His smile is gone. That cool temperament has disappeared, replaced with a strain in his eyes, in the way it flickers between yours. And when you gasp as his fingers reach the hem of your tight skirt, feeling the soft pudge, his eyes narrow. 

“Where do you want it?”

Through the haze, you barely hear what he’s saying. You stutter out, “Anywhere you want, boss.”

That was the wrong thing to say apparently because in a flash he’s standing behind you, pinning your hips to the desk with his own. Oh goodness, his body feels so firm against yours. And he smells so good, like thrill and danger wrapped in one. 

Your head falls back against his chest when his hands grip your hips, fingers splaying over your tummy, so close to where you want them but still not close enough.  

His lips scrape the shell of your ear and his deep timbre enters you and vibrates your very being. “Be careful, angel. I might just brand you everywhere.”

Head tilting to the side, you’re gasping at him. “Brand?”

You breathed it out like it was the dirtiest word in the English vocabulary, like he had just suggested he spit in your mouth in front of the clients. But when you make eye contact, he raises his hand to lift your sweater just a little, thumb settling on your bare skin, all warm from the blood rushing through you. 

You’re growing dizzy, so lightheaded you hardly remember where you even are. That must be why he has an impression that looks so innocent, like he hadn’t said anything at all. You’re mistaken. The rush is ruining your perception. 

Suguru leans down and he’s so close, you’re just a tiptoe away from feeling his lips against yours, from tasting him and exploring anything and everything he’s willing to give. His hands are burning his imprints and you already know you’ll feel them later when you’re no doubt sliding your own hand into your soaked panties. 

But then he pulls away just as there’s a knock at his door. 

You hear Miguel’s muffled voice and you scramble back from Sugar, who’s gracefully sitting back down like nothing’s happened. Your mind is frantically trying to catch up, and it leaves you breathless. 

Stumbling over to the door, you fix your sweater and pull down your skirt hurriedly before opening the door to see the man polite smile at you and then at the boss. 

He enters and you exit, the door remains open. But when you sneak one last glance at the room, you see Miguel admiring something on the wall, and then you catch Suguru’s heated gaze, his stare not faltering even as he presses a hand to his crotch and adjusts himself like a promise. 

You walk back to your desk at the front of the shop and desperately try to catch your breath just in time as a pink-haired man you recognise as being a member of the student council and a friend of your sister introduces himself and ask to see Suguru on a ‘personal matter’.   

It’s as if you’re moving on auto-pilot, nodding with a polite smile and gesturing to the direction of his office unnecessarily because the man’s already walking off. Your phone pings and you open it to see a text from your friend about how she’s on her way. 

You exhale one last time, replying something to her and ignoring the embers flickering on the places your boss has touched. 

And then you giggle. 

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 12

______________________________

Present

"is that a ferry?" I ask, the hippocampus got closer and we saw something that said "Princess Andromeda", and the figurehead is a wooden woman tied to it

Princess Andromeda... Who?

Ah..

The wife of Perseus son of Zeus, she was to be sacrificed to Poseidon but Perseus saved her

How weird of her to have a ship, you personally, certainly won't step foot into the ocean after you were about to be sacrificed to it

A middle aged man scolds his three kids for jumping in the pool and points at a sign, a dog that looks somewhat human that looks like it belongs in the deepest pits of hell is in line for the buffet

You freeze up, is that an empousa?? A monster playing poker with a mortal human?

You look around and see variations of monsters and humans, seemingly happy in the cruise

What is this? Monster human united nations?

Don't get me wrong, you're not racist, it's just that monsters typically eat humans, so it's okay that you find it weird that a snake haired monster with poison blood is gambling with Jeff

(not Medusa, but gorgons)

"Is this a trap? A knockoff Lotus Hotel & Casino?" Percy scoffs

Annabeth holds your hand in a tight grip "Could be... But we don't know what it does, no one eat anything here"

"Lotus Hotel...?" You ask

Percy looks at you "Yeah... It's some magic hotel where time passes really slowly, like so slow, it's different for everyone, I met a guy there from the 70's and when I asked he said he'd only been there for two days, we felt we were only there for a couple of hours but it's actually been five days"

Oh shit.

"is... Is this hotel in Vegas?" You look nervous, Annabeth furrowed her brows "Yes, have you encountered it? It's dangerous and normal people wouldn't know how to get out"

"oh fuck... I may have been, no definitely, I should be older than I am right now, when my family and I were on a mi- vacation, I went inside this hotel, I was only there for like 20 minutes but they claimed I was gone for two years... I- holy shit. I was stuck in a hotel for two years" you exclaim

"how did you not know that was a trap? Have you not read the Odyssey? The lotus island and the lotus eaters?? I thought you were a fan of Greek mythology?" Annabeth asked

You roll your eyes "Well I'm sorry I didn't think a hotel was going to be related to a magical lotus island"

Tyson's face got sad "that scary... How you got out?"

"I don't know... All I remember was a pageant in the hotel, it was an event and- Oh." You stop

______________________________

Past

"Wow... This place is actually kind of nice" you look around the glistening chandeliers and observe the clamoring people

A servant smiles at you, seemingly ignoring your vigilante costume "Would you like a lotus flower? They're complementary"

It won't hurt you to take one right?

So you did.

"hey.. um where's the way out?" You ask

The smile on the servant's face doesn't drop "Miss it's so late out at night, you should return to your room"

"but I don't have a room-" you feel a key card in your pocket, you did have a room

So you go there, you enter the gigantic room, it was like for royalty, the sheets were so silky, the pillows were so soft, you opened the cabinet to find a set of clothes

Your suit is beginning to feel itchy anyways, you take a shower and put on the clothes, you find on the night stand a platinum card

What were you here for again?

You get out of the room, you hear people laughing

"you should go down there young lady! There is a pageant! There is this beautiful maiden, more beautiful compared to the others!" A man says, he was wearing clothing so old fashioned you'd thought he was from the regency era

Well, a pageant sounds fun!

In the hotel ballroom people were staring... Not at the contestants, well, yes the contestants, but one, one special lady

"Good evening LA!" She laughs

How captivating... , you think

She turns and sees you, she stops smiling "(Name)? What? What are you doing here?"

Did she just call you?

Oh gosh she just said your name!

"you're not supposed to be here!" She floats, yup floats and you're shocked, she grabs your hand and she walks you to the entrance of the hotel, the servants who were eager to help everyone was avoiding her gaze and now staying far from you

At the entrance she gestures you get out of the hotel, so you did

A bunch of guys approach you, you don't know who they are

A few minutes pass by

"guys what happened to the mission?" You ask

______________________________

Annabeth: why didn't you know the hotel was magic?

You: idk maybe because in the book it was an island?!

______________________________

@yunloyal @sirenetheblogger @00hellohello00 @spqce-bun @casspen-starlight @eyeless-kun @ghostdoodlen @ratchetprime211 @delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar

[evieelyzabethh]

"what dreams are made of"

⭒"sunsets or something, aren't you lovely" ⭒~ crush phase Arcane head cannons {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw fem!reader, massive amounts of fluff, slightly pervy jayce, not beta read

an ☞i know this blog has been very Buffy related for a bit but i wanted to try something new. Not that Buffy is abandoned forever, i just wanted to write for more than one fandom

♞Vi ♞

♞Vi tells herself she doesn't have a crush on you, nay, she doesn't even believe in crushes. She thinks they are childish and beneath her and would never even admit she has one. That being said, she is definitely "sweet" on you as Vander would've called it. Vi when having a crush would be an absolute disaster, and this she would be more than willing to admit on her own. Her words never seem to come out right, and even when they do, they're never taken the way she means. She said it herself, when presented a set of options, she somehow always manages to chose the wrong one. For a relationship with Vi to work, you would have to be patient.

♞She certainly doesn't know when enough is enough. She will hang outside of your place of employment, be it the Last Drop or Babette's and insist you allow her to walk you home. Her fists are the one thing she's confident in because there is no nuance in fighting. She doesn't think it's possible for you to be upset with her for beating the shit out of the guy who looked at you funny and would be confused when you get mad at her for this. It's not even that she thinks you are incapable of taking care of yourself, that's just the only way she can think to protect you without it going wrong (and it sometimes still does)

♞She would be into old school chivalry. In a modern, less serious AU, I think she would be the type to stand outside your house with a boombox to apologize because she accidentally shrunk your favorite expensive sweater in the wash. Even within Arcane, I think if she was feeling soft and comfortable enough, she would be the type to carry you over puddles so your shoes didn't get wet or throw stones at your window to get your attention. Not even to go on a big adventure, just to sit on a rooftop and to listen to her hum.

♞I don't think she'd be into getting her crush flowers. She's one of those types who is already hyper exposed to death and wouldn't want to get you anything that has the potential to die. She's not above having Jinx make you some trinket and trying to lie that she made it to impress you, but you know that it's not her handiwork. She does try, though, her and her sticky fingers. Anything your gaze lingers too long on somehow finds its way into your room with a handwritten note from her (her handwriting is shit by the way)

♞As stated above, she is terrible with words yet is most romantic in the most unexpected moments. She is totally the type to hang around doorframes just to lean on them and subtly flex. Does this work? No, but it's funny to see her try and be suave. She succeeds in smaller ways. She is always watching. She notices the small changes in the ways you look at her, knowing when you're trying not to laugh or need her to rescue you from a terrible conversation. The slightly deeper baritone she puts on when she asks, "you alright, pretty?", the way she guides you by the small of your back on instinct. She one of those people who is naturally hot and doesn't realize she doesn't need to try (and don't let her find out she'll be insufferable).

♞I don't think she would confess on her own, it's far more likely you'll have to do it yourself. She would get in her head too much, and her communication skills are awful. She worries that she'll hurt you and won't know how to fix it. She knows relationships are harder work than friendships and she is not confident in her abilities to handle all the responsibility that comes with that. She's reckless with her livelihood, but never you and your wellbeing. Even after a confession, it would take a lot of reassurance that she wouldn't destroy everything.

✭Ekko✭

✭I don't think a crush phase with Ekko would last all that long, especially if it's developed after the Firelight society. I think he's far more self-assured than Vi is and wouldn't see the point in dancing around a relationship. If he wants you and you want him, why make things complicated if they don't need to be. For these reasons, I think he would crush from a far rather than it being a friends to lovers type relationship.

✭Ekko is sappy, let that be known. The first time he sees you time stops. If he's figured out his machine, he may just rewind time to stare at you for a second longer. He becomes a mini-stalker, not breaking into your house or anything, but slyly asking if anyone knows you, where you came from, why he's never seen you before, if you're single? Scar makes fun of him for this, of course, but encourages and indulges him with all he knows

✭The glimpses he sees of you make his whole week. Those short moments you pass by him in a crowd, or he sees you playing with children or passing around food, and he curses himself every time for freezing instead of taking action. And when he does take action, Scar is somewhere around the corner eavesdropping on the conversation and nearly choking on his own laughter when he hears Ekko's opening line, "Tree." Just "Tree". He had meant to say more than that, but when you looked at him, his mind went blank and all he could manage was "Tree" and died inside as you looked up at him confused. Like Vi, he too would stumble over his words at first, or even worse, fall victim to a terribly timed voice crack. He tries to cover it with a cough, but there's really no coming back from that.

✭Lucky for Ekko (who still lays awake at night because of your first interaction), you liked his tree a lot and you talked for hours under it. He walked you home like a gentleman after and shows up the next morning to give you an exclusive tour of the entire place and treats you to lunch

✭After that he pops up everywhere. You need company on an errand, he's some how at your door, checking his watch trying to look nonchalant when he is one of the most chalant people to walk the earth. You get caught in the rain, your eyes aren't deceiving you, that is indeed Ekko in the misty distance with an extra umbrella he 'found' lying around somewhere. You wanna go out one night, that's hilarious because Ekko had the exact same idea and if you're both going out might as well keep each other safe at night.

✭Don't be mistaken, he allows you space. He himself is a man who enjoys solitude, but what is the point of a commune if not community. He can do things alone, and he does, but if he's craving company and you are too, why bother with it. Being together isn't often a big ordeal anyway, sometimes its lounging around in his lab reading a book while he's tinkering away with some good music playing in the background. And sometimes, if the stars align and the moon allows, you slow dance to whatever's playing while talking about your day, even if you spent it together.

✭Ekko can certainly cook. He got quite good at making something out of nothing before his tree, but after, you try convincing him every day to open a restaurant should he ever need some cash on the side. He likes his kitchen a lot, actually, its his private sanctuary. A place where his love of the arts and science come together. In a modern AU, he would totally be on the track to have a degree in biochemistry and plan to open his own restaurant.

✭You two would hang out in his kitchen a lot, and out of the kindness of his heart, he would allow you to lick the spoon anytime he bakes something. It would also be where he confesses, a candlelit dinner for two already set up while both of you prepare what will be your first meal together as a couple.

❂Jayce❂

❂Probably the only one (and Mel) who can pull of being suave. Though he can pull it off, it is not authentic at all. He certainly woos you with it though!! He is a very classic romantic, buying you dozens of roses and wine-and-dining you with fancy champagne and furry rugs, but it's all a facade. He's a really big dork. Unlike the previous two, being suave is the defense he plays rather well. He's a bit scared that when you realize he's really pathetic deep down, you'll be disappointed. He's the man of progress and built like a brickhouse and he is slightly very insecure that's not his personality deep down

❂He enjoys walks in the gardens once you get a bit closer to him. Usually you two will talk in his lab or in your place of work and he'll drop a few cheesy pickup lines with a charming smirk and you'll both laugh it off. You think he's just a flirt for a while and he's really trying to work on you (just very unsuccessfully). It's not until he (very inorganically) tells you he's tired and wants a change of scenery and asks if you'll accompany him to the gardens. For the first time ever, you get one of his toothy smiles instead of those stupid forced smirks and you're really fond of it.

❂From then on, things start progressing much faster. He starts to tell you about Hextech and his theories about the runes and how it all works and babbles about scientific drivel until the sun goes down and, unless you're one of the sciency-types, it goes through one ear and out the other. He's ok with this, he likes having a sponge around to talk things through with, but if you can actually engage, he'd probably get a boner.

❂I feel like out of everyone, after you got close enough, he would do relationship things, creating a very vague space that can leave you questioning whether or not you're together or if you're reading into things too much. This is entirely because he wants to ask you out and he is like 90% percent sure you'll say yes but he's worried about the slim chance you won't and wants you to take the leap for him because he's too scared to.

❂He's a big physical touch guy. Like the type to leave his hands in your back pocket, not even because he's trying to grab your ass, but because he wants to touch you (and your ass). He likes hugs!! He gives such good hugs. While it's usually him leaning on you for touch, placing his head in your lap, grabbing your hands, or letting his hands linger on your hips to rub little patterns, he is beyond excited when it's you are initiating. What do you mean you want a hug from him!!! What do you mean you want to hold his hand!! He is so over the moon excited.

❂Slight side tangent, but if you went out in something low cut he would constantly be staring at your chest. Not even in a perv way (most of the time), but to make sure it doesn't fall down. He has gotten very sly at pulling it up for you in an unnoticeable way. There are a lot of similar acts with him, casual touches here and there. Unsticking your hair from your lip gloss, pulling stray leaves or flower petals out of your hair, making sure the clasp of your necklace stays in place at the back of your neck.

❂I know he smells nice. Dior Sauvage warrior right here!!! He would go slightly overboard with it on the day he confesses just because you said you liked it. He would plan everything to an absolute 't'. A walk in the gardens where you had what he considers your first date, a written speech that become illegible because his hands were sweaty while he was holding it, a specific spot to eat dinner so you got a perfect glimpse of the stars. He would even wait for the day that a specific constellation was in place to perfectly set the mood. He asks you to be his girlfriend like he's proposing, with a single rose and matching bracelets to commemorate the occasion.

☽Viktor☾

☾Viktor is another one I don't really see having a crush just because he is so busy all the time, but I don't think you'd need to work in the lab to catch his attention. I think simple things, like kindness, would really be all he needs. He appreciates someone who doesn't coddle him or look at him funny because he's from Zaun or because of his leg. Someone who is considerate to his disability while also treating him like a person, not like some porcelain doll

☾I think once he found you, he would find it slightly hard to know what to do next. He likes your banter when you come around and he knows he likes you, it's the pursuing part that gets him tripped up. He is someone who likes to have it planned out and he has no idea where he would take you on a date or what you enjoy or who you are really

☾Every hang out would eventually turn into a game of 21 questions. What's your favorite color? What do you like to do in your free time? What's your least favorite chore to do? It all seems very random you two jump from topic to topic when the conversation stills. He also just adores hearing you go on and on about things. They could be the simplest of things, like going into very heavily deep detail as to why your favorite colors purple, or something more substantive, like a full and deep analysis of your favorite book, or just gossip. This man is a D-1 gossiper!!

☾He likes having you around in general. Like Jayce, he enjoys having someone to bounce ideas off of or just being able to hear them out loud. He also feels more at ease around you. Unlike pretty much everyone else, he wouldn't freeze up around his crush. If anything, he's more prone to fault without them there. He gets too wrapped up in work, he forgets to take breaks, he forgets to eat. You're always there to remind him to do what he forgets to the point that you don't even have to say it anymore. He's gotten so good about it, sometimes he makes lunch for the both of you.

☾He absolute adores your banter. He's not as serious as people think he is. He can crack a joke or two. He's sarcastic and witty and a leader of the sassy man apocalypse. He would absolutely die without hearing your laugh at his stupid jokes.

☾On a different note, he would start using pet names so smoothly. It would start slowly with a simple nickname and then eventually progress into one of those old, classic nicknames. Dear or darling would definitely be his go-to's and he would only get bolder as you start to blush more. He's cocky too, he is very aware of the effect he has, and he likes pushing your buttons. It's like a game, the more he picks and prods, the greater his reward is.

☾I also have a feeling he'd be a slight neat freak. Like his lab is a different story, his work is chaotic, but he cannot come home to chaos. I think if you let him into your space, he wouldn't definitely tidy it up subtly. Wiping dust off books and slightly moving objects on your desk so they look more orderly. I feel like this carries over to appearance too. He has a specific way of tying his shoes and he's very meticulous about what ties he wears and knows how to do like every type of knot.

☾He also definitely smells good. You can't convince me he doesn't have like a 12-step shower routine and takes advantage of all of Piltover's fancy soups and colognes. In contrast to Jayce, however, his smelling good is him smelling super clean. Like it's not a scent out of a bottle or anything, nor does he smell exactly like soap, he smells distinctly like himself and very clean.

☾I think he would confess very simply and nonchalantly. It would be a late night in the lab by candlelight or some sort of low lighting has him feeling romantic and bold. He peppers it into conversation smoothly, something like "It's too late tonight, but tomorrow we should go on our first date." And you are taken aback, which he knew you would be. You do ask if he was officially asking you to be his girlfriend and he tells you "he doesn't really like labels", but the wide smile and kiss he gave you said otherwise.

☼Mel☼

☼Probably one of the smoothest talkers out of everyone here. She would have absolutely no problems charming anyone into a relationship. Similar to Jayce, it would be a bit superficial at first. Feeling like she would need a relationship to feel complete, not in a self-esteem way, but rather in an aesthetic way. She is always trying to look very put together and like she has everything under control, and the "complete" life looked like one with a significant other. She eventually realizes a complete life doesn't need a partner, but her complete life wouldn't be complete without you.

☼Mel would feel like she's being obvious towards her crush when she in reality is not. She has this very professional tone about her, and she eventually has to learn that even the sweetest things sound manufactured in that manner. She would talk very softly with her crush, a lot of whispers during council meetings and sweet mutterings while it's just the two of you. This reminds me, if you're shorter than her, she has the very attractive habit of leaning down to speak to you.

☼Big on eye contact. She could talk you unto circles, your pupils dilated and just nodded at anything she says. She finds this very amusing. She is aware of the effect her voice has on people, and she would be lying if she said she didn't put into hyperdrive when it came to you. It's not even a different voice she put on, it's just the way she speaks and looks you in your eyes that's so captivating. She also gives it right back when it comes to listening to you. Though she has the habit of wanting to fix your problems for you, she's gotten good at asking if you even want her advice or just want her to listen.

☼She would love matching with her crush. Once again, someone who visuals are very important to, she likes the idea that you look together, even if you aren't. This also applies to her finding any way for you to be together at public events. Inviting you as her date to a gala or not wanting to do a grocery run alone, she would ask you to come with. She loves looking like you two are dating.

☼Gossip sessions would go insane. It's definitely a scheduled weekend event with face masks and nails, she'll braid your hair and in return you'll pick out new charms and styles for her to put hers in. Part of it is because she likes being well informed about what everyone is up to and part of it is bonding over despising the same people in the council (this is directed at Salo). Her favorite part of it is being around you; it's a very intimate activity that she can't get enough of.

☼I feel it in my bones that she's the type to open doors for you. Car doors, carriage doors, your hand will not grace a single doorknob or handle around her. She would also be on top of the weather, festivals and fun events happening, and things concerning to your interests. You will never regret not wearing your rainboots because she would've told you the forecast the morning. Your favorite music artists are coming soon, good thing she told you like a month ago so you could get tickets before everyone else.

☼She is another chef, but of the comfort food variety. Her food just tastes like a warm hug, and she is the first you go to when feeling under the weather. She takes great pride in this. She doesn't cook often and she doesn't even enjoy the activity that much, preferring to eat out or have a private chef, but she likes that she has something that she can do for you.

☼I don't think it would take her very long to ask you out, especially if she felt like the feelings were reciprocated. To her, there's no point in prolonging the inevitable and she really likes the way your names sound together. I think she is also sappy; she is just incredibly well at hiding it. All of the acts of service mentioned above are usually done casually. She wins the nonchalant Olympics even when she's not trying to. She thinks it's incredibly clear, but the way she comes across doesn't convey that. Thus, her sappy moments are few and far between and she gets very bashful when they're mentioned.

☼Definitely has a scrapbook of your times together as well as a diary where she talks about you for pages on end. The discovery of this would lead to the confession. It would be uncomfortable for her just because it would be so impromptu and that is not how she likes to do things. She would be very vulnerable and honest about her feelings and would call this your "unofficial" confession. She would later go all out as she had always intended during her confession

[fromchaostocosmos]

Hey OP everything I'm about to say I'm saying out both kindness and frustration.

I'm guessing that you are not Jewish because what you wrote really does not reflect the reality of life for Jews in the USA at that time.

Jews would not be socialites or rubbing elbows with wealthy and elite. And no matter how much any Jews would have stripped away any their Jewish identity they still would have been viewed as classless and lesser by the upper echelon.

Jews were immigrants who primarily did not speak English and mostly were on the east coast.

Fun fact about Jews during this time: Jews who kept Shabbat would have to look for a new job ever week because they would be fired for refusing to work on Shabbat.

As for San Fransisco Jews only came there due the California Gold Rush which happened the mid point of the 1800's.

Jews were heavily involved in Unions and were a major backbone of the Labor movement.

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911 is something that is major keystone is labor rights and movement history. You can not learn about unions and labor laws or anything to do with that without hearing about this. But you know what always gets glossed over, ignored, and often outright erased? The fact that the majority of the workers were Jewish girls and women.

In fact if you look at pictures of many labor marches you will notice that the signs are in Yiddish.

The Jewish identity of the Jewish contributors the unions, labors laws, child labor laws, and labor rights get erased and they become immigrants of X country when their Jewishness played a important role in why they fought for what they did, but also why they faced the discrimination and unfair labor practices they faced.

Also Oscar Wilde would not have had anything to do with anything related to Jews because he was a massive antisemite.

There is this thing that people often do, such as what you have, where they write Jews as having wealth, privilege, and access thinking that they are being inclusive when really what is happening is the furthering of antisemitic tropes and stereotypes as well as a revision of history when this happens in historical settings.

You want to make the Jewish character the prince of the story no problem. Have them be an organizer for a Union and the ball can some kind event or even march or something related to unions.

That can be a connection point between the two of them. The prince title can be a nickname or another connection point where her name, either first or last, is mispronounced by non-Yiddish speakers.

You could even have it be that she is going out and doing out reach to different jobs to get them to unionize/help unionize.

as for views towards their child being gay honestly it would vary with how religious the family was, but also the fact that she was a girl and not a boy it would not as much as a deal due to religious understandings.

While a lot of parts of Yiddish culture has been lost due to the loss of many Yiddish speakers their has existed within this culture a whole queer culture/world though they had their own words to describe it.

This idea has merit and could work it just need to fix the historical inaccuracies and cultural insensitivities in regards to the Jewish parts.

I'm not Chinese so I can't speak to those parts and I don't OP if you are Chinese so again I don't feel it is my place to speak on any of those parts.

Because I do not want Sephardim to left out or forgotten I want to point out that Ashkenazi Jews are not and have not been the only Jews in the USA.

1934 saw San Francisco's first Sephardi Synagogue.

So while yes there was in the 1800's a large influx of Jewish immigration of Ashkenazi Jews to the USA that doesn't mean that there were no Sephardim in the USA already or Sephardim who at the time who were moving around the USA or immigrating to the USA.

I don't want Sephardi history to be ignored or erased.

There is nothing wrong with having the Jewish character be Ashkenazi, I just want to make sure that if I'm accounting for proper historical record in regards to Jews then I'm doing that and leaving out Sephardim.

cinderella remake set in 1880s san francisco where cinderella is a chinese immigrant with bound feet and also she’s a butch lesbian and the prince is a butch lesbian too but she’s a paris-educated german-american socialite and a darling of the transatlantic arts and literary world so the connotations of her gender nonconformity are completely different. oscar wilde is there

[ponderingmoonlight]

kny men saving you

Pairings: Sanemi x reader; Obanai x reader; Rengoku x reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: near death experiences but your knights in shining armor have your back hehe, pure fluff in every part, there might be some spelling mistakes here and there, my heart is in pieces bc I deleted Rengoku's part and had to re-write it and now it's bad

Sanemi Shinazugawa

The moon hangs low tonight, its pale light pooling in the dark grooves of the forest. You always loved how tender the night looks when the full moon is out, especially during summer. It dapples your path, just barely enough to see the worn trail beneath your feet. Your sandals whisper against the ground as you clutch the heavy clay jar in your arms. It’s not far now - you know the stream is just a little farther ahead. The thought of your mother, feverish and frail in her bed, keeps you going despite the nervous twist in your stomach. You hate walking out here alone. Because even though the night looks peaceful, it certainly isn’t.

Those past nights, a lot of innocent people disappeared during night. The elders talk frequently about creatures called demons who lurk out in the shelter of the dark in order to take lives. Your mother was very clear when telling you more than once that you aren’t allowed to go outside when it’s dark, that you have to stay inside at all cost.

But does that include her being so sick that she’s barely able to move? You can’t just sit there and watch her suffer, right? You can’t just wait for something that might never happen-

A twig snaps in the distance.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. It’s probably nothing - you hope it’s nothing. But the hair on the back of your neck stands on end, and the oppressive weight of the dark seems to grow heavier with each passing minute.

The stream, you remind yourself. Get the water. Get back home.

Then the smell hits you.

It’s foul, coppery and rancid, and so wrong that your guts turn. You stumble, the clay jar nearly slipping from your grip. You freeze. There’s something ahead. No, someone.

But the silhouette isn’t really human. Too tall. Limbs too long. The gleam of sharp teeth is the first thing you make out, the grin stretching across its distorted face.

Your legs refuse to move. The demon lunges.

A demon?

Is this…what your mother always talked about, what everyone at the village warned you about countless times? Demons really do exist, that demon right in front of you is the ultimate prove for that.

You won’t be able to tell anyone the truth, though. Those sharp teeth that draw closer and closer, aiming for your neck. This is how you’ll die. Alone in a forest like so many people before you. Tears start stinging in your eyes, your throat so tight that you can’t catch breath.

Before you can even scream, there’s a flash of silver and a roar that shakes the trees. It takes you a moment to register what’s happening - the demon is on the ground now, twitching and headless. The stench of blood intensifies, and you realize it’s not just the demon’s. Your knees wobble.

And then he’s there.

The man who killed it, a whirlwind of pale scars and wild hair, is in front of you before you can blink. His blade gleams in the moonlight, still dripping. His eyes, sharp and livid, pin you in place.

“What the hell are you doing out here?!”

The force of his voice slams into you like a physical blow. You flinch, the jar slipping from your arms and shattering against the ground.

“I-I was just-” you stammer, words tumbling over each other, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Do you have a death wish?” he snaps, taking a step closer.

“Are you stupid or just suicidal? Do you know how many of those things are out here? You’re lucky that was only one!”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You can’t even bring yourself to speak now, your throat tightening with every harsh word he throws at you.

Are you…crying? Sanemi’s eyes narrow, mouth opening to yell again, but something shifts in his expression when he sees the tears spill down your cheeks. Fuck, how is he supposed to scream when you’re looking at him like that?

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, looking away like he’s trying to calm himself.

“Shit. Stop crying.”

You hiccup, trying to stifle the sobs that threaten to bubble up. To his own surprise, he kneels down, so suddenly and close that it startles you. His hands hover awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do with them. His voice, though still gruff, softens ever so slightly.

“Hey. I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? Just…stop crying already.”

You nod weakly, wiping at your face with trembling hands. He sighs again, this time more resigned.

“Look,” he grumbles, reaching out hesitantly,

“I didn’t mean to scare you. But you shouldn’t be out here. Not alone.”

His hand, rough and warm, settles lightly on your shoulder. It’s surprisingly steadying, even a little bit soft. You nod again, this time more firmly.

“I…I was getting water. For my mother. She’s sick.”

He frowns at that, eyes flicking to the broken jar on the ground. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like he’s trying to figure you out. You were out there to get some water for your mother. How absolutely fucking stupid. But on the other side…he can’t help but admire your courage the slightest bit. Given your pretty weak frame and haunted eyes, you aren’t really experienced when it comes to combat. It’s obvious that you’re nothing but an ordinary villager, a girl who just tried to save her mother without having a single clue about the shit that awaits her.

Enough of that sentimental bullshit. If he looks at you one more second…

With a rough huff, he stands and turns his back to you.

“C’mon.”

You blink, trying to understand the meaning behind his rough words.

“W-What?”

“I’m taking you back. You’re gonna get yourself killed if I leave you out here.”

Before you can protest, he crouches slightly.

“Get on.”

“Wh-What?” you stammer again, heat flooding your cheeks.

No, you can’t do this. Not when he’s a stranger, not when he already saved you. He glares over his shoulder.

“Do I have to spell it out? You’re too slow, and I’m not dragging you the whole way. Now get on before I change my mind.”

Swallowing your nerves, you shuffle closer, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he hooks his arms under your knees and lifts you like it’s nothing. You’re startled by the steadiness of his grip, the surprising warmth of him despite the chill of the night. This is…the first time a boy ever touched you like this.

The walk back is quiet save for the crunch of his boots against the forest floor. You cling to his haori, your earlier fear slowly ebbing away. His presence, though sharp-edged and intense, is strangely comforting now.

When you finally see the soft glow of your village lights through the trees, relief washes over you. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the edge of your house, where he kneels to let you down.

“You’re lucky I came along,” he mutters, his voice still rough but quieter now.

“Next time, think before you do something stupid.”

You nod meekly.

“Thank you.”

He grunts, straightening.

“Get inside. And stay there.”

But before he turns to leave, he hesitates. His hand lingers for a moment, brushing against your shoulder again, almost absentmindedly. Then he steps back, his expression unreadable under the moonlight.

“Take care of your mom,” he says gruffly, before disappearing into the night.

Your heart feels a little fuller, even as your legs wobble carrying you inside.

Iguro Obanai

The wind howls against your ears as you step cautiously closer to the cliff’s edge, the jagged rocks below barely visible through the mist. It’s a beautiful view - almost ethereal. You should stop here, you know you should, but something about the sheer drop pulls you in. Just a few more steps, you think. A little closer and you’ll be able to see that gorgeous field of tulips your friends told you about.

The world seems quieter here, the rush of blood in your ears louder than the rustling trees behind you. You feel weightless, suspended between the earth and the empty sky. It’s thrilling, in a way. Comforting in depressing times like these.

You don’t notice the loose gravel underfoot until it shifts.

Your breath catches as your sandal slips, toes curling desperately to hold onto anything solid. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, there’s nothing but air beneath you, and you’re falling straight towards the tulips, straight towards certain death-

Until a strong hand clamps onto your wrist and yanks you back.

The force sends you sprawling onto solid ground, your heart hammering in your chest. You barely have time to register what happened before a familiar voice cuts through the panic, sharp and laced with fury.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You look up to find Obanai crouched in front of you, his mismatched eyes blazing with barely-contained anger. His hand is still gripping your wrist, tight enough that it’s almost painful, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

“I-I didn’t mean-” you stammer, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“You didn’t mean what? To nearly kill yourself? To fall off a cliff like it’s nothing?”

His voice rises, each word sharper than the last.

“Do you even realize how close you were?!”

Tears well up in your eyes, hot and stinging, as his words hit you like a physical blow. You hadn’t meant to be careless - it wasn’t like you wanted to fall. But hearing the raw frustration in his voice, seeing the way his knuckles are white from gripping your wrist too tightly, makes you feel like you’ve done something unforgivable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I didn’t-”

He cuts you off again, though this time it’s not with words. He pulls you into his arms so suddenly that you barely have time to react. His embrace is firm, almost desperate, and the tension in his body makes it clear that he’s holding on more for himself than for you.

“Don’t do that again,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your hair.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Your tears spill over, and you nod against his chest, your hands clutching at his haori as if letting go would send you tumbling back over the edge. He’s warm, solid in a way that grounds you, his presence filling the air with something that feels like safety.

For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, the wind swirling around you but never quite reaching where he holds you. His hand moves to the back of your head, cradling it gently, and you feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur again, your voice barely audible.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sighs, the sound heavy but softer than before.

“You didn’t just scare me,” he says quietly, his voice steady now.

“You almost—” He stops himself, shaking his head.

“Just... be more careful. It’s not like I’m able to be around you all the time.”

You nod, pressing closer to him. The anger in his tone has faded, replaced by something warmer, something that feels like relief. His grip loosens just enough for you to breathe, but he doesn’t let go entirely.

After a while, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands settling on your shoulders. His gaze, though still stern, is no longer angry. Instead, it’s filled with something you can’t quite name, a mix of worry and something softer, something more fragile.

“You’re not allowed to scare me like that again.  Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He studies you for a moment longer, as if trying to determine whether you mean it, before nodding.

“Good.”

And then, to your surprise, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, visible through the bandages that cover his inviting lips. It’s fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but it’s there, and it warms you in a way that nothing else could.

“Come on. Let’s get away from the edge.”

You take his hand without hesitation, letting him pull you to your feet. His grip is steady, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary as if to reassure himself that you’re really there.

“But…Why were you here in the first place?”

Obanai can’t help but get lost in a wave of coughing, his cheeks turning bright pink. Maybe, just maybe because he has his eyes on you since he can remember and never misses the chance to be around you when he’s home.

“Just…because”, he mumbles.

And as the two of you walk back toward safety, his hand never quite lets go of yours.

Rengoku Kyojuro

The festival is alive with the hum of happy chatter and flickering lanterns, their golden glow dancing across the busy streets. The air is thick with the scent of grilled skewers and sweetened rice cakes, and laughter echoes around you like a warm embrace. You pause at a stall, admiring the delicate charms on display.

You've been in love with those annual festivals since you were young, always admiring the different stalls with all the goos from far away while wearing your best kimono out.

But today was even better with that tall stranger wearing that elegant red kimono and those beaming eyes. Even though he talked louder than everyone surrounding him, you never got tired of listening to his food advice.

Maybe you should really try the sweet potatos he mentioned earlier. You lean in closer, trying to decide between a bento box and a side of sweet potatos when a scream cuts through the noise like a blade.

It’s sharp, raw, and sends a chill down your spine.

The joyous energy of the crowd fractures, shattering into chaos as people scatter. The street that had been so full of life mere moments ago is now a stampede of panicked footsteps. Vendors abandon their carts, children cry out for their parents, and the cheerful festival music grinds to a halt.

You hesitate, your instincts screaming at you to run, but your feet refuse to move. You can’t see what’s happening yet - the crowd is too thick - but the smell of blood is unmistakable, metallic and sickly sweet, twisting your stomach into knots.

And then you see it.

A demon emerges from the shadows, its grotesque face twisting into a wide, terrifying grin as it prowls forward. Its claws are long, sharp, and dripping with fresh blood. It locks eyes with you—a predator that has spotted its prey.

You freeze.

You’ve heard stories about demons. You know they’re real, but knowing something and facing it are two very different things. Your legs tremble, your heart slamming against your ribs, but you can’t make yourself move. It’s as though the world has narrowed, the monster at the center, everything else falling away.

It lunges.

A blur of orange and red streaks through the air before it can reach you.

"Do not dare to touch this lady!"

The voice is booming, confident, and electrifying. The demon’s attack is intercepted, its claws clashing with a nichirin blade that burns like fire. You gasp as your rescuer appears, his haori billowing around him like flames brought to life.

Rengoku Kyojuro.

“Do not fear!” he declares, his smile broad and reassuring even as he pushes the demon back with a powerful swing of his sword.

“You are safe now, young lady! I will not allow harm to come to you!”

He is...The stranger from before, the man with the elegant kimono!

The demon snarls, lunging again with feral speed, but Rengoku meets it head-on. His blade flashes, and sparks erupt as the demon’s claws glance off his sword. He’s a blur of motion, his strikes precise and devastating, and yet there’s something graceful in the way he moves, as though the fight is a choreographed dance he has perfected.

You watch, rooted to the spot, as he delivers the final blow. Flames erupt from his blade.

"Flame Breathing, Fifth Form: Flame Tiger!"

A fiery streak takes the shape of a roaring tiger, consuming the demon in one final, dazzling strike. Its body disintegrates into ash, leaving nothing behind but the acrid smell of death.

The silence that follows is almost as shocking as the chaos that preceded it.

Rengoku turns to you, lowering his sword but keeping it at the ready. His golden eyes scan your face, his expression softening into something kinder.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice warm, though tinged with concern.

You nod shakily, though you’re not entirely sure if you’re alright. Your knees feel like jelly, and your heart is still racing, but his presence alone feels like an anchor.

“Y-Yes. I think so,” you manage to whisper.

He steps closer, his towering frame somehow not intimidating but comforting.

“You were very brave to stay so calm,” he comments, his smile returning, this time gentler.

“But next time, it’s best to run. Demons are relentless creatures.”

“I-I couldn’t move,” you admit, shame coloring your voice.

“I froze.”

His gaze softens further, and he crouches slightly, bringing himself more to your eye level.

“That’s natural,” he replies, his tone soothing.

“Fear is not weakness. It’s what reminds us to protect what’s important.”

He tilts his head, his smile growing.

“But you’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes, the overwhelming relief hitting you all at once. Before you can say anything, his warm hand gently pats the top of your head, his calloused fingers light but grounding.

“Good work holding on,” he says quietly.

“You did well.”

Your breath hitches at the kindness in his words. He straightens then, offering you his hand.

“Shall I escort you somewhere safe?” he asks, his voice as bright and steady as the flame he wields.

“There’s no need to fear - I’ll protect you.”

You take his hand, its warmth seeping into your skin, and nod. Somehow, with him beside you, the world doesn’t feel so terrifying anymore.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @sanemifucker @blunderland

[filipfatalattractionrblog]

The thing about Episode 7, Jayvik and Timebomb

We like to joke about the whiplash from constantly shifting between Ekko's visit in paradise and Jayce's suffering, but....

I actually have to put the shipping googles back on for this one.

When Ekko and Jayce meet, Timebomb and Jayvik have basically been torpedoed. Ekko almost killed Jinx last season, and only hesitated at the last moment. He spent so much time telling himself Powder is dead and Jinx killed her, but now he is no longer so sure. Jayce meanwhile kept drifting away from Viktor and every time he thought he would bring them back together, he would fumble, last time they meet he was yelling, unable to understand why Viktor given up on him, as if Jayce haven't broken every promise he made to him by not destorying the hexcore and by weaponizing hextech. Ships aren't completely sunk, but they're gaining water fast.

And then the Wild Rune sent Jayce and Ekko to different worlds. Ekko gets the world that could have been, Jayce gets one that may be.

Ekko's life in a near-utopian version of Zaun quickly focuses on him falling in love with Powder that could have been. And why wouldn't he fall in love with her? Shems a genius, she's funny, she's creative...but I think with time he realizes that all these things can still be found in Jinx. He realizes Jinx didn't kill Powder, Jinx is Powder lashing out in pain.

And yet, this Powder is not free of pain either. It's different pain, that he actually stupidly pokes early on. Pain caused by different trauma, which she got to deal with, while having a better support network, but sitll present (I have seen somewhere a good argument she shows signs of depression, but forgot where). It's not that she deals with her pain better than Jinx, it's just different. And I see with time Ekko realizes that and realizes how wrong it would be to give up on Jinx, that the same person he loves is in her world, but she has no one to be for her what this Powder has in her Ekko, Mylo, Claggor, Vander and Silco (that last one is an assumption on my part, it's unclear how close he is with Powder in this world, but considering he apparently co-runs the bar with Vander, he has to be present in her life in some way). When Ekko decides to come back, he isn't doing it only because it would be unfair to Ekko of this timeline and to Powder and everyone who loves that Ekko. He also does it because he realzied what an asshole he'd be to give up on Jinx.

And remember, he has no fucking idea about the seven hells of bullshit that went down in his world when he was absent. He doesn't know about martial law, about Warwick, about Viktor, about Noxus. He's coming back expecting to deal with his tree being sick and Chem-Barons war.

Now let's look what Jayce goes through. He gets sent to hell where his dream goes horribly wrong, yes. But what quickly happens to him? He breaks his leg falling down the chasm. He ends at the very bottom of where Piltover used to be. Correction, where Zaun used to be. The enviroment is slowly poisoning him. He is forced to fight every second to survive. Poisoned by enviroment, limping, forced to use leg splint and a staff as a crutch. Sounds familiar? Moreover, he is then forced to climb his way from the bottom all the way to the highest tower of Piltover. I'm surprised more people aren't talking about this, the metaphor is laid down pretty thick. Jayce gets crash course version of Viktor's life, he is literally forced to walk miles after miles in his shoes. They even made his leg splint look like one League of Legends' Viktor had until 2024.

he never really could understand where Viktor is coming from, even at his lowest he still was a minor noble house, he still lived in good part of the town. And sure, he and Viktor became close, but then Jayce got seduced by the fame, by glamour, by being man of progress, by being savior of the future, by cushy council seat. Power makes it hard to see evil, and privledge makes you blind to human the suffering. This experience was eye-opening to Jayce. I wonder how many times he must have stopped himself and realize this is what Viktor goes through on daily basis. And, as we learned later, after Jayce climbed this way to the top of hell, he saw how much HE means to Viktor, how HE is the only person who can give Viktor hope and save him from his own internalized ableism. He goes back to save the world, but he also goes back to save Viktor.

These stories weren't paired jsut to fuck with us, they're pararells. Jayce and Ekko both were blinded, one by glamour, the other by hardship, they could no longer see real Viktor and Jinx, too wrapped up in the people the world forced them to become. Each one was forcefully stripped from his ideantity, and therefore his biases, and forced to actually SEE the person they love, not the false image they built, but real them. And then each one went back and each one reached to their respective love and save them. And jsut like Ekko went back in time over and over to make Jinx see he's there for her even if she hates herself, Jayce was willing to sacrifice it all to show Viktor he doesn't need to be perfect to be loved, because for Jayce he always was beautiful.

And I could probably write a whole separate essay about how this theme of tearing through your own bullshit and actually SEEING the other person is present in this season. How Jinx and Vi are forced to go through microcosm of each other's experience to rebuild their love. How Caitlyn is saved from her own descent into villainy by being forced to see how much pain she caused Vi, see a human in Warwick, see a wounded child in woman who killed her mother. How Vi stops her self-destruction by trusting Jinx and seeing Vander in Warwick. How Mel literally has to fight Illusionary Sorceres, a.k.a. LeBlac THE DECEIVER and defeats her with words "I see you". How Ambessa is the only person who doesn't go through this identity destruction this season, even i nthe opening proudly wearing red of Noxus, and that's why she fails. How Maddie being a spy is telegraphed from her first appearance, where she's blocking the sun, effectively obscuring Vi's vision and making herself harder to be seen. How Jinx and Sevika are forced to see people in one another now that Silco's gone. How even during sesbian lex Vi doesn't let Cait get bogged down in guilt because she sees the woman she loves and that's all that matters. How Ekko defeats Viktor by showing him he's wrong to think only he can achieve power of Wild Rune, but also by literally tearing off the mask of god from his eyes, so that Viktor can SEE Jayce again.

But it's 4 in the morning as I type this and I'm no longer being coherent. Episode 7 is literally the microcosm of the whole season and Ekko and Jayce go through the same character arc in it.

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Arcane had me in such a chokehold I couldn't pick- so just hear me out... through out all of it. LET. ME. COOK.

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape. Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here) This is also a slight AU.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/n: Reader is masc cause this was typically just for me to read but i decided to share it with you all so. Enjoy. It has she/her but just let your imagination soar cause i wrote this like two weeks ago and been invested since to go back and change it-

The Piltover sun was unrelenting, casting its harsh light across the cobblestone streets as you strode briskly, hands shoved deep into your pockets. Your family name weighed heavy, like chains wrapped around your shoulders. Born to a small family of tinkerers, You had spent your entire life feeling the gap between their modest contributions to Piltover's progress and the grand inventions that propelled others into fame. The Junior Enforcer Program had been your one shot at proving yourself, but rejection came swiftly, accompanied by sneering remarks about your family’s "lackluster pedigree."  

Today was no different. The square was buzzing with the usual afternoon crowd when a familiar voice rang out, dripping with derision.  

"Hey! Heard you got booted outta the program. Guess they only take people with real talent, huh?"  

It was Garett, the golden boy of the Junior Enforcers. He and his cronies flanked him, their uniforms spotless, badges polished to a mirror sheen. You froze mid-step, your jaw tightening.  

"Ignore them," You muttered to yourself, but your feet betrayed you, stopping as Garett took a few steps closer.  

"What’s wrong? Family tinkering business not enough to get you a recommendation? Or maybe they saw through that temper of yours." His grin was razor-sharp. "Guess being a second-rate scrapper runs in the family."  

The taunts weren’t new, but something about his tone—mocking, pitying—made your blood boil. The crowd had begun to gather, eyes darting between you and Garett like spectators at a boxing match.  

"Watch your mouth," you growled, fists curling.  

"Oh, what? Gonna cry about it? Or maybe punch your way into the program?" Garett took a deliberate step closer, his voice dripping with mock concern.  

You snapped. The punch came faster than anyone could react, your knuckles connecting with his jaw in a sickening crack. Garett staggered back, his smirk replaced by wide-eyed shock.  

"You don’t talk about my family," You hissed, your voice trembling with rage.  

But You weren’t done. Your training—unrefined but raw with potential—kicked in. You swept his legs, sending him crashing to the ground, then landed a sharp blow to his ribs. The crowd gasped, the whispers turning to murmurs of disbelief.  

When Garett’s friends tried to intervene, your stance shifted, your body low and coiled like a spring. One step closer, your glare seemed to say, ‘and you'll regret it’. They hesitated.  

By the time the enforcers arrived to pull you off, Garett was barely conscious, clutching his side and groaning in pain. You, meanwhile, were hauled to your feet, breathing heavily, a black eye forming from a well-placed blow Garett had managed to land. The crowd was silent now, staring at you like you were some kind of wild animal.  

Above the commotion, on a rooftop cloaked in shadow, a pair of bright, manic eyes gleamed. Jinx crouched, her lips curling into a delighted grin as she watched the scene unfold.  

“That one,” she muttered, pointing at you.  

Beside her, one of her goons—an imposing Zaunite named Clagg—shifted uneasily. "Her? She’s a Piltie. What d’you want with her?"  

Jinx turned her gaze on him, her smile widening. "She doesn’t even know what she’s capable of," she said, her voice a sing-song melody laced with chaos. "That strength, that rage... It’s wasted here, wasted on them."  

Clagg scratched the back of his neck, clearly unconvinced. "You sure she’s not just another uptight Piltie brat?"  

Jinx snorted, hopping to her feet and pacing along the edge of the roof with feline grace. "Oh, Claggie. Don’t you get it? She’s perfect. She just doesn’t know it yet."  

"Perfect for what?"  

Jinx twirled her finger beside her temple, her grin widening into something almost predatory. "For making the Undercity known, silly. For showing Piltover we’re more than scraps and fumes. She’s strong, she’s angry, and she wants to make a name for herself."  

"And you think she’ll just... switch sides?"  

Jinx leaned closer to Clagg, her tone suddenly deadly serious. "They’re gonna throw her away, like they always do. All we gotta do is pick her up and show her who she can really be."  

Clagg frowned, glancing back down at you, who was now being dragged off by two enforcers. The crowd had parted, murmuring about the ferocity you’d shown.  

"You sure she won’t turn on us?" he asked.  

Jinx tilted her head, her grin returning. "If she does, it’ll be fun. If she doesn’t... well, imagine the chaos we can cause with someone like her on our side."  

She turned away, her voice drifting like a song on the wind. "Bring her to me. I want her."  

Down below, as you were led away, you caught a glimpse of something on the rooftops—a flash of blue hair and a pair of wild, glinting eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, but you shook it off. 

You didn’t know that your life was about to change forever.  

The holding station wasn’t much—just a cobbled courtyard with heavy iron cells stacked against the walls, open to the unforgiving Piltover sun. You sat slumped against the bars, your arms draped over your knees, still nursing your bruised eye. The static buzz of the enforcer station echoed in the air, but you barely noticed. Your knuckles throbbed, but it was a good kind of pain—the kind that reminded you, you weren’t powerless.  

"Well, well. Look who’s behind bars."  

Your gaze snapped upward. Garett stood on the other side of the bars, his jaw tightly wrapped in bandages, one arm cradling his ribs. His smirk was weaker now, but his words carried the same venom. "Guess that temper finally landed you where you belong, huh?"  

You leaned back, letting out a low chuckle. "Still standing, aren’t I? You’re the one who looks like they got hit by a train."  

His smirk faltered. Your grin grew. "What do you want, Garett? A rematch?"  

"You’re lucky I didn’t press for worse charges," he sneered, stepping closer to the bars. "Your kind doesn’t belong in Piltover. Should’ve left you to rot with the Zaun rats."  

The word hit you like a slap, but you hid it behind a sly grin. "Bold words for someone on the wrong side of these bars," you said sweetly. "But hey, come a little closer. Say that again."  

Garett narrowed his eyes, but pride—and maybe stupidity—drove him forward. You shifted subtly, the muscles in your arms tensing like coiled springs.  

When Garett was close enough, you struck, grabbing his collar and yanking him hard into the bars. His head slammed against the iron with a sickening thud, and he yelped in pain.  

"You little—"  

Before he could finish, a sharp jolt of electricity coursed through your body. Gasping, you collapsed to your knees as the enforcers stepped in, tasers crackling. Garett stumbled back, holding his head, his curses drowned out by the ringing in your ears.  

When the shock subsided, you dragged yourself upright, your vision blurry. You caught movement in your peripheral vision—a figure stepping out from the shade of a nearby fountain.  

Caitlyn Kiramman.  

Her uniform was immaculate, her posture poised, but her curious gaze lingered on you like she was trying to solve a puzzle. She approached slowly, stopping just outside the cell.  

"You don’t hold back, do you?" Caitlyn said, her voice even but laced with faint amusement.  

You shot her a glare. "What do you want? Here to lecture me about ‘proper conduct’ too?"  

"Not exactly." Caitlyn crossed her arms, tilting her head. "You’re... different. Strong, capable, but reckless. That’s why you weren’t accepted into the program, isn’t it?"  

Your fists tightened, but you didn’t respond.  

Caitlyn continued, her voice softening. "You don’t have to waste your potential. I’ve seen people like you—people who think strength alone is enough. But without control, you’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you."  

"And what? You think you can fix me?" You snapped, your voice edged with bitterness.  

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "That depends. Do you want to be fixed?"  

The question hung in the air, heavier than you expected. For the first time, you were at a loss for words. Caitlyn stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I can get you another chance. The program needs people with your skill. But you need to show me you can handle it."  

Your jaw tightened, your pride clashing with the flicker of something you didn’t want to admit—hope.  

"I don’t need your help," you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.  

Caitlyn studied her for a moment, then stepped back, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Think about it. I’ll be around." She turned and walked away, taking a seat by the fountain, her gaze flicking back to you occasionally.  

From the shadowed alley across the square, Clagg watched, his massive frame blending into the darkness. His brows furrowed as he observed Caitlyn’s interaction with you, the faint tension between them. When the conversation ended, he slipped away, heading back toward the Undercity.  

Jinx was perched on a rickety table in her lair, tinkering with a new gadget, when Clagg arrived. He cleared his throat, and she looked up, her blue hair a wild, tangled halo around her face.  

"Well?" she asked, her voice sing-song but sharp. "Is she ready to join the fun?"  

Clagg hesitated. "Not exactly. They’re holding her until morning. But... there’s a complication."  

Jinx’s eyes narrowed, her hands stilling. "What kind of complication?"  

Clagg scratched his neck, looking uncomfortable. "The Piltie—Kiramman. She talked to them. Seemed like she was trying to... recruit her."  

Jinx’s expression darkened, her grin disappearing. "Recruit her?"  

"Yeah. Something about the Junior Program. She said she needed to ‘control her anger.’"  

For a moment, Jinx was silent. Then she laughed, a sharp, grating sound. "Control her anger? Control it? That’s what makes her amazing!" She hopped off the table, pacing erratically. "That’s what makes her... Why would she want to be some boring, uptight enforcer when she could be so much more?"  

Clagg shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe she doesn’t see it that way. Not yet, anyway."  

Jinx stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing. "She will. Because I’m not letting her waste herself on those Piltover snobs." She spun on her heel, her grin returning, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  

Clagg watched her carefully. "You jealous or somethin’, Jinx?" he asked, half-joking.  

Jinx froze, then shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. "Jealous? Please. I just don’t want her to turn into another boring Piltie pawn." She turned away, her voice quieter but filled with determination. "She belongs with us. She just doesn’t know it yet."  

Clagg nodded slowly, stepping back as Jinx returned to her tinkering, her hands moving with restless energy. But the look in her eyes—sharp, calculating—told him she wasn’t done with you yet.  

Not by a long shot.  

The morning came with a harsh jangle of keys and the scrape of boots on stone. You stirred at the sound, every muscle in your body stiff and aching. The cold floor beneath you offered little comfort.

“Breakfast, rat,” an enforcer barked, tossing a dented metal bowl through the bars of your cell. It clattered to the ground, its contents sloshing dangerously close to the filthy floor.

You dragged yourself up, peering into the bowl. The so-called “meal” looked more like paste than food—a gray, lumpy porridge that smelled faintly sour. Your stomach churned, both from hunger and disgust. You hadn’t eaten in days, too consumed by work before your arrest to even think about food. Now, the gnawing hunger clawed at your insides, but even desperation had its limits.

The enforcer sneered. “What? Too good for Piltover’s finest cuisine?”

You glared at him, your lip curling, but before you could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

“That’s enough.”

Caitlyn Kiramman stepped into view, her commanding presence making the enforcer stiffen. She gave him a pointed look, her voice firm. “Dismissed.”

The enforcer muttered something under his breath but left without further protest. Caitlyn waited until he was gone before turning back to you.

“That doesn’t look particularly appetizing,” she remarked, her eyes flicking to the bowl.

You snorted, pushing the porridge aside with your boot. “You could say that.”

Without a word, Caitlyn stepped away, returning moments later with a small bundle. She crouched by the bars and slid it through—a cloth-wrapped package that smelled… amazing. Your stomach growled audibly as you unwrapped it to reveal fresh bread, cured meat, and cheese.

You didn’t bother with gratitude or manners, tearing into the food like it might disappear if you didn’t finish it quickly. Caitlyn watched you, her expression unreadable, though there was a faint flicker of something in her eyes. Amusement? Concern?

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” she said after a moment, her tone softer now. “It’s not just hunger I see in you. You’re worn down—physically and… otherwise.”

You didn’t respond, focused on the food. It wasn’t until the last bite was gone that you leaned back against the bars, letting out a slow breath. Caitlyn still stood there, studying you.

Her gaze lingered on your arms, and you realized too late that your sleeves had slipped up, revealing the ink etched into your skin. The tattoos were simple, clean lines that twisted and turned across your arms, forming an intricate pattern that, to the untrained eye, might have looked random.

But Caitlyn’s sharp eyes picked up on the subtle symmetry. “Those tattoos…” she began, her voice laced with curiosity. “They’re a map, aren’t they?”

You tugged your sleeves down, your eyes narrowing. “It’s personal.”

For a moment, she looked like she might press further, but instead, she nodded, stepping back. “Fair enough,” she said simply, though her curiosity didn’t wane.

Above the holding station, hidden among the rooftops, Jinx crouched in the shadows of her hooded cloak, her bright blue hair tucked away. Her manic eyes tracked every movement, every word exchanged between you and Caitlyn.

“She’s just sitting there, acting all… proper,” Jinx muttered to herself, her voice dripping with disdain. “Thinking she can just swoop in with her fancy bread and—”

Her head snapped to the side, as if addressing someone who wasn’t there. “Oh, I know what she’s doing. Acting all high and mighty, trying to make her into a little Piltie puppet.”

Clagg shifted uncomfortably behind her, glancing between her and the interaction below. “You sure this is worth it, Jinx? If Kirraman’s sniffing around, it’s gonna be a lot harder to grab her.”

Jinx didn’t seem to hear him, her hands twitching as she began pacing along the rooftop. “Why does she even care? She doesn’t see it—doesn’t see what I see. The fire, the chaos, the… the art.” She giggled, then stopped abruptly, her expression twisting.

“But she will. Oh, she will. When I show her.”

Clagg hesitated, his voice low. “Maybe we should back off. Let her cool down first.”

Jinx spun around, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him close, her manic grin returning. “Back off? Claggie, darling, that’s not how we do things. I said I want her, and I always get what I want.”

Her grip tightened, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Now, bring me Sevika. If Caitlyn wants to play games, we’ll give her something to think about.”

Clagg nodded quickly, retreating as Jinx released him. She turned back to the scene below, her grin fading into something darker.

“She doesn’t need fixing,” Jinx murmured to herself, her voice soft but tinged with something almost… vulnerable. “She’s perfect just the way she is.”

The afternoon light bled through the iron bars, a dim and indifferent reminder of time passing. You sat curled in the corner of your cell, your knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped around them. The stone was cold against your skin, but the tension in your body made you oblivious to it. The hum of enforcers’ chatter in the distance felt like white noise, and you closed your eyes, trying to block it all out.

The metallic rattle of keys pulled you back to reality.

You glanced up sharply as Caitlyn appeared, a brown satchel slung over one shoulder. Her polished boots echoed against the stone as she approached, stopping just outside your cell.

“Still sulking, I see,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of observation that made your jaw clench.

You shrugged, lowering your gaze. “What do you want, Kiramman? Here to throw me another pity sandwich?”

She ignored the jab and reached into her bag, pulling out a folded bundle of clothes. “Actually, I thought you might want something clean to wear. You’ve been in those for days.”

The gesture caught you off guard. Your eyes flicked between her and the clothes, suspicion prickling in your chest. “What’s your angle?”

Caitlyn smirked, leaning casually against the bars. “You’re really determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

You scoffed, your sarcasm kicking in as a defense. “Wow, you figured me out. Guess those fancy detective skills weren’t wasted after all.”

She didn’t rise to the bait, her calm demeanor frustratingly unshakable. “I pulled a few strings,” she said simply. “Instead of transferring you to the main detention center, I convinced them to let you out under my supervision.”

Your head snapped up, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. The shock must’ve shown on your face because Caitlyn’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly.

“You… what?” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she replied. “I figured you deserved a second chance. It’s not every day I meet someone who can take down an enforcer and still have enough fight left to make sarcastic remarks from a jail cell.”

Her comment wasn’t just a tease; it was understanding. You felt an unfamiliar heat rise to your face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt… seen.

You blinked, looking down at the floor before mumbling, “Thanks.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Did I just hear you say something nice?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was fleeting, but Caitlyn caught it, and something flickered in her expression. It wasn’t obvious—just the faintest spark of warmth—but it disappeared before you could question it.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she said lightly, sliding the bundle of clothes through the bars. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. You can shower at my quarters.”

You hesitated, but the thought of a hot shower and clean clothes was too tempting to resist. Rising to your feet, you grabbed the clothes, your curiosity about Caitlyn growing with each interaction.

The walk to her place was surprisingly quiet at first, the buzz of Piltover’s streets filling the silence. Caitlyn walked beside you, her steps measured and her presence steady. Eventually, she broke the silence.

“So,” she began, glancing at you. “Recklessness seems to be a theme with you. Always been like that?”

You shrugged, adjusting the bundle of clothes under your arm. “Guess you could say that. I’ve always been… protective. Didn’t like seeing people get pushed around, so I did something about it. Got me into trouble more times than I can count.”

Caitlyn nodded, her expression thoughtful. “You don’t strike me as the ‘follower’ type.”

A dry laugh escaped you. “Not really my style. I don’t do well with rules. Never have.”

Her curiosity deepened. “Where did you grow up? Before Piltover, I mean.”

You hesitated, the question stirring something uncomfortable in your chest. “I don’t really remember,” you admitted. “Had an accident when I was a kid—eight or nine, maybe. Lost a lot of memories. My parents said we had to move here, and… well, that’s about it.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t press further. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah,” you said simply, your gaze fixed ahead.

The conversation quieted, but the air between you felt less tense now, a tentative connection forming.

The sun dipped low, casting Piltover in hues of amber and gold as the streets grew busier. The walk to Caitlyn’s quarters was quiet for the most part, the city’s hum filling the space between you. You clutched the fresh clothes she’d given you, your mind racing with questions about why she’d gone out of her way for you. The warmth of gratitude mingled awkwardly with the stubborn edge of your independence, and you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Caitlyn finally broke the silence, her voice steady but probing. “So, do you plan to keep punching enforcers, or was that a one-time thing?”

You smirked despite yourself. “Depends on how annoying they are.”

Her laughter, soft but genuine, caught you off guard. You glanced at her, unsure if she was mocking you, but her expression was amused rather than judgmental.

The conversation lulled again, and you turned your attention back to the crowd ahead. That’s when you felt it—a strange pull, like a string tightening in your chest.

Your eyes scanned the bustling square, and there she was.

A figure cloaked in shadows, her hood low but not enough to hide the faint glow of blue strands peeking out. Her posture was loose, almost lazy, but her eyes… her eyes burned with a wild, electric intensity. They locked onto you, and for a moment, everything else faded.

Your heart twisted in a way you couldn’t explain. Something about her felt dangerous, chaotic, and yet… you couldn’t look away. You were trapped, rooted to the spot by the sheer force of her gaze.

“Are you alright?”

Caitlyn’s voice broke the spell. You blinked, tearing your eyes away to look at her. She’d stopped walking and was now watching you with a raised brow.

“What?” you asked, your voice slightly hoarse.

“I asked if you were planning to clean up your act,” Caitlyn said, tilting her head. “Or should I prepare for another arrest in the near future?”

You huffed a laugh, trying to shake the lingering unease from your chest. “Not really my style to plan ahead.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a small smile. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

As the conversation ended, you instinctively glanced back toward the spot where the hooded figure had been. But she was gone.

The space she’d occupied now seemed impossibly empty, as if she’d been a mirage. The strange tightness in your chest lingered, though, a reminder that what you’d seen was very real.

Caitlyn resumed walking, unaware of the moment you’d just experienced. You followed her, your thoughts muddled. Whoever she was, that look… it wasn’t something you’d soon forget.

      Caitlyn’s quarters were surprisingly modest for someone with her family name. The space was neat, furnished with clean lines and muted tones, though it lacked the lived-in warmth of a true home. You stepped inside cautiously, taking in the surroundings as Caitlyn moved toward a small desk, gathering some scattered papers.

“You don’t get a lot of company, do you?” you teased, running your fingers along the edge of a shelf lined with books and trinkets.

She glanced over her shoulder with an arched brow. “What makes you say that?”

You smirked, gesturing vaguely to the room. “It’s… a little too perfect. Like you’ve been trying to convince yourself you’re comfortable living alone.”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched into a faint smile as she continued tidying up. “Some of us prefer a bit of order in our lives. Not everyone thrives in chaos.”

You chuckled softly, continuing to wander. “Order’s overrated.”

Eventually, she stopped and turned to you. “Shower’s this way,” she said, leading you down a short hallway. She opened a door, revealing a clean bathroom stocked with neatly arranged towels and toiletries.

She gestured toward the counter. “Towels are here, soap’s in the shower. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to phrase what you wanted to say. “Hey, uh…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks. For everything. You didn’t have to go out of your way for me.”

Caitlyn leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I’m starting to think gratitude doesn’t come naturally to you.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, well… I mean it. But about this whole program thing…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t think it’s for me. I don’t… fit into neat little boxes. I never have. And I don’t want to disappoint you. Or your name. You’ve got a reputation to uphold, and I’d just ruin it.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the same person who had defended you earlier. “You’re selling yourself short,” she said. “You don’t have to be perfect to make a difference. Everything you’ve done… maybe it wasn’t by the book, but that doesn’t make it wrong.”

Her words caught you off guard, a flicker of doubt stirring in your chest. You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ll think about it.”

As she spoke, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it off without thinking. Caitlyn froze mid-sentence.

Her eyes widened, fixating on the tattoos that adorned your skin—a network of minimalist lines and shapes that seemed to map your body. You glanced over your shoulder, catching her staring.

“See something you like, Kiramman?” you teased, a sly grin tugging at your lips.

She stammered, her usual poise momentarily shattered. “I-I wasn’t— I just—”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you stepped into the bathroom. “Relax, Commander. I’ll be out in a bit.”

The shower was a welcome relief, washing away days of grime and tension. You lingered longer than you probably should have, letting the heat soothe your aching muscles. When you finally emerged, dressed in the fresh clothes Caitlyn had given you, the scent of something… burning hit your nose.

You walked into the kitchen to find Caitlyn in a state of controlled chaos. She was at the stove, fumbling with a pan that was clearly getting the better of her. Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling as she muttered under her breath, poking at something that might have once been food.

“Need a hand?” you asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

She jumped slightly, spinning to face you. “I was trying to make something for you. But it’s… not going as planned.”

You smirked, stepping forward to take the pan from her. “Let me handle this before you burn the place down.”

With practiced ease, you salvaged what you could and whipped up a simple but hearty meal. Caitlyn watched from the side, her arms crossed but her expression amused.

“Didn’t expect you to be good at cooking,” she remarked as you set two plates on the small dining table.

“People like me have to learn how to take care of ourselves,” you replied, sitting down across from her.

The meal was quiet at first, but Caitlyn eventually broke the silence. “You’ve been in a lot of fights, haven’t you?”

“More than I can count,” you admitted.

“Do you ever think about how you could’ve avoided them?” she asked, her tone curious rather than judgmental.

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. “That’s just who I am. I see someone getting pushed around, I step in. It doesn’t matter if it’s smart or not.”

Caitlyn studied you for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. Then you decided to turn the tables.

“What about you?” you asked, smirking. “What’s your love life like? Got a boyfriend waiting somewhere?”

She stammered, clearly caught off guard. “I—no, I don’t—”

You raised an eyebrow. “No boyfriend, huh? Girlfriend, then?”

Her face turned slightly pink, and she fumbled for a response. Before she could come up with one, you grinned. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

The tension broke, and both of you ended up laughing harder than you had in a long time.

Later, as you stood at the door ready to leave, there was a strange tension in the air. Caitlyn handed you your belongings, her expression unreadable.

“Thanks for… everything,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

She nodded, watching you closely. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

You stepped out into the cool night air, the streets of Piltover feeling oddly oppressive now that you were alone. Something gnawed at the edge of your awareness, a sense of being watched.

A voice called your name from the shadows, low and gravelly. You spun around, your posture instinctively defensive.

A tall woman emerged from the darkness, her metallic arm glinting faintly under the streetlights. “You’ve caught someone’s eye,” she said, her voice laced with menace.

Your heart raced as you tried to place her, but before you could respond, another voice echoed through the alley—high-pitched, teasing, and almost sing-song.

“Aw, Sevika, don’t scare her too much.”

Your head snapped to the source of the voice, but all you saw was the faint outline of a figure perched above, her laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice sharp.

Sevika didn’t answer. She lunged forward, her cybernetic arm moving faster than you anticipated. You tried to dodge, but the impact was overwhelming, the world spinning into darkness as you hit the ground.

The last thing you heard before everything faded was the faint sound of laughter echoing in your ears.

___________

well… i personally like the next part (like i said i wrote this a little while ago like 2 weeks ago- it’s everywhere and 80k words-)

Apologies if there is any mistakes😔

[musingsunderstarlight]

I agree with you, 100% OP. I would just be cautious around people who use the opportunity to talk about the West and the Middle East + Africa as their own respective monoliths as it does nothing to promote solidarity and only results in further divide. The language we use is important because we inadvertently send the wrong message depending on our choice of words. I find my own traumatizing experiences growing up in a misogynistic “sex-positive” porn-obsessed culture are dismissed when commenters like NiiwaAngel use this kind of language, and I still don’t see the justification for it. Where is the evidence for the skewed view of misogyny in other cultures? The commenter below the original post was commenting on a semantic issue, so why the long tirade from her?Radfems on here already know that women in the above-mentioned countries face greater challenges to their safety and financial autonomy, and overall liberation as a result. Radfems on here already do not support cultural relativism. So again, I ask, why the constant need to bring up the West when we’re talking about the challenges women face in other countries? The only time I ever heard people enthusiastically talking about this difference between these two giant cultures was from men on the right, and they made my life miserable as a woman of color. Only now is she talking about the men, but up until then, she was obsessed with talking about culture. Culture can exist separate from the men who uphold these misogynistic practices.To lump them together promotes racism and implicitly absolves men of guilt. Also, my life was impacted greatly by both misogyny and racism, but people like the above commenter do not care about the latter. We should be aiming for female solidarity, not tearing each other apart by showing off about “how much better we have it.” It’s rude on all fronts. There’s a reason why we don’t waste time comparing conservative culture and leftist culture and talking about “how much better” leftist women have it.

Notice that she made no effort to refute her support for redberryterf. Notice that she made no attempt at listing even one thing wrong with Western culture when she referred to it as a monolith, only the positive. I don’t even have words for the “reliable internet connection” comment (apparently she was unaware that killallxys2 is from India), but again, where is the evidence for this skewed view of misogyny across different cultures? If anything, it’s liberals who are more guilty of this. I, a rad leaning feminist on radblr, did not need a lecture from her on how bad things are in the above mentioned countries, I already said that many cultures are still hanging onto misogynistic cultural practices, and that women in different countries face unique challenges to their liberation.

Anyway, I don’t want to annoy you further since this wasn’t what your post was meant to be about, but thank you for reading this far if you did.

i’m not afraid to say that many cultures are deeply rooted in misogyny, including my own. im half nigerian and there’s an expectation that women kneel before men and elders, sit in the kitchen while the men talk, and serve the men before anyone else. perhaps it’s why i’m so distant from my dad’s side, i won’t kneel before anyone

[starlightshadowsworld]

There’s been multiple characters in Bungou Stray Dogs that have been called “angel.”

Shibusawa called Atsushi the “angel that will save me.” Yosano was called the Angel of Death. Mushitaro called himself the Angel of Murder.

Ango is the angel Dazai refers to when he tells Sigma an angel is how he’s able to reach the outside world.

And while not referred to directly in Stormbringer Chuuya’s corrupted form resembles that of an angel.

Fukuchi (chapter 90) tells Tachihara that he is an angel but Tachihara is not. And explains what it means to be an angel.

“Now who are the angels? Those who don’t dirty their own hands, who don’t bear the filth. And send their inferior humans to the battlefield.

Those who, bearing no responsibility, crave nothing but the honour, riches and pleasures. They hold the reins of the people. Heavenly beings that’s others hands cannot reach.”

Fukuchi’s correct Tachihara doesn’t fit this criteria of being an angel. But neither do any of the characters I’ve listed.

Atsushi is the one who gets sent into battle. He does not control anyone and sees those others view as inferior, as people who need help.

And any time something goes wrong Atsushi blames himself for it.

Yosano sent soldiers to there deaths during the war, absolutely. But the second she realised the true weight of her actions she tried to stop it.

It was out of her control and Yosano still shoulders responsibility for it.

Chuuya has been on the front lines since he joined the Sheep. He enjoys the thrill of the fight sure but his fights are usually in service to protecting his family. Be it the Sheep or the Port Mafia.

Chuuya’s always been placed on a pedestal but he never put himself on one. And on multiple occasions Chuuya’s chosen to protect even if it could cost him everything.

Mushitaro tried to convince himself it was all for his own pleasure and amusement. But he only dirtied his hands for an old friend who’s long gone.

Same with Ango who dirtied his hands for Dazai. He took responsibility for the Dragons Head incident. And even with everything at stake Ango cautioned Chuuya against using corruption.

Even Fukuchi himself doesn’t truly fit this description.

Fukuchi’s dirtied his hands sure but happily uses others to do it for him. He tried to convince Akutagawa to kill Atsushi because he didn’t want the blood of more children on his hands.

The fact Fukuchi uses the vampires to begin show he has a hold on others. Along with his reputation that really carried things for him. His motive is peace sure but he’s already decided how many deserve to die for it.

Much like the politicians he’s criticising in the statement above. But I guess it’s fine when he chooses who deserves to live or die.

The only other person I can think of who fits this criteria the closest is Fyodor. Makes sense considering he’s probably the one who spoon fed the motto to Fukuchi to begin with.

But it is interesting considering Fyodor has only ever been referred to by others as a demon. Though he himself probably thinks of himself as an angel. One that will purge this world of abilities, of sin.

Despite possessing one himself.

Fyodor can dirty his hands but like Fukuchi prefers to use people to fight for him. He doesn’t see anyone as his equal not even Dazai. And he manipulates and brainwashes his way into controlling others.

It makes sense that in Fyodor’s eyes he is an angel. Though there is one thing Fukuchi mentions that the rest possess more than he does.

And that’s to be an angel means to suffer.

Fukuchi definitely suffered from war. But he says his experience with torture is from the torturers side. He has not suffered for his own mission of peace.

He’s never lost anything he didn’t plan to lose. Prior to Fyodor showing up Fukuchi was dying exactly how he wanted too.

Ango’s suffered. Mushitaro’s suffered. Chuuya’s suffered. Yosano’s suffered. Atsushi is suffering. Fyodor literally wouldn’t have gotten to this point if he hadn’t suffered.

Fukuchi by his own criteria is an angel and yet it puts him even closer to the demon himself. Rather fitting for a man who thought his quest to end a war with a war would make him a hero.

[citruzs]

Life series session 7 predictions

(I wrote this myself, don't worry if you saw it on the wiki discussion page, that was me <3. A day late bc Thanksgiving was crazy, Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrated it, btw)

Jimmy will perma-die, as well as two other people. (Wrong, only one perma death excluding Mumbo and Skizz)

There will be at least one lime green left over for session 8, OR the last time green will be killed this session. (Last lime green, Joel, I think, was killed)

Someone will be the direct reason for someone's death, and will feel terrible about it. (I thinnnkkk so, because Martyn (Who I watched this session) got at least one kill he didn't feel good about I think.)

A big betrayal will happen (BigB does not count because he's been ping-ponging from The G's to Ren and Martyn, UNLESS he kills Ren, Martyn, or one of the G's) (Ehhh, not really, though Ren, Martyn, and B were kinda plotting to kill the G's)

Grian will move in with the Family or try and move in with the Bamboozlers after Tim will supposedly die. (Wrong, I think he was by himself or flip-flopping looking for alliances)

One of the G's will perma-die (Nope, one of their allies did, though)

Someone will kill Ren and Martyn will want revenge (Ummm, no, though Ren did die right in front of him and he did nothing)

Someone will genuinely kill Gem and she will give them props but will get revenge later (Scott killed her once earlier, but I don't think she went back for revenge)

Tango will be murdered, presumably by Grian for Skizz (Wasn't paying much attention to the kills, but I think Martyn and Mumbo got the kills that sent him to red)

Wildcard guesses 😎

(OKAY SO I WAS LURKING ON BOTH TUMBLR AND THE MAIN PAGE AND I SAW SKIZZ'S AND MUMBO'S SKIN CHANGE AND I'M SO EXCITED FOR TMRW, AND MY GUESSES WILL BE BASED OF OFF IT)

Kind of like that one session of Secret life, but Zombie tag. Mumbo and Skizz will rise from their graves tagging (killing) people, who will then kill someone else and it will spread like a virus. (I think this will get rid of all the lime greens, and get everyone to red and at least a few yellows)(Nope)

Mumbo and Skizz are either allowed in creative mode for a short amount of time, or they will be decked out and told to kill people. (Skizz will go for Tango if this is the case.) (They were kindaaa told to kill people when it was an order from Cleo, and at the end, Grian, but Skizz didn't go for Tango from what I saw.)

Mumbo and Skizz can activate wildcards whenever they want, Including ones that haven't been done yet. (Nope)

That's all I could come up with, excited for next session!! :D

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND WATCHING MARTYN'S POV IT WAS SO GOOD, ESPECIALLY THE WAY HE ENDED IT HESJSNS BAVAVEVEJOWAGGAFE

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️

54 for ⛅️

---

“Of course you can stay. It’s… I mean, always. Whenever.” 

“As long as it doesn’t put you out,” Buck says. He doesn’t want Chris falling behind in school because he and Eddie are bumbling their way through this fantasy future. 

“Maybe someone can drive me to get my computer tomorrow, and then I can do some work,” Chris shrugs. “But I think you’re gonna need me…”

He looks at Nico nervously.

“Need you for?” Buck asks. 

“Family dinner tomorrow,” Chris says. “I was gonna sit this one out because of school, but… I mean, it’s your turn to host.”

“Family dinner,” Eddie repeats neutrally. But Buck can see the terror in his eyes. 

“With Grandpa!” Nico cheers, hardly noticing his fathers’ confusion. 

Buck and Eddie look at each other, panicked. Grandpa? For fuck’s sake. Which of their fathers is in town? That is the last thing Buck wants to deal with right now.

“Uh huh,” Chris confirms. “Grandpa Bobby.” 

Buck’s jaw drops. 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says. “We’re going to need your help.”

🌤️

Eventually, they put on an old Christmas movie for Nico in the living room, while Buck scours the fridge and cupboards to see what he could possibly make to host a dinner tomorrow. He has no idea what he would have been planning. He’ll have to improvise. 

“How many people are coming to this thing?” Eddie asks Chris as Buck searches for inspiration.

“Uh, nine?” Chris says. “I think. Not including the four of us.”

“Thirteen people?” Eddie gapes. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty normal,” Chris says. “Although, I guess you don’t know that.”

“No!” Eddie agrees. “No, I do not.”

“Now that almost all of you have left the 118-”

“WHAT?” Buck demands, turning so hard to look at Chris he bumps his head on the open fridge door.

Chris winces. “Yeah, sorry. Just two of you still there.”

“Who?” Eddie asks. 

“You and Hen,” Chris says. 

“Where am I?” Buck asks. “Where are Chim and Bobby?”

---

54 for ⚡️

---

Here he is, brain spinning about all the things that could go wrong to a baby who is, at this point, more idea than reality. Meanwhile, Bobby has lost children he loved for years. Who should be adults now. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. 

“For what?” Bobby asks. 

Buck shrugs. “I’ll probably have a bunch of stupid little panics about things… And here you are… You’ve actually been through it.”

Bobby frowns. “And yet, I still worry about you, May, and Harry all the time. As I’m sure I will worry about… Wait, do you have a name yet?”  

Well, not exactly.

“Uh, we had a boy’s name locked down before we met Lourdes,” Buck says. He’s not going to say what that is. “We have a few options for a girl… But we can’t really pick. We’re going to wait to meet her.”

Currently, Buck is leaning towards Josie. After Pepa - Josephina; who brought them together. 

Bobby nods. “Makes sense. She can tell you.”

Buck smiles, a little nervously. 

“That’s the hope.”

☆☆☆

By the 21st, Eddie is also feeling a little antsy, waiting for the baby. He won’t tell Buck though. Because if he does, then Buck will only get more anxious. It’s up to Eddie to mitigate that anxiety. Marital duty or whatever. But he won’t say the whole thing doesn’t have his brain moving sort of constantly. 

So constantly, in fact, that he does blurt something out over breakfast. Just not something Buck - or even Eddie, to be honest - is expecting. 

“I want to take a longer leave,” Eddie says suddenly. 

Buck, midway through swallowing a sip of smoothie, pauses. 

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere,” Eddie says. 

Buck finishes his sip, then shakes his head. 

“No, no that’s okay,” he says. “I just thought we had it all sorted?” And they did. They do. They each get eight paid weeks of the leave. The plan was to do the first two weeks together, then to each do six separately. That would give fourteen weeks. Then she’d go to the LAFD childcare center while they worked, or Carla - and sometimes Maddie, who offered - would pick her up when possible. And that’s alright with Eddie. It’s fine. He just… He’d like to do more. Stay with her longer. He knows Buck does, too. They’d both love a proper parental leave like they might get in another country. But they don’t live in another country, they live here.

---

54 for 🧜‍♂️

---

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, wobbling a little in the water. “I’m really sorry I reacted that way. This is just… This is just not what I was expecting.”

“Well, what were you expecting?” Buck demands. 

Eddie’s expression is sort of helpless. Maybe Buck should cut him a break. Who would naturally guess mermaid if they weren’t one? It’s just… Buck really believed him when he said they were the same.

Eddie steps back a little bit. “Uh, that you and I would be… The same?”

Yeah. That’s what Buck is saying, too. 

 “What does that mean, uh, for you?” Buck asks. Because now he’s genuinely curious. 

“Uh…” Eddie goes a little pale. He takes another step back. “I-I… It doesn’t matter. You’re not… So it doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh, come on!” Buck blurts, exasperated. He feels his tail squirm without his permission. His skin kind of itches up his back and abdomen. “You could get me shipped off to SeaWorld and you won’t even tell me your deal? What could be scarier than this?” 

Eddie’s face sort of crumples. 

Buck is alarmed. “Eddie? Hey, come on… Are you… I mean, are you in trouble?”

“I don’t tell people,” Eddie says. “It’s not… It’s not safe to… It never ends well.”

Damn. He looks like he’s genuinely going to be sick. 

“You were going to tell me,” Buck reminds him, gently. “Or, you thought you did. Am I less trustworthy now?”

Eddie considers this. “No. I guess you’re not.”

“I guess you don’t have to tell me,” Buck says. “But, you know, it’d be nice if you did… Since you kind of… Know this about me. And I’ve literally never told anyone.” 

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

[fangsandfeels]

The "they need to find someone Solas doesn't know" excuse is weak. Because:

Solas already knows who Rook is. He doesn't need much time to know who Rook is, it's not a problem for him. He has been studying and manipulating people for centuries - just because Rook is a wild card isn't going to work on him. At the same time, Rook doesn't know jack about Solas - they have never met him, they have never traveled with him. All they know about Solas, they have heard from Varric - and this is not enough, which allows Solas to manipulate them (yes, I know what happens to Varric). Also, yes, Solas knows how Leliana and Josephine operate, but that's not going to stop them - and it should not stop them when the fate of the world is at stake. Moreover, the original Inquisition group at least knows Solas - and they are more aware of how cunning he can be, and if they listened attentively to Cole, they know even a bit more about him. Rook does not have even these crumbs of knowledge, while Solas gets under their skin easily. So, to bet on a stranger just because it's someone Solas doesn't know is a terrible idea.

The Inquisitor and their circle are the only ones who know Solas' true nature because they witnessed it personally. This is why they take it seriously - because they got proof. However, it's going to be insanely had to prove the threat to anyone else and then tell them to go find Solas. At the same time, intentionally holding back information about what Solas really is means sending the "someone Solas doesn't know" to their death. They go after Solas, thinking it's just a really strong mage - and they don't know that it's actually an ancient god. That absolutely can't go wrong.

Now, to other matters:

Venatori should not even be a thing. Venatori rose to power only because of the Corypheus - and with Corypheus dead they should lose a lot of their influence because they no longer have the Elder God to rally around. Without a real ancient magister at their side, their ideas of restoring the Imperium to its former grandeur are merely delusions and they should be bleeding influence by the events of the Veilguard. Moreover, if the Inquisitor chooses to employ mages and destroys the Venatori plans, they are barely a presence in the entire game due to the harsh blow they received. Moreover, Calpernia, who leads Venatori, only joined Corypheus because she wanted to see Tevinter free of corruption. So, if she dies or leaves, the Venatori don't have their god and they don't have their leader - there is no way there is no infighting in such scenarios. So, at best there should be some Venatori cults present - but they won't be having that much power because they no longer have structure, they no longer have their god-magister, and they have nothing to sway magisters on their side - especially if they failed to provide any alternative to Corypheus in 10 years and went back to worshipping the Old Gods. It makes no sense for the Venatori to be the main bad guys because the entire Tevinter fucking sucks already. It's has a horrible, hedonistic and power-obsessed ruling class where dominating the weak is considered good manners. Dorian should be having his hands full by fighting the entire Senate on such concepts as "slavery is bad" and "we should treat non-mages as people" - because Tevinter abhors change and its power is full of assholes like Aurelian Titus. The Venatori are just one shade of ugly the Tevinter has - and not the most prominent one. To make them the main problem is lazy writing.

Sera also joins the Inquisition because she saw what happened after the Breach was opened - so it's logical for her to not want it to happen again. If the Inquisitor accepts Sera's invitation in the Trespasser DLC, they cooperate quite well with the Friends of the Red Jenny. Also, Friends of the Red Jenny are implied to operate throughout the entire Thedas and have quite a history (they've been mentioned since DA:O). So, for them not to be mentioned at all during the events makes no sense.

If Cassandra rebuilds the Seekers, she is able to deal with emerging cults and unrest quite swiftly (according to the endings). Also, she spent years chasing Hawke because she held them responsible for the Mage-Templar war, then she fully committed herself to cause of closing the Breach, to the point she stays by the Inquisitor's side even if she loathes them. And she is going to stop now, after it's revealed that the threat isn't gone? There is no way she won't be an active participant. Even the fact that Seekers aren't welcome isn't going to stop her.

The entire sentiment behind the Trepasser was: yes, Solas made fools of us all, but we can't let it hold us back because he will destroy the world if we don't do anything - and we must stop him at any cost.

Basically, it meant that the Inquisitor and their allies were going to try harder, learn what they can and find new resources, new information, any leverage possible. This is why the Inquisitor sets their course for Tevinter at the end of Trespasser: they were preparing to cooperate with a controversial state, pulling strings and calling favors, finding people with an ample knowledge of magic and ancient history that could assist them with finding any clues; they were prepared to work together with the people Solas didn't probably expect them to work with. They were thinking outside the box and not looking for traditional allies - this is what the end of the Trespasser implied, not the "let's find an absolute rando who may or may not confuse Solas with their wild antics."

Varric and Harding should have been among many people actively looking for Solas, but the idea that Varric volunteered because he was getting Anders flashbacks comes from nowhere. Varric spent years being Anders' friend, taking care of him, making sure gangs and bandits stay away from his clinic - he was there from the beginning to the end. However, Solas is nothing like Anders. He plays his role of a humble elven apostate perfectly. He shaped his plans and ideas long ago - and he didn't depend on Varric's support like Anders did.

At the same time, Varric doesn't influence Solas' opinions as much as the Inquisitor does - which is why the Inquisitor's relationship with Solas (whether romantical, platonic or antagonistic plays a major role in the game).

Yes, it makes sense for Varric and Harding to take part in the search for Solas - but I can't believe that Rook at least hadn't been approved by the Inquisitor (especially if Rook is an elf because Solas has elven spies and these spies would deceive for him, murder for him, and die for him, so every elven agent should be checked thoroughly or even monitored upon being accepted) and that Rook doesn't have means to contact the Inquisitor for further instructions in case something happens to Varric, or Harding or both of them. This is counter-productive.

Finally, for all that talk about Solas' agents, there are none in Veilguard. None to stand between Solas and Rook's group during the ritual, none to be contacted by Solas from the Fade to carry out his orders, none at all. Not just that, but Strife instantly calls Solas an asshole. The reason? Varric told them that Solas was Fen'Harel - and Strife just took Varric's word for it, not considering the greater implications (that if Fen'Harel is real, then elven gods are real).

So, where are all these agents, sabotaging the Inquisitor's work and their allies' efforts? Where?

This is my problem with Veilguard. Because I actually played the previous games. Because I knew what they were building up - and Veilguard forgot like 97% of the stuff built up in the previous games.

Also, Veilguard's codex entries means nothing to me ever since they destroyed all the previous regions HoF, Hawke, and the Inquisitor fought for in a single text (which even fails to be consistent with the plot because Harding and Emmrich go to a camping trip to Ferelden which is supposed to be viciously attacked by the darkspawn at that point). And don't even get me started at the secret ending.

The lack of participation from the Inquisition's cast wasn't intentional or part of the plot - Bioware just didn't give a fuck.

Bioware writing team has a comfy, sheltered life and it shows

I'm sorry, but how come that the only people Inquisitor sent to look for Solas were Varric and Harding? How come that the only people recruited in 10 years of pursuing Solas were Neve and Rook? Do the writers understand that this is NOT how a serious effort looks like?

What about Leliana? Divine or not, she is still Sister Nightingale with an immense spywork. You'd think she won't mobilize everything she has to track Solas and his followers?

What about Josephine? What, she decided "nah, I'm done" and didn't use any of her diplomatic talents and connections to let the Inquisitor's agents have access, permissions or information they need?

What about Dorian? As a political figure, you'd think he will be the first Minrathous contact for the Inquisitor allies, the one arranging things and providing insights?

What about Cassandra and her Seekers? Isn't she interested in stopping another world-ending threat?

What about Sera and her sabotaging potential? If she organized the group of people for performing vigilante acts, people who are her eyes and ears, how come nobody from her group is helping with the effort?

I get it why Varric takes part in it - he knew Solas, the Inquisitor trusts him and his judgement, but for the game to imply that all the responsibility was lumped on Varric's shoulders is fucking disgraceful. I get it writers, Varric is popular character, and you would use him as bait to your heart's content, but the context you've created implies that Varric might have been the only one to take the threat seriously, while the Inquisitor and the rest were doing God knows what.

Varric should have been handing the Rook information on all the contacts they can recruit, all the useful agents, all the people to work with, not tell them to ask Neve because she might know someone because detective (Neve is a good character, but the fact that people who were supposed to spend 10 years chasing Solas look up to her for finding them contacts is appalling).

"Oh, but all these people were in the previous parts and we don't want to mention previous parts because muh new players" - well, you shot yourselves in the foot. Maybe, just maybe, you should have AT LEAST cared more about the choices made in DAI.

Congrats.

[saintsenara]

Do you think there is parallel between Peter and ron.

Fandom does Peter wrong. That is a fact. He is either absent or is present just for comic relief or is pure evil. But all those characterisation are simply cartoonish. As if written by a person who is living in la la land...

Peter, just like Lupin, we only know major things about him. But like not many people see lupin as a gray shade character only a kind fluffy guy, Peter is polarised to the bad one....

Ron similarly is often given the last place if how much of a good friend each person in golden trio was to be questioned. And that is a tragedy in itself because atleast for Ron we have so much material...

Infact for me, Ron will always be a person who has bigger heart than jkr's favorite mary sue-Lily Evans. She did what any good mother should do. But fandom never stops going on and on about it Or even Harry's sacrifice at the end is so much singed about...but then we have Ron, an 11 year kid who for the sake of defeating voldy, told his new Friends to leave him. He sacrificed himself at 11. Everyone was sure that he is risking his life...but no one i see ever gushes about that act of bravery. It is always about one Potter Or the other.

Peter too. I mean he won't have been friends with the other three for 10 years if they just tolerated him and vice versa. But making him evil kr stupid kr dumb Or hideous to look at in his childhood or teen years is like taking all his personality away and giving us just a shell of a person...

He did become animagi at 15 and that is quite a commendable magic. He is cunning to pull up his stunt as a spy....

Like war as sirius describes in gof is so dark and scary. And people forgot that big things make a person change.

Ron on the other hand had done quite a lot in his life time but often he is found to be judged for leaving his friends.

I believe that the only difference between them is that ron recognised his faults and made correction. Meanwhile pettigrew simply kept on walking on the wrong path he chose....

What do you think on this..?

thank you very much for the ask, pal!

i don't think this entirely works. ron gets cast by the fandom as a gluttonous moron who's also a bad friend primarily on account of the films - and as a bad person by people who want to ship hermione with other people but don't have the nerve to do this in a complex or interesting way - but the text never suggests that either harry or hermione think of him as being in last place in the trio.

indeed, when harry does think of himself as better than ron - when ron gets made a prefect over him in order of the phoenix - he feels horrible for his brief flash of jealousy and soon gets over it. on other occasions when he notes something about himself which could be seen as superior to ron - when he notes that ron got no outstandings at owl, for example - harry doesn't actually force a comparison which is designed to position ron below him. they end up doing the same newts, which is what harry - who sees ron as his partner in crime - cares about.

ron is also demonstrably harry's best friend, and harry tends to enable him and automatically side with him in conflict - it's an example of great self-growth that he doesn't cut hermione off in half-blood prince when ron does, since he's perfectly happy to do so in prisoner of azkaban. but he's also demonstrably hermione's best friend too. harry's relationship with her is, as he says, sibling-like, which doesn't just mean that it's not romantic, but that it contains a "you can't choose your family" vibe - he loves her fiercely, but he also finds her exasperating in a way ron doesn't, doesn't make any real effort to learn about her interests or include her in his, and is often quite harsh to her. ron - in contrast - does see his relationship with her as one of active choice.

this is why i never really like the idea that the trio and the marauders are meant to be parallels. on the surface, ron and harry should be the equivalent of james and sirius and hermione should be remus...

but they're not, because the clear dynamic of the marauders in canon is that they were a group centred around james. all three of sirius, remus, and peter clearly understood james as their best friend, and their relationships among themselves primarily depend on their understanding of their and the others' relationship to james. there is - i think - a credible case to be made that, if james was removed from the picture entirely, but not in a way that caused the profound trauma of the canon timeline [if he just moved away with lily, for example], the remaining three would drift apart.

james - of course - only understood sirius as his equal, his brother. peter is obviously someone he considered inferior to the two of them - albeit in a fond way, rather than a cruel one. he clearly thinks of him the way a teenager might think of their pre-teen sibling - someone you love and are happy to include in your social life if they do what you want, someone you also don't want to embarrass you in front of your cool teenage friends by letting them do what they want instead of following your instructions. remus is clearly someone he didn't think of as quite so socially inferior to him, but he also still seems to have understood him as peripheral to his and sirius' rampant codependence.

the trio doesn't have anything like this dynamic. even though harry is narratively unequal to ron and hermione - he is their leader, they are his disciples - the relationships across the three of them [harry's active choice to be friends with ron, harry's feeling that hermione is his sister; ron's active choice to be friends with hermione, his pseudo-familial relationship with harry] are much more equal than those among the marauders.

what i have been convinced by, however, is @whinlatter's belief that the best parallel for peter in the series is ginny:

[radioactive-earthshine]

Bart Allen's Life as a Carousel of Horrors, Loss, Ableism and Love

cw: ableism

LONG POST

You've been raised in a VR chamber for a possible relative 19 years, but it's only actually been 2 years, you're not really sure what time is, or what it means. The line between reality and virtual reality have blurred so seamlessly realness seems fake and hurts.

You've been told you're dying.

You'll be dead within 4 years if the scientists cannot cure you. Reality reminds you of this. You stay in VR because it's safe and nothing can hurt you there.

You're still dying.

Your grandmother shows up one day, you didn't know your grandmother was still alive. She's furious with the scientists but agrees you are in the best place you can be because you are dying.

She keeps visiting you every now and then, you can only interact with her in the real world. It makes the real world bearable because you can only hug her when you are unplugged from VR.

She is the first person who tells you they love you. You never felt love before.

You are still dying, and the scientists are starting to suddenly feel like they don't actually love you - because you know what kindness and love is supposed to look like and it's not that.

Your grandmother grabs you one day and kidnaps you from the only place you've known as home - you can tell it's for the best, you trust her, because she is the only person who has ever loved you. She says she's taking you to meet other family and everything will be better.

She lied.

But not intentionally.

You're ripped to an alien time where nothing make sense, rules don't make sense, people don't make sense, everything hurts, people don't know what to do with you, you don't know what to do with them either, but at least you are no longer dying.

Your cousin who you already admired from your studies is not the person you thought he'd be - it's for the best if you love each other from a distance even if you're not sure yet if this is love.

Your grandmother cannot keep you.

She has to love you from a distance. She says you will have to live with a man you don't know who never came up once in your history lessons. He is a stranger.

Max Mercury does not love you.

Max Mercury is there to fix you and everyone has reminded you that there is something deeply, deeply wrong with you.

You are no longer dying, but you still need to be fixed.

You make the most out of it because maybe this is just how things are, and there is no use getting upset or feeling bad because there is nothing you can do about it. Video games are like that too - you're just playing on hard mode and you need to practice to get better to clear the level - only no one really explained the rules, and it's up to you to figure out the controls.

You get yelled at when you press the wrong button.

You get yelled at when you press the wrong button.

You get yelled at when you press the wrong button.

You get yelled at when you press the wrong button.

You get yelled at when you press the wrong button, but they won't tell you what the correct button is, and sometimes that button will change entirely for no reason and they will still yell at you for pushing the wrong button.

You love Max Mercury anyway, it's a new sort of love and one that is difficult to explain but you love him and he loves you.

You meet your cousin one day, stranded from your birth-time and you never felt like someone just got you like she did. For one moment, everything feels just right, but she cannot stay with you.

Like your grandmother, and Wally, Jenni has to love you from a distance.

You say goodbye, you don't know if you will ever see her again and you hope your letter lives the thousand years to reach her just so you can make one permanent connection with her.

You don't get yelled at for pushing the wrong button one day, but you know you pushed the wrong button. Max refuses to talk to you, he says there is nothing more he can teach you, you're hopeless.

You're no longer dying, but you still need to be fixed.

Your mother shows up out of nowhere and you fall in love all over again. You are lavished in affection you haven't felt since the first time your grandmother came into your life.

She promises you there is a home of love waiting for you back in your birth-time.

You've said goodbye before, but not like this. You hug Max tight before you go, and you can feel there is love there, but it's not the love from your mother or grandmother. But it is still love.

Your mother cannot keep you.

You never knew what it was really like to be hated before now, and it's not fair that the villain of your story wins and gets to love your mother and you can't.

You start to realize that your story is when the bad-guy wins over and over again.

Like your grandmother, Wally, and your cousin Jenni, your mother has to love you from a distance.

You go back 'home' and there is no home to go back to. Your cousin Wally yells at you for coming back and you're reminded that you can only be loved from a distance.

It's not like you want to live with him either.

Max is the only stable home you've known of and he accepts you back in his life with his daughter Helen.

You like Helen. She doesn't yell at you when you push the wrong button. You can tell Max doesn't approve but it amuses you that there is someone he can't say 'no' to that is on your side.

You are no longer dying, and no one has mentioned that you needed to be fixed for a long, long time.

Your home isn't perfect, you don't feel the same sort of love that you did with your grandmother and mother, but there is still love and you wouldn't change it for anything because Max and Helen are everything to you.

No one gets you like them.

You are no longer dying, but Max is.

You try desperately to fix him because he spent so much time fixing you and it didn't matter if you still don't know what's wrong with you, he is everything to you and you love him and he loves you and you finally feel the same love for him that you do your mother and grandmother and it all goes away.

You've never felt so loved, then so hated all at once when your clone tries to take what you had. You can't hate him though, because he hates enough, and unlike you he was never loved.

You remember being unloved too.

You beg him to stay.

He doesn't.

You don't have time to mourn him, and what you could have had with him as a brother, because Max is still dying and you're the only one who can help fix him.

When Max is no longer dying and things return to normal you know you are loved and whatever everyone said was wrong with you was wrong. Max loves you like your mother loves you and Helen is no different.

You are no longer dying, and you are so very much loved.

Everything is perfect.

You have to say goodbye to your best friend, and it hurts more than when you said goodbye to your mother, because you don't understand the sort of love you had for her. Was it romantic love? Did it matter? You loved her and now your best friend is gone.

Like your grandmother, Wally, your cousin Jenni, and your mother, Carol has to love you from a distance.

One day you feel yourself die and you almost lost everything.

You feel like you are dying again, and it never stops. The event is so visceral it makes you question if you really need to be a superhero after all and you decide to stop.

One of your other best friends calls you a coward for it and you know she's wrong, but you swallow your disappointment and you leave. It's okay if she doesn't understand you - no one really does.

Your civilian friends, Helen and Max make you feel like you are safe again and it is all because of their love.

You find meaning and purpose again as a superhero.

You are no longer dying, and you know you are loved and accepted and everything is as good as it can be. It was a long journey, but you are content despite your grief because you are loved.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Max dies.

No, he doesn't just die, he's gone, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

You think he will be back any day now and it fills you with hope. You still have a home with Helen and all of your friends and you will wait for him because despite everything he is your dad.

The family that was supposed to be your family all along tell you that Helen cannot be your family anymore, and you have to move.

There's something still wrong with you and Helen cannot deal with it. You're an imposition to her. Max was the only thing keeping her home stable while you were there. You need someone to watch over you, not love you, love wasn't part of the equation.

Your grandmother denies there's something wrong with you and Helen, but she still won't take you in, she has someone else's child to love instead.

Your cousin still insists there is something wrong with you.

You know there is nothing wrong with you, and you think you finally get your cousin to understand and see you for the first time.

Nothing about this is fair - Helen's life isn't fair either, and you decide to help give her the life she deserves even if it breaks your heart.

You move, you lose everything again.

Like your grandmother, Wally, your cousin Jenni, your mother, and Carol, Helen has to love you from a distance.

You never lived in a house with a married couple before. They bond with you quickly and you love them, but you never forget Max and you love him from a distance.

You think your relationship with your cousin is mended but he reminds you that there is something wrong with you and it will never be fixed.

No amount of love, will ever save you, and you will always lose.

[theladyofrosewater]

On one hand would I have killed to see ace rep in the show itself? yes yes I would have because we are sorely lacking in ace rep in most media's.

on the other hand asexuality is different from being aromantic and it's clear christian linke just doesn't want the ship to be encouraged and so picked the character in the ship who hadn't been portrayed as having a sexual/romantic relationship with anyone, it's just that said character also happens to have most of the traits that stereotype ace characters had so it cheapens the decision in the writing by a lot

Like I feel like at least half of the cast being confirmed as ace would have been better rep. You could have had it be Mel and then showcase her seduction of Jayce being something she doesn't at all give a shit about sex besides using as a tool for furthering her power until she realizes she caught feels. You could have had it be Vi and have it so she feels like that's why she has a tough time connecting with people and maybe have her tell Caitlyn in a heartfelt scene. Hell you could have made it Ekko and have had a mention of it in season two episode 7 where Powder says she'll always love and respect Ekko's boundaries. There is nothing wrong with Viktor being ace if the writers had set out to actually make him ace rep, however the only thing that even hints at Viktor being ace is him saying no to walking home with Sky and that could very easily be read as Viktor is just distracted with his work or Viktor just not being interested in women. Viktor being "confirmed" ace by one of the writers in an out of media interview out of what seems to be a dislike of a popular queer ship leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

and can I just say I'm kinda sick and tired of asexual characters being almost exclusively confirmed as ace through tweets and outside of the source material, like if the higher ups were preventing representation and the only way to announce it was a blog post that's one thing but when most characters only have their asexualty revealed as an afterthought it's really disheartening like how bad of a writing team do you have to be that hazbin hotel of all medias does a better job of explicitly showcasing a character as asexual than arcane does.

(suggestive warning)

viktor being confirmed to be asexual but only because christian linke despises the idea of jayvik being inherently sexual or just romantic for that matter is just so disheartening

im so sick of disabled people just being viewed as undesirable and unable to have sex in comparison to characters like jayce. and to see this type of stereotype being placed on a character i align myself with heavily is just so devastating