#hes WAY MORE than that and we see how competent and cool he is in his first appearance before he found out that alastors back

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Five different perspectives on Nanami Kento.

Tags: Angst, humour, mystery, character study.

Warnings: canon-typical violence.

"I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I am not cruel, only truthful‚

The eye of a little god, four-cornered."

~ The Mirror, Sylvia Plath

Yoshinari remembers that day well. Even now, decades later, his team leader's near-panicked expression stands out with harsh clarity in his mind. Yoshinari had just mentioned that he hadn't finished the analysis due that afternoon because he'd been struck down with a bad bout of flu. Whirling on his heel, the team lead had really let fly with his irritation.

"But we had an agreement! You were to complete the analysis the day before yesterday! There'll be no excuse at all for us walking into that meeting unprepared!"

"But sir ... I had a lot to catch up on that evening. And I - "

"I'm done with this conversation! Come up with something, or explain to the chief why you couldn't finish your basic tasks on time."

Left standing in the empty hallway, Yoshinari had let frustration, anger, self-pity and helplessness wash over him, bitter as a brackish tide. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever understood how the demands of this job couldn't be humanly met unless he practically lived at the office. Nobody cared what his state of health was. Nobody -

"Are you all right?"

Hastily wiping off the corner of his eye, he turned to see none other than Nanami Kento standing in the doorway leading from the hallway to the main office floor. Nanami, whose reports were always turned in on time. Nanami, whose suits were never rumpled, whose clients never complain, whose presentations were always meticulous, who never spilled a drop or wasted a crumb when he ate -

Tamping down the rising envy and resentment for the tall man standing before him, Yoshinari sighed and embraced the inevitable. It isn't Nanami's fault. Nanami is simply doing the job, like the rest of them. He just happened to be a lot more competent at it than most. 

"I'm a bit ... under the weather, that's all. There's a meeting this afternoon. I won't be prepared because I haven't had time to get the quarterly analysis done."

Nanami watched him in silence. Yoshinari continued, chest feeling slightly less heavy as he vented to his quiet companion.

"I just wish ... that we were given more value, you know? We're not robots. We're people. And sometimes, we ... I can't get all my tasks done. I just wanted ... some understanding. That's all."

Yoshinari realized just how petulant he sounded the more he spoke. His voice trailed off, and he avoided the other man's gaze. What must Nanami think of someone like him? Did he pity him? Was he annoyed by him and his complaining? Was he indifferent, like everyone else? It was hard to tell.

Nanami never lost his composure, never expressed strong emotion, never seemed anything other than cool and detached. He must think that someone like Yoshinari was worthy of pity and contempt. Nothing more.

Without waiting for Nanami's reply, Yoshinari turned and made his way to the elevators, trying to focus on the client briefing lined up (and not the humiliation and reprimands he'd have to endure later.)

The humiliation never came, though. Walking into the meeting that afternoon, Yoshinari was met with the huffy, slightly startled demeanor of the team leader when he was complimented on his 'sterling work', handed a steaming cup of coffee and patted on the back. He sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, mind still struggling to grapple with what had occurred.

When he got a chance, he snuck a look at the analysis that supposedly came from him. There, in the phrasing, the layout, the orderly sequences of figures and the in-depth breakdown of each element, he recognises the hand of Nanami Kento.

When the meeting was over, he tried to find Nanami, to thank him for that unexpected favour. A part of him was beginning to take the assistance with a pinch of salt; what did Nanami expect in return for this?

When he eventually spied Nanami, he paused, the report crumpling slightly in his hand. Coat draped over his chair, tie cast over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up and chair reclining, Nanami's hollowed eyes and sharply-defined cheekbones were covered with a white handkerchief, the marks of exhaustion clear in his bearing.

Many years later, watching his grandchildren chase each other around the darkened trunk of a plum tree, a soft, secret smile finds its home on Yoshinari's face as he remembers that day. He glances up at the delicate blossoms, pushing their heads insistently into the fresh bite of a new spring day and wonders if Nanami ever had grandchildren of his own.

Warmth. Kinship. Command.

When Master calls me out, I recognise the tug and relentless pull into another place. This place. This world of scent and colour and sound, where I am given form.

My Master's hands smell of paper, freshly cut apples and grass. They are firm and familiar as their fingers run through my fur. Sometimes, Master brings us out of the other place without urgency, simply to keep us at his side.

Megumi.

That is my Master's given name. He is dark in spirit, light of foot, and his mouth seldom curves, like the other humans. But when we are all together, pack, bodies curled up and sharing warmth, Master's eyes are like a distant lamp, flickering softly.

The white-veined one names my Master as Megumi. He is the one with power like a great summer storm, sweeping with acrid sharpness across the senses and scorching the unseen world in his wake. His hair is white too, his spirit leaping from one focus to the next, lightning and laughter.

The white-veined one is trustworthy. He is pack, but even though Master trusts him completely, he makes others nervous.

And then, there is the Blademaster. This one is almost familiar. He is like Master in many ways. He smells of good food, old leather and the sharp tang of polished metal. His power is an underground river, swift and subtle, rising to a well-controlled roar when he calls upon it.

The Blademaster avoids pack. He likes to sit alone on the benches at sunset, sometimes, with his food in an oval box at his side. He stares a lot into the sky. Only he knows what he sees there.

The sky doesn't hold much interest for me, but the smells from the Blademaster's box always call for attention. He has meat in there. And cheese. Sometimes, if I press my nose into his hand, he shares his food. It is good food. It tastes better when he offers it out of his own palm.

The Blademaster's hand is bigger, rougher around the fingers than Master's. He is an experienced warrior, and he has been in many fights. The scent of it is on him, in ways that cannot be disguised. He carries the smell of old wounds, of battles that etched away at the parts of him than leave no visible scars. 

Sometimes, his pain is great. Those times, he needs pack, even if he doesn't know it. I find him, at his bench. Even though he has no food, I sit with him. His fingers in my fur are different, but warm, like Master's.

We watch the sky together.

It's the bustle of the lunch rush that brings him suddenly into her mind; tall, broad-shouldered, imposing in his dark, pinstripe suit. She's seen many, many salarymen enter her establishment over the years, but none quite like him.

He'd seemed hard, humourless, exacting, a man of substance and character, whittled away bit by bit by the hundred inconveniences and troubles of everyday life. Her attempts to cheer him up always fell flat. Her jokes landed like stale bread on a food critic's plate.

"Hey, Nanami! Good to see you! Decided to loaf around on your lunch break again?"

"How am I loafing?"

"Ah, that was just a pun. You know. Because you come here to buy sandwiches."

"Do you charge extra for the puns? Because I'm not paying for that."

"Wow. So cold ... "

And on another occasion:

"Hey Nanami! Knock knock."

" ... "

"You're supposed to say 'who's there?'"

"Who's there."

"As a question, not a statement!"

"Does it matter?"

"Fine. It's doughnut."

"Doughnut who?"

"Dough nut enter the shop without checking out the specials!"

"Please just give me the sandwich."

Ah, those were good times. Maybe he did appreciate her silly attempts at humour on some level. She'd never know.

Sometimes, she wonders if she shouldn't have asked him for help. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut about that pesky stiffness and pain in her shoulder joint. There was no way she could have known what would happen next.

She recalls, with perfect clarity, the sudden change in his demeanour. The subtle straightening of his posture, the focus of that intense honey-brown stare, the way he'd looked at and past her, as if glancing through some secret window into an unknown she could never fathom. And then, he'd raised his arm, swung it in that swift, decisive motion, and her pain disappeared in a matter of seconds.

She still wonders how exactly he'd accomplished that. Was he a spiritual healer of some kind? She couldn't think of an occupation less suited to someone like him. All the same, she was thankful. She'd even packed a free almond croissant and coffee with his sandwich the next day, kept aside for the lunch rush.

Except, he'd never shown up. Not that day, or the next, or the day after that. Nanami simply disappeared from the normal routine of his life altogether.

Of course, she made some enqueries. She was somewhat concerned, considering how sudden his absence had been. What if he'd overworked himself enough to end up in hospital? It wasn't unheard of.

His work colleagues, some of whom also frequented the bakery, told her that he'd suddenly up and left. Handed in his resignation and promptly disappeared.

She'd never heard from him, ever again. It wasn't that she was upset or offended. Customers changed their whims daily. But with him ... something about it concerned her. What would prompt a creature of habit, like Nanami, to suddenly change his routine? There was probably a perfectly sound explanation for it, but it worried her all the same.

After all these years, even now, as manager of her own small dessert shop, not far from the original bakery she'd served at, she'd never taken the casse-croûte off the menu.

It would remain there, for the day he might come through the door once again, and she'd say it, just like she'd rehearsed in her mind so many times. 

"Welcome back, Nanami. The usual?"

Pain. This is all that she thinks, all that she feels. It is all-consuming. It isn't like the time she broke her finger after a particularly bad fall when she was ten years old. Not even like the wound left when her mother died; gaping, raw around the edges, on display for all that looked her way.

This pain was, somehow, even worse than that. Pain that twisted and tore through the fabric of her, agony piled on agony, neverending. It stretched beyond her, into a night of unknown horrors that she had no means of comprehending.

Something was very, very wrong with her body. This much she could tell, even as she wove in and out of consciousness. The sense of change to her own form, of being maimed in some fundamental sense, was so strong that she wondered how she was still alive.

His hands. So cold. Pain beyond imagining. She doesn't want to enter that forbidden entryway in her thoughts. Someone did this to her. Someone made her helpless, controlled her. Turned her into this grotesque travesty of a living thing. She should feel furious, that this had been done to her. But she doesn't have the capacity for anything but pleading, begging for a swift release from this torment.

Something is shifting around her now. She cannot even brace for the agony, because there are no known muscles for her to do so. Her body feels like a shapeless, amorphous mass that changes according to the unknown puppeteer's will.

Now, she feels the brush of fetid air on her flesh, the dank, mossy wall of some subterranean feature, a dizzying sense of being propelled at high speed through a narrow space.

Someone is moving alongside her, dodging, weaving. Not the puppeteer. Another. Their movements are swift, strong, filled with a measured grace that dances around her striking, flailing limbs (if they can still be called such) with dexterity. She tries to fight back against the overpowering will, to stop any harm coming to that person. It is futile.

Another shift, her body stretched in another direction. And - oh! Air! Damp and rank in scent, something like a sewer, but never more welcome. Her senses had been cloaked, due to the current nature of her body, but now, she was aware of eyes, ears, nose, a budding mouth that opened in a soundless cry for help.

He heard her.

He was standing over her, feet braced on her alien form. A man in dark glasses and a suit, a strangely patterned sword at his side. The sensation of the strangely blunt blade cleaving her flesh as she hurtles at him is weighted, some kind of energy behind it.

He can cause damage to her in this form! He can ...

But her mouth doesn't work the way it's supposed to. She can't beg him, can't plead with him to end this abysmal existence that only serves as torture. The terror, anger, frustration and hopelessness have no channel by which to reach the outside world any longer.

No! Please! Help me!

Wrung from dregs of her despair, a single tear forms at the corner of her existing eye, rolling down the distended, distorted skin.

Is this it? Is this all she can summon?

But he sees it. His hand is reaching down, towards where she lies, helpless beneath his feet, helpless to the whim of another. His thumb is warm, so warm, as he strokes beneath her eye, dashing away the trace of the tear.

In the moments that follow, before her consciousness finally descends into blessed, blessed darkness, she memorizes the feel of that touch, the last thing on this earthly plane that she'll ever know.

For all her suffering, let it never be said that she hasn't known true kindness.

Gojo and Namamin. Side by side, they're day and night. Yuuji can see that, and often delights in it. He thinks about it now, as he brushes his teeth, one hand carding absently through the tangles in his hair.

Gojo operated on a certain wavelength Yuuji had been attuned to since the very beginning. Nanamin, less so.

When Yuuji really thinks about it, it reminds him somewhat of the recipes his grandfather taught him. Gramps's house was one run on self-sufficiency. There was never an excuse for slacking off.

Gojo was like the spicy miso ramen he'd learned to make, the one with the specially crafted chilli oil and the perfect ramen egg for topping. A wash of heat, scorching the tongue and throat, a burst of flavour that somehow lingered long after it had rushed past your teeth like a flashflood. It entertained, it sustained, it left you feeling warm and energized.

Nanamin was like bread.

Now, Yuuji wasn't crazy about bread. He was more of a rice-bowl kinda guy. But the baking of bread was something he'd never quite managed to get the hang of, to begin with. His grandfather eyeballed ingredients, kneaded with rapid, dexterous fists, added an extra pinch of salt here, or a splash of milk there, depending on the type and texture of bread he wanted. It was as if Gramps could envision an end product that Yuuji had no concept of at all.

Namamin had been just as difficult to gauge in the mixing bowl of Yuuji's experience. Practical, rule-following, collected and proper. Spontaneity could take a hike, as far as Nanamin was concerned. Not the kind of man to pretend to be dead and then hop out of a box when you least expect it.

Ha. Anyway.

Bread. That's the analogy he was going with, and the one he was finding increasingly appropriate.

Pulling on his uniform jacket, Yuuji felt the familiar tug and rumble of hunger ascend from his stomach. He tied the laces on his signature red sneakers and grabbed his backpack, heading for the Tech cafeteria for breakfast.

Thinking over it further, bread was ... a staple. It was not to everyone's taste. It was simple, filling, a great companion piece for more flavourful ingredients. And hellishly difficult to bake correctly. For Yuuji, at least.

Yeah. Bread. It was a good comparison.

Turning the corner, Yuuji nearly ran right into the current occupant of his thoughts.

"Ah ... Nanamin! You're here early today!"

"Good morning, Yuuji. Please be careful. I have a cup of hot coffee here."

Falling into step beside the stoic sorcerer (uninvited) Yuuji decided to share some of his thoughts, an uncharacteristically serious expression adorning his face.

"Nanamin, there's something I've been thinking about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I had to compare you to a food, it'd be bread."

A silence meets this statement. Nanami takes a sip of his coffee. Undeterred, Yuuji continues.

"Like, I love a good katsudon, but when it's midnight and I've been training hard, and I wake up all tired and my body's all sore ... I just go make a sandwich, ya know? Even when Gramps was in hospital and I used to get back from school, and oh, yeah, I sometimes forgot to buy groceries ... there was still bread. Just a loaf, there on the counter. And it didn't matter if there were no other ingredients to cook with, or anything, because you can't go wrong with a fried egg on some fresh, crispy toast. Ahh, yeah. The best."

Nanami adjusted his glasses slightly.

"Itadori ... is this your way of informing me that you find me reliable?"

"Huh? Oh ... I mean, yeah. But that's not all."

"It isn't?"

"Nah. 'Cos I baked bread with my Gramps, see? And it was hard to get right. But I did, at some point. And it felt ... great. And I never got it wrong again. And Gramps is gone now, I know. But when I miss him, kinda, baking bread helps me remember what it was like having him around."

Having said his piece, Yuuji folded his arms behind his head, marching peaceably alongside Nanami, lightly humming the theme song to the latest show he'd been watching. Nanami was now looking down, into his coffee. He didn't take another sip. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than usual.

"I like sandwiches. Trying different fillings is something of a hobby of mine."

Yuuji nods, a light grin forming on his face.

"I can tell."

"Having said that ... I'm partial to fried chicken and beer on a Tuesday afternoon. It ... reminds me of when I was younger."

"Whoa. For real?"

"Yes."

"But Nanamin ... isn't fried chicken and beer the kind of thing you share with others?"

"It is."

"Hmmm."

Yuuji appears to give this some serious thought, before slapping his fist into his palm as an epiphany strikes.

"But wait! Let's get it together next time! I won't drink the beer, don't worry. I can get a soda or something."

"What - "

"And we can order the MegaBox deal that also comes with a medium pizza and cheese croquettes!"

"Yuuji - "

"Oooh, I'm so excited! I wonder what their pizza base is like? But hey, Nanamin, I've gotta run ahead. Maki-senpai's training with me today and she'll kick my ass if I'm late. See ya on Tuesday!"

All thoughts of bread firmly shelved for the present, Yuuji trotted further up the corridor and through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, pausing to wave at Nanami as he left his line of vision.

Yuuji doesn't get to see the small smile that temporarily eases the harsh lines of the sorcerer's face. It is fleeting, gentle, an echo of a smile he'd worn for another, long ago.

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 13: Maeglin (The 13 is a fitting number)

TW, CW, all kinds of warnings: Eol is in this part. And Maeglin. So, you know. All that stuff will be mentioned. And some discussion of what Maeglin's plans were.

Aredhel wants to leave, Turgon's reply is interesting. It's not "my heart", but "my reason objects" which a) is a rare phrasing (but makes sense here) b) it turns out that Turgon does have a functioning reason. Also, he says it will end badly for both of them. Huh. I have a feeling that turgon does not very well distinguish between foresight and reasoning.

Aredhel feels as if he was trying to command her and gets upset. I don't think he is. I think Turgon is more worried about his secrets, than sexist and trying to command her, because he is the brother. He says it, even. The problem is people knowing the city's location going out.

The only remotely patronizing thing he says is "there are dangers the princess doesn't know about". But I don't feel like his whole attitude towards Aredhel is patronizing.

Thingol hates the sons of Feanor so much he doesn't let their friends in, or at least people who are visiting them. Which… it's after he learned about Alqualonde, right? It makes a lot of sense.

So Aredhel goes through the spider-country. I knew it will appear somewhere. Her "bodyguards" are lost and have to run away, but she's fine and competent and goes to C&C's home but they're not home.

Also, only on this reread I realized, how far those journeys are. Also, elven timescales. C&C are chillin with the 3rd C on a vacation and it lasts over a year. Aredhel gets bored, wanders into Nan Elmoth and :(

So, Nan Elmoth. Enchanted by Melian long ago, but now dark, the darkest forest. I did talk about Melian being Melkor-aligned, haven't I? (Not as in: evil. As in "she was close to him conceptually by "birth" but did not join the rebellion.) This is just my hc, but I felt like mentioning it.

So, Eol. Eol is very dark too and kind of sus. He doesn't like Doriath, he fled when Melian did the Girdle (why?), he loved shadow. He is a goth and this is kind of sus. He's also pals with Dwarves (who were evil in the early Legendarium). This in itself is not evil, but feels like a foreshadowing nonetheless. Also, I think no matter his morality, in each case he would be much more likely to use poison than the Noldor were. (Maybe non-lethal poison, if he was a nicer person). Also, he invents cool black goth!mithril galvorn. And he made the two coolest swords in the Legendarium, but this will be said later.

Also, he blames the Noldor fot Morgoth's return (unjustly) and for some other things, as we see later (justly).

Also, the narrative feels the need to explicitely tell us that he is not a Dwarf, but a noble Elf. Also he is sad but handsome and has darkvision. Which is cool.

What is not cool starts here. He sees Aredhel being pretty and wants her so he magics her into not being able to leave the forest and into wandering into his house, where he invites her in.

And they get married. In circumstances not elaborated about, but even if she did fall in love, the gps-jamming trick was very not ok as a way to flirt. And yes, he explicitely did it because he wanted her.

"Nobody claims the marriage was non-consensual" says the narrative. which very much reads as Pengolodh going "I will not claim it for lack of proof, but I think it". Anyway, ok, let's take it at face value, she fell in love, ok, fine, he was handsome and had cool swords, I get it.

Aaaand as her husband he ordered Aredhel to not go in sunlight, and to not meet the sons of Feanor or even any other Noldor. this guy really needs a course on relationships. (To be honest to Eol, his parents are never mentioned and such stuff often is generational, so his fault might have been less that it feels. But still. I want to punch him.)

Maeglin. He is really good at reading people's minds, and at commanding people. Also, he's tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired, pale and Noldor-shaped. Tl;dr: he is really handsome.

Dad takes him to visit the Dwarves and Maeglin learns stuff. Mom tells him about the Noldor and Maeglin wants to meet Turgon and the Feanorians. Eol rants at him, partially reasonable (they mourdered our close kin and stole are lands), partially not (you are my son, so you will do as I say or I will bind you).

Ugh. his idea of a family. I'm pretty sure he had some orcs in the line, or at least some escaped thralls with a lot of emotional damage. This sounds like Angband logic.

Maeglin doesn't seem to love his father either: he wants to leave with Aredhel, because he learned all that he could from Eol (and the Dwarves), so what use in staying. I don't blame him. So they leave.

C&C don't like Eol (not surprising with his attitude towards the Noldor) and Curufin is said to be hasty (before it was Caranthir. I guess they both are?)

OK, I don't get it. Curufin disses Eol, but still he does tell him all he needs to know to find Aredhel (who is his friend, the book said, or at least Celegorm's). I guess this is the hasty personality at work.

Please, do not be like Curufin. when a suspicious / unknown person asks you about your friend's wherabouts, shut up, and check with your friend first. (Curufin did not have a phone, but still, he could have shut up.)

Also, Curufin, out of all people, gives Eol a sort-of-prophecy! With all the "my heart is telling me". Which checks out later.

"I can't kill you because the laws of the Eldar" — well, it is before Doriath, so maybe he still cares? Or maybe it's just "Maedhros would be mad at me".

Eol is good at sneaking, I suppose, but the guards of Gondolin are better at guarding. They catch him and, because he says that he's Aredhel's husband, they do not kill him against the king's explicit orders on what to do with tresspassers. I have no idea what to make of this whole situation (not logically, logically it makes sense. But narratively, thematically.)

Eol sees the city and is amazed, and gets even angrier and more hateful at the Noldor. It reminds me of something. "you have a lot of cool stuff, I hate you even more" is rthe exact same reaction as (canonically) Melkor has after his release from Mandos. and Turgon, just like Manwe, is clueless not reading people's minds and it wouldn't be posiible in this case anyway. And is kind and gives him the benefit of doubt.

Eol refuses to shake his hand, like an upset preschooler, and disses Turgon. He starts very reasonably (this is our land, you are proud and did a lot wring, also I don't care about your city's secrets), but then he gets on the sexism again. And heavily.

His argument is "I will take my son, but if you as the brother claim Aredhel, I am ok with this". Seriously. What. Where did you learn it? Dwarves? Are Dwarves this awful? Angband thralls? Orcs?

Also, he tries to kill Maeglin on the logic of "you can't keep what is mine", which (I am sorry to everyone who will feel offended on part of their blorbo) sounds like Feanor's attitude about the Silmarils. Or worse, depending how you read Feanor. Would Feanor rather see the Silmarils destroyed and noone getting them, or see them going to the Valar? This may need a poll. ;)

Aaand he curses Maeglin too. Idril has some kind of foresight and this curse makes Maeglin sus in her eyes.

Maeglin is going strainght to the top, he's important in the city, widely respected and appreciated by Turgon. He's got a circle of friends: people like metalworking gravitate towards him. He is in the city council, and does well and wisely. He is also a brave warrior and fights in the Unnumbered tears. And does very well. He is by far not a loser.

But. He is in love with Idril (happens, especially when you have emotional trauma falling in love is random and weird and not always with the best people for you). And he never talks to anyone about it. Which is understandable with his background, but also very unhealthy. It kills him from the inside.

Idril (who is apparently also really good at osanwe) notices his love for her and is freaked out. Which is fine on both sides. Not "fine" as "pleasant" but as "no blame here". Emotional issues often lead to someone's emotions "leaking out" and being uncomfortable to be around without any actual bounduary-crossing. Just the vibe. And Elves have this much more, they have semi-telepathy! Also, Idril is under no obligation to love him back, and she does treat him politely, so no blame here either.

It will get worse, of course. On his side. But now I think it's not. also, I need English quotes.

"he loved the beauty of Idril and desired her, without hope" — this sounds as if he accepted the fact that she won't love him. Which is the appropriate reaction. Probably the only Tolkien quote, where "without hope" is a positive. Well, semi-positive. If he had some hope (or at least'; was open to the possibility) of finding another love or learning to live single, things would maybe go better. Still, this sounds like acceptance to me.

BUT

"But as the years passed still Maeglin watched Idril, and waited, and his love turned to darkness in his heart." — waited for what???

The interpratations I can think of:

Pro-Maeglin:

waited for this feeling to pass

just generally waited, as in: "he grew and stuff happenned"

waited for something to happen even though it was not possible — it worked for Indis after all, and I'm sure he knew this story — but fully passively and with no plan to do anything creepy (which I think would be an ok reaction, maybe unwise but not bounduary-crossing)

Mixed:

this sentence and the "without hope" sentence came from two different sources (both in-world and when Cristopher Tolkien complied the silm) with different characterizations of pre-capture Maeglin

Negative:

he regained "hope" (inquotes because it's a very nasty kind of amdir in this case and doesn't deserve the word) and flirted with her despite her protests, he was a creep

was even worse a creep and waited for the opportunity to "wed" Idril his father's way or worse (not only deceit but force)

had no hope for wedding but waited for revenge "if I can't have her, I will kill her" AKA his father's way again

I have no idea what the intended meaning is in here.

The "darkness" may be anything from trauma (more unprocessed emotions), through hopelessness (if I can't have Idril, I can't have anything good and y life is meaningless) to outright premeditation for rape.

Meaglin is a very ambiguous character in the text. He will get worse, but he will get worse after close contact with Morgoth, so it isn't necessarily a good measure of his personality at this stage. But there isn't one clear reading of him, at least in the text itself.

(eol is …. not ambiguous, but very ambivalent. He's got a lot of common sense! His political opinions about the Noldor are not all correct, but many of them are very on-point and better said than Thingol's. But also he's awfully sexist and violent.)

Also, no mention of Anguirel. :(

And I would love to see a connection between his unrequited love, "darkness" and the sword. This needs some HCs one day. The feelings resonating with the black blade, making it more deadly and precise. The metal cooling the feelings, making them a dark, icy thing that cannot be talked about. definitely needs a hc or fic.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Okay okay. I just had this beautiful mental image of competence kink Steve. And my brain produced two fairly different images: Steve sees Bucky do something incredible during a mission. Idk what. And *oh*, he pops a boner right there and then, as much as the cup of his suit allows anyway. He can barely wait to get off the quinjet post mission, much to the team's amusement, to blow Bucky and then fuck into next week because holy shit hot

Or, Steve having an unfairly wet dream about WS!Bucky in the leather and incredible skills with all the knife tricks and so on and feeling very guilty about that. Because getting the horny from something Bucky had no control over? Not cool, at least in his mind. Bucks somehow gets him to spill though, and then ties Steve up and uses his knife skills to get him out of his clothes very efficiently, leaving Steve there as a panting and moaning mess Uh yeah my brain melted a little

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Oh, fuck yeah, I love competency kink. We can certainly talk about that and soak in the brain melt together, lol

Besides, we all know that that fucker has one

gifs by @/linusbenjamin

and this moment haunts him 😏 because of it.

Plus, that single shield catch isn't even to mention the million other examples I could think of for Steve's fixation on the Winter Soldier. The ghost is strutting around in what's practically fetish gear, like, c'mon, give Steve some slack. It's leather and straps and shimmering metal and decisive, confident combat. Motherfucker.

I am SO fucking down to think about Steve watching Bucky execute some incredible feat on a mission and getting turned on because of it, and I will expand on that in a minute. But, also, the second option, too. YES. Steve wet dreaming about the Winter Soldier? God, it's more than just likely, that shit absolutely happened.

(I did write something about those wet dreams in this ask answer under "war paint")

(Also, you need to see this art, that is... yup. Knives and bondage and competency.)

Okay, competency on missions driving Steve insane...

(warning for canon typical violence!)

It happens like this: one instant Steve is solely focused on strangling the underling that's freshly come at him 'cause he's just trying to get through the masses of them before he can actually disarm this whole fucking shitty, dangerous situation alongwith it's leader, and the next instant Steve is totally, completely, and entirely distracted from getting an arm around this fuckers throat, squeezing off his air between his forearm and bicep. It could not be farther from his mind, really.

Rather than thinking about how he can best discard this underling and move on to the next--always plotting his following move, what punch should he throw, what kick, where's his shield, how should he throw his shield, who's around him, and are they his teammates or this month's big enemy--he's aching, not thinking, aching to drop to his knees. It is a visceral, very unchill reaction that Steve can't fucking control. There is no way on god's green earth.

The wanting to drop like a fly isn't because he's tired and ready to give in and surrender, nah, he could do this all day, it's because he's at fucking full mast in his uniform pants so suddenly that he needs a goddamn break from himself. His own hyperreactive body. It's dizzying, debilitating, how his blood rushes from circulating oxygen as fast as it can to his bulging, burning, working muscles to pooling heavy and hot in his cock.

All that hot, thick blood filling his dick out as he moves and twists, grappling with his fucking random ass bad guy, and threatening, incidentally, to rub himself salaciously against the hard pressure of his athletic cup.

His cup is cupping him.

He's big, he can't not. He's got no fucking room. It's... yeah, it's, just--

Jesus Christ.

Steve's aching to drop to his knees and more. It doesn't stop at getting to his knees. One moment and he has the worst kind of desperate craving crashing through him, leaving him hankering for the sensation of firm, muscular legs squeezing around his throat, the pressure tight on both sides, making him feel like his head might explode as he gasps for air or he might pass out without any air or he might cum from pure fucking lust at how hot it is or all of the above all at once.

All at once.

It is an onslaught of arousal. Just. His appetency is un-fucking-checked for the tingling, sharp burn of fingers raking through his hair and pulling hard until he feels it in his scalp and skittering down his back, richly feeding the fire at the base of his spine. He needs to feel body heat suffocatingly around his neck and shoved up against him from behind. Heat painted like thick, sticky tar up the nape of his neck to the crown of his head.

And all that weakening fucking hunger is inspired by one instant. A single flash that he catches, lightning-fast, out of the corner of his eye.

Dark leather molded to fit a shapely body perfectly, sinfully, waves of hair flowing like water, and the distinct glint of silver metal caught in the sun, flashy and, just, sexy.

Bucky.

Bucky, who's barely just been able to be comfortable in combat again after deprogramming but is ever-skilled. Honed. Deadly and gorgeous as a honey trap.

Bucky, who has spent more hours in the gym training with Natasha than anyone else combined--something about mutual trauma and understanding and trust.

Bucky in elegant, lethal motion, wrapping himself like a lithe snake around his own steroid-fit underling, his burly thighs squeezed around the baddies thick, muscular throat, his veins bulging in strain, balanced perfectly on his broad shoulders, and keeping the power in his own mismatched hands. The palm of his hands, like it's easy.

Bucky is fucking winning, it's plain to see. No sweat.

Bucky has shocked this baddie by mounting him, throwing his weight around with ease in a way that shouldn't be possible for a man his size. Better, Bucky has thrown him even further off, fisting a hand into his hair cruelly, pulling so hard that his choices are to let his hair be ripped out and deal with the gritting pain or follow the hold and put himself in worse danger, prolonging the time before the pain. The unnamed baddie follows, of course. Anyone would follow someone as intoxicating and beautiful as Bucky. But he's then pinned there, throat fully exposed. Perilous. The most animal form of submission, this time forced and humiliated by defeat.

Bucky is the dominant fighter.

He is in control.

And he is making it known with what would be sickening glee if Steve was anyone but himself--if Steve wasn't so fucking aroused by watching Bucky wield himself as a weapon of his own choosing, taking control, and reveling in doing good.

God.

With his thighs around his neck, Bucky deftly plucks a long, sharp knife from its holster strapped onto his mouth-watering thigh and twists and twirls it around his fingers before holding it against the underling's throat. The threat is crystal clear and needs no further explanation: move and its lights out for you.

So, the underling folding to his mercy, Bucky slowly, slowly contorts his body, displaying his oh-so flexible spine and positioning his mouth right above his ear. Steve watches him whisper into his ear--his pink lips curling over the hushed syllables in the heat of chaotic, loud battle--and shivers.

Goosebumps come to attention all across Steve's body.

Shit.

He's unreal.

He's so gorgeous and so good and so charming.

At whatever he tells him, the baddie nods stiffly, all the color drained from his face, and Bucky retracts his knife unhurriedly, perfectly moving according to his own schedule, and confidently sheathes the blade it once more. Then, neatly, he unclenches his thighs from around his throat and slithers off his shoulders. It's almost a dance--totally smooth, well-rehearsed choreography.

He defies gravity.

As soon as Bucky is far enough from him, peeled away, the underling scurries off like a frightened rat, stumbling as he sprints off. Bucky watches him go with an unhinged, almost-pitying smile, an expression just for himself, as if to say, that's right, you better run. Tell the others, too. You fuck with me and it's over. Don't bother coming back.

Steve whimpers.

Realistically, it--Bucky devastatingly executing one of Black Widow's signature flipping, twisting moves as if it's his own and something developed specifically for him, an over 200 lbs man of pure muscle and metal--all happens in the span of seconds. Or, maybe it happens faster. It may not even be a single second. But for Steve, it plays in slow motion; it lasts ages in his mind.

Still, really, just it's one instant, and then his brain chemistry has been fully altered. Immediately. His wires have been crossed over and shorted out. Sparks fly. And his reboot back to being a functioning fucking human comes in the form of a punch to the face.

Fuck.

Steve groans through the pain of a fist colliding with his face, wincing, and opening and shutting his jaw to have it crack back into place. He's gonna fucking feel that later. But, for now, he has to ignore the heavy, aching throb of his cock, the pain in his jaw, and get back to fighting.

Later, he tells himself.

Later, that'll be his treat for getting through this shit day. He can kneel and beg, forgetting himself as a drooling, heaving, out-of-breath, hot faced mess at Bucky's feet, fumbling over words as he incomprehensibly pleads to have his shapely thighs wrapped tight around his head, his neck, his waist even, anything. Just hold him there until he fucking dies a happy death between those legs.

Heaven.

[there-will-be-a-way]

Today's therapy session (I'm finally doing therapy for my DID with someone *so* competent)

We started talking about the surgery and then spent most of the session talking about my DID, the shame that I feel regarding it and my doubts.

Bullet list of things I want to remember

My T said that Amely (part who's loyal to our family and misses them greatly) probably needs some of my parts to feel like the parents she longs for in order to not miss my real parents anymore (hearing this felt so 🥺, like my T truly gets us)

It would be helpful to have a part who can mediate between parts so that we function better (I suggested that Dirk could do it because I remembered a message he once left us, how he wants us to cooperate again but later when I looked it up, I found out that it was actually Kiran who left that message) (I just remembered that my therapist said Kiran is a cool name and that he wants to look up where it comes from because he's never heard of it before. Before I found a message from Kiran I hadn't heard of it either. I actually had to google if it was a real name but yeah, it is. And this is not the first part with a name I never heard before (see Anatolia).

My therapist said that it is rare for complete final fusion to happen but that we can learn to work together as a team

He calls my parts "Personen" ("persons") which feels a lot more compassionate than what former therapists called my parts ("Zustände" ("states") or "Figuren" ("figures))

He also said there's no need for shame, that everybody has parts but that mine are just more seperate which can be exhausting to deal with

He says that I could also view my DID as something that helped me to survive and I said that yeah, if I hadn't been able to split off these experiences I wouldn't be able to function to which he replied, "If you hadn't been able to do this, you would be dead." Which man. This man is speaking the truuuuth

Overall he just has such a kind and compassionate way to talk about my DID, it makes me feel so accepted and seen

My highlight of the session:

Me: "But what if I'm just imagining having these parts, what if it's all just in my head?"

My therapist:

(Yes, he quoted Dumbledore, not without a remark about how we're going to ignore the critique regarding J.K. Roling for a moment)

Yeah, I voiced that I'm scared that my first DID therapist might have pressured me to think I have DID (which in hindsight, no, this didn't happen). And my T said that it's there now. These parts inside me and the group chat we use to leave each other notes. So we can work with it. Do I still feel like a faker? Yeah, but I feel less "insane" now

I can't believe I'm really doing therapy for my DID. I'm actually so touched by how compassionate my therapist is that I had to thank him today, for taking away my shame. I truly trust him and I really don't trust easily. Part of me can't wait to finally tackle the DID and learn how to live together, as a team. Or a family? 🥺😭

[theyapper0]

THE VEES!!!!!!

Here's my designs for them :) i think theyre pretty fun and have the potential to be some wacky, yet pretty threatening villains

Velvette is my fav out of the 3 of them <3 i hope we see her more in the next season ^^

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[arminsumi]

DO IT RIGHT — 五夏

SatoSugu ⋅ fem reader

🔞 suggestive / partly n.sfw

SUMMARY — Suguru and Satoru each have their own differing ideas of what makes a good make out session.

WARNINGS — make outs n kissing, SatoSugu, jealousy, light angst, they fight over u, lovably annoying gojo, calling you sl*t playfully, "dirty girl" n maybe other nicknames, smidge of sexual tension/undertones ig

WORDCOUNT — 2.4k

TAGS for the lovelies !! 💗

@buttercupmuffins

" Slow and sensual; that's how it's supposed to be done, Satoru. You rush your kisses. You're too chaotic. "

" Yuh but I get more bitches than y — "

" — when was the last time you kissed a woman ? "

" Junior high. "

Suguru started cackling. The two of them were sat in your living room apartment. You peered at them from over your computer, the blue light glaring in your eyes.

" What the fuck are you two on about ? " you asked, taking your earphones out completely and halting the progress of your essay.

" None of your business. "

You sighed in response. That was such an expected response from Satoru.

" We were debating what makes a good make out session. You know, like ' fast or slow ' ? ' Chaotic or sensual ' ? Mister six eyes over here has opposition to my beliefs as usual — don't fuckin' wink at me, you freak. "

Satoru giggled. " Of course, 'cause your beliefs are flawed and quite frankly you're full of shit. Blech. Hey, you agree, don't you ? "

You looked up in thought for yourself.

" I don't know. See, chaotic movie-like kisses are something lots of people want. But then again, lots of people prefer slow and romantic kisses. They really want to intertwine bodies with their lover and — "

Suguru completed your thought.

" — and become one with each other. Yeah, you get me. "

" Hey now, I'm not saying I agree with either of you. I haven't even kissed one of you. Maybe you're both shit at kissing, now that I think 'bout it. Haha. " you chuckled to yourself.

The boys raised their brows at you. Ah, a common ground; both taking offense from you.

" Why don't you come over here 'n experiment with us, princess ? " Suguru murmured condescendingly. His earrings caught your eye.

Your stomach dropped. " Huh ? " you blinked dumbly.

" Don't get all coy with us now. Come over here. " Suguru teased.

Satoru arched a brow at you and smirked. " Yeah, come. You can help us settle this debate. "

" Mhm. " Suguru nodded.

You were reluctant, because... well, this could fuck up the friendship, right? They didn't seem to mind that, as they entrapped you between their bodies and kept you there. Imprisoned between their competing passion.

" Me first ? "

" Uh, no way, asshole. Me first. "

" I'll choose. "

" Nah, let's flip a coin. "

So they flipped a coin at Satoru's insistence.

" Call it. " Suguru said.

" Heads. " Satoru called.

You observed Suguru's attractive, veiny hands as he tossed the coin and caught it, smacking it onto the back of his hand.

" . . . heads. " Suguru groaned.

" Yay . . . smooches for Satoru. " Satoru cheered.

" You're so cringe. " you said, crinkling your nose.

" Shut up or I'll stick my tongue down your throat — "

" — you mean you weren't planning to do that ? What a pity. I like French kissing. " you teased.

That caught the boys attention. They exchanged a look, and now a tension built up between you three.

" Okay, if you want me to, then I will. " Satoru tried to remain confident, but the idea of French kissing you was destroying his cool composure.

" I want you to. So get to it, boy. " you said.

Suguru raised his brows at Satoru and smirked. He sat to your left, long leg propped along the edge of the couch, encasing you there.

Just before Satoru leaned in to kiss you, swift and cheeky as he was, Suguru interrupted with a quick, teacher-like stutter.

" Hey, nonono. We're setting a timer. Five minutes each, precisely. "

" Of course. " Satoru rolled his eyes. " Well hurry up then. "

" Impatient much ? " you chuckled under your breath. Satoru went a bit red.

The split second Suguru started the timer on his phone, Satoru engulfed you in a kiss that nearly knocked the wind out of you. He was chaotic. Feverish. Gliding those candied lips across yours was up there with the best decisions he's ever made.

He tilted his head into the kiss, tongue swiping and slipping in eagerly to play with yours. And with how he French kissed, you almost wanted to giggle; he was so playful.

Suguru watched. And observed. And thought about how he's going to win you over with his approach to kissing. What you needed, he thought while seeing how Satoru whimpered into your mouth, was a sensual man who takes his time.

" Time's up. "

" What the fu- "

A string of saliva connected you and Satoru, his lips felt tingly and he still wanted more even after devouring you.

" Five minutes go by so quick . . . "

" Uh-huh. When you're having fun. Sooo ? " Satoru looked at you expectantly.

" Rather hold back your judgment until you've tasted me, hm ? " Suguru stopped you before you made any comment on his best friend's kissing style. " Come on. Come closer. I don't bite. " he said, making the last part sound so sultry that a shiver ran down your spin.

Now Suguru . . . oh boy, Suguru. How he kissed. You were already dizzy from Satoru's fervor. But Suguru ? One little peck at your chin to test. Then he pressed teasing, leadup kisses to the corner of your lips.

" Su — " he muffled your call of his name with his lips, drinking up the rest of the syllables like a thirsty wolf.

His big hands molded to the back of your head, tangling up into your hair. Tilt tilt tilt. Press. Such a deep and hard kiss. You felt like your perception of reality got fucked up a little for a moment there.

He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, wetting it, and once you opened your mouth for him he just smirked at your acceptance. In his mind, he was aiming to kiss you like he was converting you. Damn near kissed like a cult leader, you don't know why but you thought of that description right then.

That buttery soft tongue made you moan. The sound caught both the boy's off-guard.

And then the poor white-haired boy started glaring.

" Okay, okay, time's basically up. "

" Hmmmf ? " you looked dazed.

" How much time was left before you just cancelled that ? " Suguru squinted annoyedly at his best friend, hands still keeping you in place. His lips were barely parted from yours, so every shake of subtle anger in his vocals vibrated subtly across your lips.

" I dunno, fifty-two seconds ? "

" That's almost a whole minute left you asshole ! "

" Yeah so ?! You gonna fight me over it, big boy ? " Satoru challenged.

" What are you getting so jealous for ? "

You widened your eyes at the argument springing to life. The air felt so tense and hot. You could feel their heats radiating from their faces as they flushed from anger.

" What are you kissing her so deeply for ? Are you trying to fucking prove something ? "

" Oooooooh, pretty boy is jealous jealous. " Suguru said venomously.

" Boys, please don't fight. This is not such a big deal. " your voice came in between them.

They looked at you bitterly.

" Whose kiss did you like better ? " Satoru asked.

" Mine. No offence, but Satoru you kiss like a fucking high schooler. "

Satoru clenched his jaw. " I was asking her — not you, Suguru, baby. "

Oh he's angry angry you thought. Satoru always used nicknames with people he liked, but when the word baby came out of his mouth in that tone? God have mercy on whoever's on the receiving end. Unless it was someone who could match that intensity...

" I'll tell you what I liked and disliked about both of you . . . to be fair. Okay ? How's that sound, boys ? "

God they loved it when you called them like that. Yeah, they're your boys alright. They loved being your boys.

" Okay . . . sure. That's fair. Go ahead. " Suguru said. A small nervousness crept across his chest, but he hid it well.

You paused for just a moment to collect your thoughts.

" Damn just spill already ! "

" Let her think, Satoru. Impatient bitch. "

" I will fucking bite you. "

" Then bite me. "

" Boys. Calm down. "

So they listened. Your word was supreme, after all. If you told them to stop, they stopped.

You tilted your head and slowly began laying the truth on them. " I liked the way you held the back of my head so possessively, it was really hot . . . " you told, directing at Suguru.

Satoru grimaced. Why didn't he do that? He was mentally kicking himself.

" . . . but I preferred how dramatically you kissed me. " you directed to the sulking white-haired boy. Then his features lightened a bit.

" And ? " Suguru encouraged, eager to hear more praises.

They leaned in very close for the fact they were just listening to you speak.

" I didn't like how sloppy and wet Satoru was. "

Satoru cringed at himself. He was very self-conscious about being a sloppy kisser.

" Haha, sloppy kisser. "

" Suguru shut the fuck up. "

You quickly turned down the heat between them and knocked Suguru off his high horse.

" You're a bit of a show-off kisser, not as romantic as I imagined you to be. It feels like you were trying too hard to win me over, or something. "

Oh, he hated that you could deduce that. He really thought he had you.

" Fair enough . . . " it was his turn to sulk.

Satoru smirked. " So you prefer me ? " he winked, " I mean, of course you do. "

" No. I like both of you. "

" Okay, slut. " Satoru rolled his eyes. " If you had to choose — "

" Don't worry about offending us, we can take it. "

" Yeah right, you're gonna fucking cry if she chooses me. " Satoru cheeked.

The tension rose between them again. But this time, there was this... oddly violent passion. Some sort of suppressed, stifled romanticness brewed between them. It's always underlined their conversations before, even their arguments. This indescribable, undeniable tension — not the jokingly " I'm so gay for my best friend " stuff. No, something genuine. Something that was not a joke.

" Why don't you kiss each other ? " you blurted out.

Satoru looked at you like you were crazy. " What the fuck ? "

" I mean, to make it fair . . . and get better insight into how the both of you kiss ? I-I don't know, just a thought. "

" Just a thought ? A horny thought I bet. " Satoru chuckled. He was going red in the face. And so was Suguru.

" What the hell. I'm innocent. " you defended.

" Riiight. "

Suguru had been thoughtfully quiet. Then he finally spoke.

" . . . I'm down. "

" WHAT. " Satoru freaked out. His face went completely red now. You could feel how hot he was.

" Yeah let's go for it. " Suguru shrugged.

He froze up. His heart palpitated. Stomach dropped. Eyes went blown wide open.

" I-I-I yeah ? Okay ? Sure. Yeah. Alright. Then. Let's. Do — it. "

" Wow, I don't think I've ever heard you stutter like this, Satoru. " you teased.

" Shut up ?! Shut up. Let's just do it and get it over with. "

" Yeah. Okay. Come here. "

" What the fu- you come here. "

Suguru raised his brows at him. " Seriously ? "

" I'm more dom than you. " Satoru said proudly. " Come here. "

" Nah, you come here. "

" No way ! "

You sighed. " Wow, this is going to take a while. "

" Nonono, we're doing it — " he kissed him, " — see ? "

" Satoru, such a cute peck. We're supposed to make out. That's what you want, right Y/n ? "

You stomach flipped. His tone. His damn tone. That cocky glint in his eyes. Suguru was so teasingly seductive right then.

" Y-yeah. For five minutes. Just like we did. "

" Okay. Set a timer. "

Satoru looked like he was shocked from how fast he just kissed his best friend. Such a short peck had his stomach doing loopies. You could tell he was going through a crisis.

" 'kay, timer's on. "

So they melted their lips against each other right in front of you. Satoru was stiff at first, but loosened up the deeper he fell into his best friend's kiss. More than that, he succumbed to the sultry feelings that Suguru radiated. You know, he just had that thing about him. That air. He was alluring and enticing, almost dangerously so at times.

You listened. Watched. Glanced down at the timer. Really, you set a stopwatch, not a timer. A little experiment. You wanted to see how long they'd take to realize how long they've been kissing for.

And it's well over five minutes. Lips smacking, heads tilting, bodies coming closer. Suguru's bangs brushing over Satoru's cheeks, hands cupping his flushed cheeks. What a sight. Two pretty best friends going breathless over each other.

" 'how long's it been ? " Satoru mumbles in between kisses, totally in a dazed state.

You hide your smirk. " Just a bit left. "

Suguru gave you a suspicious side eye. Oh, butterflies. He caught onto you right then.

He thought;

Well if you want us to put on a show, we'll put on a show. Just for you.

And dipped his tongue between Satoru's parted lips, erotically swirling around — slow, sensual, languid.

" ahmmm ~ " Satoru almost made a noise close to a moan, and then got embarrassed.

You gulped and watched. Did they forget they were doing this in front of you? Your face was right there.

You stared hard.

Suguru smirked and parted from the kiss, holding the face of a dazed-looking Satoru in the palms of his hands as he spoke to you.

" Did you even set a timer ? Ah, whatever. Stop staring, dirty girl. Come join the fun. Three's company, you know ? "

[celesteleoves]

hey! can you do headcanons on Bakugou and Izuku (separate) with a reader who's quiet and doesn't talk much but is Hella strong. How would they react to it? If you do thanks sm! it's really sweet of you!!!! :)

“SO SWEET, WITH A MEAN STREAK.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/IZUKU MIDORIYA x reader.

summary: your quiet strength intrigues these two boys, how would they react to you before/in a relationship?

warnings: none!!

a/n: this is such a cute ask!! i hope this is to your liking and if it isn’t and you think something is missing, let me know! this is also quiet short because i have a fever 😔

—

KATSUKI BAKUGOU —

before dating:

i can imagine him being a little skeptical of you, but so intrigued!

he’d definitely want to see how far your strength could go. so, bakugou would subtly challenge you during training sessions, pushing you to see your true capabilities.

he’d nevee admit it but he looks up to you in a way. you don’t boast and scream about your strength like he does - that makes him respect you. he would start to see your quiet nature as a sign of focus and determination rather than a sign of weakness.

he’s so competitive… it’s honestly a little scary. before you two were even close to being friends or anything more, he’d definitely get a competitive drive when it comes to you.

this idiot would definitely think he’s competing with you 24/7 even though you remind him you are not. he thinks doing this will make you become more outgoing and competitive.

“HA! i finished my bowl of ramen before you, loser, i won!”

“we were competing over that?” i’d be confused if i were you too… he’s a little slow but he’s got the spirit!

dating him:

once you two start dating, bakugou becomes fiercely protective of you, admiring your strength and determination even more. he thinks his role in the relationship is to protect you from anything that might make you lose your strength!

he’s so loud (we know that obviously) but with you, he’s loud in a supportive way. he’s now boasting about you and your strength instead of his own!

he encourages you to continue improving and growing, offering both praise and constructive criticism. even if you don’t need it, he’ll keep doing it anyway.

bakugo has never felt like he had a opponent that could really give him a run for his money, until you two train together.

training with him would be so so sweet. if he hit you too hard, he’d immediately worried if you didn’t tell him you were alright. (he won’t outwardly admit he’s worried about you but you know deep down he is!)

“are you bleeding? you shithead! i’m not worried... are youbleedingthoughbecauseifyouarethat’snotgood-”

“fuck, did i burn you? don’t start. i’m not worried about you at all, tch!” he says this as the tip of his ears are burning from lying…

he’d still work hard while training with you but still making sure he isn’t doing too much during simple sparring matches. he likes to learn from your strengths and weaknesses!

everyday is a day where you two grow together and bakugou is proud of you for simple improvements in your strength (you’re stronger than him lol and he knows you could take him down in a second!)

IZUKU MIDORIYA —

before dating:

Izuku notices your quiet demeanor but senses a strong presence and capability within you. he’d write about your strength and weaknesses in his hero notebook. he’d ask you so much questions (totally not to get to know you better… totally…)

“sorry- i’m not trying to be a bother but can you tell me more about your quirk! it’s so cool and you’re so strong!” he blushes immediately after rambling about how you’re so talented and your strength is admirable. meanwhile, your twirling your hair over the fact he thinks your strong!

one time, you caught him drawing out your hero suit and make little point notes about it. you went to your dorm and giggled about it for the rest of the day. it literally felt like a award to be in his hero notebook!

we all know izuku is his classmates biggest supporter, he is always wanting his classmates to grow alongside him and is pushing everyone to become the best hero they can be!

with you, he offers encouragement and support to you, believing in your potential and wanting you to believe in yourself as well.

because of your quiet nature, izuku might try and show his admiration for you in anyway he can. he admires your quiet determination, seeing it as a reflection of your inner strength and resolve.

basically, he’s your #1 fan!

you two initially work well together as teammates, with Izuku valuing your contributions and skills.

once you two start dating, it’s a whole different story!

dating him:

your relationship deepens Izuku’s admiration for your quiet strength, appreciating how you compliment each other. (everyone is class 1-A is still shocked at how well you two compliment each other, even before you guys were dating!)

izuku becomes a source of emotional support for you, understanding your quiet nature and providing comfort when needed. he never tries to push you outside of your comfort zone, enjoying your quiet times when his day has been stressful and filled with loud classmates.

you two continue to train together, pushing each other to improve and achieve your goals. you always tell him about how you want to grow your relationship by training and working hard together!(izuku almost cries when you tell him that, pls he loves you so much)

izuku and you build a strong foundation of trust and understanding, working towards your dreams together while supporting each other every step of the way.

he enjoys your company more than anyone else, not only are you strong physically but you are strong mentally. your words of encouragement and advice after a tough day of training always make him want to jump off the walls! you have that effect on him!

—

for both boys, whether before or after they start dating you, katsuki and izuku come to deeply appreciate your quiet strength and see it as an integral part of your relationship dynamics!

[liulith]

We as a fandom need to open our hearts to the insane comedic potential of Sir Pentious being included as a background character in stories taking place in the "old days" before Vox and Alastor's falling out. AND the comedic potential of one-sided Sir Pentious -> Vox.

Why?

Canon!Sir Pentious is attached to his era's aesthetics but he also wants to be "hip and cool" (see pilot episode; Sir Pentious as the how do you do fellow kids meme) and join the "Almighty Vees". When did he start wanting that? He's not a media demon trying to keep up with his audience and be a likeable public figure. He's a mechanic trying to conquer Hell by force thanks to his machines and obviously relishes in acting like a villain (fear me! I'm so evil! I'm the architect of destruction! etc. etc).

This is very different from the Vees' approach - maintaining a perfect public image, insidious manipulation tactics... Vox threatens Alastor in the show, but the Vees clearly haven't built their power through turf wars, which is and has always been Pentious' one and only strategy. All the machines we've seen him make are war weapons (+ the Egg Boyz who do his bidding, and help him operate those very weapons). Voxtek probably sells weaponry too but that is more Camilla's domain, so it would be more logical for Pentious to try and join her.

Pentious' and the Vees agenda and interests aren't aligned, so why is Pentious so desperate to join the Vees?

there are many reasons why Pentious could want to be part of the Vees besides the one I'm gonna talk about but you know what MY agenda is:

Vox is Pentious' idol. Pentious is an inventor, an innovator. He would have loved waking up in Hell with a mechanical body he can upgrade however he wants and finds the whole concept fascinating.

He's not against new technology, as his creations clearly go beyond what people could have had invented in his time despite their "steampunk" aesthetic (see: the effing death ray). So I think his current "limitations" are more a matter of him having to stick with what he knows best because it's hard to keep up with the constant stream of new tech. This is why he's more than impressed with Vox's extraordinary ability to adapt to change and master new technologies again and again. He's a fellow innovator! That's one reason for Pentious to be obsessed with the guy.

And if you think obsessed isn't the right word, think about this: Sir Pentious repeatedly challenges Alastor to fights even though he's clearly outmatched and it's an incredible risk to take considering what Alastor does. Pentious is OLDER than Alastor, he was there when he broadcast the most powerful Overlords' scream all over Hell. Plus, losing always leaves him in a very vulnerable position (without his best weapons). Is it madness? Hubris? An obsession for Alastor? No!

Sir Pentious to Alastor: Silence! Now Cower! For when I've slain you, the Almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me!

Sir Pentious thinks defeating Alastor is the only way the Vees will finally acknowledge him. No matter how dangerous it is, he has to try, for the Vees (Vox). Just like he took the risk of angering the Princess of Hell to get in Vox's good graces. This says a lot, for someone as paranoid as him, who doesn't trust anyone who is "too nice" to him.

If Hazbin had more episodes there should have been one about Pentious struggling with the fact he disappointed his idol and told to KHS 👀

(btw this is old news but we know that one of the Hazbin episodes that Viv originally pitched was about a science contest organized by Voxtek in which Pentious and Baxter competed against each other! Pentious could have done that after ep2!)

Anyway, back to the comedic potential of it all & Vox's arrival in Hell. Can you imagine his reaction as a newly fallen Sinner, when he's hanging out with Alastor (aka following him like a lost puppy?) and he meets Sir Pentious for the first time? Like sure, Hell is full of insane people but Alastor obviously has a Reputation and no one ever challenges him. And suddenly... Hm... Alastor?? There's an airship with a giant cannon pointed right as us?? Firing a DEATH RAY?!

It's also so funny to imagine Sir Pentious being obsessed with Alastor and considering him his archnemesis back in the day, only to slowly become obsessed with Vox instead and only caring about defeating Alastor because he thinks Vox will like it. It starts with Sir Pentious trying to "gather intel" on Alastor's new "ally", spying on them or sending his Egg Boyz to do so (and we already know great he is at spying so you can guess how that goes lol), and the rest is history.

Alastor loves attention so he probably let Pentious spy on him behind bushes from time to time if only because it's very entertaining to watch him try to be discrete and make his shadow tap on his shoulder. How hilarious would it be if Alastor noticed Sir Pentious' growing crush on Vox but not Vox's crush on him? Also, Vox misunderstanding Pentious and Alastor's relationship and thinking Pentious is a weird obsessive ex... The world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment!

[auroreliis]

I imagined a situation that I found funny.

Imagine, the entire Batfamily on the beach while making a point of hanging around the reader's neck so they can participate in family activities(Forcibly) . But the reader is not at all in the mood to be part of this fake family scenario, and decides to stay in the shade on the sand making a sandcastle :3 . Jason, seeing this, decides to provoke the poor reader, accidentally destroying the sandcastle :(. Angry reader throws sand in Jason's face. Causing yet another punishment and forcing the reader to sleep in Jason's room. Poor reader

Hot. It was really, really hot.

Of course it was hot. It was the middle of summer and you were sitting on sand that had been in the sun for hours. In this heat, what could you even do? You wanted to stay at home and sleep, but they didn’t let you.

They wanted you to come with them to the shore and practically dragged you there, ignoring your complaints. So, here you were, sitting under a palm tree on the scorching hot sand. Though, you had kind of stopped feeling the pain. You didn’t want them to come talk to you under the guise of you seeming “unoccupied”, so you started building a sandcastle.

Most of them were in the water, probably to cool off.

Yeah, the heat was starting to get to you…

For just a moment, you considered going swimming, but immediately decided against it.

First of all, they would certainly bother you. You could already imagine Damian wanting to compete with you to figure out who could swim faster (obviously him, but he wants to spend time with you). You could already imagine Dick carrying you around inside the water because you “can’t swim properly” (you can, he’s just looking for excuses to hold you) and you could already see Jason trying to “drown you” as a joke, despite the fact that you wouldn’t find it funny at all.

“Hey, aren’t you hot sitting there?”

Yes, that’s exactly what Jason would say to lure you into the water.

“Uh, hello? You there?”, Jason waved a hand in front of you face.

Huh, that wasn’t your imagination, that actually was Jason. You looked up unamused, ”No, I’m quite cold, really.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly having caught your sarcasm,”Sure. So, wanna go swimming?”

And let you drown me? No fucking way. Oh, right, be polite…

“Um, no thanks”, you smiled awkwardly, not wanting to anger him and, as a result, Bruce.

“C’monnn, it’ll be fun. You do know how to swim, right?”, he teased, trying to rile you up.

“No”, you persisted, “Thanks…”

Jason crouched down next to you, clearly more persistant than you, “Oh, come on. Surely you’d rather spend time with me than Dick, right? If you remain alone for much longer, Damian will surely force you to do something with him.”

Ah…

Well…

You disliked Dick and spending time with Damian was…tedious.

Jason wasn’t any better, though.

Noticing your silence, he spoke again, “Not a bad sandcastle, but I could help you make it better.”

“…”

“We could compete and see who builds better sandcastles”, his smile was still present.

“Um…”, you looked around, trying to find a way to distract him.

“C’moooon. Here look, I’ll help ya”, he started adding sand to your castle.

“Wait! Nonono! Don’t touch that!-”, you froze after seeing your entire sandcastle collapse.

Silence prevailed for far too long.

You couldn’t think of anything to say. Jason, however, felt the need to salvage the situation.

“Oh, I’m…sorry.”

Sorry? He was SORRY?

The audacity left you speechless.

The only thing you could do was grab a fistful of sand at throw it at Jason. He dodged most of it, but he certainly felt your wrath.

To avoid further conversation with him, you got up immediately and left.

It took only a few steps for you to notice that what you had done was certainly punishment-worthy.

What would Bruce make you do? You shuddered as you remembered the time you had to hug and say 20 things you liked about Jason…yikes. Never again, you swore and yet, here you were.

You had barely gone a few metres, when you heard Bruce calling your name. When did he even arrive here? Was he here from the start?

You stopped walking and turned towards him. The look on his face was…stern. He did not seem very happy. Next to him, Jason was rubbing his eyes.

Wait, did you get sand in his eyes? No, you couldn’t have, he dodged it! Did he…lie to Bruce about what happened?

No, Jason wouldn’t do that-…

Well…would he?

Bruce called you over to him and Jason, so you slowly walked towards them, trying to come up with a good excuse to avoid doing whatever he wanted you to do.

[emilibro]

Ughhh I'm so sorry to be an ass but I see so much popular art on tumblr and around the internet that really woobifies both Laios and Kabru and their relationship, especially when they're together.... You guys are aware that Laios eats monsters the way people would like. Eat animals, right? He's not crazy or stupid or sadistic or anything. He has a special interest and it's monsters.

Furthermore, his past having himself and his sister be shunned for their interests in the abnormal made him develop a distaste for humanity. Laios has just thought monsters were way cooler since he was a kid, and Falin really looked up for him for his dedication to his interests and personal code of moral ethics. He never loved his sister less for her abilities, he admired her for what made her different. Because he's fucking awesome and they're autistic as hell.... they both went through so damn much. Laios never fit into the military, into his hometown, he barely fit into most groups of adventurers since he met Marcille, chilchuck, and company, and two of the members of that original party didn't care enough to join him. His feeling of worthlessness to his friends in the beginning of the story are enough to make him imagine a whole scenario in between major chapters where he was the one who was eaten.. and he thought nobody except Falin would care enough to save him.

Point being Laios has a much richer character that goes ALONGSIDE his special interest in monsters. Which honestly is more comparable to, like. A fucking biologist. Not a monsterfucker, not a cannibal, none of that shit. Monsterfuckers are cool as a monsterfucker but he's not one.. he's more like a furry man.... And he's not stupid he's just. Autistic. Why are we making autistic characters with a silly side seem stupid? Everyone has dumb moments sure but like.. he's really smart guys... there's a reason he's such a good leader outside of his ability to listen to his party members. Don't fall for the mischaracterization of Laios that his party members originally set for him before major important arcs guys...

And Kabru. Oh my God. Kabru. Kabru is also autistic but for humans, social interactions and culture... he's a nerd for politics and the humanities, and I'll avoid saying much more to avoid spoilers for non-manga readers but you'll see more of that as time passes. But he's not the type to be easily flustered. Laios only gets to him, not even because he's that difficult to read, but because he catches him off guard. He's an interesting critter, bro. And Kabru definitely sees that. It takes time to respect that, but within a period of time he learns to see him as a relatively competent adventurer and places a lot of faith from him. On some level, this guy has learned to understand this very interesting autistic guy who is forward with his feelings that a very autistic Kabru hasn't learned to understand. That's what makes their relationship so cool, man. He's not cold in reality (though people may perceive him that way due to backstory motivations and attitude within the dungeon), but he's a lot more serious than this... c'mon guys.. let's be a little real here please.... at this point I barely like Labru anymore because they've been so like. Babied. Woobified. Whatever the word is man. I'm starting to appreciate their friendship more as a friendship now because I just think the beautiful qualities I saw in their romance have been sort of overlooked or misinterpreted. Nowadays I just think their platonic relationship is beautiful. Sighs.

Farcille is awesome though and these girls are awesome slay

-

Edit: hey guys, I wanna address a couple of things here! For one, this isn't intended to be ship hate. Labru is a perfectly valid ship - rather, I'm just not a fan of how deep the mischaracterization of both characters runs, and how it results in the subsequent babying of their relationship. While it's driven me personally away from the romance a bit, I have no problem with the ship itself. Additionally, Farcille has its own issues with woobification that could use some addressing, I just haven't had to see as much mischaracterization on my feeds. Maybe in a future post I'll address some of my personal peeves with many people's characterization of Farcille, ESPECIALLY Falin.

[edenfenixblogs]

Me: I think I’ll catch up on the Olympics. I’m a former gymnast who loves gymnastics. Let’s see what’s going on there!

Me: Awesome! Way to go team USA and Simone Biles! What an achievement! I’m so proud of them. How cool that two women of color from the USA take gold and silver in the individual all-arounds! And Simone got a record breaking number of awards Olympic medals and took gold at age 27!!!! That’s unheard of in gymnastics!!!!

Olympic YouTube Video: Here is cool stuff about Team USA and Brazil.

Me: this is a hard time for Israelis. I’m so glad we have these Olympic Games—an event specifically about putting aside politics and celebrating individual humans regardless of where they’re from. I think I’ll do a quick search to see if any Israelis are competing in any televised events this time! It’ll be nice to see some apolitical stuff about Israel. I love that Brazil placed, too. And team USA was cheering them on! What good sportsmanship!

YouTube Search Result Video 1: Israelis play SOCCER??? In France???? When GAZA IS GETTING BOMBED???? Sounds like Jews love the GENOCIDE-lympics am I right????

Me: …um. Did you want the athletes in Israel instead? Actively involved in the bombing you said you don’t like? Isn’t it good that young, talented people are here in Paris using their strength and talent for something other than war???

YouTube Search Result Video 2: This is a news report about Houthis threatening to attack Israelis as the Olympics and Israeli olympians needing increased security. Some have had their data breached and also faced threats from Iran.

Me: This is definitely normal and not at all a terrifying memory of the time a bunch of Jews were attacked at a previous Olympic Games.

YouTube Search Result Video 3: Israeli athletes report feeling isolated and threatened at Olympics to the point that they require 24h security.

Me: EverythingIsFine.jpg

Youtube Search Result Video 4: Israelis booed at their soccer game. Protestors shout “Heil Hitler!”

Me: Hmmm, something about the fucking HITLER part makes me think that perhaps this is less about supporting Palestine and more about hating Jews.

YouTube Search Result Video 5: Algerian Olympian refuses to compete against Israeli Olympian in Judo.

Me: …so…he gave Israel the victory in that event? In protest of…Israel? Placing him on the podium? With a bronze medal? After waiting his whole life to be in the Olympics? …that sure will show him…something?

Official Olympics YouTube Channel: There is no war in Ba Sing Se, and I have never heard of this place you call Israel.

Me: (heavy sigh) of course not

Official NBC Sports YouTube Channel: umm???? Israel. Israel? Israel you say? Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell. Are you sure they make athletes there?

Me: Yes.

NBC Sports: Did you mean you want to see Simone Biles?

Me: No, I saw Simone Biles already.

NBC: How about Suni—

Me: Let’s assume I’ve seen all of team USA gymnastics.

NBC: Katie Led—

Me: No, that’s US swimming. Which is very cool. But I have run a search for Israeli Olympians please.

NBC: Ugh. Fine. Best I can do is a video of Qatar winning at volleyball. That feels related to Israel, right?

Me: Not…really what I was going for. But thanks, I guess.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling No Outbreak AU - Ch. 1: Rodeo

When Ellie sees you riding at a rodeo, she knows you have to teach her. Chapter 1 of the Yearling No Outbreak AU found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Yearling

CW: Fluff, Joel is a really dedicated father and we love that for him and for us, friends to lovers, no use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only.

Length: 4.1k

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“No freakin’ way.” 

Ellie’s eyes were wide and she was smiling bigger than Joel had seen her smile in what seemed like forever as she watched the rodeo. 

It had been his idea to take her to the fair. He thought it would be good for her - get out, have some fun, take her mind off things for a bit. He offered to bring along a friend of hers from school, too, but she just gave him a look. 

“What,” she said. “Going to fly Riley in from Boston?” 

“Was kinda hopin’ someone a bit more local,” he said, awkwardly cupping the back of his neck. “Must have someone you’d like to hang out with…”

“Welp,” she said, flopping back on her bed and holding her comic book over her head. “Then I’m afraid you’re shit outta luck, old man.” 

He wasn’t sure how much fun she’d have just hanging out with him all day but she’d seemed to be having a good enough time. He showed her how to shoot the air rifles at the games and she dragged him through a fun house and they both delighted in all the deep fried snack options. 

It had been Ellie who wanted to go to the rodeo. Joel hadn’t been to one in years, not since he was close to Ellie’s age and he’d gone with his dad at this same fair, but it was something that Ellie wanted to do. And, after the last few years, he was happy to do whatever made her happy. 

He just hadn’t expected her to fall completely in love with the horses and one rider in particular. 

“We got a real special treat for y’all here today,” the announcer had said. “Now, she ain’t competing today - and let me tell you, every man in the building is thankful she ain’t because they’ve all lost to her at one time or another - but we have the one, the only queen of the rodeo scene doing a showcase in a few events today, startin’ with trick riding. Five time world champion -“ 

There was a loud whoop from behind Joel and he missed your name but he watched as you rode out into the arena, standing on the backs of two horses, a foot on each animal, one hand on the reins and the other high in the air waving at the crowd as you guided the horses past the stands. He watched - just as in awe as Ellie - as you jumped the horses and threw your body around on them as though you were a gymnast on a bar and not a 2,000 pound animal. 

He was awed again when, between other events, you stayed on the back of bucking bronco far longer than any of the competitors and again when you demonstrated roping calves. He didn’t think the announcer had been joking when he said the men here were thankful you weren’t competing, he had a feeling you blew them out of the water every time. 

“Hey Joel,” Ellie said when a girl who reminded Joel of Sarah when she was younger was doing her trick riding routine. “She’s out there again! I think she’s a coach…” 

He looked where Ellie was pointing and she was right, you were standing at the edge of the arena, switching between fidgeting with your necklace and yelling as the girl nearly dragged on the ground from the side of the horse. 

“Think you’re right,” Joel said. 

“Think she teaches lessons or something?” Ellie asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“I dunno baby girl…” Joel said, hesitant. 

“Can we find out?” She looked back out at the arena. “Because that looks so fucking cool.” 

“Language,” Joel said and he caught her eye roll out of the corner of his eye. He sighed. “But yeah, we can see if we can track ‘er down after the rodeo, see if she’ll teach you. She may not be anywhere around here, though…” 

But Ellie looked so fascinated, so happy, Joel knew that the location didn’t matter much. He’d figure something out. 

After the rodeo, the two of them made their way around, against the flow of people, finding the entrance to the place where the livestock and competitors were and Joel caught sight of you, talking to the girl who reminded him so much of a young Sarah. A man stopped to talk to you and you gave him some direction before he came toward where Joel and Ellie were standing and watching. 

“‘Scuse me,” Joel said as he went past. He stopped, frowning slightly at Joel. “Sorry to bother you but… well, we were wondering if you knew that woman there, the one who was doing the showcase riding before.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “I know her alright. That’s my sister.”

Joel tried to ignore the way his heart beat a little faster knowing that this guy wasn’t your husband. 

“Can I help you with anything?” He continued. “She’s also my boss, I work at her ranch.” 

“Was wondering if she did any teaching…” Joel said. 

“Because I really want to learn how to do that shit,” Ellie cut her off. “So fucking cool.” 

“Ellie!” He gave her a look. “Come on, baby girl, language.” 

“Sorry,” she flinched. 

Joel looked back to the man. 

“Anyway,” he said. “Was hoping she was taking new students…”

“She is,” the man said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a business card, handing it over to Joel. The words Triton Ranch were embossed on the front. “I’m Richie, you can email me there and I can help get you all set up for…” 

“Can you believe this shit?” You stalked up to Richie, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Been out here for 30 years and there’s still this sexist bullshit…” 

You seemed to notice Joel and Ellie standing there then, looking them up and down before raising your eyebrows to your brother. 

“Some new potential clients,” Richie said. “Interested in riding lessons.” 

You looked between Joel and Ellie again. 

“Which one of you?” You asked. 

“Me,” Ellie said, sounding almost giddy. 

“Good,” you said. “Need more women out here, some of these men… We’re based near Austin, that work for you two?” 

“Perfect,” Joel said, trying to not stare at you because damn were you pretty, especially this close. “That’s where we are, too.” 

“Tuesday, 5:30 p.m.,” you said. “Come with boots with a one inch heel on ‘em, you need something to help you stay in stirrups. I got other safety gear you can use… HEY ASSHOLE!” 

You stormed off mid-sentence, stalking up to a man who didn’t look remotely prepared to deal with you grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and yanking him around to face you before shoving him back. 

“Alright, that’s my cue to go rein her in before she does any real damage,” Richie said, going to follow you. “See you Tuesday, 5:30!” 

“Tuesday, 5:30!” Ellie called back before turning to beam at Joel. “This is going to be awesome.” 

Joel watched as Richie pulled you back from the man you were trying to pick a fight with, your eyes going wide like fawn, a look of almost innocent indignity on your face as your brother stepped in. Joel resisted the urge to smile a little, the idea of something like Bambi picking a fight. You were… something. 

“Think you’re right,” he said. 

***

Tuesday 

“Savvy, that horse is gonna walk all over you if you keep lettin’ her do that,” you said, watching her from near the fence, your thumb looped through your husband’s wedding band that hung from a chain around your neck. You fidgeted with it, sliding it back and forth as you tried not to panic at your daughter being on the back of a dumb broke horse, tried to remind yourself that you’d been on unbroke horses younger than she was now, tried not to hear Mark’s voice in your head, already nervous about Savvy wanting to go into the same line of work as you. “You gotta be firmer than you’re used to…” 

“She’s not responding though,” she said, huffy. 

“Because she’s not well broke yet,” you said. “You’re the one who said you wanted to try your hand at breaking horses, you gotta keep them under control…” 

Nova, the horse Savvy was on, started pawing anxiously at the ground, tossing her head. 

“Savvy,” you said cautiously, stepping closer and gripping the wedding band tightly now. “Ease up, she’s gettin’ restless, dismount if you can…”

She nodded but when she adjusted, the horse bucked and you shot forward as Savvy gave a sharp shriek, ending up on her back. You had to jump to grab the reins out of the air and did your best to pull Nova into a one rein stop from on the ground as Savvy scrambled out of the way. Nova stilled quickly, her nostrils flaring. 

“You OK baby girl?” You called to Savvy, keeping your eyes on Nova, staring her down. 

“I’m OK,” she called back weakly. “But ow.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Told you you were gonna get thrown at some point,” you said before reaching a hand up to pet Nova’s muzzle. “And what’s your excuse, young lady? Hm?” 

She huffed. 

“Can’t go throwin’ people,” you said. “You think you get treats when you behave that way? Hm? Because now I gotta get on you and take you around real quick to make sure you know you can’t get out of shit by doin’ that and neither of us is going to be happy about it.” 

She huffed again. 

“Well, s’long as we’re in agreement,” you said, keeping the reins in your hand as you ran it over her side. You mounted her and she tossed her head. “Savvy, back behind the fence.” 

She sighed. 

“Yes, Mom.” 

You kept a tight hold on Nova, your knees tighter to her ribs than they usually would be. You eased her into a walk, then a trot, gradually up to a gallup as you took her around the pasture before realizing that you had an audience, the large, handsome man from the rodeo a few days earlier with his teenaged daughter standing at the fence with Savvy and Richie as you rode back around. You brought Nova over and pulled her to a stop near them, the man watching you with a small, crooked smile on his face and fuck, he was handsome. Tall, broad, tan. Exactly your type when it came to men. 

“Now I know you didn’t forget,” Richie smirked a little and you wanted to kick him. Just because he knew this guy was your type didn’t mean he had to rub it in. “This is Joel and Ellie, they’re here for her lesson.” 

You nodded, catching your breath a little before introducing yourself. 

“And I didn’t forget,” you said, shooting Richie a glare. “Just had to get wild thing here under control before I put her away for the day. Don’t worry, Ellie, not putting you on her. I’ve got just the horse to get you started on.” 

You dismounted and gave Nova an approving pat before turning to Savvy. 

“Can I trust you to get her settled?” You asked, brows raised. 

“I can do it!” She said, a little defensive. 

“Alright,” you said, and she climbed the fence and took the reins from you. You shed your hat now that you needed to look up at Joel and jerked your head toward the barn. “Follow me.” 

Ellie was on you like glue and you looked down to see that she was in a pair of cowboy boots. 

“Good,” you said, nodding at the shoes. “You’ll be thankful for those when you’re trying to get a grip on a horse. You ever ridden before?” 

“We did a trail ride once,” she said. “But that was a few years ago, right?” 

She looked back over her shoulder toward Joel. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Before… Yeah, it was about three years ago now.” 

You nodded. 

“Take it you like animals?” You said as you made your way through the stables, going for the stall of the horse you’d had Richie get ready for this lesson. “Sure hope so, since you want to learn riding.” 

“Hell yeah,” Ellie said. 

“Ellie,” Joel said, a warning tone in his voice. 

“Sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes. You smiled. “Yes. I do. Even though Joel won’t let me get a dog.” 

“We can talk about it when you’re off school for the summer,” he said and you tried not to frown. If she was calling him Joel, he wasn’t her dad. You hoped this girl hadn’t been through too much, she seemed like a good kid. 

“Well,” you said, coming to a stop at the stall. “You can come hang out with Shimmer here even if he doesn’t let you get a dog.” 

Ellie’s face lit up, looking at the horse with a huge smile on her face. 

“Shimmer is a rescue,” you said, reaching up to scratch behind her ears. “Got her when she was a yearling a few years back from an unlicensed breeding operation. Poor thing was underfed and skittish as hell but she came around. She’s a real sweet, gentle horse and she loves when people can be real sweet and gentle with her. Think you can do that?” 

“Yeah,” Ellie said, smiling at you. “Definitely.” 

“Good,” you smiled back, reaching to a bin mounted between stalls and pulling some feed out. “Hand out, palm flat.” 

She obeyed and you gave her the feed. Her eyes went a little wide. 

“Now keep your palm real flat and hold it out for her,” you said. “You’ll feel her teeth kinda brush your skin a bit but she won’t hurt ya.” 

She obeyed and looked on in awe as Shimmer ate from her hand. 

“Go ahead and give her a pet,” you said when the feed was gone. “Let her smell you first and once she nudges your hand, she’s OK with you touchin’ her.” 

Ellie did as she was told, Shimmer pressing her nose into her hand almost immediately now that she’d associated Ellie with food. You smiled a little as Ellie beamed. 

“Hey Shimmer!” Ellie said affectionately, petting her gently. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing?” 

Shimmer chuffed happily and Ellie looked back at Joel. 

“She likes me!” 

Joel chuckled. 

“Yeah, think she does.” 

“How about we take her out, get you on her,” you said before turning to Joel. “Just assuming Richie got you all set with the paperwork and whatnot?” 

“He did,” Joel nodded. 

“Good,” you said. “Thank God for him, lord knows I don’t got the mind for the paper pushing side of this operation.” 

You nudged the two of them back and got Shimmer out, giving her an affectionate pat as you led her toward the pasture. 

You worked with Ellie for two hours and she was a natural. She was very in tune with her horse, learning how to apply pressure and how to work with her body weight quickly. Before too long, she was ready to do more than walk her a little and you got your favorite horse, Perseus, out of the stable, only putting a bit and bridle on him before jumping on him bareback so you could keep pace with Ellie on a trip around the pasture at Shimmer’s natural walking pace. 

To your surprise, Joel didn’t go and sit in the car or even scroll on his phone while you worked with Ellie. He just watched, leaning against the post fence with his hands lightly folded in front of him, a small smile on his face as she made progress. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a parent - or parent figure, you supposed - quite so engaged, especially for a first lesson. 

“Alright,” you said as the time was up and you dismounted your horse, taking the reins from Ellie. “Hop on down, we can take Shimmer back to her stall and you can say goodbye until next time.” 

“I can ride her next time?” She asked, eyes bright. 

“Course you can,” you said. “Shimmer can be your horse for a while.” 

“Hear that, Joel?” Ellie called, more jumping off the horse than anything else. “Shimmer can be my horse!” 

She started running for the fence without paying much mind to where exactly she was running, slipping on a puddle and going down quick into a pile of mud. 

“Shit,” you swore, running over to her, just catching Joel damn near hurdling the fence to do the same out of the corner of your eye. You got to Ellie first, kneeling beside her, and she was laughing, flat on her back and covered in mud. You breathed a sigh of relief. “You alright there, kid?” 

“I’m good,” she laughed, sitting up and looking at her mud covered hands. “Don’t know if he’ll let me in his truck now, though.” 

“Scared me, baby girl,” Joel said, joining you. “You hit your head or anything?” 

“Nah,” she said. “Just got nice and gross…” 

She reached out and smeared some mud on his arm, near his watch. He tried to look irritated but didn’t quite manage it. 

“Alright, kiddo,” he said, standing up again and offering her his hand. “Think there are some towels in the truck…” 

“If you’d rather,” you said quickly. “You can shower before you go. I’m sure Savvy has some sweats you can borrow until you’re back.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s way better,” Ellie said before Joel got a chance to respond, taking Joel’s hand and wiping her hands on her jeans. It didn’t seem to make much difference. “Because this is - sorry, Joel - fucking gross.” 

You laughed. 

“Yeah, welcome to ranch life,” you said. “C’mon, we’ll go up to the main house, get you cleaned up a bit.” 

You cut through the barn and asked Richie to get Shimmer and Perseus settled before getting Savvy from where she was sitting and reading, perched on a stall door next to Nike, your oldest horse that you’d bought off your old boss when you started your ranch 10 years earlier. 

“Savvy, this is Ellie,” you said, introducing the girls. Savvy looked like she was stifling a laugh and waved. “Ellie, this is my daughter Savvy. Savvy, do me a favor, we’re goin’ to the main house to get Ellie cleaned up before she heads home, can you show her where your bathroom is and get her something to wear home?” 

“Sure!” She said, hopping down and walking up to Ellie. “Nice to meet you. Are you learning how to ride?” 

“Yeah!” Ellie said brightly. “It was so f…freaking cool, I was on Shimmer and she was so soft and…” 

“Oh yeah, Shimmer’s the best,” Savvy said knowingly, the two girls walking ahead. You smiled a little, watching them as they talked, fidgeting with Mark’s wedding band again. 

“You really don’t gotta go through this much trouble,” Joel said, staying alongside you as you followed the girls to the large white farmhouse you called home. “I’m sure I’ve got some towels in the truck and I’d hate to get your house all muddy…” 

You scoffed. 

“This is a ranch,” you said. “The house sees mud every day. It’ll live. And it’s no trouble. I’d much rather send you home with a bag of muddy clothes than a muddy kid.” 

Savvy led Ellie upstairs, a little trail of mud behind them that made you smile. You’d clean it up later but, strange as it was, you loved the little signs of the life you led now. The one where you worked with horses that were yours or that you picked who to sell them to, got to work with passionate kids like Ellie and got mud on the floors of the house your husband had fixed up for you when you’d bought it for a steal years earlier. You kicked off your boots at the door. 

“C’mon,” you said, jerking your head toward the kitchen. “Let me get you a drink.” 

Joel just stared at you for a moment before following you, stopping at some of the pictures on wall as you went to the fridge. 

“Sweet tea?” You asked. “I got stronger stuff, too, but not sure how much of a drive home you’ve got…” 

“Tea’s good,” he said. “Thanks.” 

You poured him a tall glass and got one for yourself before joining him at the pictures and handing him the drink. 

“Thank you,” he said again and you just nodded, taking a sip yourself and looking at the pictures that you so rarely noticed individually anymore. Savvy’s school portraits, pictures of her on podiums, you at the world championships… 

“This your wedding day?” He asked, nodding to one of the bigger pictures, one of you in an floor-length white eyelet lace dress, the toe of your best pair of boots peaking out the bottom as you smiled up at your husband, who was standing beside you in his black jeans, a button down shirt and tie. 

“That’s it alright. Me and Mark,” you smiled, toying with the ring around your neck again. “Eleven years ago now. Doesn’t feel like that long but damn has a lot happened.” 

“Eleven years is a long time,” Joel said. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks, but we only made it nine,” you said, taking a sip of tea and looping the ring onto your thumb. Joel frowned and looked over to you. “He died, just over two years ago.”

“Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” 

You shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I mean… well it’s not, it is shit, but it is what it is, you know?” 

“I do,” Joel nodded. “My wife, Tess, died, too. September, 2023. Cancer.” 

“Shit,” you said this time. “That’s so hard. I’m sorry.” 

“Like you said, it is what it is,” he replied. 

“We could start a club,” you said. “The ‘it is what it is society for young widows.’ Membership fees are fuckin’ high but hey, at least he company is good.” 

Joel snorted. 

“What, too soon?” You asked, teasing lightly. You weren’t sure why you felt so comfortable talking like this with a virtual stranger but you were. There was just something about him that felt familiar, comfortable. It was something you hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

“Nah,” Joel said. “Just right.” 

“Good,” you said, taking another sip of tea. 

“Tess is part of how we ended up here,” Joel said. “Ellie taking lessons here, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, brows raised. “Was she a horse girl at heart?” 

“Not really,” Joel laughed. “No, she was from Detroit and not much of a naturalist but… well, her dying hit Ellie real hard. We adopted her about four years ago and her and Tess were real close. We were gettin’ on fine just the two of us for a while but then I had to move back here to help my brother out with his business so she lost the closest thing she had to a mom and then less than two years later left all her friends, too. It’s been a rough time for her. Watching you ride at the rodeo was the happiest I’ve seen that kid in months and lord knows I’d do anything to get her to smile again.” 

You smiled at him. 

“Turns out, all it took was a horse,” you said. 

“And you,” Joel said, watching at you with an almost uncomfortably honest look on his face. You realized then just how close you were standing to him, how fucking good looking he was - noticing him in a way you hadn’t really noticed a man since your husband died. Your heart sped up. 

“OK way less gross now,” Ellie said from behind you, making you jump and you and Joel turned to look at her. “Also, way more pink.” 

You stifled a laugh, Ellie in a pink sweatsuit of Savvy’s. 

“Well ain’t you pretty,” Joel teased her lightly and she glared at him. He smiled. “Alright, now what do you say?” 

“Thank you for the shower and the clothes,” she said. “Seriously. I was gross.” 

“Yeah,” Savvy scrunched her nose. “You really were.” 

You walked the two of them out to Joel’s truck, Ellie already telling him excitedly about everything she learned with you that day. 

“Sounds like I’ll see you back same time next week?” You said to Joel as Ellie got in the passenger seat. 

“Yeah,” Joel smiled. “We’ll definitely be back.” 

“Good,” you smiled back. “Looking forward to it.” 

Joel looked like he thought for a moment before he nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.” 

A/N: I hope you enjoy what will be a pretty short look into how things go in a no outbreak reality for Joel and Bambi! I went ahead and tagged everyone on the Yearling tag list, I hope that's OK! Thank you for reading and caring about these characters, I really cannot thank you enough for this journey we've been on together. It's been such a blessing to share it with you. Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

[groundzerosgirlfriend]

Breaking the Rules.

If anyone ever caught him like this, he doesn't think he'd ever be able to recover. The sound of footsteps wandering a little too close to one of the many abandoned classrooms at the infamous Night Raven College made the hairs on his skin stand up straight with fear, and his soft, labored breathing ceased entirely for a few moments. He'd probably prefer if the ground magically opened up and swallowed him whole, wiping him completely off the face of the world entirely, then to ever be exposed in such a public and lewd demeanor.

It's unbecoming of a young man like himself to be treated in such a humiliating manner. The position he held at Night Raven College was supposed to set him apart from the other 'stragglers' and 'peasants' on campus. It was supposed to show his competence to lead his dorm, his dignity, and his grace. It was all he knew, as he had sacrificed his entire youth for it. An overbearing childhood stuck at a wooden desk and an uncomfortable chair in his designated room, loveless and aggressive words from a guardian who already had his future planned out for him, a lack of physical affection that he now yearns for, and a myriad of sleepless nights and tired mornings staring at the fine print of thousands of textbooks have sculpted him into who he is.

Yet, his current display was significantly less than dignifying. It destroyed and demolished the entire image he had been creating and perfecting over the past 17 years. Instead, portraying how pathetic and touch-starved he truly was, for the smallest scraps of affection and approval, when he had accepted a handjob from the infamous NRC prefect fighting against overblots left and right ever since they had landed themselves in this mystical world.

Though handjob wasn't truly the correct term to describe this scene, Instead, it was more you holding your fist open and him humping pitifully through the hole in your hand as you occasionally squeezed down on him; his back leaned into your chest as you leaned against the wall of the empty classroom. Through the midst of his foggy and melted mind, he heard your soft coos towards him, your soft kisses pressing down his cervical vertebrae (boom, nursing major!).

His body felt hot, way warmer than it usually was in his uniform. He wanted nothing more than to claw his way out of yours and his clothes, craving skin-to-skin contact with you. Yet, all he is given is a hushed whisper as soon as he attempts to speak through choked groans.

"Shhh...just feel my dear. Don't speak. Don't want anyone to see you like this do we." Crooning gently in his ear as you blow streams of cool air on his lobes.

The words are caught in a lump in his throat as his mind screams at him to tell you what he wanted—no needed in this moment. Yet he can't. His tongue is heavy, and his sentences fall flat as he tries not to tear up from how good you're making him feel. This sort of pleasure was unknown to him; doing such a thing in his mother's house was taboo of the greatest extent and would surely end in her screeching at him, just as she does whenever he does something she does not approve of, and though he had knowledge of the reproduction system in high detail thanks to the numerous textbooks, nothing could have prepared him for the prickly feeling running through his veins and the gentle cramping of his balls as he tries to figure out what exactly is happening to him and why he does not want it to stop.

Your hand clutches down gingerly once more for a mere moment, still not entirely wrapped around him as he desperately fights the urge to ask you to do more, not wanting to sound greedy or ungrateful for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity you've given him despite the whereabouts. So, he simply grits his teeth and looks down in shame, quickly noticing the generous amounts of slick wetness now slathering your hand and his dick from his pre-cum alone, embarrassed to be this aroused by such a simple act.

He grimaces internally at the scene but is quickly caught off guard as he suddenly does less of the humping and your hand grips around him entirely, and your ministrations become much heartier as you move back and forth quickly, causing a huge spike in the pleasure he was feeling and bringing back the returning tightness in balls that now lingers in his stomach as well.

This time he has no choice but to speak, the hastened pace throwing him head-first into something he has never been accustomed to, with his words slurred and stuttered as he tries to assemble a coherent sentence. "W-wait..to much..f-feels-."

Yet, his words fly right past your ears and are cut even shorter as you take pleasure in his uncomposed state, his jaw slacks, and as his nails dig into your thighs for comfort and grounding, his uniform more wrinkled than it has ever been since you've met. As he babbles incoherent words drowned out by a wretched whimper, your hand is coated in runny dribbles of whitish-translucent cum as tears prick his eyes as heaves and pants his body, shivering from sensitivity alone.

Suddenly his face blooms into a beautiful shade of red similar to the as the roses he forces all the students, misbehaving or well-behaved alike, to paint continuously every week as followers under the Queen of Hearts, an intense shiver running through his entire vertebrae until it ends at the coccyx, as time seemingly slows down as you push your cream-covered fingers in your mouth, a 'pop' reverberating from your lips.

He sighs shakily, as he composes himself, ready to speak a phrase of how disgusting and unappealing such a thing is, but before he can, you knock the wind out of his lungs, just like everything else you do.

"You taste sweet. Keeping eating all of those tarts." He buries his face in hands, as you giggle, knowing that you owe Ms. Rosehearts a sincere handwritten apology along with chocolates and wine for corrupting her son to a point of no return, because now he's addicted to you in all the wrong (right) ways.

[arainmorn-art]

Okay, on the topic of artstyle let me say something about Ace Attorney Investigations. Edgey there looks so much prettier than in the original trilogy.

Take a look at this ugly ass ear in the original and refined pretty ear in AAI, for example, and a more precise lines for neck muscles. Nothing to say about much more competent shading and lineart.

It's still cool to see how original trilogy's artstyle was clearly influenced by oldschool anime with its expressions and especially proportions.

And that's where AAI struggles the most.

While I love Edgeworth's face in Investigations, his body proportions are killing me. Original trilogy gave him cupboard wide shoulders and yaoi shovel hands, BUT IT WORKED as Edgeworth's head was also more stylised.

It DOESN'T WORK when you draw Edgeworth in a semi-realistic style. And as a professional artist myself I guess, that at first Edgworth's shoulders were drawn in normal human proportions until there weren't some artdirection notes to redraw them in this laughably bad way.

How could I know? Because the gorgeous motherflipping Lang was drawn from scratch with proportions of an athletic wide-shouldered man - and this bs wasn't happening!

The same goes to Badd. He is very wide, but he doesn't look unnatural.

Come on, guys, Edgey already gave a flirty bottom energy near this hot mess, wider shoulders woud not help his twinkiness.

Ahem. Also, jeez, can we appreciate the way how masterful the drawings of hands are?

And this von Karma. Goddamit. Even if I am very vanilla, this is some hot daddy dom material. The facial structure, the precise shading, the detailes, the wrinkles, the hair, the smirk, the stare, daaaaaaaaaaamn that's a sexy drawing.

While here he looks like a f*cking toad.

That was my TED talk, thank you for reading.