#its just how she is written and sideline for no reason

[mikeellee]

She is dying but has time to give kast wise words to Momo...which should be cool and a big moment but god its not.

Do we know anything about Momo or Midnight aside their big boobs?

Anyway...saw this panel and....is she naked? Look its a war and she is dying, of course she wouldnt be in a cute position but...the pose and art seems as if she is flashing her tits.

Cinsidering how Momo was almost naked in the war...it shows what Hori was planning here. Fanservice and the lamest one.

Faanservice can work or can be fun but...in mha there nothing fun or doable. Hell, Momo's outfit is hiddeous and impractical as fuck.

[caitified]

angst is my go to so how about a caitlin fic where she feels like she has to hide her relationship with reader from the public. so for wtv reason you choose caitlin leaves reader because she can’t seem to be herself in the public and later when caitlin comes back to reader, reader doesn’t let her back in to her life

get you back

caitlin clark x reader

warningz: none, can write a happy needing for my non-angst people

you had always known being with caitlin clark would come with its challenges. she was a basketball star, after all, and you were just…you. but the hardest part wasn’t the attention or the scrutiny—it was how caitlin insisted on keeping your relationship a secret. even after you uprooted your entire life to move to indiana with her after she got drafted, she still wasn’t ready to share you with the world.

“it’s not that i don’t love you,” she’d say whenever you tried to bring it up. “i just don’t want the media all over us. i’m not ready for that.”

you wanted to be patient. after all, you understood the pressure caitlin was under. but the longer it went on, the more it wore you down. you’d see her at events, smiling for the cameras, and you’d stand on the sidelines, just another face in the crowd. you told yourself it didn’t matter—that what you had with her behind closed doors was enough. but deep down, it hurt.

then one night, she came home from practice, looking more exhausted than usual. you knew something was wrong before she even spoke. she sat down beside you on the couch, staring at the floor.

“we need to talk,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. you knew what was coming.

“i can’t do this anymore,” caitlin said, her words piercing through you. “i’m just…i’m too scared. i’m not ready to be out there like that. and it’s not fair to you.”

you sat there in stunned silence, your world crashing down around you. you had given up everything to be with her, moved to indiana to build a life with her, and now she was telling you it wasn’t enough. tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. not yet.

“so, that’s it?” you asked, your voice trembling. “you’re just going to end things because you’re scared?”

caitlin looked at you, guilt and pain written all over her face. “i’m sorry,” she whispered. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

but she had, and there was nothing she could say to fix it. you packed up your things that night, leaving behind the life you had built with her. indiana was never home without caitlin, but iowa didn’t feel like home anymore either. you were lost, heartbroken, and unsure of what came next.

weeks passed, and you tried to move on, tried to piece your life back together. but then, you started seeing the pictures. caitlin with some guy, holding hands, smiling for the cameras. it didn’t make sense—she had broken up with you because she wasn’t ready to be public, yet here she was, pretending to be in a relationship with someone else. the sight of it made your stomach turn.

you knew it wasn’t real. you knew caitlin too well. she was trying to keep up appearances, trying to prove to the world that she wasn’t who she really was. but it hurt all the same. you had given her everything, and now she was out there, parading around with someone else.

and then, one night, you heard a knock on your door.

you opened it to find caitlin standing there, drenched from the rain, looking like she hadn’t slept in days. her eyes were red, and she was clutching something in her hands—a hoodie you had left behind in indiana.

“i messed up,” she said, her voice cracking. “i messed up so bad.”

you stared at her, your heart aching at the sight of her, but the pain she had caused you was still too fresh. “what do you want, caitlin?” you asked, your voice cold.

“i miss you,” she whispered, stepping closer. “i can’t do this without you. i thought i could pretend, but i can’t. i love you, and i’m so sorry. please, give me another chance.”

her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you almost caved. almost. but then you remembered all the nights you spent waiting for her to be ready, all the times you felt like a secret, like you weren’t enough. you couldn’t go through that again.

“no, caitlin,” you said, shaking your head. “you can’t just come back now and expect everything to be okay. i gave you everything, and you threw it away because you were scared. and now, what? you realize you made a mistake and expect me to just forgive you?”

tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, desperate, broken. “please,” she begged, her voice barely audible. “i love you.”

but love wasn’t enough. not this time.

“you should go,” you said, stepping back and closing the door on the girl who once meant everything to you.

the sound of the rain outside was the only thing that filled the silence after she was gone, but even that couldn’t drown out the ache in your chest.

[booksandabeer]

Ramblings on Fandom: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Delusional Shippers, and Alleged Misogyny

So with the release of Season 2 of What If…? emotions are once again running high, the outrage is outraging, and people are up in arms about the whole Captain Carter situation. While I do think that some reactions are a little overblown, even needlessly aggressive in tone to the unfortunate detriment of their otherwise convincing arguments, I share the confusion and frustration about the sudden centering of a long-dead & never excessively popular character, the sidelining of the Steve-Bucky friendship, and the as-inexplicable-as-it-is-total exclusion of Sam Wilson as Captain America. However, I’m not here to talk about the show because (1) I haven’t watched this season and have no plans to (why waste time torturing myself with something I know I’ll hate?) and (2) other people have already written dozens of metas about it, so what could I possibly add at this point.

What I do want need to talk about (lest I explode) is something that has irritated me for a long time and that is now happening again: Every time someone even mildly criticizes Peggy Carter, expresses doubts about her suitability as a heroine, or even just questions her disproportionate importance to the franchise post-EG, inevitably a certain section of fans will come out of the woodwork to immediately throw around accusations of misogyny and yell about how we’re all just a bunch of delusional Stuckies who are mad that she got "in the way" of our ship. Sigh.

This is gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a cut. Rant incoming. You've been warned. If you don't want to read, simply keep scrolling.

First of all, let me state very clearly that I’m not debating the existence of misogyny and sexism in fandom spaces—or in the media from which these fandoms originate. At all. It exists, it’s a thing, I’m not denying that. Which is exactly why it frustrates me endlessly to see these accusations thrown around as a gotcha! argument to shut down any and all critical debate around a female character. All it does in the end is escalate rhetoric and radicalize attitudes.  

In the case of Peggy Carter, specifically her treatment by Stucky shippers, I’ve always found 'misogyny as a motive' to be a largely unsubstantiated accusation.¹ Now, I neither presume nor do I want to speak for the entirety of Stuckynation, so I will not claim that there aren't corners of the fandom where people discuss her in ways that I find off-putting and deeply unserious, but I will say this: If you genuinely believe that disliking one (1) fictional female character equals “hating all women” and wanting to suppress and marginalize their presence in fiction and real life alike—then I think we need to take that word away from you until you’ve learned its true meaning.

You might also want to ask yourself how exactly reducing a female character to a mute trophy wife or a heroine who has to act out her love interest’s recycled storylines helps your feminist fight.

As for the “getting in the way of your ship” part of the argument. Very simply put: No character can get in the way of something if there never ever was “a way” to that something to begin with. “Being mad” implies that there was a reasonable expectation that wasn’t met, a substantive hope that was crushed. Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll gladly say it again a million more times: No Stucky shipper in their right mind ever truly thought that there was even the slightest chance that Marvel Studios owned by the Walt Disney Company would allow Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes to be canonized as an explicitly romantic pairing in their billion dollar franchise. Be serious. That was never in the cards. I wish we all lived in a world where it was, but we don’t, and it wasn’t. The best we could ever hope for was for Steve and Bucky to get a good, satisfying, in-character ending. And if, in Steve’s case, that would’ve included hints (or more) about a possible rekindling of his, uh, aborted romance with Sharon—then so be it. But we never got any of that. The characters never got any of that. Instead they sent Steve into 1950s suburban hell, literally trapped him behind a white picket fence, and condemned him to a life of passivity and lies, all so he could be married to a woman he barely knew a long time ago in a completely different world; who built and ran a top-to-bottom Hydra-infested organization, but apparently never noticed that there was anything wrong with her life's work. For decades. Great. As for Bucky—well, we’ve all seen the devastatingly grim-faced, utterly lonely, and deeply sad version of him that was presented to us in TFATWS. Happy endings all around, I guess.

So. Am I mad that Steve didn’t get to ride into the rainbow-colored sunset with Bucky at the end of EG? No. Because that was never going to happen anyway. Would I have been mad had he ended up with Sharon or another female character in the 21st century? Also no. Granted, I wouldn’t have been ecstatic about it, but mad? No. But am I mad that Steve ended up with this specific female character under these specific circumstances as presented in canon? Fuck yeah, I am.

The thing is: I personally believe Steve and Peggy to be fundamentally incompatible when it comes to the way they view the world and their respective places in it; their morals and values; their capacity for compassion and empathy; their ability and willingness to compartmentalize, compromise, and collaborate with people and institutions whose ethics and/or politics do not align with their own. I have a real hard time believing that a relationship between these two (or worse, a hasty marriage) could be either happy or long-lasting.

I don’t believe Peggy to be inherently evil, I don’t hate her, I simply think she operates within a different moral framework than Steve (and even genuinely believes it to be a righteous one).² Your mileage may vary, but I personally happen to find that framework reprehensible, even indecent, and ultimately dangerous. After all, over the course of the 20th century, we have seen exactly where that kind of “the ends justify the means” brand of pragmatism leads—over and over again. Not to mention that the people who use this line of argument to defend characters like Peggy (or real-life politicians for that matter) never seem to want to look too closely at who gets to define what "the ends" are in the first place and who decides when they've finally been met.

(Never. The answer is never.)

And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with depicting, and even centering a narrative around a morally (dark)gray character—oftentimes it’s actually the more interesting option—but you cannot at the same time claim that they are purely good and should be only admired as such when their actions literally tell an entirely different story.

So, no. I will not accept Peggy Carter as the shining aspirational heroine that the MCU so badly wants to sell her to me as—while simultaneously continuing to reveal things that paint an increasingly darker picture of her character. And I will certainly not celebrate seeing one of my favorite characters of all time—whose defining trait was that he couldn't ignore "a situation pointed south"; who used to fight for the little guy and against the establishment; who once said about the very organization that Peggy Carter helped build that it was so corrupt, it all needed to go—rendered morally inert for some hollow happy ending that may as well be a conservative’s wet dream full of false nostalgia for an America that never really existed. I cannot find it in me to be anything less but mad about that.

But that does not make me a misogynist. It does not make me a delusional shipper. It makes me someone who looks at what the MCU has been telling me about Peggy Carter for years now—over and over again—and takes it at its own word.

--------

¹ If you’ve actually read a a fair number of Stucky(!) fanfics you will have noticed that the reverence afforded to and "page time" devoted to her character and her relationship with Steve is somewhat disproportionate to anything that's backed up by canon—well, up until EG, where she was suddenly reanimated as The Great Love of Steve’s Life—and in my experience, it's highly unusual for any fandom to put so much (mostly) positive attention on another character, let alone a potential love interest that is not part of the endgame ship.

² I also want to emphasize that if you love Peggy and she's your fave: good for you! I genuinely have no beef with you. People can agree to disagree. All I ask for is that we maybe stop willfully ignoring the less savory aspects of her character. You don't need to pretend she's perfect to justify your affection for her. I LOVE Steve, and yet I have no problem conceding that he is FAR from perfect.

[mahoutoons]

the women of death note deserve better

so i just finished death note. i have Thoughts about the show. some good, some bad. its not the type of show i'd usually watch but there was something in it that kept me watching. but there was one aspect of the show that bothered me to no end, one that made me consider dropping the show more than once. and that's its treatment of its female characters.

now i know shonen isn't exactly known for writing women well. this isn't to say ALL shonen is like that, but the more popular ones definitely have this problem. the women are either sidelined, reduced to love interests, or aren't allowed to reach their full potential, and this can really be seen in the women of death note. for a show that prides itself on having complex, layered characters with depths that keep people talking two decades later, it sure does drop the ball when it comes to writing women. so here i'm gonna go through all the women of death note and how they were done dirty. keep in mind this is all referring to the anime, i haven't read the manga.

naomi misora

starting off with the one that pissed me off the most. naomi had me intrigued from the moment she first appeared on screen. she was a former fbi agent who left her job because her asshole fiance convinced her it was too dangerous, and then blew off her suggestions (which ultimately lead to his death which. el oh fucking el). she was able to piece together that kira could control how his victims die. she could add a lot to the story given that she previously worked with L. she could've been a part of the task force and would help them piece together clues that would pin down kira. does she do all that? LOL NOPE. the writers decided she was too powerful and killed her off within two episodes of her introduction. now i know this is death note and a lot of characters die. but naomi's death pissed me off the most. here was a woman who had so much potential and could solve the case within two episodes and she's killed off. oh but at least she stars in a spinoff novel half the fandom won't read! isn't that just GREAT? look how much we love women guys!

yeah all this time later and i'm still pissed off about how they did her. naomi bby you deserve so much better.

misa amane

OH BOY GET READY FOR A BIG ONE. so misa was actually the reason i wanted to watch death note because she's fucking gorgeous. i didn't have many expectations about how she'd be written considering this is a popular shonen, but even then i was disappointed. misa is the main female character of death note. she's presented as the second kira who has shinigami eyes, which gives her the power to see a person's name and lifespan by looking at their face. she was saved by a shinigami who was in love with her and got his notebook, and her current shinigami rem (more on her next) also has feelings for her. she worships kira because he killed her parents' murderer. she finds out light is kira because her shinigami eyes don't allow her to see the lifespan of a death note owner and as such asks him to make her his girlfriend.

misa misa misa. my gorgeous goth girl. you deserved to be written so much better. a second kira who has shinigami eyes? she could've been so cool. but the writers made 90% of her personality revolve around light and treated her as this dumb, impulsive girl who worships the ground light walks on. and light doesn't even treat her that well. he just uses her and takes his frustrations out on her. oh, and don't get me started on this bullshit

look, i get that misa is a killer and had to be restrained. but WAS THIS FETISHY CRAP NECESSARY?? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE FUCKING CROTCH STRAP?? when light was imprisoned he wasn't tied up like THIS. this is just another case of shonen authors being fucking weirdos with their female characters.

and in the end she kills herself because light dies. instead of letting her heal and live her life the author decides "welp, the man we based 90% of misa's character on is dead, time to kill her off too". just absolute bullshit. she deserved so SO much better.

rem

rem, my gorgeous butch shinigami. she became my favourite character when she was introduced. i was actually surprised by how direct they were about her feelings for misa. i'd seen bits and pieces of remisa before and i thought it'd be one of those ships the writers dance around but they explicitly had her say she has feelings for misa. i was so surprised and happy at that. but of course, this is a popular shonen so i shouldn't have had high expectations. my problem with how they treated rem comes in her death. she dies after killing watari and L to extend misa's lifespan. if a shinigami extends a human's lifespan they die. now, i'm not gonna say her death is an example of bury your gays because gelus, the male shinigami who saved misa before, met the same fate. however, i will say its very Interesting that the only canonically lesbian character who explicitly declares her feelings for another woman dies BECAUSE of those feelings. and then she isn't even acknowledged by misa which is so weird considering how much rem helped her. there's no scene of misa even mentioning rem or mourning her death. she dies without anyone knowing. i do enjoy the doomed yuri aspect of remisa but i really do wish they'd have misa at least acknowledge rem's death.

wedy

wedy, aka merrie kenwood, is a spy who joins the task force in the yotsuba arc. she's an expert at getting through security and is crucial in helping pin down higuchi as kira as she's the one who installs the bugs in yotsuba's meeting room and higuchi's cars. another cool female character with a lot of potential. you know what that means. TIME TO KILL HER OFF! wedy doesn't get much screentime and then dies within eight episodes of her introduction. which is slightly better than naomi. but still. i won't say this is also a case of misogynistic writing as aiber also dies. however, there is a pattern of having a female character with potential, not giving her enough spotlight, and killing her off shortly after her debut.

sayu yagami

sayu, my poor bbygirl sayu. she's introduced as light's bubbly little sister. in the timeskip she goes to college. her most significant role is getting kidnapped so her father could give up the death note to mello's men, making her the classic damsel in distress. and the poor girl is so traumatized that she's in a catatonic state and has to be wheelchair bound and taken care of by her mother. oh, and there's also that weird comment matsuda makes about her which... really dude? sayu isn't AS badly done as she doesn't play much of a role beyond her kidnapping. but still, she also deserves so much better.

kiyomi takada

i didn't think i'd be as pissed off about how they did a female character as i did about naomi and misa but BOY they proved me wrong. takada was light's girlfriend in college but she doesn't play a major role until the timeskip where she becomes kira's spokesperson. like misa, she worships kira. she's happy when she finds out light is kira and would do anything for him. so another woman who worships the ground light walks on. how original. she's supposed to be smart but they never demonstrate it. and need i mention that rivalry between her and misa? making two women catty to each other over a man who isn't even all that, how very typical. but what pissed me off the most was her kidnapping. that scene where mello asks her to take off all her clothes, and then she's left with nothing but a blanket? so fucking weird, i don't care if she's kira's spokesperson. this show has a history of treating its women weirdly and i'm not gonna believe this was anything but the author being weird once again. because what even was the point of that? and then she's killed by light to destroy all evidence. i'm saying this a lot at this point but takada also deserves better. she deserved to live up to her potential.

halle linder

out of everyone, halle is treated the best and that's not saying much. she's a double agent serving as takada's bodyguard and a spy for the spk. she's also the only woman besides sayu and sachiko who survived till the end and wasn't killed off. which i just realised. out of all the women in this show, only THREE survive till the end. isn't that something? i think my only issue with halle is the lack of spotlight. which is a theme with these women.

i thought of adding sachiko but she isn't much of a character. but there you have it. i'm not sure how bad it is in other popular shonen. but death note is full of women who had potential but the author squandered it for the sole reason that they're women. and its so jarring because people can write essays on light, L, near, mello, etc. even MATSUDA had more care put into him than any of these women. which is a damn shame. these women deserve to be in a show that actually cared about them, where they can actually live up to their potential.

i don't dislike death note. it definitely has its strong points. but the treatment of its women is something i take issue with, very strongly. if the author wasn't a weirdo and a nasty misogynist i feel like these women would've been the complex characters they deserved to be.

[mya-valentine]

Comfort request!

Can I have a scenario where Class 1-A (and Aizawa) (platonic), discovering that their classmate had passed out due to exhaustion from over-exercise, and after she wakes up, she confesses that the reason she was exercising so much, is because during interships, some civilian said she was too fat to be a hero. (She’s chubby, but not un-healthy.)

Strength Beyond the Surface

The sun was high in the sky, casting light through the wide windows of Class 1-A's training facility. The students were busy with their individual workouts, preparing for the next big challenge. However, there was a noticeable absence of one classmate: you.

You had been pushing yourself harder than usual lately, arriving early to train and staying late after everyone else had left. You could feel the fatigue building, but you ignored it, determined to push past the limits your body was setting. The memory of that civilian’s comment during internships echoed in your head:

"How can she be a hero when she’s so fat?"

It had stung more than you let on, and since then, you’d been over-exercising to prove to yourself—and maybe to everyone else—that you could be just as strong and fast as anyone else. But today, your body hit its breaking point.

As the rest of the class trained, a loud thud caught everyone’s attention. The room went silent as heads turned toward the source of the sound—where you lay, motionless, on the floor.

"Oi! What the hell?!" Bakugou was the first to react, storming over to your collapsed form. But the moment he saw you were unconscious, his usual scowl turned into concern. "Damn it, she passed out!"

Izuku sprinted over right behind him, panic written on his face. "Someone get Recovery Girl! Now!"

Aizawa, who had been observing from the sidelines, quickly stepped in, his usually stoic face betraying a flicker of worry. "Everyone, clear the area," he ordered calmly but firmly. He crouched beside you, checking for signs of consciousness.

Momo ran to call for Recovery Girl, while Todoroki knelt beside you, his usually cold demeanor melting into concern. "Is she okay?" he asked quietly.

Recovery Girl arrived swiftly and examined you, shaking her head. "She’s exhausted. It seems like she’s been overworking herself. Let’s get her to the infirmary."

Aizawa’s brow furrowed as he lifted you carefully in his arms, leading the way to the infirmary with the entire class following in silent worry. As you were laid down in bed, Recovery Girl worked her magic, and after a while, you slowly began to regain consciousness.

When your eyes fluttered open, you saw Aizawa leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and your classmates gathered around your bed, all with concerned expressions. Your head was spinning, but you were more overwhelmed by the weight of everyone's worried stares.

"You okay?" Kirishima asked softly, leaning closer.

You managed a weak nod. "Yeah, I think so."

"What were you thinking, pushing yourself like that?" Aizawa’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. He wasn’t angry—just worried.

You felt the lump in your throat tighten, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out. "During internships...some civilian said I was too fat to be a hero."

The room went dead silent. You avoided eye contact, suddenly feeling small despite the room being filled with your friends. "I know I’m chubby, and I thought maybe if I trained harder, I could prove them wrong… that I could be strong enough, fast enough… I just wanted to show them I can be a hero too."

Bakugou was the first to react, his voice sharp but somehow comforting. "That’s bullshit," he snapped. "You think being a hero is about how you look? You think All Might gives a damn about what some extra thinks?"

Todoroki, always more composed, nodded in agreement. "You’ve already proven yourself. You’ve saved people. That’s all that matters."

Ochako stepped closer to the bed, her eyes wide with empathy. "You don’t have to change yourself for anyone. You're amazing just the way you are."

Izuku’s voice was softer, but no less determined. "You’re already a hero in our eyes. Don’t push yourself until you break just because of one cruel comment."

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you, and though you tried to keep the tears at bay, one escaped and rolled down your cheek. "Thanks, guys."

Aizawa uncrossed his arms and walked over, standing beside your bed. "Listen," he said in his usual calm, authoritative tone, "being a hero is about your actions, not your appearance. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You’ve already earned your place here."

His words hit deep, and you nodded, the weight of his approval bringing you a sense of relief you didn’t realize you needed.

Mina smiled brightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Plus, who cares what some random person thinks? They’re not the ones in training to be pro heroes!"

"Exactly!" Kirishima grinned. "You’re strong just the way you are. Don’t forget that!"

A few moments passed in comfortable silence, and you couldn’t help but smile at how supportive your classmates were. You realized that the only approval you really needed was from yourself—and from the people who cared about you.

Aizawa gave you one last look, his voice softer now. "Take the time to recover. No more overworking yourself, understood?"

You nodded again. "Understood."

As the class began to disperse, giving you some space to rest, Bakugou lingered a little longer, crossing his arms. "Next time someone says something like that, just tell ‘em to screw off. You’re stronger than them anyway."

His way of comforting you was rough, but it made you feel a little better. You let out a small laugh, grateful for the support of your classmates and their unshakeable belief in you—just as you were.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[moonlightdreamzz]

THIN APOLOGIES / PART 1

SUMMARY ✰ Mark is your boyfriend, and Vernon is your best friend. You're sick of Mark not treating you right, and Vernon is too. He's also sick of watching from the sidelines when he knows no one can make you happier than him.

PAIRING ✰ Idol!Mark x Idol!Reader x Idol!Vernon

GENRE ✰ ANGST & FLUFF

NOTE ✰ This is actually the first story I ever wrote in my entire life three years ago. It’s my baby. I said to myself, I should rewrite this because the original version was written like the beginner I was at the time. I hope you all enjoy. It’s so good.

© moonlightdreamzz

Blonde by Frank Ocean has been playing on loop for hours over your speakers. For what seems like days, your gaze has been fixed on the candle blazing in front of you. There are numerous reasons why you can't take your eyes off its flame—the first being that if you do, you'll be forced to see all of the decorations and food you prepared for Mark, who has decided for the third time in a row that you aren't important enough to show up for. All of his favorite things are strewn throughout your living room, unused.

The second reason you can't tear your gaze away from the flame is that you're intrigued. The lavender-scented wax is nearing the end of its life after being used for so long. What happens when there’s none left? Does the flame die peacefully? Or does the jar burn and combust, leaving you regretting not extinguishing the flame sooner?

Sick isn't the word to describe how your boyfriend has made you feel over the past few months. You’ve tried to see the positives of his absence right now, but it’s utterly impossible. What could you say to yourself? At least you got ditched in the comfort of your own home this time, Y/N? And not in a restaurant, or a random parking lot his manager drove you to?

Mark always has his excuses of course. His favorite one to use was that you don’t understand the sacrifices it takes to be an idol. When the two of you first began to have issues, you took those words to heart. You know how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is, and you never wanted him to think you were that girl—the girl who got in a relationship with an idol and acted like she didn’t know what she was signing up for. As time passed, you realized that he was just manipulating you.

He’s so good at it too. Or maybe he’s just an incredibly beautiful man, whose doe eyes could convince anybody that he indeed is a good person—he just doesn’t think sometimes. You just wish he’d understand that you indeed do understand his life, it’s simply his unfulfilled promises that are so incredibly frustrating. Summer Walker once said, “it doesn’t matter how hard I I try, I say it nice, yell it out loud, write it down, I’m tired.” She damn sure was right.

“Why plan a date you can’t come to? Just tell me it’ll be awhile before I’ll see you again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I thought I could make it.”

Your phone begins vibrating on your coffee table infront of you, interrupting the reflecting that you’re tired of doing anyways. You know it’s Mark, back again with whatever his reason is this time for not showing up. For a second, you consider not picking it up. Maybe if he knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he’d stop doing it to you.

You inhale deeply before picking up the phone, surprised at whose name is popping up.

“Vernon?” You whisper to yourself. You feel a brief burst of happiness before immediately shifting to concern due to the time of night.

You and Vernon have been close friends since debut. Some would say it’s because you two are the English speakers of your group, but you only saw that as a plus in your friendship. In reality, Vernon was a quirky, artsy, adorably curious boy, and you always felt this weird urge to…protect him. You figure he was drawn to how you never judged him, and how open you were about what you referred to as “Vernon’s philosophies”. He got your jokes, and you pretended you understood his. The rest is history.

Laughter escapes your throat, scaring you simultaneously as you can’t remember the last time you genuinely found anything funny. In the midst of your giggles, Vernon begins to FaceTime you, and you don’t hesitate to answer the phone.

You can see through the phone how hard he’s trying to be irritated with you, but you also notice how bad he’s failing at doing so. The corner of his pink lips are twitching, and his hooded eyes are melting along with it as neither of you break virtual eye contact with each other. This only makes you laugh even harder. His flawless features don’t hold long, and he’s smirking boyishly now.

“You really think this is funny, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well you know what I think is funny right now? You’re alone right now.” He jokes.

“Ha ha,” You laugh sarcastically, “Am I really this worthless? Like be honest.” You question, a sad smile naturally creeping onto your features as reality attempts to set back in.

Vernon’s eyes roll aggressively, followed by a deep inhale. You know him. He wants to tell you about yourself, and remind you of all the times you promised him you’d have more confidence, just to end up asking him questions like this in the end. It takes him longer than you expected to find kind words to say to you, but you appreciate the fact that he cares enough to spare you, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone else.

“Don’t ever call yourself worthless. He’s the worthless one. If he can’t see how amazing you are,that’s his problem and you shouldn’t just sit here and take it, Y/N. That’s not even like you.”

“But…I love him.”

“Yeah...that always sucks doesn’t it?” He says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself and not you. “I know it’s late, but how about I come keep you company Y/N?. You deserve to be happy for at least a few hours don’t you think?” He chuckles.

He’s no longer looking directly at you. He’s looking at whatever is below him now. Vernon coming to keep you company isn’t a terrible idea. Right now, you so deeply crave to be around someone who actually cares about you, and he’s a clear candidate.

“Yeah! Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Do really think I’d let you leave your house at this hour to do anything for me?”

“Well, how else are you gonna get here? You don’t have a car and I know your manager is knocked out.”

His boyish smile returns, and you already know a sarcastic comment is closer than around the corner. “You ever heard of uber?”

Now you’re the one rolling your eyes. Was this okay? I mean, the two of you are only friends, but Dispatch nor fans would care about that if they so happened to be stalking you. Him coming over late could turn into a whole situation that you aren’t in the mood to hear about.

“What if you get caught?” You question, although unconsciously do you begin to tidy up in your living room.

“I didn’t.”

He didn’t? Was he already—

Your doorbell ringing interrupts your thoughts.

“Vernon!” You scream through the phone, so many questions running through your mind.

“Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna hangout from outside the door?” He snickers slyly.

You should have known he was up to no good the moment you couldn't identify where he was from his surroundings. All you saw was darkness, but you imagined he was walking around his neighborhood or simply in the dark, because that was so Vernon.

With precision and quickness, you run to the door and open it. You’re still dolled up; face beat like it’s prom night from the date you should’ve been wrapping up by now. Vernon steps in, and for a second it seems like he’s frozen in place. It’s embarrassing, as you often got reactions like this when you dressed up because without an occasion, you were going to choose sweatpants, a graphic tee, and crocs everytime.

“Woah.” He utters.

“What? You just saw me on the phone, Vernon.” You question amusingly before walking to your kitchen to grab him a water.

“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes it out of your hand. “It’s just…you’re so…ugly.”

You know that he thinks you’re going to hit him immediately, so you wait an extra second before punching him lightly in his stomach.

“Shut up!” You laugh, loudly this time. It’s a rare occurrence these days for anything to unconsume your mind of Mark Lee, but Vernon’s doing that with ease right now. “You stay your ass right there and I’ll be back. I should probably take all this off.” You whisper while pointing to you and all your current glory.

“Take your time.” Vernon utters, no funny business in the room now. His smile is gentle as he nudges you towards your room.

You began walking in slow motion down your hallway. “Oh trust me, I will.” It doesn’t take you long to strip down to your natural state. You remove your clothes first, settling on a gray t-shirt you’ve had for years. If you didn’t have company, you’d stop it at that. You decide on some matching gray pajama shorts. The sight of Mark’s clothes in the drawer pisses you off all over again. As you remove your makeup, you can't help but squeal with delight. The wipes that you bought in replacement of the ones that took way too many to clean your face, was worth the investment.

The final touch is your bonnet, which you slip on your head with ease. Your icy feet drag over the hallway floor, a flood of fatigue washing over you.

“Awe.” Vernon coos when you reappear. In the midst of you getting ready for bed, he carefully placed all of the decorations you left out for Mark out of sight in the kitchen. He really wanted to throw it away, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Netflix is waiting for two of you.

“Don’t awe me.” You plop yourself on the couch so hard you’re pretty sure Vernon levitates for a second. You push the button to recline your seat, shutting your eyes right and leaning your head back with a sigh. “Thank you, Vernon.” You say the second you realize he cleaned up your clutter. The room feels less heavy now that you’re not forced to look at your wasted hard work. You feel his gaze on you, but energetically, you can’t interpret why he’s staring at you. You’ll settle on pity.

“Ah, I haven’t done much. Plus, you’ve always been there for me.”

Your comfort turns into guilt, recalling all the times you haven’t been there for your close friend in the midst of you and Mark’s relationship crashing. “Not like this.” You utter.

“Well, no you haven’t surprised me with a big box of donuts and a new video game,” He chuckles, “But you’ve been there for me. A lot of times unknowingly, if I’m being honest. Your presence alone…does a lot for me—I mean, for people.” He rambles. “Plus, I’m one of a kind, anyways.”

A smile creeps onto your features at him teasing you lovingly. You’re beginning to doze off, which typically makes you stare at things unintentionally. Your target tonight is Vernon, who is sitting extremely close to you right now. Your hand begins to entangle themselves in his locs, causing his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“Enough about me.” You protest softly, “What’s going on in the life of Hansol, hm?”

“Nothing much,” He whispers, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his scalp. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, but you know he’s still listening to you. “I’m like a robot these days. I wake up, go to practice, go back to the dorm, sleep, repeat.”

“Why didn’t eat make the list?”

“Oh yeah, that too. But you know me. If I have to pick between sleeping and eating, I’m picking the first option.”

“Oh I know.” You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you scolded Vernon for sleeping too much, even though you do the same thing the second you get a break from schedules.

“Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing, Vernon.”

“Not everything.” He whispers, seemingly dazed out now. You’re ceiling wasn’t that interesting. He has something on his mind, but you’re not sure if you want to pick his brain. If he wanted you to know what’s on his mind, he’d say it. At the same time, you’re his right hand woman, and he’ll just have to deal with you being in his business.

Your eyebrows raise in an interrogative fashion. “Give me an example?”

“You.” He says simply. His eyes lock themselves into yours confidently, but you’re unsure how to feel. What was he trying to say? Is he flirting? Is he just being kind? It’s always been so hard for you to understand him when he gets like this.

“What about me?” Is all you can manage. You’re not sure why you’re nervous now, but you are. You hope you’re not making it obvious that his comment has made your breathing unsteady.

“I’m just saying it’s impossible to get tired of you. ‘Too much’ of you,” he air quotes, “would make the world a much better place.”

“You think so?” You question genuinely. “Mark doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Mark is a fucking idiot.” He spits out.

“I’m not gonna disagree.”

“I mean look at everything you did for him today, just for him to not show up?” Vernon begins to frantically point in all directions of your home, including at yourself as well as your kitchen. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t come home to this?”

Silence is the only thing you can provide right now. One because he’s right, but two, because you’ve never seen Vernon so riled up on your behalf. He was the one always talking you off cliffs, not the other way around.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat. His voice is back to his regular tone now.

“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about me.”

You don’t know why, but you feel a desire to nuzzle into Vernon’s shoulder, so you do. Naturally, he wraps his arm around your shoulder to allow you more comfortability. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms right now. You know if you consider Mark, you should pull away, but when’s the last time Mark considered you?

“Is this okay?” He questions, his tone a mixture of hope and concern as he’s likely reading your mind right now. He had a knick for that when it came to you.

“It’s okay.” You decide. I mean, who’s going to catch you?

The two of you lay like that for the remainder of the night, watching a movie that Vernon puts on, but you can't concentrate. All you can think of is how you're lying in the arms of another man, your heart fluttering. That isn't supposed to happen. However, your thoughts are brief because you quickly find yourself dozing off in his arms that feel as if they never want to let you go.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when your phone rings, and then vibrates, indicating someone has called and texted you.

You and Vernon sleep through it.

TO BE CONTINUED

© moonlightdreamzz

[mythicamagic]

Sukuna's Roommate (a Sukuna x reader fic) Chapter Nine

The rent is cheap, that's the only reason you're moving into apartment 167 on such short notice. The rent is cheap, you remind yourself again, staring up at the four-armed monster you would be living with. (Female reader x Sukuna) Roommate AU.

Warnings: some dubcon moments and general Sukuna stuff i.e: murder. 

This chapter features smut.

Chapter One: link Ao3 here: link

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AN: Sorry for the long wait, been busy at university. This is the usual self indulgent schlock, but I'm sorry if its more messily written than usual ^^

oh and I should probably mention beforehand that no matter what Sukuna and MC get up to, she won't get pregnant. I'm not interested in writing that despite some of things mentioned here possibly being misconstrued as symptoms.

@my-anime-garden (because you mentioned you wanted to be tagged)

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~ Chapter Nine ~

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It was difficult not to feel overwhelmed in Sukuna’s presence. His skin felt blisteringly hot to the touch, warmed by the lapping steam from the hot springs. That molten flesh was everywhere. On me, under me, in me.

Despite my best intentions, I was only human. I gave myself up to control in much the same way I always had- and loathed the reaction. If I were braver, daring, perhaps I could command his attention more firmly. Admittedly, Sukuna probably wasn't the man to test out any newfound desires of domination or control at that moment.

I felt my head be tugged back- a hand gripping my hair tight. Another mouth occupied my own after just a moment. I’d never been involved in a threesome or gang bang but I imagine this must feel somewhat similar. There was just so much of him at once. So many mouths sucking, licking, kissing and biting. So many hands grabbing, kneading, stroking.

Most overwhelming of all was the stomach mouth swallowing my lower-half almost completely. I felt like a sock-puppet. Every time the thick tongue buried inside my cunt would rove or undulate- my body would jolt and sway with it, held upright by a few greedy hands tugging my hips or breasts. I’d long become an incoherent mess and lost track of the orgasms- another rocking sharply through me, my toes curling in delight as it speared straight through my spine, sending me ramrod straight. I wailed into the mouth covering mine.

“Agh! Mmphfffmmnn…”

Sukuna chuckled from where he sat beneath me, occasionally just sitting back and watching me squirm. He removed the hand-mouth from my lips, my tongue still subconsciously reaching out for it. 

“You’ve become a wreck. A nice sight. Bite-marks become you.”

Even in my dazed state, I knew to suck in as many breaths as possible, trying to recollect myself before he shoved another mouth somewhere. That thick tongue grew mercifully still inside my cunt and I couldn’t help but whimper, steadying myself on his chest.

“Was that a cry of loss? Want more already?” he teased.

“G-give me- a minute-“ I panted, touching my damp, bruised mouth. Saliva coated my chin. Fantastic. It took all my effort to refocus on the here and now. It felt important not to get swept away by my own pleasure for too long. The worry of making him bored lurked in the far corners of my blissed out mind.

Sukuna just grinned as he always did. Patronizing and entertained. He gave me a hearty pat on the ass.

“You're really giving this your best! Good job. Want a snack break?”

“…with you still…inside?” I asked weakly. He cut his eyes to the heavens and rolled his hips in answer.

“You’re lucky I’m this generous about prepping you.”

I almost asked what he was prepping me for- but luckily I hadn’t lost the full functionality of my brain yet, casting a furtive glance at the two dicks sitting snugly behind me.

Right.

I wasn't sure how he'd acquire 'snacks' without moving but he raised a clawed hand and waved it in the air. 

"Uraume."

His white haired chef appeared in an instant, standing on the sidelines of the pool. "Yes, Master Sukuna?"

I choked, eyes flying wide. With a shriek, I tried to pull myself off Sukuna and hide- but he held me effortlessly in place. 

"Bring something to snack on. Ah, and more sake- I've run low."

Uraume inclined their head, not even sparing me a glance before disappearing again.

I was quick to shove at Sukuna’s chest, snarling. "What the heck?! That was not okay!"

"Hm? You think providing snacks isn't acceptable? I guess I'll enjoy them all to myself. It's no skin off my back," Sukuna chuckled, the action sending rumbling vibrations from his chest straight down to where we were connected.

"Don't you have a shred of decency? I don't want anyone else to see me like- like this! Bad enough I'm naked, but you're still…" I blushed, covering my chest with one arm and trying to pull away again. 

A hand clapped against my ass-cheek, shoving down. I cried out as our hips locked, burying his stomach tongue uncomfortably deep. My cunt practically screamed and purred all at once, clenching with a vice-grip around him. My toes curled, breath stalling. 

"Ah-ah, so noisy," a deep voice sighed into my ear. "Don't forget your situation right now, woman. You think you're in a position to start yelling my ear off?"

There was no time to catch my breath before he was bouncing me anew on his stomach, that tongue roving and winding, curling and stretching as far as it pleased. The noises he ripped from me weren’t human. Combined with the mouths that appeared on his greedy hands to suck and bite at my breast, another lapping at my clit, I lost coherency again. 

When another wave of pleasure crashed through my frazzled, exhausted systems- the slick organ was ripped away from inside me. There was a moment of pure, unadulterated loss, and the cry that bounced off his cavernous domain shirked like a grieving woman. 

But then it was replaced with something hard. Sukuna grunted from below me. “Let’s see how you handle one.”

With one thrust- he was buried inside to the brim. My everything accepted him pathetically easily, dripping with need. I practically clung to him, sobbing with relief, cunt clamping down on him as if it wished to devour. 

“Heh- eheh-ahahaha! Look at you! Don’t you have a shred of decency? I thought you cared about having an audience, but you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

It took a moment to grasp what he was saying over the slap of our bodies meeting, my mind growing fuzzy with every jolt it sent through my body. I felt boneless. My mouth was agape though I couldn't remember opening it. Sukuna’s long fingered hand curled around my chin then, turning it so that I looked to the left. 

Sukuna’s chef had returned, balancing a tray of food and bottle of sake on one hand. If they had any interest in our rutting together like animals, they made no comment. I couldn’t bring myself to care, either. If anything, I grasped Sukuna’s shoulders and tried to weakly bounce on his lap, seeking my own pleasure again and again, building up, hitting that spot- and then falling off the precipice, only to start over due to Sukuna’s unrelenting thrusts. 

They were muttering something, having a brief conversation while we fucked, or perhaps I fucked myself stupid on his lap. It would’ve been humiliating had I any shame left. 

“Oi- open up.”

I parted my lips mindlessly, and Sukuna sat something on my tongue, only to close my mouth. I realised it was his food. Meat. Bloodied and raw. Rare steak wasn’t really to my tastes but when he commanded me to eat I did so immediately. 

“Good girl,” I thought I heard him purr. He patted my cheek. “Come on, gn- more…”

I let him feed me, feeling my cheeks grow wet. Was I crying? Why was I crying? I couldn’t understand why. Something in my stomach churned, heaving, wanting to reject the food. It stung like the dull hiss of cigarette burns. 

A hand clamped over my mouth then. Ruby red eyes glowered from beneath me within the haze of the hot-spring steam. There was a wickedness to them. A smile, and flash of sharp canines. 

“Have your fill, greedy woman. I know you’re not full yet.”

---------

Everything ached.

There was a test in two days that I'd set time aside to study for- but the words continually blurred on the page. The hustle and bustle of the mall felt so far away as I gazed with glassy eyes at a music shop further below my vantage point. My mind kept wandering, focusing on the burn in my thighs and deep, yearning feeling of loss somewhere in my core. It was pathetic. Beyond that deep craving though, I kept sensing something…off.

I subtly put a hand to my stomach. I'd been hungry all day but the second I'd bought a meal- queasiness rolled in my gut. I eyed the sad burger and fries sitting on their tray. Reaching for them again, I grabbed a fry and forced it past my lips, chewing with effort. The usual delicious saltiness tasted like sand. 

My phone blinked persistently, a text waiting to be answered. I knew it was Neil. Somehow he’d gotten ahold of my number. I flicked the screen mindlessly to ignore it, gazing listlessly down at the people wandering through the mall, chatting. Lovers walked arm in arm, and I observed them like they were an exhibit in an Aquarium. They were so far removed from anything I’d ever known or experienced. Soft, gentle and kindly laughing at one another. 

“The maggots up to anything interesting?”

I started, swallowing with effort. My throat burned as I squinted up at Sukuna. How had he found me so easily in the city? “What?”

He smiled in that usual self-assured way, no hint of difference in him despite how depraved we’d acted just a few days ago. I hadn’t seen him since waking up sluggishly in my room, but my body was certainly still paying the price. The only reason he’d apparently stopped at ‘one’ was because he’d had a meeting to get to, otherwise I’d have taken ‘both’ in whatever hole he’d pleased. “You seemed lost in thought while watching the spread of insects infesting the mall today. Wondered if there was anything worth looking at. Any violence worth mentioning?”

“Wh- no! Nothing. And don’t talk about humans like that around me.”

“Hm? Why not?”

“Because in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m one!”

“Nah. You might’ve been once, but then you became my pet,” Sukuna helped himself to a seat opposite me, dwarfing the poor plastic with his mass and height. His jacket hung slightly loose, exposing a bare shoulder. I tried not to stare. “Now I suppose…you’re my woman.”

I scoffed, forcing myself to eat another fry. “What happened to being your pet?”

“I fuck women, not pets.”

It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. For a man with such a vast number of textbooks, poetry and knowledge crammed right into his home- and likely his brain- he could come out with the stupidest lines sometimes.

The seat creaked as Sukuna leaned forward, resting a thick arm on the table before me. “So, are you going to share what you were staring at?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“So snappy,” Sukuna sighed, stealing one of my fries to gesture at me with it. “You’d have thought fucking you would shake that stick up your ass enough to loosen it some.”

“Charming,” I growled, staring hard at the open pages of my book. I was unable to read a single line with him grinning ferally across from me. I slammed it shut, casting an uneasy glance at my barely touched meal. No way was I confessing what was actually bothering me. “I was looking at the music shop.”

“Does my woman have musical talents? You should play something for me sometime, if you're confident you won't offend my ears, that is.”

I could’ve told him about my lengthy past with music and how it had once been the bane of my existence. It had become something much more complicated now that I no longer played for the whims of my family. Instead, I gave a shrug. “You kind of need an instrument to play music, buddy.”

“Ah, so that’s it.”

Sukuna abruptly stood, gesturing with a single ‘come hither’ pluck of his fingers. “Come take a walk," he said, throwing his half-eaten fry back onto the table and grumbling that it 'tasted like shit.'

“Wh- where are we going? Damn it.” I quickly stood and gathered my things, stuffing them into my bag and following when Sukuna casually walked off.

--------

The decision to follow him felt like a poor one when he approached the very shop I'd been gazing at.

"Sukuna!" I hissed, to no avail. He strolled right in, gazing at the trumpets, guitars, drums, cellos, violins and various other instruments displayed inside. 

“Sukuna- you really don’t have to. Let’s get out of here," I touched his arm and spoke in a low voice, trying not to draw attention to us. Sukuna’s appearance didn't lend itself well to blending in though, all swagger and hard edges. As luck would have it, there was only an old man occupying the store behind the counter. 

“Not without the instrument you need. Go fetch," he pointed into the shop boredly. 

“I thought you said I wasn’t a pet anymore!”

He grinned darkly. “If you didn't bark at me like a mutt, I wouldn’t be so tempted to collar you and treat you as one.”

I growled, turning to the exit. “That’s it. I’m leaving-“

“How many years do you think the owner has left?”

That threw me off. I stopped and gave the old man a cursory glance. 

“What? Uh…I don’t know? I guess 10 to 20 at a push?”

Sukuna nodded thoughtfully. “Hm. Would be a pity if those 20 were cut short to a few minutes, wouldn’t it?" His eyes glittered like the surface of his crimson pool as they slanted down to me. "That’s how long he’s got left unless you pick up the instrument you want and bring it to me like a good girl.”

I gaped, working my mouth for a moment when no words would come. "Y-you’re impossible!” I finally burst.

“Thank you, I pride myself on being beyond human explanation. 117 seconds left.”

“Ah! Wait- wait!” panicking, I hurried toward the violin section. Sukuna's low laughter carried me all the way there, and I hurriedly scanned the selection. I wouldn't put it past Sukuna to commit daylight murder and I wasn't about to let an old man's death be on my conscience. 

I grabbed a violin at random and was about to hurry back- only to hit a solid wall. I squeaked, peeling my face away from where it had briefly been smothered in the depths of Sukuna’s chest. "W-what? You told me to hurry-?"

"Mn, but I didn't know you were into these," Sukuna plucked the violin from my hand, studying it with more care than I imagined he would. His hands smoothed over the dips and curves with a respect I hadn't thought him capable of. Careful and appreciative. "Aren't they a little awkward to just grab on the fly like that? They depend on various factors in order to be played effectively."

I paused and sized him up. For all his swagger and brutality, Sukuna sometimes spoke like this:  considerate of the proper pursuit of study. Come to think of it, he’d always give me space when I needed to cram for a college test in my room.

"Yeah, the shape of my shoulders and neck are a factor. They’d decide if this one is a good fit for me."

"Try it out."

It was impossible not to stare. Had the conversation several seconds ago not taken place? 

Sukuna ‘knocked’ on the side of my head with a rap of his knuckles. "Ohoho, are you ignoring me? Heh, that's a bold move."

"I thought you wanted me to hurry or you'd kill the owner!" Growling, I leaned away from him. 

"You really do take things too seriously. Makes you fun to rile up," he chuckled. "I’d get no enjoyment out of squishing that insect, so old and senile."

The caprice of his moods could sway so violently it was hard not to be swept away in the whiplash. After being his roommate for a little while now though (and getting to the point that I was comfortable yelling at him for leaving the toilet seat up) it allowed me to recover and shrug it off. Sukuna was weird. If he wanted me to perform like a little song-bird for him, I wouldn’t complain. 

It would be no different than the treatment I’d received from my parents anyway.

Settling the violin against me, I took a breath. Releasing it slowly, I glided the bow over the strings, frowning softly the longer I played. 

It wasn’t long before I was setting the body down and making adjustments. 

Sukuna hovered over my shoulder. He didn’t say anything but I could feel his eyes on my hands all the same as I tightened the strings and tried again. There was something a little off about it, so I picked up the next one and found the weight and feel much more natural. 

"That one,” he said at last, with a low decisive tone. “We're taking that."

"You want to steal it?!" I squeaked, jumping to conclusions. 

He shot me a patronizing look that I was quickly becoming accustomed to. I don’t know what that said about me. "Please, I'm not that cheap. Abusing power for petty thievery might satisfy some whelps for cheap thrills, but in reality it just comes across as tacky. Like you can’t pay for your own shit,” he lifted a bored shoulder, heading toward the counter.

Strange. I never would’ve expected him to have principles, especially after the way he acted- but this was Sukuna, and I suspected most decisions came down to spur-of-the-moment deals. He just didn’t feel like stealing today.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t compute what was happening as he actually strode up to the counter and spoke with the owner of the store. I busied myself with gently plucking at some harp strings, still feeling the residue of the fries sitting heavy in my stomach. What was wrong with me today?

"Take it."

Something smooth was shoved into my hands. I quickly grabbed onto the violin case as he let go- gawking at it. Unable to help myself, I clicked open the secures and looked inside at the brand new instrument sitting inside. Polished wood elegantly carved and shaped to perfection gleamed back at me. 

“What-? You’re just going to give it to me?” I asked, looking up at him in askance. This wasn’t like him. Surely there was a catch or a longer game to play?

“Tch, well I didn’t buy it just to have it languish on the mantelpiece,” he drawled, stuffing both hands in his pockets and heading for the exit. “You can play it- so play it. Whenever I want. That’s the deal.”

“Can I play outside of the hours you’d like me to?”

“Do as you wish.”

My heart did a funny flip in my chest. I couldn’t believe it. Was Sukuna being…nice? Maybe getting laid was truly good for him. If it meant the caprice of his mood perked up like this, I could see myself trying that method again in the future. 

---------

It took a little while of walking for Sukuna to glance back at me as we strolled out of the store and back into the mall. He tsked and grinned, eyeing me strangely. “Nobody’s going to take it from you, woman. Relax the death grip.”

Only then did I notice I’d been hugging the case to me possessively like a starved orphan. Blushing and dropping my arms hastily, I walked on like a professional violin player and most definitely not a weirdo with attachment issues. 

He continued on with a mocking scoff, but I quickened my pace- hurrying to walk beside him for once. “Thank you,” I mumbled. 

“Hah? Didn’t catch that. Say again louder.”

“Your age must be catching up with you then, I’m not repeating it.”

Sukuna chuckled, flashing sharp teeth in my direction. He then stopped, attention apparently caught by something across the mall.

I turned to look, but could only locate a gang of what looked like would-be thugs. Bunch of young guys with cheap tattoos and a swagger that suggested they were trying too hard. They left the mall, one spitting on the ground in parting. 

"You know the way back from here, right? I'll meet you at our place. There's something I need to do."

"Right this second?" I pressed, puzzled. 

Sukuna's grin was more unhinged this time, wide and broad. Clamping a hard palm atop my head, he caused it to sway with the force of his pets. "I got you a nice treat. That means you should be a good girl and obey. Go straight there," he bent down close to my ear, fanning hot breath against it. "I want you to warm my cocks later, understand?"

Like a lightning bolt striking true, I was suddenly ramrod straight. Heat speared tightly through my core. Fuck. 

Red eyes glittered. Sukuna barked a laugh, the sound carrying even as he strolled away. 

I waited a moment and sucked in a hard breath, slowly releasing it. After making sure my traitorous, pathetic legs wouldn’t betray me, I shakily followed him out of the mall, intending to go home. 

The outside world was chillier than anticipated, and I tugged my coat more firmly around me, hugging the violin case close. Downtown was as busy as ever, and I hurried along, not wanting to be stopped by some of the zealous worshippers that had cropped up ever since the Shibuya Incident. 

A laugh made me stop. Sharp and distinct. I knew that laugh. I'd heard it flit through my daydreams and nightmares enough to know it instinctively. 

Turning, I found myself mindlessly following it down an alley, my steps slow and careful. The alley was small and shadowed, crammed between two shops.

A cacophony of voices and laughter reached my ears, closer now. I ducked behind a stack of crates and listened.

“We were gonna go back to the club if ya wanna join? Ya seem pretty chill,” one voice was saying.

“Yeah, come drink with us!” another joined in.

“There’s women there. Their holes might not be tight but their mouths make up for it if ya know what I mean!”

Booming laughter swallowed the alley then, and I realized without seeing them that these men must’ve been the tryhard gang I’d seen just a few moments before in the mall. 

“Heeh? Sounds pretty good.”

It was hard not to shiver. Sukuna’s baritone had dipped into something lower than the voice he typically used around me.

From the soft inhale made, I recognised the sound of a drag being taken. “Come then, let’s go! I’ll set you up with Nanako!”

“Just one second.”

“Eh?”

“Where’s this little bar you want me to follow you to?” Sukuna uttered, sounding lazy and bored. 

“Roppongi, obviously! It’s got the best bars in Tokyo!”

“Ahh I get it. I’ve been chatting to touts this entire time,” a distinct sigh doused the air. 

That was when the screams started. 

I stiffened, clamping a hand over my mouth as the noises bounced off the alley walls. Shouts from the men were drowned out but I could just barely hear them. 

“What the FUCK man?!”

“What are you doing?! Arghhhhhhh!”

Sukuna’s carefree laugh cut through the wet, snapping sounds of flesh and bone tearing. I heard something thud to the ground. “You were all holding your heads a little too high for my tastes. You even thought you could lure me to one of those sleazy bars. The type of shithole where the drink is cheap but spiked so you can drain me of cash or try to get me hooked on something, right? Tsk, so boring. You’re a waste of air. Better off in my stomach than wriggling around in broad-daylight where I can see you, Maggots!”

I began to back up then, heart racing. Through the slats in the crates I’d taken refuge behind, I made out the image of Sukuna slanting his mouth over another man’s- ripping his arms off cleanly with a casual jolt. Sukuna swallowed his horrified cries, only to back away slightly and bite down on the punk’s extended tongue as he screamed. 

He practically devoured his face. The other men still alive either watched on, helpless and frozen, or dragged their injured bodies away.

I swallowed thickly, almost choking on my own saliva- only to realize my mouth had become filled with it. My teeth ached. I suddenly had the urge to bite. To sink needy teeth down into…something. Something full and pulsing and alive.

My stomach rumbled. 

Jolting, I quickly turned and ran- fleeing from the sounds of blood-curdling madness or my own chattering, hungry teeth, I couldn’t tell. A figure took shape at the end of the alley, and I blinked the tears from my eyes enough to glimpse Uraume on my way out, who watched me pass by with a satisfied curl of their lips.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

Look at this....☠️ https://www.tumblr.com/bohemian-nights/737003196544958464/fuck-rhaenyra-fuck-the-writers-with-this-sapphic?source=share

Fucking hell.

First off: I find it interesting the anon doesn't acknowledge that Laena x Daemon is also incest. Sure, she's not his niece, but she is still related to him. They love projecting their insecurities about their ship onto daemyra.

Second: yeah, HoTD choosing to make the Velaryons black then sidelining them massively is shitty and, sure, could be interpreted as racist. However, how is that Rhaenyra's fault? She didn't make Daemon marry Laena when he couldn't have her neither did she kill Laena. Condal and Hess chose to write out Laena's relevance (which already wasn't much outside of being Daemon's wife and Baela and Rhaena's mother) in order to give Alicent more screen time. But again, that's neith Rhaenyra's nor Emma D'Arcy's fault, stop blaming them (also Emma is good at playing Rhaenyra as she is written, the only issues are the writing, which aren't their fault). Op also chose to ignore the fact that Daemon actually is confirmed by GRRM himself to have loved Rhaenyra the most.

Moving on, once again the Rhaenyra antis are bringing up how Rhaenyra isn't "feminist". Literally no one in F&B is feminist by our modern definition. Visenya and Rhaenys are probably the closest, and even then, they aren't writing feminist manifestos (which apparently Rhaenyra is expected to for some reason). Alysanne, the most proactive queen regent, still enforced arranged marriages on her daughters and granddaughters. Rhaenys didn't advocate for Laena's right of succession in the book and in the show refused to support Rhaenyra long before Laenor's "death". Her antis hold Rhaenyra to unfair and unrealistic standards while making excuses for or ignoring other characters who don't meet them.

In that same vein, I still can't get over how Rhaenyra antis will say that TG aren't the conservative group. They say Rhaenyra isn't a feminist and that TG, the ones who are obsessed with male primogeniture and believe being gay, a sexually liberated woman, a child born out of wedlock, or not adhering to the equivalent of the Catholic Church make someone subhuman are the "progressive" group. It's delusion at its finest. Alicent and the greens are misogynistic and, because of them, women's rights in Westeros ended up more repressed than ever.

The fact that the op says that Visenya and Queen Rhaena are acceptable shows they have no understanding for TG or F&B. First off, TG would never support either woman. Visenya was hated by the Faith and most of the Lord's of Westeros, she was a warrior accused of witchcraft and dared to interfere with the misogynistic customs alongside Rhaenys. Rhaena was gay, something she wasn't allowed to live fully because the Targaryens chose to conform to Westerosi ideals. She was also robbed of her inheritance, even Jaehaerys acknowledged that Rhaena was the rightful heir, just as Aegon acknowledged Rhaenyra was.

As for the racist allegations, those come exclusively from Mushroom, someone who is far from a reliable source. Mushroom invented an entire woman to try to add "spice" to Jacaerys' story: Sara Snow. A woman of whom there is no record of, even though she was raised in Winterfell and supposedly married Jace. If Mushroom is willing to make up a whole ass woman to make the story more dramatic, why should we trust anything he says?

Yes, Rhaenyra ordered Nettles' execution, but that was because of her rumored relationship with Daemon and Rhaenyra's paranoia which had grown massively since Hugh Hammer and Ulf White's betrayal. Was it just? No. Was it racially motivated? According to Mushroom, maybe, but looking at Rhaenyra's character, it doesn't make sense.

Moving on, what exactly does op mean by "she's done too many things to claim she's been wrongly framed by the narrative"? By the time Nettles comes along, Rhaenyra hasn't done much that could be considered reprehensible. Op seems to have an issue with Vaemond's death, which Rhaenyra did order in the book. They seem to think that Vaemond "rightfully called her out" and was wrongfully killed.

She ordered Vaemond's execution after he declared her sons bastards in order to challenge Corlys' decision regarding succession. Keep in mind, Vaemond in the book is Corlys' nephew, not his brother, which moves him even farther down the line of succession. Vaemond not only was putting Rhaenyra and her sons in danger but was also trying to usurp all of Corlys' line, including Baela and Rhaena, who op seems to like a lot.

Yeah Rhaenyra is much harsher in F&B, but that hardly makes her evil and irredeemable. Queens Visenya and Rhaena were both harsh and even cruel sometimes, yet op doesn't think they're irredeemable monsters.

I do agree with op's anger over the sidelining of the Velaryons, as I said earlier, but taking it out on Rhaenyra is completely uncalled for. Rhaenyra wasn't a monster, anyone who believes that has frighteningly little reading comprehension. Rhaenyra's reign would have greatly helped women's standings in Westeros and pushed along gender equality. Ignoring that fact and blatantly saying the greens aren't supporting the repressive patriarchy is delusional and idiotic. The greens' actions were damaging in every way. Vaemond was far from an innocent victim, he was power hungry and misogynistic in both the show and the book. Keep your angry focused on the right people, don't take it out on a woman who had her whole life destroyed by the patriarchy.

[shinsouscatpisssmell]

Chapter 1

Masterlist

"That's it? I got the good ending but why do I feel so unsatisfied with it?"

The city streets are bustling with noises from cars and trucks honking horns and screeching their tires to the clacking of people's shoes and idle chatter.

One of those people being you, (Y/N) (L/N), currently waiting at the cross walk for it to turn green so you can get back to work since its been up for a good 5 minutes since your lunch break ended.

"I only played it for the villianess anyways but in the end she died." mumbling to yourself and in truth that was truly the only reason you got hooked on the game after a Co-worker showed you the character , Sasha Evermore, who looked and acted exactly like you minus the master manipulator part. She was part of a otome game called “to catch a prince”, a game that popped out of nowhere and instantly became a hit amongst the crowd that includes you.

The weird part was as you started the game the parts with sasha would pang your heart with sadness,disgust, and anger but always written it off as indigestion or heartburn. You pitied her for some odd reason but others look at you crazy when you express this notation to them. Writing it off as just another one of your favs getters killed off to further write the protagonist’s narrative.

Sighing and holding the app down you press the tiny 'X' next to it and clicked the "delete app".

Only,it didn't delete. You repeated the same steps and still nothing. You hold it down and move it to ensure you're not crazy. that it was there. Trying one more time to do it; you never noticed how you were planted in the middle of the crosswalk. So into your own world you never heard the screams of the people who sat on the sidelines or the horn of the truck coming full speed and unable to hit the the brakes in time.

It was when you registered what was happening that is was to late. Your phone flee in the air and landed next to you with a cracked screen and fighting to stay on. Mangled body twitching in its last moment as people gather to gaze upon you like an animal in the zoo. Some calling the police and the trucker sputtering out apologizes. No one saw your eyes flicker to your screen that miraculously light up with a single message and angelic voice to accompany it " @яε ¥ꪮʊ яε@∂¥ ⊥ꪮ εҳ⊥я@ḉ⊥ ¥ꪮʊя яεṽεηɠε, ʟꪮ⊥⊥ʟε ꪮηε?"

Your brain bloated and swollen from impact that you couldn't recognize the familiar warm voice. It was in a instant your phone began to shake and shoot out a beam of white light that sucks you in as you succumb to darkness.

ꕥꕥꕥꕥ

"He...llo? Hello~?"

Groaning in response and holding your head trying to register what is happening. Slowly blinking trying to adjust to the light in the room.

"You're finally up?" the soft voice next to you speaks sweetly to you as the clanking of cups and bowls hit eachother until they meet a bedside table.

Sitting up and looking over you are met with the sight of a long blue haired that framed a round brown woman. Her eyes are the darkest purple that had literal stars in place of pupils and her smile she stares at you with is the brightest stunning white. She stands in some sort of white sheer dress showing off her cleavage while she tilts forward to hand you the bowl of food.

You take it hesitantly and look from the bowl back up to the large woman a few times waiting for her to tell you that you're in heaven but nothing was said. The only thing you saw was her child like innocent aura as she stays seated close to the large bed you laid upon watching as she's aswaits for you're approval.

"I'm sorry but who are you… Where am I? Wasn't I...dead?" You push the ceramic bowl away and the feel of the deflation of the atmosphere around the woman's.

"oh? I um—I am sorry," she pokes her pointer fingers together and puffs out her cheeks, " I got caught up with meeting my favorite person and I didn't bother to introduce myself. My name is Hesitia . I am the entity that brought you back to life...twice. Kind of hurt that my idol doesn't remember me." She snaps her fingers making the bowl disappear.

"Brought back? Died twice?" You could see her nod her head to confirm your mini question, " what do you mean by idol? No wait, How did I die twice?"

"That's a lot to explain. Come,let me show you." She stands at her full height of 7'2 while pushing her hair behind her ears while extending a hand out to you.

Taking it without hesitation. Being determined to find out anwsers as you get pulled to your feet. Not expecting to be wearing the same sheer white gown as the large woman but more tailored to your size.

She brings you to an open space that has tall and pristine pillars surrounding the large area. She pulls you into her side and drape her arm over your shoulder.

"You have no sense of personal space ,huh?" you ask peeking up at her.

"nope," she giggles and pops her 'p'," now shush and watch." Waving her hand the area goes pitch black except two large orbs that held two human beings wrapped up in themselves. Hesitia and yourself walk up to them your steps illumanting one by one all the way.

You put your hand against the one you couldn’t recognize with such care and stare at it with awe, " is that...me?" You look back at the brown skinned deity with stars in your eyes.

"Yes,those are both versions of yourself. Right now your soul is preserved in this room I created when you first died," she puts a hand on your  shoulder as if she knew the next question, " like I've stated before this isn't your first time being dead, my little one. The first you had met a unfair end. To make is simplier, Have you ever heard of the woman Sasha evermore?"

"You mean the villainess from how to capture a prince?"

"precisely,lovely.  Except sasha is actually you. I made the game for you not to forget where you started. But I guess now that I say it out loud, its confusing and complicated. I'm still new to the whole resurrection plot. I was just so excited to meet my idol." She scratches her cheek in embarrassment.

"how can there be two of me? And how am I your idol?"

" well I've been assigned to watch over you since I came out of goddess training ,hehe. You were so powerful and demanding in everything you did since you were born. It made me become quite a fangirl," she giggles," how there is two of you is like what I stated before. Your first life you had died by your one true ,love. So in love you had choose to walk down the road of being naive and oblivious to his actions.Personally,He was not my cup of tea but sadly I can’t interfere. That’s a Different department and lots of paperwork I don’t wanna do. But to sum up the rest you were put to death after being framed and I as your personal goddess and guardian chose to strike a deal with you."

" Can I ask what deal former me made?"

" of course!" She claps her hands together and pulling them apart as a golden contract is constructed in the space," when I brought your soul here the first time. You told me you wanted revenge on those who wronged you. Your heart was tainted black and as the rules state I needed you to have a pure and clean one in order to make that happen.  But since you are my #1 I slightly bent the rules with some help, “she leans in to whisper yell , between you and me I owe favors to a lot of my older sisters.” She squished the golden paper making it disappear.

"So am I officially dead now?"

"No you aren't dead, silly. What would happen to the story! I just had to wipe your memories and put you in your once current timeline to make your heart pure again. Sorry about the truck. I couldn’t think of another way,but now what I can finally do," she gathers you in a hug and squeezes you letting your feet dangle off the ground, " is send you back to before you met your unfortunate demise by that vile woman."

"Vile woman?"

"Tut tut. I can't give away to much information or I'd get in trouble with the big guy upstairs." the dark space disappear and restore the room to its originality as she carries you back to the bed.

"I'm going to put you back to sleep because I can’t keep you here for long but when you awake you should be back in your past self’s body and you should retain memories from your modern self and this conversation. As I can not interfere I can only allow you to have a few memories of your previous life. The rest you will have to discover over time. Now you might feel a bit dizzy it’s a side effect of gaining your past memories,” she places a kiss on your forehead, “Please remember I'll be with you, (y/n) and will check in on you."

It was her final words to you before putting you back in a state of slumber.memories from a being you couldn't remember come back to you like a train hitting you.

"lady (y/n), you are to ne the betroth to prince izuku Midoriya." You at a young age are holding hands with a green haired boy that looks to be of the same age.

"She pushed me down, Zuku" the green haired boy is now holding a brown haired girl closely to him as you’re on the ground. In a crowded place.

"Disgusting vile woman. Such a title for an orphan" this time you’re in a col dripping wet cell. Chains bounding your legs and hands together as a older man shoos away the knight that was guarding it.

Your eyes shoot open to light shining from a large window at the side of the bed. Blinking the sleep away as you look around the decorated room. Your first instinct was to look into the mirror that is across from your bed and you remember the opening scene of the game. The pajamas where the same as the villainess in the game. You try to move from the bed to gain a closer look but a hit of wooziness and a turning stomach hits you like a bat and you fall over. You try to grab onto the bed for footing but you miss it by a inch thus making you hit your head and passing out on the ground.

Taglist(o´ω`o)ﾉ🔖: (send in an ask, comment, or dm)

Previous//masterlist//next

[effervescentdragon]

wait I want to know more about Arthur and gwen

Okay so i have a bit of a breather before i have to go do my taxes and well. So the canon arthur and gwen feel a bit underwhelming im not gonna lie, because gwen's character gets overshadowed by the whole absolute fucking insanity that are arthur and merlin and arthur's interest in gwen never felt like ot was genuinely executed in the show. And this isnt about "merthur shouldve been canon" bcs thats not how a tv show in 2010 thats based on arthuriana works nor how it should work. This is about gwen's character just being completely sidelined and very badly written, with her never being given enough space to develop in a way that doesnt seem choppy and as an afterthought. Nobody in that show ever got enough space to grieve anything that happened to them, which is admittedly half of the reason why merlin acts like an idiot in later seasons, but gwen especially. With trying to subvert gender roles merlin does the same mistakes that every media produced in that time does - the beginnings of girlboss feminism are very clearly present, which brings me to the point ive become especially interested in while i was doing celtic studies, which is that you cannot apply the modern ideas of what a feminist is to a media inspired by fucking arthuriana and/or medieval times. There are so many female characters in old myths and legends that were actually feminist, its just that that aspect of feminism does not fit into the modern understanding and is therefore discarded and mocked and looked down upon. And also like, its not enough to make your female lead a woman of colour and brush your palms off like "okay im done, i get an a in feminism, plus shes a girlboss that can make a sword, what else do you want from me i clearly did everything i should have". Gwen, to me, never felt as more than an afterthought in the writing of the show, which is a disservice to her character, and what they did to her relationship to morgana and their feelings towards each other... its just bad. Like genuinely bad. Also, what they did to gwen and merlin, who were friends... just bad writing all around man. Thats for canon, i might have more thoughts but its been a while since i watched the show so i forgot half of it.

As for fanon, its just misogyny. Most merthur and/or merlin writers just conveniently forget gwen exists - which, again, is very easy to do precisely because the canon show wroting does the same thing - or outright ignore her existence. If they dont, they make gwen the obstacle to merlin amd arthur's true love or whatever, in a manner very heavily resembling the love triangle with evil ex/cheerleader/popular girl and two protagonists from the shitty romcoms of the 2000s (merlin is the girl, obviously). This makes me actually shy away from many fics that have gwen in them, because its genuinely better if they just pretend she doesnt exist, which is such a low bar it makes me wanna scream most of the time. The pervasive mysogyny towards both gwen and morgana is just tiring and sad. Women ending up either forgotten or as a plot device for two white boys to get together, whats not to love innit.

Anyways. Yeah. Thats my thoughts, more or less. ✌🏻

[frasier-crane-style]

Furiosa And Its Response: A FAQ

Q: What’s Furiosa about?

A: Ironically, for all the claims prequel Fury Road wasn’t ‘about’ Max, Furiosa isn’t entirely about Furiosa. The first hour or so features Furiosa as a child, kidnapped from the Green Place (an idyllic oasis whose people live in peace and abundance, zealously protected against the post-apocalyptic depredations of outsiders) and then becoming the prisoner of Dementius. Dementius is sort of the villain protagonist of the movie’s first half while Furiosa is on the sidelines.

He seems like the last gasp of the savage warlords like Toecutter and Lord Humongus that we saw in the Mel Gibson Maxes. He is entirely about increasing the size of his horde while taking and consuming any resources he can find. He comes into conflict with Immortan Joe (the villain from the ‘sequel,’ Fury Road), who is more of the iron fist in the velvet glove, and one of the interesting points of this movie is how Joe seems like a reasonable administrator in contrast to Dementius. He’s an awful person, obviously, but at least he keeps the trains running on time.

Furiosa grows to adulthood caught in-between Dementius and Joe’s feud, eventually moving to escape and return to the Green Place.

Q: Is it as good as Fury Road?

A: Not quite. It has a new cinematography look that tends to give things a plasticky CGI sheen, like Attack of the Clones or something. I know that they did a lot of the effects practically and that Fury Road used a lot of CGI itself, but yo, what's the point if it looks fake?

Also, towards the end, Dementus gets into this "we're not so different, you and I" deal with Furiosa that feels like a reach, considering he hasn't seemed to be motivated by revenge at all throughout the story, just bog-standard ambition and lust for power, so trying to make him a dark mirror to Furiosa now seems like a strain for profundity.

Q: Is it woke?

A: I’d say not unless your definition of woke is so expansive that it’s basically meaningless. The themes of the movie are too universal to belong to any one political movement.

-Rapists, tyrants, and warlords are bad.

-In a radioactive wasteland, it’s good to live in a self-sufficient oasis.

-Good people try to avoid violence when possible and want to live in peace.

It does have a female protagonist, but so do Aliens, Terminator, Kill Bill, and a buttload of Michelle Yeoh movies. If you say that you’re fine with female protagonists, just not with poorly written ones, then I don’t see how that’d be a problem here.

In fact, it’s stated that the reason Furiosa is so badass is because a straight white man, Imperator Jack, saw her core toughness and mentored her. He’s not at all a simp and is treated as a paragon of masculinity—reasonable, respectful, self-controlled, and hypercompetent. He and Furiosa are in an implicitly romantic relationship.

That’s right. Furiosa is so cool because a boy fell in love with her and taught her everything she knows.

Other men help out Furiosa on her quest and some women are enthusiastically villainous. In that respect, it’s even less ‘feminist’ than Fury Road was.

Q: Okay, how’s it doing at the box office?

A: Not well.

Q: Why is that?

A: Opinions vary. Some say it’s because, despite the movie’s quality, it’s getting caught up in a backlash against ‘gender-swapped reboots’.

Q: Is it?

A: Possibly. I should note it isn’t meant as a ‘passing the torch’ ‘legacy’ ‘rebootquel’, just as a spin-off. The next movie that director George Miller wants to do is a prequel to Fury Road focusing on Mad Max, entitled The Wasteland. So this movie is more like if, between Batman movies, they made a movie about Catwoman going on a solo adventure.

Q: It can’t be doing poorly because it has a female protagonist, the most successful movie last year was Barbie!

A: You’re telling me female audiences showed up for a wacky comedy with a big showstopping musical number, but not for a gritty action movie focusing on death and revenge, despite both having female leads? It’s almost like girls like girly movies while men like manly movies (most of Furiosa’s audience is male—and I wonder how much bigger it would be if they’d advertised Imperator Jack’s presence instead of keeping it a secret).

Q: All movies are doing poorly this year!

A: Godzilla X Kong did well, as did Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, Dune 2, The Beekeeper…

Q: It’s been a long time since Fury Road came out, people forgot about it!

A: It was a long time after Beyond Thunderdome that Fury Road came out.

Q: Well, people are only going to the theaters for big event movies!

A: Chris Hemsworth and Anya Taylor-Joy in an epic action movie follow-up to Fury Road isn’t a big event? Look, I’m not saying these aren’t factors, but I remember seeing a movie before this came out and overhearing an elderly couple looking at a poster for Furiosa and muttering, in a disgruntled fashion, words to the effect of “Oh, great, they made Mad Max a girl.” I think it’s very possible that Hollywood has killed the market for female-led action movies by making people think they’ll get a deliberately assaultive product every time they try their luck.

Q: But aren’t woke people turning consuming politicalized product into a secular religion?

A: Umm… maybe? I think most people who are fans of anything get pissed off when quality work goes ignored while slop (reality TV, Michael Bay movies, Call of Duty games, comics about Batman) get hugely appreciated. Everybody should probably not take the box office so seriously, since the important thing is that we have a fun movie to enjoy, even though it is frustrating that we could’ve had a whole trilogy of Rocketeer movies if just a few more people had bought tickets. Jennifer Connolly, in her prime, playing a thinly veiled Bettie Page!!!

Q: Then you think I should see it?

A: Yes. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously, but if you like action movies or prior installments in the franchise, it’s hard for me to believe that you won’t get your money’s worth here.

Q: Does it have good disability representation?

A: Uh. I guess? It’s in the context of people having birth defects owing to radioactive fallout from nuclear war, but sure. Why not?

[ganondoodle]

just to note this, as much as i love botw, i am not uncritical of it, like while i personally like the weapon breaking and rain mechanics everyone else seemed to hate i do agree that the bosses and dungeons were kinda repetetive and there could have been more bigger sidequests, some more diverse epic music tracks also wouldnt have hurt tho i fully disagree with anyone trying to claim it didnt HAVE music, im convinced those people played it with sound off bc wth (edit. plus the unfortunately still orientalist design of the gerudo plus that belly dancer outfit for link ... that thankfully got removed in totk as far as i know but the rest still stands)

personal criticism id have that i would have prefered zelda never gaining her sacred powers but instead finding a different way to fight back, bc her gaining them like that kinda made rhoams abuse .. right, like turns out to activate her powers you need to literall kill everyone she cares about (at least thats why i feel a bit meh about that), her maybe not being as sidelined like that (tho youd have to change alot for that .. which totk had the perfect chance to and then kinda did it again but worse lol) and the yiga clan being less of one little side mission

(also way too many people kept hating on botw for the same few reasons, often without giving it a chance, i think we all heard all the endless complaints about usually little things so i dont need to retread all of that)

alot of those little criticism things got adressed in totk, which i LIKED, but overall its so much less in harmony, this should have been a game about rebuilding and recovering about working together and then zelda gets immediately booted off and we get introduced to characters we never learn enough of to really care and yet they still take away the mystery botw had left us for the world to feel more alive, they ripped out parts that were so internally organically connected to the world and pretended they never mattered nor existed, characters act off and i cant help but feel like the main 'plot' is, as much as i hate to use that comparison, a badly written fanfiction ... it builds on nothing and just leaves you .. or me at least feeling empty, like i am playing through a mockery of the game i loved ... like all the fun i had thinking about the things in botw, the theories you could come up with was all wasted time

i honestly cant describe it better than totk, despite the little QoL changes, and the changes i DID like, it just feels ... empty? not in a literal way but more ... mentally? it feels so shallow? like at multiple points i felt like the game was actively mocking me, when i reached the shrine of life and was faced with barren walls and a puddle of water i felt betrayed for caring so much about what botw had done .. i felt like i could hear the game laughing while i stood there not knowing what to think of it, and while this was the time when i felt the most actually physically compeltely betrayed, that feeling of being mocked kept happening, i kept feeling like i was treated like a dumb player character that just eats up anything they say without thinking or remembering the title this was supposedly a sequel of, like i should play with the little toys of glueing things together and forget the world around me like a 5 year old

that may sound harsh but that is how i, personally, feel about it

[heliphantie]

“Bubo Marquez, what it is, dark magic?”

Local fauna enthusiast has discovered an exceptional specimen.

Local goddess of flora has inherited gene that makes one falling for nerds.

A lot to say about Bubo under ‘read more’…

Bubo! The man who was cut from the story and replaced by cactus:D

I believe real reasons for it is that his storyline would’ve been excessive for already crumped timing of the movie. Sure, in concept art his and Isabela’s couple looks like comedic stereotype, but then, underlying theme of the story is how deceptive surface picture in human relationships (and humans in general) can be. Aren’t Pepa and Félix embodying a cartoon duo cliché (a stocky man and tall, often spindly woman: Boris and Natasha, Popeye and Olive Oyl, Gomez and Morticia, you name it) as well, yet they have enough personality and chemistry to feel like full-fledged people in genuine relationship. And it’s not like Disney had problem with pairing statuesque confident woman with dorky/nerdy man just not so long ago: Captain Amelia and Dr. Doppler, Kida and Milo, Sgt. Calhoun and Felix Jr. … I’ve had written here my thoughts on this plot point as it appears in revealed animatic of scene: there is no much further context to it, but from what the scene discloses, it may create unfortunate impression of Isa’s character, as she seemingly tries to ditch her family and elope with somebody who can promise her future and allows her to indulge in her interests rather than maintain a respectable image she doesn’t want. Compared to her eventual storyline she appears more egoistical, and her feelings for Bubo seem self-centered too, as she only talks about loving what he loves in her. So, based just on that scene only, it could give Isa rather unsympathetic air and hurt her character arc (as it doesn’t reflect faithfully on cultural values it’s intended to portray). But her arc, I suppose, was intended to evoke sympathy after all, as, amidst all the comedy bits, the scene implies genuine and deep affinity between two (and, as another storyboard for epilogue shows, Isa’s happy ending did involve getting married to him). I guess it was decided that focus on sibling and intergenerational bonds was more pivotal for the message, thus any romance got sidelined as it was (even though different romance plot was squeezed in, it’s got even less room for development). /And, after all, love story is in the heart of the plot, it just deals with its consequences rather than blooming stage of it./

Back on the subject of stereotypes: well, yes, scrawny nerd type and model beauty together is an odd pair that may rise brows and ill suspicions in real life (presumably) and taken as joke in fiction, not particularly fresh too. But the catch in this particular case is, in all production materials and in the movie itself, it’s implied to various degree, Isa is a nerd too, by her nature. in concept art, she’s shown with books in hands (only her of all characters), and her song shows she’s knowledgeable of botany far beyond her typical repertoire, and it’s strongly implied the magical gifts stem from one’s deep inclinations. /It also stealthily upturns the presumed dynamics of three sisters: gorgeous one is really a Brain, while Luisa, a sensitive one, is Beauty, and finally, strongheaded and determined Mira (presupposed “Brain” of trio) is a figurative Brawn./ The scene from the animatic, in its turn, implies Bubo may be just as much into zoology (fearless in the woods and, that, I guess, why he has these animal urinе samples). So, romance or not, they apparently have something to see eye-to-eye and grow mutual affection over it. And the scene is quite essential in showing a gist of his personality: smart, brave, bit of eccentric, - enough to see him as likeable charismatic figure without needs to question what may be so charming about him. /Quite obviously, after he was cut, a lot of him went into final character of Bruno; he is basically just younger (well, not *smaller*) bespectacled Bruno sans all the gloom and drama./ Inner kinship under contrasting façades makes effectual portrait of a functional couple, I think.

Also, his name, which is likely a nickname, referring to his oversized glasses (Bubo is Latin and Spanish for “horned owl”.) Emphasis on eyeglasses again, like in case of Mirabel, a metaphor of “seeing beyond the obvious” through the movie. And owl is a symbol of wisdom, of course.

TL;DR: In this house we respect Bubo Marquez. I’ve finally come to giving tribute to him, at last. (This is not the last you’ve got to see of him, I gotta warn you.)

All the butterflies are based on actual species that can be found in Columbia, even though I didn’t check on correct sizes and a habitat of each, sorry for that. Hey, it’s all magic after all.

The last, related to this piece of fanart of mine: Bubo is said to be an outsider from the big city who had arrived one day in Encanto, in my version he is, perhaps, born inside the village (like Agustín, who has ancestry from big city) and was a friend of Isa in their adolescence, but eventually left Encanto to see the world. Maybe he even suggested Isa to consider joining him, but she was adamant to stay… They said goodbye, their feelings for each other left unexpressed.

[the-owl-tree]

There’s so many toms that I hate because they were shoved into the plot to steal a she-cats story for themselves… it’s SO OBVIOUS when the Erins do this. The she-cats deserve to have just as much of an arc and character depth as the toms do, yet the writing team consistently devolves it’s female cast into accessories for their male counterparts.

Examples:

- Alderheart (blatantly having been written to strip sparkpelt of an arc that so clearly should’ve been her own - ie “the spark that remains” - sparkpelt is then twisted into a xenophobic jerk at the drop of a hat to make alderheart look better than her, when previously she was VERY MUCH in support of SkyClan’s return. What the fuck, Erins??? Sandstorm is also iced for this loser’s manpain.

- Nightheart (basically every she-cat has their personality altered to fit his victim complex, and we all KNOW that Finchlight would’ve been more interesting and deserving of a pov than him. If they kill off spark, finch, or sun to further his angst, I will be so pissed off…

- Tree (violetshine’s character growth, struggles, and arc completely disintegrates with his introduction. in tbc, she’s reduced to your typical background protag mother… while tree remains a major character, and is not only hugely valued by the plot, but also by its characters. violetshine deserved so much better than to be shoved to the sidelines by this random-ass character who was *totally not introduced just to make her into a a generic wife and mother*. that’s not even getting into how stupid the Sisters fiasco is, where ‘waaah tree was oppressed by all the women in his life and kicked out, isn’t he just so tragic and sad???’… good god. that was bizarre

- brambleclaw: probably one of the worst offenders of this, right alongside alderheart. Tawnypelt should’ve gotten his pov, considering her personality in TNP… it seems liked they flipped their stories around just because she’s a she-cat, and they just *had* to make the main protagonist of the arc a tom. very disapointing

- rootspring: bristlefrost’s character arc was absolutley DERAILED by this character, and it’s such a shame. even her most iconic scene, her sacrifice, was primarily focused upon rootspring and his pissbaby manpain. also… needleclaw, anyone? she’s the one who should have the sisters’ abilities, after all, but instead she has none… how does she feel about that? I think exploring that would be much more interesting than ‘whiny loser is upset and feels weird that he can see ghosts in a society that values the ability to see ghosts, gets a girl by being weirdly pushy and not taking ‘no’ for an answer, and goes through extreme manpain after she’s iced to further his development’.

- crowfeather: I don’t have any qualms with early crowPAW, but what I DO have an issue with is just how much feathertail’s death is twisted to revolve around *him*, when, in reality, it should’ve focused on Feathertail herself, as well as her brother. FeatherCrow was just awful in general though… especially considering that her name is only invoked later on as an excuse for crowfeather to be an abuser, implying that he’s justified in hurting his wife and son, as well as leafpool and her kits, ‘because manpain’.

real & true, it sucks seeing how many mollies in the series will have really interesting stories and potential conflicts then have the writing team choose whatever supports the main dude around them. more i think about tree the more annoyed i am that it wasn't violet, the big prophecy kitten who had survived the kin and would have more reason to want to keep the clans from tearing each other's throats out. the mediator role is a dumb one (i say with my mediator oc) but it would have been nice if it was actually a character who we followed who got the position instead of "my mommy is mean to me :(" rando dude who just shows up.

[lolotheparagon]

Helluva Boss is Hella Sexist To Both Men and Women - Part 2

In my last post about HB, I was discussing how the main female characters of HB get shunted to the sidelines/used as a vehicle for the men's character development. And its about time we started talking about the male characters as well. Cos despite how female characters being mistreated is the more pressing issues (cos female characters always have trouble being written properly for hundreds of years because the writers were incels or misogynistic women) male characters have their own stereotypes or objectification that writers fall into. Especially in regards to mlm relationships (OH, WE'LL FUCKING GET TO THAT)

But for now, lets talk about the main guys in HB:

Blitzo

I might as well go into full character analysis here cos Blitz is ultimately the protagonist of the show. Blitz is a interesting character by concept. A foul-mouthed demon with a literal devil-may-care attitude, completely unprofessional, loves his job as an assassin but also craves love and intimacy with others but struggles to due to a history of failed relationships in the past so he hides behind a mask. Hes an absolute mess of a character and I love that. Blitz is not only a good vessel for comedy but drama as well as his self-sabotaging of his relationships with his friends/co-workers can be a great character arc of him learning to trust others again and start to love himself...

HOWEVER Vivziepop just LOVES throwing angst upon angst onto this guy cos it seems that every past relationship he's had from an ex-girlfriend Verosika to his former partner/childhood friend Fizzarolli to even HIS OWN SISTER ends bitterly and it seems no one from Blitz's past even likes him or is on some amiable ground. Verosika is portrayed like an antagonistic ex, Fizzarolli condescends and humiliates him and from what we see of Barbie's view from that animatic, she comments on how he fucked up her life. So we have two women who are scorned at him (one for justifiable reasons since Blitz was an inconsiderate jerk and the other for reasons we dont know yet) and a guy who broke ties with him to be his rival. And its not like Blitz isnt remorseful because whenever Verosika talks about their relationship, you can see the look of regret on Blitz's face and he was shown to be scared whenever he encounters Fizz, like a kid scared of a bully.

Even Blitz's relationship with his adoptive daughter is fucked up, Loona constantly abuses her father when hes done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to warrant it outside of him being protective at a few moments or babying her (and by babying her I mean calling her Loonypoo or showering her with gifts and hugs). Aka what a typical parent is like. And yet he constantly bends over backwards for her and Loona hasn't even learned her lesson to stop being a bitch cos apparently the writers think women hitting men is funny. There are a few moments of them getting along, but its only for comedy. I would say the only good relationships Blitz has is with Millie and Moxxie. But even that's pushing it cos Blitz barely interacts with Millie in any meaningful way outside of co-worker banter and with Moxxie, the only meaningful scenes they share is in the Truth Seekers episode or that little scene in Seeing Stars.

Ultimately Blitz' relationships with others is why he's such a fucked up mess of a person to begin with. While he has a more stable relationship with his current friends/co-workers, the people of his past keep coming back into his life to mess with him and while he clearly regrets how he treated some, like Verosika, others like Fizz, are okay with hurting him for the evulz and thus set them up to be villainous foils. With all this baggage plus his traumatic childhood regarding his father and presumably dead mother, Blitz sounds like a great character to explore, especially with two characters who both have history with Blitz in different ways. And they barely show up.

You see, Verosika and Fizz ONLY appear in a couple episodes. Fizz appears properly (not his robot double) in the season 1 FINALE and his past with Blitzo is only expanded upon in season 2 premiere whereas Verosika had her own episode in season 1 earlier and her only other significant appearance is in the finale. Apart from that, we only get snippets of info about their relationships from Blitzo's viewpoint. WE HAVENT EVEN SEEN A FLASHBACK WITH BLITZ' BREAK UP WITH FIZZ OR VEROSIKA.

And then we come to his relationship with Stolas...and its fucking awful. That image at the top of this post? Thats what Blitz thinks of Stolas. Doesn't look like a wholesome relationship, does it? I can talk about Stolitz enough to fill a bible but to summarise: Blitz' relationship with Stolas is incredibly fucked up and whats worst, its shown so far to be one-sided. What started as a transactional sex relationship in order for Blitz to use Stolas' grimoire to enter the human world to do his job. (the ONLY METHOD HE HAS, mind you) And from what we see of Blitz' view of this relationship, he's tolerant of him at best to annoyed and angry at worst. The one scene at the end of the season 1 finale cements this when Stolas wants to comfort Blitz after the scene at Ozzies and Blitz refused to have sex with Stolas cos hes deeply hurt and embarassed after everything thats happened that night.

(btw love this video is titled Blitzo hurts stolas feelings. Like the scene of Blitz being publicly humiliated by both his ex and his rival didnt happen not 1 minute ago with Stolas just standing there not even saying anything so Blitz is clearly hurt by that but nooooo sad gay owl uwu)

Throughout the first season, Blitz treats Stolas like an abhorrent admirer with how Stolas constantly coddles or flirts with him to the nth degree and the argument shown above thats supposed to be the climax of this relationship's problems isnt even RESOLVED when the second season rolls around, the show just treats Blitzo like a tsundere slowly becoming more chill with someone whom he's force-shipped with. The writers really REALLY want you to root for Blitz to be with Stolas yet Blitz has been nothing but uncomfortable or annoyed in his presence. Look at Blitz' face on these photos on Stolas' phone. He looks bored as fuck. oH buT ItS OKAy cos BLitzo hAS a PHOTo of HIm slightly smiling AFter the two had secks so its all good.

That's not the gotcha card you think, guys. Still doesnt excuse how fucked up the relationship is

The main problem I have with Blitzo is that Vivziepop LOVES to torture this imp for drama with scorned lovers, estranged siblings, an abusive father, a presumably dead mother, an ex-best friend who's now his bully, a one-sided relationship with a powerful prince thats built on coercion and pity sex. And yet the show flits back on forth on making him this lol screw you memelord who doesnt give a fuck to a tragic, broken man who doesnt know how to love anyone and himself anymore and the show doesnt dwell hard enough into the latter. I want Blitz to get therapy already or have him actually learn from his mistakes and the show doesnt punish him for it or treat his abuse like a joke. Ive got nothing wrong with a protagonist who's an asshole but dumping all this trauma and angst onto this character who's already got issues to deal with in his current life (like stalking, his lack of respect for boundaries, saying the r slur or making fatphobic jokes) is just depressing.

Moxxie

Moxxie is by far my fave character for how level-headed and kind he is but cos the writers are so indulgent with their tropes, they've flanderised him into a soft boi malewife, infantilising him to the point he literally cant do anything without his wife picking up the slack.

My three main problems with him are: his status as a butt-monkey, his lack of agency and his co-dependency on Millie.

To start with: he's the most morally upright imp on the team so its only natural he would be the butt monkey of the team, but despite how Blitz respects him enough as an assassin, Moxxie is still ridiculed, assaulted and attacked by Blitz, Loona, Verosika, practically everyone except his wife. And while having a butt monkey for comedy is fine, the show goes out of its way to mock Moxxie for things that are so nonsensical it feels more like degradation than snarky banter. For some reason, theres a running gag where Loona and Blitz mock how fat Moxxie is...Look at him! He's thin as a pencil! WHO THE FUCK CONSIDERS THAT FAT?! And whats worse, Moxxie has internalised this by saying to Loona in the most recent episode that he lost weight, to which Loona looks up at him and ignores him. Why is this a running gag? What is the reason? It feels so cruel and pointless.

Secondly, his lack of agency. Despite Moxxie being the most intelligent of the team and his name LITERALLY MEANS "fighting spirit." he's still delegated to a damsel in distress or be given the idiot ball so other characters can have more spotlight. In the Spring Broken episode, while Blitz is distracted with Loona and Verosika, Millie and Moxxie put up the slack and carry on the mission, but Moxxie accidentally gets drunk and spends the rest of the episode being an inebriated doofus. Little moments like this are funny but there was and entire subplot in Seeing Stars where Moxxie gets roped into buying demo CDs and merchandise from every hack artist he bumps into in Hollywood and its up to Millie to take charge.

In the Exes and O's episode where we finally meet Moxxie's father and the uncomfortable reunion plus Moxxie's traumatic childhood flashback perfectly builds up to a scene where he stands up to Crimson for forcing him into marrying a dickhead shark and yet Moxxie gets struck down in one shot and wakes up being tied up at the altar. So the one chance Moxxie gets to take down his monstrous father is completely negated. Thats fucking weak.

Isnt Moxxie supposed to be a professional assassin? Have him do more badass stuff. Let him take control of a mission or a rescue. Have another scene like the Harvest Moon festival where he intimidates a villain with a DEMON-KILLING GUN. Or that scene where Blitzo and Moxxie take down a bunch of human agents in Truth Seekers. He has incredibly knowledge of weaponry and technology which are excellent skills for an assassin to have, so USE THEM. Where's this Moxxie?

This issue also ties into his relationship with his wife Millie. Even though M&M have the most stable wholesome relationship in the whole show, half the time it feels like Millie is doing the most physical work out of their relationship. Whenever Moxxie is in trouble, kidnapped, put in danger or held hostage, Millie always bursts in to save the day and that would be fine except it makes Moxxie look like some baby who cant even tie his bow without Millie there. That whole wedding crash scene in Exes and O's was all set up so Millie can burst in doing cool badass fighting and save her husband. Why couldnt Crimson lock up Millie and Blitzo too? Well, we wont be able to have our cool Millie fight scene where she murders a bunch of thugs and do a Shrek reference. It feels imbalanced calling these two a "power couple" where only ONE of them is powerful and the other is just the emotional support noodle boy. And its even worse how Millie so far hasn't been in a situation where she needs support from her husband so we dont see that much of Moxxie being a good husband outside of cute couple banter.

Basically less this and more of this

Lastly, it seems he gets hit with the angst stick too, cos the most recent episode was about his traumatic childhood with his abusive mob boss father and it turns out he isnt even dealt with or killed by Moxxie, the imps just rescue Moxxie and fuck off so Crimson can continue to be more of a problem. Yeah, that's exactly what this show needed. More traumatised men having their abuse being completely glossed over/treated as a joke so we can have our precious status quo. Except the rich white guy, he gets his happy ending.

SPEAKING OF WHICH...

Stolas

Oh god, its time we talked about this fucker.

My issue with Stolas mostly stems from two things: his treatment of the people he's supposed to care about like Blitz or Octavia and his flanderisation from a clingy rich asshole from the pilot who is in a transactional sexual relationship with a low class imp to a precious soft uwu nice guy who tries WEALLY HARWD

Vivzie clearly likes Stolas and she's been pushing for him to be a main character since the beginning, but the problem was Vivzie wants Stolas to be a well-intentioned person WHILST being a barely trying father to his teenager daughter and still being in a borderline SA relationship with a commoner.

Now I like the idea of Stolas being a complex character, theres nothing wrong with a flawed but sympathetic character (which Vivziepop is clearly trying to do). Stolas has made mistakes, he's neglected his daughter, cheated on his wife and put the only person he claims to love in his life in a transactional sexual relationship with a commoner imp, whilst treating other imps with apathy or disdain. These are all great things to unpack with Stolas, giving him the reality check he desperately needs (lets not forget he's a privleged prince of Hell and hes always been rather ignorant) so he can improve and be a better person, not just for himself, but to his daughter and to Blitz, whom he's grown to care about beyond sexual attraction.

BUT NOPE! Lets give Stolas a tragic backstory in the season 2 opener (JUST AFTER THE PREVIOUS EP TALKING ABOUT HOW STOLAS CLEARLY REALISING BLITZ DOESNT RECIPROCATE HIS FEELINGS AND THAT STOLAS MISINTERPRETED THEIR RELATIONSHIP). Lets give him an unhappy childhood, a father who doesnt care about him (yes Vivzie slap on another abusive dad to your characters as a shortcut for the audience to sympathise with them, that'll work), an unhappy marriage to an abusive woman, his relationship of Blitz is now established as a childhood friends trope (although I use the term VERY loosely as the two aren't even friends for more than a day) and instead lets depict Stolas' affair from a messy, complicated dilemma Stolas has to deal with the consequences to a triumphant act of defiance over an abusive wife. And dont get me wrong, Im totally fine with Stolas divorcing Stella, it was clear their marriage even in Stella's first appearance wasnt happy. BUT considering how that whole Circus episode was used to make the audience sympathise with Stolas EVEN MORE than the show was already doing, its overcompensating at this point.

When a show is shoving so many sad tragic scenarios into a character's backstory so the audience can buy merch feel sorry for him, thats a sign the character himself isn't very well written.

Lets also talk about Octavia, his teenager daughter who's bared witnessed to her parents declining marriage careening into divorce and while this is happening, we see Stolas making bare minimum attempts to fix his relationship with her. In Loo Land, we see Stolas taking her to a park she's clearly not interested in going to cos he's too stupid to ask about his daughter's interests and spends half the episode flirting with Blitz. After a talk with Octavia and comforts her afterwards, taking her out of the park and suggests they do something she enjoys. Now, I loved that. It really showed how Stolas can put his horniness aside to help his daughter. BUT in the next episode about them, Stolas dismisses Octavia AGAIN cos hes too focused on arguing with his ex-wife, causing Octavia to run away to the human realm. And sure Stolas is worried sick once he finds out Octavia's gone but when we get into the human realm and both him and Blitz get shoved into a sitcom studio, STOLAS JUST GOES ALONG WITH THIS WHOLE SITCOM SUBPLOT AND AGAIN FLIRTS WITH BLITZ LIKE THE PREVIOUS EPISODE OF THEM INTERACTING DIDNT HAPPEN.

With how anxious Stolas was acting throughout the first act of the episode, you would think that he wouldnt have time to deal with Blitz' sitcom shit and spend the day but NO FOR SOME REASON LOONA'S THE ONLY ONE WHO IS ACTIVELY SEARCHING FOR OCTAVIA. OCTAVIA'S OWN FUCKING FATHER IS TOO INCOMPETENT TO SEARCH FOR HER HIMSELF ALL BECAUSE OF SOME WACKY COMEDIC MISUNDERSTANDING WITH BLITZ. Oh sure, your teenage daughter's missing in the human realm but nah l'll just carry on simping for my imp bf cos HEY AT SHE'S NOT IN DANGER.

Loo Land: Stolas wants to spend a day with Octavia but ends up distracted with Blitz and learns to pay attention to his daughter and support her.

Seeing Stars: Octavia wants to spend a day with her father but Stolas dismisses her because he'd distracted with arguing with his ex-wife, causing Octavia to run off to the human realm, Stolas goes there but spends half the episode watching Blitz in a live sitcom instead of finding his daughter and yet is forgiven for being a neglectful dad.

But its okay cos Stolas and Octavia have a big hug at the end (they dont even get a chance to talk about the divorce btw since this is the first episode featuring Stolas and his family after the divorce) and despite how hurt and neglected Octavia felt by her dad, she's like "ah its no big deal the furry here told me dads fuck up but they mean well so im good now". So Stolas makes the bare minimum amount of parenting and he's forgiven for it cos he TWIES. Not trying hard enough, just trying at all. "Cos hey, at least its better than nothing!"

Vivzie, this plus the amount of abusive fathers youve already got in this show, I think you have daddy issues. You might wanna get that checked out.

So, much like with its female characters: Helluva Boss has serious problems with how it portrays men. The man with shitloads of emotional trauma and abuse is glossed over/never resolved for the sake of drama and protecting the status quo. (Blitz, Moxxie) The soft-spoken male being infantilised to the point he cant even fight his way of a paper bag with his badass hypercompetent wife to help him (Moxxie), the father who does the bare minimum amount of effort for his daughter and is forgiven for it because HE MEANS WELL (Stolas), the utterly RANCID fetishisation of mlm relationships with the endgame couple going from a toxic sexual manipulation/transactional relationship into a forbidden lovers romance (Stolitz) and the rest of the men in the show are either sex-obsessed (Chaz, Fizzarolli) or abusive (Paimon, Blitz' dad, Crimson) cos MEN AMIRIGHT?

Yeah there are a lot of perverts, coomers and abusive dads irl. Im not saying Helluva Boss isnt accurate to that fact. But these are negative stereotypes about men that shouldnt be shoved in our faces all the time. I think the only recurring male demon character so far who ISNT a chauvinistic dick, cruel or abusive is Wally Wackford. I know people pull the "oh theyre from Hell, of course they're jerks" to excuse all of this but thats fine when theyre characters youre not supposed to sympathise with like Crimson or Blitz' dad but its another thing when your supposed to sympathise with characters like Stolas but they're fucking horrible and yet the show constantly treats them like precious babus who did nothing wrong, while the characters who ARE legit sympathetic (Moxxie, Blitz) are dumped pain after pain onto them cos that makes good dramatic scenes for Youtube, not a story.

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/lolotheparagon/712718858369286144/helluva-boss-is-hella-sexist-to-both-men-and-women

[ellswritings]

Second Chance At First Line 1x02

Episode 3

     Fallon waits patiently outside, sitting on the bleachers at the lacrosse field. She was the first one ready so that gave her time to sit and think. Her best friend since the third grade… is a werewolf, and apparently so is Derek. He’s the reason Scott ended up in the woods and found out that Allison’s father is a hunter. 

Her leg bounces up and down as her mind runs at a million miles a minute. She tries to focus on getting ready for practice, but it’s almost as if her entire world has shifted off its axis. The only thing consuming her every waking thought is that she’s actually living some people’s worst nightmares. She can’t even imagine how Scott feels. Trying to live a normal teenage life, only to find out that it’s now impossible to do so. 

Her anxiety is through the roof. She left the Argent’s house after breakfast the day after she slept over, not knowing how to act around the family after what she found out. She didn’t want to make it seem weird, but her abrupt exit might’ve done enough damage for her. Allison had been texting her all weekend since then and all Fallon could do was tell her she thinks she got a stomach bug from the food at Lydia’s. While the brunette wants to become friends with the new girl, there’s a worry in the back of her mind that Allison knows about the supernatural. Fallon’s not sure if there’s a possibility that Allison might be interested in Scott just lure him into a trap. 

A tap on the shoulder pulls Fallon out of her thoughts. She looks up and sees Coach holding two of the longer lacrosse sticks. “Donovan, why don’t you take one of these today, and get your ass out on the field!” He commands, placing the stick in her hands. 

She nods obediently, “Yes, Coach.” 

Her legs carry her out to the grass and that’s when she sees Scott and Stiles running out. Stiles sends her a thumbs up, silently asking if she’s okay. The girl sends him one back, assuring that she’s fine. Once Scott makes it closer to her, she migrates towards him, worried about his mental state after the events of the weekend. 

“You alright?” She asks quietly. 

“You mean after finding out that the girl I like’s dad is trying to kill me?” He replies, sick to his stomach. “Yeah, I’m great.” 

Fallon pats his back, sympathy written all over her face, “I’m sorry, Scotty.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

Coach’s whistle echoes loudly around the field. “Let’s go! One-on-one from up top!” 

Fallon’s partner for one-on-one’s is Danny. She grins at the boy before the red whistle is being blown again. Jackson scoops up the ball for his team and everyone starts to play. They all run around the field, passing the ball to each other and shoulder-checking their opponents as they try to score a goal. Danny grunts as Fallon plows into him, forcing him out of her way as she goes after the ball. Coach follows their movements closely from the sidelines. 

Fallon runs in between Jackson and one of his teammates, intercepting the ball he just barely threw from his elongated stick. She sticks hers up in the air, catching it effortlessly. Jackson’s jaw clenches when Fallon winks in his direction before taking off to her team's goal, scoring the first point of the afternoon. 

“That’s how you do it, Fallon!” Coach praises, “That’s how you do it!” 

After a few more minutes of game play, Coach yells at Greenberg to take a lap around the field for messing up the play. He drops his stick and his helmet, running towards the track with his head hung low. As he’s verbally abusing Greenberg, he instructs the others to get in line for goal practice. Fallon lines up right behind Scott, but she can see his eyes are more focused on something in the distance rather than on the field. 

“Scott, do you hear something?” She whispers. “Like y’know… w–with the werewolf hearing?” 

He shakes his head silently, still staring off into space. At least until Coach catches his attention, “McCall, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!” 

Coach points at Jackson who is blocking for the goalie. Fallon will be blocking for the second half of boy’s at Coach’s behest. The blonde boy looks smug, almost as if he’s  only doing this to show up Scott. The brunette boy clenches his jaw, charging towards Jackson. Fallon and Stiles, who happens to be behind her, wince as Scott is launched to the ground by a harsh shove from Jackson. Coach wastes no time in marching over to him mockingly, not even giving Scott time to stand from the mossy grass. 

“Hey, McCall!” Coach crouches down and Scott grimaces from pain and embarrassment as he struggles to stand up straight. “My-my grandmother can move faster than that-- and she's dead! You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?” 

Fallon and Stiles watch worriedly as Scott’s anger and frustration is what’s keeping him doubled over. They glance at each other, beginning to get ready for a werewolf intervention if needed. The last thing that needs to happen is Scott wolfed out on the field. 

“Yes, Coach,” Scott replies through clenched teeth. 

Coach, still trying to goad Scott into a more competitive mindset, “I can’t hear you!” 

“Yes, Coach,” this time he sounds more than just angry. His hard glare is focused on Jackson who is watching him with a smug smile. 

Irritatedly, Coach Finnstock bends down further, moving his mouth inches from Scott’s ear, “The do it again!” 

Scott’s grip around the lacrosse stick grows impossibly tighter as he runs back in line. Fallon whimpers quietly as his eyes briefly flash gold in her direction. How can one thing be so terrifying yet captivating at the same time. 

“McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!” 

Jackson gets back to his position just a few feet in front of the goal as Scott returns to the front of the line-up for one-on-ones; though his eyes are no longer glowing gold, he still looks furiously determined. After a moment, Coach blows his whistle to have them start. 

“Let’s go!”

Scott runs at full-speed towards Jackson, much faster than he ran last time. Fallon hears a small snap as the two boys collide with one another. Scott rams his shoulder into Jackson’s collarbone, knocking him flat on his back. He clutches his shoulder in pain and Fallon assumes the snapping sound came from his body. 

The entire team, minus Stiles and Fallon, surround Jackson. The two of them look at each other, completely panic stricken as they rush towards Scott’s side. Everyone seems too distracted by their knocked down captain to notice Scott with bright golden eyes and fangs poking out of his mouth. Scott groans loudly, desperately trying to keep himself from fully turning. He clutches his head tightly. 

“Scott? Scott?” Fallon tries to get him to look at her. “Are you okay?” She gets nothing in response so her and Stiles sling his arms over their shoulders. 

Scott pants heavily, finally finding the strength to talk, “I can’t control it,” he wheezes. “Guys, it’s happening!” 

“What? Right here? Now?”

“No, Stiles, ten years in the future,” Fallon snaps sarcastically. “Yes, obviously it’s happening now. “We gotta get him out of here,” she says.

They start trekking across the field, passing the bleachers to get inside the school. The trio though is too preoccupied with Scott’s current predicament to notice Derek watching them from behind said stands. He has a focused expression as he follows their movements closely. 

All three of the teens pant loudly, carrying Scott’s weight being a lot more than they originally anticipated. They barely make it through the locker room door before setting Scott down. Stiles slides in front of the shifting boy while Fallon crouches down behind him. He’s got support in the back and in the front. 

“Sit down. Sit down,” Stiles coaxes. “You okay?” 

Their friend is practically hyperventilating, clutching the stone bench next to him. Fallon knows they can’t help him if they don’t know what’s going on with him. She moves around to crouch down at his side and places her hand on his bicep, “Scott, talk to us,” she begs.

The sixteen year old werewolf, now completely overwhelmed, finally looks up at his friends and screams at the top of his lungs in a desperate panic. His eyes returning to their golden shade. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

The shock from Scott’s roar causes both Stiles and Fallon to stumble backwards. The girl's heart is beating out of her chest as she watches Scott start stalking towards Stiles. She barely gives herself a chance to blink before she’s spear tackling Scott into the floor. They crash into a row of lockers causing a loud boom to emanate through the room. 

Stiles yelps before yanking Fallon off of Scott who has now set his sights on her. “Why the hell would you do that?!” Stiles screams as they run to hide behind a row of lockers. 

“To save your dumb ass!” She yells back, throwing her hands in the air. “Thought it was obvious!” 

Both of them screech at the same time as Scott mounts the top of the lockers. Stiles is a tad bit more high pitched than her, but he would never say that. He flails around, trying to grab her wrist as they weave through the already crowded area. Scott continues following after them, his urge to kill unrelenting as he bares his fangs at them. He jumps across the rafters, leaving the duo on the ground with no room to hide as he can see everything from above. 

Stiles protectively throws Fallon behind him as Scott goes to jump down from the high ground. She grunts as her back collides with the fire extinguisher that’s hanging on the wall. A lightbulb goes off in her head as she grabs the tool off its hook. 

“Stiles!” She grabs his attention, handing him the nozzle. He slowly realizes her plan and takes the black end gratefully. Fallon closes her eyes in fear as Scott jumps directly at them, pressing the button to release the carbon dioxide. The white substance shoots out of the nozzle, coating Scott’s body in it. Stiles and Fallon exhale shakily as their friend collapses to the floor, his breathing slowly evening out. They still take cover outside of the room, just in case he still hasn’t turned back. Stiles clutches onto Fallon’s hand, the two of them hoping to hear Scott’s normal voice.

Thankfully, they do. “Fall…? Stiles?” He calls out weakly. 

The two of them relax slightly, willing themselves not to bolt in the other direction. Stiles peeks his head around the door frame to look at Scott, Fallon standing on her tiptoes to look over Stiles’ head. He’s covered in sweat, sitting on the bench with his head in his hands. They squint at him, trying to decipher if his fangs have retracted. 

Scott notices them staring, “What happened?” He asks weakly. 

Both friends are still panting heavily from the chase they just endured. They look at each other, silently deciding to walk in together. Fallon drops the fire extinguisher on the ground as she stares at Scott with an exhausted and exasperated expression. Stiles stays by her side, both of them removing their lacrosse gloves. 

“You tried to kill us,” Stiles tells him seriously. 

Scott’s face fills with immense guilt. Stiles crouches in front of him while Fallon leans on the lockers across the way. They both stare at Scott softly, not wanting him to beat himself up over this. They just want to help him control it. 

“It’s like we tried to tell you before,” Fallon begins. “It’s your anger, your pulse rising. It’s a trigger for all of– that.” She waves her hands towards his body to emphasize her point. 

Scott huffs out a quiet laugh, “But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed…” 

Fallon’s voice is firm, a lot more firm than the boys are used to. “Well, it’s gonna end up being a lot more violent if you end up slaughtering someone on the field because you don’t know how to control yourself.” She’s not trying to be blunt or rude, but she needs Scott to understand the severity of the situation and how seriously it needs to be taken.

Stiles sighs deeply, looking into Scott’s eyes. “She’s right, dude. You can’t play Saturday. You’re gonna have to get out of the game.”

Scott immediately tries to protest, “But I’m first line–”

“Not anymore.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon sits on her bed, book in her lap as she patiently awaits Stiles’ FaceTime call. Her laptop is open, stuck on the screen of her finished essay. She made sure to get the essay for English done as soon as she could so she didn’t have to worry about it later. Many people make fun of her or ask her how she gets her work done so quickly. Truth be told, it’s not that she’s smart or motivated, she’s just determined to do less work afterwards. Her philosophy is the sooner the work is done, the sooner she can be lazy. 

The moon shines brightly in the sky, casting a comforting shadow into her room. She snuggles under her blanket as she turns the page to chapter twelve of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. The candle in her room provides a certain warmth. She loves the smell of cedar wood and spice. It reminds her of the soon to come fall days that she so dearly misses when summer drags on for too long. The brunette finds herself mindlessly folding a certain black leather jacket over her torso. She doesn’t know why, but this has been her go to coat since the day Derek draped it over her shoulders. And he hasn’t creepily stared at her from a distance yet to get it back, so she plans on using it while she can.

It was already ten o’clock. She didn’t realize it had already been two hours since starting her book. She had eaten dinner around six-thirty before cleaning the dishes and setting aside a plate for her dad who still had yet to return from work. She exhales, checking for any messages from Scott or Stiles. 

Nothing. 

She didn’t know how much longer she could wait. Her eyes already started drooping slightly the moment she turned away from the invigorating pages in front of her. That’s when a knock on her door sounds. She glances up and sees a tired looking Michael standing in front of her. The bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets groggily. “I’m home.” 

“Hey,” she smiles softly, putting her bookmark in its rightful place before closing it. “How was work?” 

He shrugs, a small yawn erupting from his lips. “It was alright. We had a three car pile up. No fatalities thankfully, but a piece of the windshield did puncture a major artery in one of the victims thighs. So that took up most of my night. But, other than that, it was a regular Monday afternoon,” he explains, his daughter listening tentatively. He always appreciated the fact she cared so much about his work. He didn’t have many people to talk to, so it was nice having Fallon. 

“But you saved her,” she encourages. “Like you always do.” 

“I don’t know about that,” he laughs breathily. “I unfortunately don’t have a perfect surgical record.” 

“You still try,” Fallon argues. “You’re good at what you do dad. You save people. Not many others could do what you do.” 

Michael’s heart warms, “Thanks kiddo. I appreciate that.” 

Fallon nods, noticing he must’ve literally just gotten home. He’s still in the clothes he left in this morning since they have to scrub in at the hospital. “I made taco salad for dinner,” she tells him. “I saved you a plate in the fridge if you're hungry.” 

Michael walks over to his daughter, kissing the top of her head. “You’re the best. Don’t stay up too late,” he points at her. “You still got school in the morning.” 

“I know,” she playfully rolls her eyes. “I’ll go to bed in a minute.” 

“Okay, goodnight,”  He waves. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” she waves back. Right as her door shuts, the ringtone on her laptop begins to play as Stiles and Scott’s name pop up. She smiles, plugging her earbuds in before accepting the call. 

“What’s up, losers?” She greets, flipping on her stomach to get in a more comfortable position. Stiles smirks when he notices her fuzzy socks peeking out above her head. 

“Nice footwear,” he nods sarcastically. “I didn’t know Cookie Monster changed his occupation to sock model.” 

“Shut up,” Fallon snarls, but self-consciously hides her feet from view. 

Stiles laughs victoriously, shooting his fake nerf gun in the air. Scott exhales, stressed out about everything going on. He doesn’t have the patience to play games. “What’d you find out?” He questions, getting straight to the point.

Stiles sets his toy down, “Well, it’s bad. Jackson’s got a separated shoulder.” 

Fallon winces. While she hates that Jackson can’t seem to get along with her two boys, she didn’t want him to get that injured. She is still kind of friends with the blonde. 

Scott’s face is covered with immense guilt, “Because of me?” 

Stiles scoffs as if Scott’s statement isn’t true, “Because he’s a tool.” 

“But is he gonna play?”

Fallon looks at Scott’s corner of the screen, “I think it would be better for you if he didn’t,” she points out logically. “Seems like you two can’t play together for five minutes without trying to knock each other clear across the field.”

“Well, they don’t know yet,” Stiles cuts in. “Now, they’re just counting on you for Saturday.” 

Scott sighs deeply, shaking his head. He’s conflicted on what to do. He’s always dreamt of being a lacrosse star but he understands where Fallon and Stiles are coming from. He doesn’t want to risk hurting anyone. As they sit in silence, Fallon tilts her head, leaning in closer to her computer. She furrows her eyebrows, swearing that she just saw a shadow in Scott’s room. A big, burly shadow moving in the background. Stiles seems to be doing the same thing, trying to see exactly who or what is behind their friend. 

Scott notices their incessant staring, “What?” He asks them. 

Not wanting to tip off the possible intruder, Stiles begins typing in the messaging feature. A big yellow bubble pops up, It looks like– 

The message cuts off making Scott even more lost, “It looks like what?” 

Fallon watches nervously as both the boys on her screen freeze, which only means that she and Stiles are frozen on Scott’s screen. She bites her bottom lip out of nervousness, tapping a plethora of buttons to get the screen moving again. Once it does, the second half of Stiles’ message sends. 

Someone’s behind you. 

As soon as the text pops up, Scott is yanked from his chair by the looming figure behind him. The young boy is shoved against his bedroom wall angrily making Stiles and Fallon call out for their friend. The laptop falls to the floor with a small crash. They can’t hear anything that’s being said. Only incoherent whispers make their way through the speakers. Fallon turns her volume up all the way, trying to hear any hint on who the furious person could be. 

After a few moments, Scott returns, picking up his laptop. Fallon and Stiles examine his face, trying to see if he’s injured in any sort of way. Scott slumps down in his chair with a shaky breath, “It was Derek,” he reveals, still reeling from the experience. 

Fallon’s eyes widen, “What’d he say?” She asks curiously. “What happened?” 

He runs a frustrated hand over his face, “I can’t play in the game on Saturday.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon puts in her locker combination, opening the metal door with ease. She places her math notebook in her locker, having just finished getting out of the class. She also slides the homework her teacher assigned her in there, not seeing a point in dragging it around with her since she finished it in class. Sometimes she wishes her teachers would provide more challenging material. She and Lydia have to be already two weeks ahead in that class. Not that Lydia told her that. It’s just something Fallon picked up on. Lydia’s extremely smart. It’s almost intimidating. 

Fallon yelps as Stiles smoothly slides his hand into hers before dragging her down a few feet to grab Scott. “What the hell are you doing?” She asks him as he laces their fingers together.

Stiles ignores her before snagging Scott and pushing his two friends against the wall by the stairs. “What?” Scott questions him calmly, despite all of the manhandling. Stiles points upwards where Noah Stilinski and a couple of his deputies are talking to some of the school administrators. 

“Tell me what they’re saying,” he gestures. 

Scott rolls his eyes but nonetheless peeks around the corner. Fallon pushes Stiles away from her, “Why did I have to be involved?” 

“Because I involve you in everything,” he answers obviously. 

“Shhh!” Scott snaps, not able to hear everything over their bickering. 

Fallon pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. She shoots Stiles a nasty glare to which he responds by jabbing her side with his long pointer finger. The two almost start going at it again, but thankfully Scott turns around with a grim expression which stops them. “Curfew because of the body,” he reveals. 

Stiles scoffs in exasperation and smacks Fallon on the arm to emphasize his point. And to also get her back for their altercation a few moments earlier, but that’s not relevant. The girl retaliates quickly, socking his shoulder roughly, causing him to grunt and clutch the sore spot. 

He rolls his eyes when all she does is smile obnoxiously. He shakes his head, “Unbelievable. My dad's out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants.” 

“The jerk-off?” Fallon says unamused. “You mean Derek?” 

Scott speaks up, being the voice of reason for once, “Well, you can’t exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek…”

“I can do something,” Stiles counters with a newfound purpose. 

Like what?” Carver asks, fixing her gaze on the boy with a buzz cut. 

“Like find the other half of the body,” he shrugs before walking in the other direction. 

Fallon and Scott are left stunned by his conviction. She blinks, “Are you kidding?” She calls after the boy. He doesn’t look back and she huffs in frustration, turning back to look at Scott. Unfortunately, his attention is placed further down the hall where Lydia is introducing Allison to Marshall Cole, one of the guys on the lacrosse team. 

Scott’s face contorts with jealousy and Fallon loops her arm through his. She pokes his chest, “Keep your head up,” she encourages. “If you apologized and made it up to her, I wouldn’t worry about it.” She begins walking him over to the dark-haired girl, “Come on, glaring daggers at the guys she’s talking to won’t solve anything.” 

Allison notices them coming and quickly wraps up the conversation she’s having with Marshall. She grins widely at the sight of Fallon and Scott. “Hey,” she immediately hugs the brunette girl. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to come over again this weekend after the game to hang out?” She asks. “My dad felt bad for not being able to formally introduce himself so he was wondering if you wanted to come play some board games with us. We’re having tacos,” she wiggles her eyebrows. 

Fallon smiles back, but feels Scott tense at the sound of Allison’s father. She reassures him by rubbing his bicep in a friendly way. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

“Great!” Allison says excitedly. “We can talk about the rest of the details later.” 

“Fall!” Lydia calls out, summoning her with her freshly painted fingers. “Come on.” 

“I’ll be right there!” She hugs Scott quickly and then moves to kiss Allison on the cheek before chasing after the redhead. 

As soon as Fallon is by her side, Lydia dismisses Marshall like he never even existed in her world. The brunette shakes her head with a chuckle, “You’re really only doing this to get under Scott’s skin?” 

“I’ll stop once he agrees to play on Saturday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Rather simple terms in my opinion, especially since he almost killed my boyfriend.” She applies a new layer of lip gloss before linking her pinky with Fallon’s, “You’re still playing, right?” 

“Yes,” Fallon confirms. “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

“Good,” Lydia hums approvingly. “Then all isn’t completely lost. Just let your little friend know that if he doesn’t play, he doesn’t get the prize,” she threatens, referring to Allison who just stormed away from Scott with an upset look on her face. 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     After school, Stiles rapidly barges into the McCall household, forgoing knocking on the door. Fallon shakes her head as she walks at a normal pace across the house after closing the front door behind her. Melissa doesn’t need her neighbors peeking into her home simply because Stiles didn’t think about shutting the door behind him. 

She stifles a laugh as Stiles manages to trip up the stairs without losing his momentum. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t knocked out any teeth yet. He flings Scott’s room door open and barrels in just as Fallon finishes her journey up the stairs. 

They both walk in to see Scott restringing the net on his lacrosse stick after it appears to be almost ripped in half by something. Stiles breathlessly and manically begins asking Scott question after question. 

“What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?” He spits out like rapid fire. 

Scott, who has been sitting calmly, looks up at Stiles curiously, leading Fallon to answer his un-asked question. “Yes, he’s taken a lot of adderall. I couldn’t stop him. By the time he came to pick me up, he was already vibrating in the driver's seat.”

“I found something at Derek Hale’s,” Scott tells them. 

Stiles gasps excitedly, “Are you kidding? What?” 

Fallon jumps on Scott’s bed, starfishing across the whole mattress as Stiles continues to harass Scott for information. “There's something buried out there. I could smell blood.” 

The brunette girl sits up on her elbows. She stares at him in shock, “Seriously?” She asks with a slack jaw the same time Stiles shouts, “That’s awesome!” 

Fallon slowly turns towards him, shaking her head at his idiocy. Stiles feels slightly self-conscious at her judgemental expression and reconsiders his sentence. “… I mean, that’s terrible. Whose blood?” 

Scott stands from his spot, “I don’t know. But, when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then, you help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing, because there's no way I'm not playing that game.” 

Scott tosses his lacrosse stick on the bed next to Fallon. The girl frowns, “Hold on, how do we even know if Derek did it?” She questions as she follows them down the stairs. They clearly plan on going somewhere and Fallon is only along for the ride. “We can’t just assume he’s the murderer just because you’re mad he told you not to play. Which is some good advice by the way,” she adds, hopping in the back seat of the Jeep while the boys take the front seats. 

Both Stiles and Scott turn comically slow to look back at her. They have identical judgemental looks in their eyes. It makes Fallon shrink in her seat. Stiles gesticulates wildly, “Read the room.” He scoffs. “God. I mean, he smelled blood, Fallon. What else could that mean?” 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “He’s half wolf, isn’t he? Maybe it’s the rabbit he ate for dinner.” 

Neither of the boys say anything, deciding not to encourage her terrible humor. Stiles speeds off to the hospital, informing Fallon of what they’re doing on the way. Apparently Scott’s decided to smell the dead corpse of the girl they found to see if it matches the scent he found on Derek’s property. 

Fallon crosses her fingers, hoping that her father isn’t anywhere near the morgue. She doesn’t need him questioning why she and Stiles are just randomly waiting in the hospital. She could say she’s there to see Jackson, but Stiles hates him and Michael knows that. So he wouldn’t believe that for a second. 

They just walked through the two sliding doors, the two boys looking for the correct direction to walk in. Fallon huffs, grabbing both of their arms. “This way,” she grumbles, guiding them past the signs that lead straight to the morgue. After working here in her spare time, Fallon’s become rather accustomed to walking the confusing halls, which Scott and Stiles are now extremely grateful for. 

“Here,” Fallon stops directly in front of the door that leads to the expired bodies. “Be quick. The medical examiner is on lunch so I’d say you’ve got like fifteen minutes.” 

“Okay,” Scott nods. He takes one last look around, making sure no one’s watching them before slowly backing into the door towards the morgue. Fallon and Stiles are left behind as his look-outs. 

“Good luck, I guess…” Stiles trails off, slightly offended Scott didn’t even offer for them to accompany him. 

The two of them walk back to the lobby, not wanting to make their presence obvious. Fallon checks around the corner to make sure Melissa or Michael isn’t there. She sighs, relieved at their lack of presence. Once they make it to the receptionist desk, Fallon goes to take a seat but is stunned when Stiles slaps a hand to her chest, stopping her from going anywhere. 

It’s like the breath has literally been stolen from his lungs. She looks at him as if she wants to kill him for slapping her, but he doesn’t seem to notice her murderous desires. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water causing Fallon to look in the direction he is. Suddenly his little outburst makes sense. Lydia is sitting less than five feet away from them, most likely waiting to see her boyfriend. With how nervous and excited Stiles is, Fallon’s surprised he doesn’t combust on the spot. He leans all of his body weight on Fallon before groaning.

“Oh my God…” He tries to surreptitiously look at the strawberry blonde, licking his bottom lip. He glances at Fallon, “Should– Do you think I should go talk to her?”

“Absolutely not,” Fallon replies bluntly, trying to pull Stiles to the other side of the room. 

He looks at her, baffled by the response, “Wha– Why not?” He scoffs. “You’re her friend, wouldn’t it be normal for us to go talk to her?”

“You said ‘should you go talk to her’,” the brunette recalls. “Not should we. And even then, I still wouldn’t recommend it.” 

“It’s not like I’m gonna sit there and cut off a lick of her hair,” he defends himself. “I just wanna have a light conversation y’know? Like the weather.” 

“You’re gonna regret it,” she says in a sing-song voice. “And the moment she rejects you, you’re gonna come crawling back to me and I’m gonna have to sit here and listen to you complain for the next two days.” 

“You love it when I complain,” he teases. 

“Correction, I love you so I put up with your complaining.” 

“Then if you love me, you won’t mind me doing this–” Stiles removes his hand from Fallon’s grasp before smoothly sliding into the seat beside Lydia. His best friend groans, tugging the hood to her jacket over her face and taking shelter in a chair a few down from Stiles. She couldn’t completely abandon him. He’d die on his own. So she keeps her face hidden beneath the cotton polyblend and her knees up to her chest. 

“Hey, Lydia... You probably don't remember me. Um, I sit behind you in biology,” Stiles begins awkwardly.

“Oh dear God,” Fallon mumbles, face turning bright red from second hand embarrassment.

Lydia makes a confused face, but doesn’t say anything which encourages him to keep talking. “Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection.” Lydia makes a face as though this surprises her, which gives Stiles the motivation he needs to continue. “Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to... get to know each other a little better…”

All of the sudden, it becomes obvious that Lydia has been on a phone call using a Bluetooth headset this entire time and hasn't been listening– her facial expressions were in response to the phone conversation. Fallon stares at Stiles, wanting to go over to him and pull him away from the situation. She might complain about his complaining, but he’s right. If he needed her to, she’d sit there for hours and listen to him drone on about his heartbreak. That’s just what they do.

“Hold on, gimme a second,” Lydia says to the individual she’s on the phone with. She puts the person on hold before turning her attention to Stiles. “Yeah, I didn’t get anything you just said. Is it worth repeating?” 

Stiles, visibly embarrassed and feeling awkward, tries to get out of this situation by chuckling nervously and going to sit down directly next to Fallon. “No. Sorry, I’ll just sit…” He collapses into the uncomfortable cushion, a defeated look on his face.

Fallon slowly puts her knees down and Stiles huffs, “Alright, you can say it. You told me so and I should’ve listened to you,” he says rather snappy. 

Instead of saying anything, Fallon simply lays her head on his shoulder, looping her arm under his to connect their hands. The left side of Stiles’ body warms at the feeling and he stares at her, a bit surprised. She squeezes his bicep, “I’m sorry, Sti.” 

He tries to act unbothered by waving it off, but she can see the weight it has on him. He snuggles closer to her, laying his head on top of hers. This is as much solace as he’ll be able to get. “It’s okay. Thanks for not rubbing it in.” 

“I might be an ass, but I’m not a complete jerk,” Fallon half smiles. “I am proud that you lasted more than two minutes though. Even though she wasn’t paying attention to anything you said.” 

“You win some you lose some,” he shrugs with a sigh. “And I’ve lost all of them.” 

Scott then finally makes his way around the corner, having escaped the morgue without anyone detecting him. He notices Stiles and Fallon having a quiet conversation and raises an eyebrow at the fact they’re not bickering. He was sure one of them would be in a headlock by the time he got back out. He almost doesn’t want to disturb the scene in front of him, but they don’t exactly have unlimited time. 

He quickly walks over to them, causing the duo to stand up, redirecting their attention to him. “The scent was the same,” he tells them, not even trying to sugar-coat it.

Fallon looks down. There’s no way Derek is a killer. A creep, sure. But he doesn’t seem like a murderer. She glances at Scott, “You’re sure?” 

He nods, “Yes.” 

“So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property?” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. 

“Which means we have proof that he killed the girl.” 

“Okay, but do we really think it’s a good idea to just blindly accuse the guy? I mean, Scotty, what if your sniffer is off or something? We don’t exactly know how this whole werewolf scent thing works,” Fallon says. 

“I know what I smelled,” Scott assures her. “It’s not just similar, it’s the exact same.” 

Stiles begins walking towards the exit, “We have the evidence we need to put him away. I say we use it.” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows, “How?” 

Stiles sighs and stops, turning to face his two friends. He sends them a serious expression to make sure what they’re about to do is for the right reasons. “Tell me something first–” he focuses on Scott. “Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn't?” 

Though it's clear by the look on Scott's face that both of the offered options are true, he goes with the first one to appease Stiles and Fallon who are staring at him expectantly. “There are bite marks on the legs, guys– bite marks.” 

The two of them aren’t fully convinced, but the thought of that poor girl getting ripped apart overpowers their suspicions of Scott’s true priorities. “Okay,” Stiles nods. “Then we’re gonna need a shovel… Or three.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Night has officially fallen over Beacon Hills, causing an eerie feeling to creep up Fallon’s spine as they wait for Derek to leave the burnt up Hale house. She nervously bites her nails while simultaneously tugging on the sleeves of her hoodie. Stiles and Scott are quietly conversing up front, careful not to make too much noise just in case Derek can pick up on their presence. 

After a few more moments, Derek, who is in a tight white t-shirt and separate black leather jacket from the one he gave Fallon. He opens the door of his slick black Camaro and jumps in, starting the engine before driving off the property. She doesn’t know if this classifies as stalking, but watching him from a distance in the dark, waiting for him to leave his house seems pretty criminal to her. 

As soon as Derek is far enough away, Stiles immediately pulls his Jeep closer to the house. He parks with a little too much excitement to be looking for a dead body. Scott hops out of his side before opening the door for Fallon, helping her out of the car. She shoots him a tight-lipped smile, grabbing her own shovel and flashlight. 

They meet Stiles at the front of the Jeep before venturing off to the side of the house where the recently overturned patch of earth is located. Fallon waves her flashlight around the area, trying to make sure no other creatures of the night have the opportunity to pounce on them. 

Scott sticks his nose in the air, “Wait, something’s different.” 

“Different how?” Stiles asks, voice uneasy. 

“I don’t know…” Scott trails off unsurely. 

The three of them finally reach the supposed gravesite and Fallon aims her shovel towards the ground. “Let’s just get this over with,” she says, trying to hold back the bile threatening to rise up her throat. “Before I decide to bury one of you instead.”

She jams the head of her shovel into the ground, stomping the spade-end with her foot to push it in further before scooping up some dirt and throwing it aside. The boys follow her lead, both sharing a scared look at her empty threat. They know she wouldn’t do it, but it still doesn’t make her any less scary. 

The three of them work in silence for several minutes, the only sound being heard is their heavy breathing and the different birds singing in the distance. Fallon wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead, wishing that she was in the comfort of her own bed by now. Getting up for school is going to be a challenge tomorrow. 

“This is taking way too long,” Scott speaks up nervously, pausing his digging to voice his concerns. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, not deterring from his quick pace, “Just keep going.” 

Fallon stops as well, understanding Scott’s worries. “He’s right. What if Derek comes back and we’re sitting here digging a six foot grave in his backyard? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of intimidating.” 

“Okay, first of all, Derek’s the one who already dug the six foot grave when he put the body down here. We’re just digging it back up. Second of all, since when are you intimidated by anyone?” Stiles scoffs, chucking more dirt to the side.

“Since he’s a six foot tall werewolf who could probably crush my windpipe with his index finger,” she quips back without missing a beat. 

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly making Scott and Fallon look at him exasperatedly. Stiles groans, “Look, if he comes back, we’ll just get the hell out of here,” he answers as if it’s just that simple.

“What if he catches us?” Scott continues to question him as they resume digging. 

“I have a plan for that.” 

Fallon raises her brows, “Which is what exactly?” 

Stiles stops his movements, leading his friends to do the exact same. He stares at them both with a straight face, “You run one way, Fallon runs over there, and I run that way. Whoever he catches first? Too bad.” He shrugs once again like it’s no big deal and gets back to the task at hand. Fallon grumbles lowly, threatening to hit him on the back of the head with her shovel if it comes to it. 

“I hate that plan,” Scott huffs. 

Scott dumps another scoop of dirt to the side and is about to dig in again when Fallon's shovel hits something solid, causing Stiles to raise his left hand and hold it out in front of Scott to keep him from moving. “Oh, stop, stop, stop.” He flails around, trying to prevent any more movement. 

Fallon’s throat drops into her stomach. Her heart has to be beating at a million miles per second. This could be a literal dead body. When they all look down, they see several twine rope strings poking out of the earth, and the three of them kneel down so they can brush the dirt away with their bare hands. They eventually uncover what looks like a bundle of rough fabric, like burlap, which has been tied closed with the twine rope. Stiles starts to try to untie the bindings, while Scott and Fallon sit still because they are still on edge with fear that Derek is going to come back and catch them. 

Impatiently, Scott tries to urge Stiles on, “Hurry!” He commands. 

“I’m trying,” Stiles responds, irritated by Scott’s nerves. “Did he have to tie the thing in, like, nine-hundred knots?” He curses Derek’s existence through the sardonic question. 

“I’ll do it,” Fallon snaps, gripping the rope with her own hands. Scott also reaches down to help. Stiles is on the far right end, Scott on the left, while Fallon works in the middle. After a long moment, they manage to get it all unknotted, and they open the bundle to find what looks like a severed head of a black wolf. This scares the teens so badly that they all scream loudly and leap out of the grave, Stiles and Scott land on their butts while Fallon lands on her back. They get up as fast as they can, trying to scurry away from the half of the wolf corpse. In the foreground, a flowering plant with purple petals is sprouting out of the ground. Fallon’s eyes are drawn to the gorgeous flower. Its color glowing in the pale moonlight. She fights the urge to touch it as Stiles’ voice pulls her out of her thoughts. 

“What the hell is that?” He exclaims loudly. 

“It’s a wolf,” Scott answers.

“Yeah, I think we can see that,” Fallon says sarcastically. She looks over at Scott, “You told us you could smell blood. Human blood. And that it matched the girl at the morgue. This,” she points to the dead wolf, “doesn’t look like it matches her, let alone any human for that matter.” 

Scott shrugs before throwing his hands up, not knowing what else to say. “I told you guys something was different.”

Stiles, completely dumbfounded, throws his hands up incredulously. “This doesn’t make sense.” 

“Okay, we really gotta get out of here,” Fallon says urgently. She can’t explain it, but she can’t help feeling that Derek is going to return any minute. 

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out. “Okay, help me cover this up.” 

Stiles moves to start pushing the dirt back into the grave with his hands, Scott and Fallon following suit. The brunette girl cringes when looking at the dead wolf body below her. The poor thing. She’s just curious as to why Derek buried it in the first place. 

Stiles’ movements suddenly stop causing Fallon to look at him weirdly. She follows his line of vision back to the purple plant she was looking at a few moments prior. “What’s wrong?” She asks him. “Is there something up with the flower?” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Why would there be something wrong with a flower?” 

“I think it’s wolfsbane,” Stiles reveals cautiously. “So it’s not necessarily what’s wrong with it, but what could be wrong with what it does.” 

Their werewolf friend frowns, “What does that even mean?”

Fallon picks up on what Stiles is putting down. She remembers reading about wolfsbane in the book she did her research in at Stiles’ house. Freckles scoffs at Scott’s blatant ignorance to his situation, “Uh, haven’t you ever seen The Wolf Man?” 

Scott shakes his head, “No.”

“Lon Chaney, Junior? Claude Rains?” He spits out the actors names, trying to jog any sort of memory out of Scott. 

Scott denies ever seeing the movies once more, but more impatiently this time. Stiles grows even more exasperated as Fallon watches with amusement. “The original, classic Werewolf movie?” 

Growing tired of the incessant questioning, Scott sighs loudly. Not wanting anyone to start yelling, Fallon puts her hand on Stiles’ arm, “I think it’s safe to say he hasn’t seen it,” she tells him. 

Stiles makes an almost disgusted face when looking at Scott. The boy across from him loses his patience, “What?!”

Stiles scoffs, completely appalled by Scott’s lack of knowledge in classic films. “You are so unprepared for this.” He pushes himself up to his feet, walking over to the flower. “I try to invite you to movie nights with Fallon and I, but no, you never come. Which is why we know what’s going on and you don’t.” He takes a hold of the purple flower, pulling the entire thing up by its roots. They all gasp when seeing that the base of the plant has more of the twine rope tied around it, which is also buried underground. Fallon and Scott watch as he gently continues pulling the twine out of the ground in a spiral. She honestly doesn’t believe it’s going to end with how many circles he’s made and how much of the rope is spilling out of his hands. 

There are randomly placed wolfsbane petals attached at various points along the length of it, only to find it is connected to the bundle of burlap around the wolf's head. Scott and Fallon look at Stiles with a skeptical expression, confused as to why they're wasting their time with this, when suddenly, they look down and are startled back onto their feet by what he finds in the grave.

Fallon covers her mouth to prevent the shriek that threatens to escape her lips. She immediately clutches onto Scott, her lip quivering as she glances over to Stiles who still has no idea. “Sti…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Stiles turns around, alarmed by her sudden change in demeanor. He sees her and Scott staring into the grave with nothing but shock and horror written on their faces. He walks over to where they are so he can see from their vantage point. When he follows their line of sight, a loud yelp leaves his mouth as he jumps backwards. He clings onto Scott and Fallon, trying to steady himself. 

“Oh!” 

Where there once was a half dead wolf, now lays the top part of a human female body. The same body they went searching for just mere nights ago. She stared up into the sky, lips parted as if she’s silently screaming for help. Fallon feels the need to do the same as the woman’s lifeless eyes bore holes into her soul. 

“Leave. Now. Please?” Fallon taps Scott’s arm repeatedly, unable to form full sentences. He nods his head and the three of them run over to the Jeep, getting as far away from the scene as possible.

She couldn’t believe it. There’s no way Derek Hale could be a murderer. Could he?

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The following morning, Stiles was quick to barge into Fallon’s room, not bothering to knock on her house or room door. Her father must’ve already been at work or Stiles would not have been able to come in so easily. Michael would’ve already tried to feed him breakfast and ask him his plans for the day before he could even reach the stairs that led to Fallon’s room. 

She groans loudly as he jumps on top of her, repeatedly telling her to get up and get dressed. Reluctantly, she throws her warm covers off of her body, but not before smacking Stiles upside the head, eliciting a string of complaints from the boy. She smiles cockily before moving to get ready for whatever adventure he’s dragging her out to. 

“Scott’s already in the car, so hurry up.” 

And that she did. She threw on a navy blue turtleneck and black jeans, tucking her shirt in. She puts her hair up into a quick ponytail and brushes her teeth. She doesn’t bother grabbing food or anything else, figuring she could force the boys to treat her to breakfast after breaking into her house and forcing her to leave. 

It's not long before Stiles pulls up to the Hale house property which is now surrounded with Sheriff's deputies and many other on duty cops. Fallon scoffs, “Okay, you did not tell me we were coming back here.” 

“You didn’t ask,” Stiles shrugs. “Now come on,” he only grabs Fallon’s arm, forcing Scott to stay by the jeep to be the lookout. No doubt some form of payback after the morgue incident. 

He guides them to the side of the house, hiding them from plain sight. She smacks his arm, “You owe me pancakes after this,” she growls. “At this rate, we’re gonna be the ones in the back of that cop car, not Derek.” 

Right as she says this, Derek gets marched out of the house in handcuffs by one of the Beacon County deputies. Derek looks over at Scott with a scowl that causes the young boy to look down at the ground with an expression of mixed guilt and shame as Derek is pushed into the back of a deputy's cruiser. 

“You have no idea how true that statement actually is,” Stiles retorts before once again dragging her across the front yard. Her eyes widen when she realizes that they’re approaching the exact cruiser Derek was just put in. 

She shakes her head, trying to rip her wrist from his grip, “Sti– Stiles, no! Let me go! Sto– Stiles!” 

She struggles but ultimately gives up as he slides into the front seat, forcing her to guard the window so no one could see him talking to Derek. The window is slightly cracked so she puts her face as close as possible to mutter, “I am going to murder you the second you step out of this car.” 

The boy swallows thickly at the deadly look in her eyes. Derek’s own gaze flickers between the two, an ungodly annoyance filling his system at the sight of Stiles. But there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes when he hears Fallon’s words. 

“She’s telling the truth,” Derek reveals, causing Stiles to jump. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters, shuffling away from the door. Fallon sends him one last withering glare before turning around and doing what he wanted in the first place. 

“I really need to stop enabling his behavior,” she grumbles. 

Stiles turns around so he can face Derek fully. He places his face close to the cage that separates the front seat from the back. Fallon can hear how nervous he is just by his rambling. Her threat to his life probably didn’t make this confrontation any easier. 

“Okay, just so you know, I'm not afraid of you.” Derek's head is tilted down, but his eyes move up to look at Stiles through his eyelashes with a scowl that immediately terrifies Stiles. “…Okay, maybe I am. Doesn’t matter. I just wanna know something.” He shifts nervously in his seat making Fallon tap impatiently on the glass, signaling for him to start wrapping things up as the cops are starting to head to their cars. “The girl you killed? She was a werewolf.” 

No response. Derek’s scowl remains in place, his glare only becoming more heated the longer Stiles continues. “She was a different kind, wasn't she? I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf, and I know Scott can't do that. Is that why you killed her?”

Derek finally decides to speak, his tone is understandably irritated given the current situation. Fallon would smack Stiles if she could reach him. “Why are you so worried about me, when it's your guys’ friend who’s the problem?” There’s a small pause and Fallon hears a bit of movement which she assumes is coming from Derek. “When he shifts on the field, what do you think they’re gonna do, huh? Just keep cheering him on?” 

“I can’t stop him from playing, but you can…” Fallon isn’t able to hear the rest of Derek’s sentence as Sheriff Stilinski approaches her with a knowing yet disappointed smile.

“Fallon,” he greets fondly.

“Sheriff,” she replies with her own nervous smile. Her tone is sickly sweet, trying to deter any suspicions from Stiles who is only hidden by the fact she’s leaning on the window. “Uhm, how’s your shift been? Long I’m assuming, y’know… ‘cause all the murder and stuff.” She was unsure of how to proceed, deducing by the look on his face that he knows Stiles is directly behind her.

He sighs before looking between Scott and his own son, “You know they’re just dragging you down right?” He tells her with a serious expression. “You’ve got so much potential. Don’t let those two idiots ruin it,” he practically begs her. 

Fallon exhales before stepping out of his way, “I think we’re already past that point,” she replies glumly watching as the man yanks his son out of the cruiser. 

Noah drags Stiles off to the side as far away from Derek as possible, leaving Fallon by herself next to the soon-to-be person of interest. She goes to walk away, but Derek’s voice stops her. “You need to help your friend.” She looks back at him and then to Stiles. Derek rolls his eyes, “Not that one. Scott,” he clarifies. She nods in understanding, moving closer to the window. She crouches down to eye level, their faces a bit too close, but it’s for discretion. “Out of the three of you, you seem to be the one with the brain. So do the smart thing and find a way to help him.”

“I’ve been trying,” Fallon says honestly. “He doesn’t exactly listen to me. I’m not a werewolf expert. I don’t really know how to help.” 

“Just keep him from playing on Saturday,” he commands her. 

She nods understandingly, “I can try to convince Coach,” she says. “But I can’t promise he’ll go for it.” 

“I don’t care what you have to do,” Derek shrugs. “If you don’t want to see someone dead on that field, keep him away from the game.” 

“Okay,” Fallon agrees. A moment of silence passes between them. Derek just stares at her expectantly, waiting for her to do something. She fidgets with her fingers before voicing her thoughts, “And for the record, I don’t actually think you killed anyone,” she admits meekly. 

Derek’s face contorts into surprise for a fleeting second. He covers it up by just raising his eyebrows, “And how can you be so sure?” He asks, trying to keep his intimidating facade up. 

“I just have a feeling about you,” Fallon says honestly. “You don’t really strike me as the murderer type,” she smiles slightly. “Despite the big brooding man thing you have going on.” 

“You’d be surprised to find out what people are capable of.” 

“Well, if you’d like to inform me more on people,” she emphasizes the last word to show that she’s referring to just him. “My bedroom window is on the left side of my house, second story. Y’know since apparently you have a thing for sneaking into people’s rooms,” she teases, bringing up what he did at Scott’s. 

Derek has no words. His frown is still plastered on his face as he stares at the girl who he can only describe as an enigma. It’s baffling how she can go from timid and shy to confident and bold within seconds. She doesn’t wait for him to respond, walking over to where both of the Stilinski men are. 

“So, you lied to me,” Sheriff crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at his son. 

Fallon freezes in her spot, suddenly feeling very awkward. Stiles is quick to pull her next to him, needing a physical representation of someone who is on his side. Which she is, unless Noah gives her his disappointed dad look. Then she’ll abandon her best friend in a heartbeat. 

Stiles awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “Well, that depends on how you define lying…”

Sheriff Stilinski is quickly running out of patience, “Well, I define it as ‘not telling the truth.’ How do you define it?” He says sassily.

“Um… ‘reclining your body in a… horizontal… position?” The way he phrases it makes his statement sound more like a question. But Fallon has to admit, he’s not wrong. She covers her mouth politely to cover the small giggles leaving her lips. 

Sheriff just waves his hand in the air, completely over his son’s antics. “Get the hell out of here.” 

Eager to get out of the tense situation, Stiles grips Fallon’s hand before darting back over to the jeep, “Absolutely.” 

“Bye Sheriff!” Fallon waves. 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “I really don’t understand why I’m always in the back seat,” Fallon complains as Stiles speeds out of the woods. “Why can’t Scott and I switch every once and a while?” 

“Because, you were the newbie in this friendship, remember? The OG’s get the front. You’re like Scott and I’s adopted child that we picked up from the side of the road,” Stiles explains. “Abandoned and in desperate need of attention.” 

“I’ve been friends with you both for seven years,” she deapans. “And if anyone is desperate for attention Stiles, it’s you.” 

The muscle in Stiles’ jaw ticks before aggressively pointing back at her without tearing his eyes from the road. “And you’re mean. Did I mention that? You’re mean. That’s why you sit in the back. So I’m not forced to throat punch you.”  

Fallon rolls her eyes, sinking into her seat. He’s not wrong, hence why she can’t come up with an argument against it. Scott sighs, his head pushed against the window of the jeep. He throws his phone down in his lap, “I can’t find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial.” 

“Just keep looking,” Stiles encourages. “Maybe it’s like a ritual or something? Like, maybe they bury you as a wolf,” he suggests, trying to come up with his own explanation for what they found. 

“It could also be a special skill or something,” Fallon chimes in, leaning forward. “Like something a werewolf has to learn how to do.” 

Scott rolls his eyes, getting overwhelmed with all the werewolf business. He grits his teeth before muttering under his breath, “I’ll put it on my ‘To Do List’ right underneath ‘figuring out how the hell I’m playing in this game tonight.’”

The more Scott speaks, the breathier he becomes. Fallon notices him wincing slightly with every movement. She furrows her eyebrows, placing her hand on his shoulder. He tenses under touch which never happens. The brunette goes to ask if he’s okay but is stopped by Stiles speaking. “Maybe it’s different for girl werewolves…” he proposes, still distracted by his own hypothesis. 

Scott’s irritation has seemed to reach an all time high. He loses his patience entirely and snaps at Stiles, “Okay, stop it!” 

Stiles frowns in confusion, “Stop what?” 

“Stop saying werewolves! Stop enjoying this so much!” Scott yells loudly, ripping his shoulder from Fallon’s hand. 

Neither Fallon or Stiles knows what caused this sudden change in behavior. He was calm before they got in the car. “I don’t think any of us enjoy trying to keep you from killing someone,” Fallon mumbles. 

Stiles however looks at his friend with concern, “Are you okay?” 

“No!” Scott’s tone shifts to a much darker aggravation making both Stiles and Fallon share a wary glance. Scott out of nowhere doubles over in his seat as if he’s in excruciating pain. “No, I’m not! I’m so far from being okay!” 

The werewolf begins to hyperventilate, clutching at his own chest. Stiles gets an idea as to what this sudden outburst could be about so he goes to reassure Scott, “You know, you’re going to have to accept this, Scott. Sooner or later. 

“I can’t,” Scott’s face contorts with pain as he writhes wildly in his seat. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Stiles scoffs.

“No!” Scott shakes his head, correcting him. “I can’t breathe…”

Fallon surges forward, her overprotective instincts kicking in. “Why? Are you having a panic attack? Asthma attack? Do you need me to get your inhaler?” Scott simply shakes his head at all of her questions. She genuinely doesn’t know what could be wrong with him. She hasn’t seen him struggle to breathe like this any other time. 

“AHH!” Scott screams, making both of his friends flinch as he pounds his hand against the roof of the jeep. There is definitely strong werewolf undertones in his voice as it deepens multiple octaves. “AHH! Pull over!” He commands.

Stiles, who is completely alarmed, swerves the car out of shock. The sudden jerk makes Scott grimace in even more pain. He faces Scott fully, trying to figure out how to help. “Why? What’s happening?” 

Scott instinctively opens the backpack between them and is horrified to see that the wolfsbane plant and the rope with the flowers attached to it are inside. He looks at Stiles incredulously, “You kept it?” He seethes.

Stiles starts freaking out as well, not knowing how to handle the stressful situation. “What was I supposed to do with it?” He yells back.

“Leave it at the crime scene!” Fallon screams, obviously.

The close proximity with the poisonous plant only makes Scott sicker as time goes on. He forces his hands into fists, his claws starting to pierce the skin of his hand. He’s about to shift. “Stop the car!” 

Both Fallon and Stiles are petrified as Scott’s eyes turn into a golden yellow. Fallon slaps her human friend's arm, “Pull over!” She begs him. 

“Okay!” He exclaims, pulling the car off to the side, slamming on the brakes as he does so. As soon as the car is in park, Stiles grabs his backpack and throws himself sloppily out of the Jeep, running toward the edge of the woods. He uses what little strength he has to toss the bag as far as he can to get as much distance between it and Scott as possible. Once it's out of eyesight, Stiles throws his head back and sighs deeply before turning back toward the Jeep.

“Okay, we’re good, you can–”

He looks up and is completely horrified to see only Fallon sitting in his Jeep, her face a pale white. She looks at him, the only emotion evident on her face is concern. “He’s gone…”

Stiles wastes no time before clambering into his jeep and slamming the door shut. He allows Fallon time to jump over the center console, joining him in the front. She buckles the seatbelt in the passenger seat as he immediately takes off from his parked position. 

“We need to find him,” Fallon looks at the side of his face. “Before he tries to have an early dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles fumbles around in his pocket for his phone. Once he gets a grip on it, he hands it to Fallon. “Dial the number for the Sheriff’s station. If he’s done any serious damage they would’ve gotten a call by now.” 

She nods her head, fingers shaking as she looks for the number in Stiles’ contacts. She presses the button, putting it on speaker for him to talk to whichever dispatcher answers. As soon as the woman hears his voice, she’s immediately annoyed with the first sentence that escapes his mouth. 

“Stiles, you know you can’t call the dispatch line when I’m on duty,” she says from the other side of the phone. 

Stiles huffs loudly, “I just need to know if you’ve gotten any odd calls…?”

“Odd how?” 

“Uh, like, an odd person, or…” Stiles struggles to come up with an example that doesn't sound like he's trying to find out if anyone has seen a Werewolf running through Beacon Hills. “A dog-like individual roaming the streets…?”

“That happens to look oddly similar to Scott,” Fallon suggests to the dispatcher. “Just a tad more facial hair that he’ll never be able to have.” 

The dispatcher runs out of patience for the two, putting an end to their conversation. “I’m hanging up on you now.” 

“No! Wai-wai-wai-wai-wait!” 

“Goodbye,” and with that the line goes dead. 

Fallon watches as Stiles clenches his fists around the steering wheel, hitting it out of frustration “Damn it!” He exclaims. 

“Hey,” Fallon stops him, grabbing one of his hands. She rubs a finger over his bright red knuckles. “We’ll find him, Sti. He’ll be okay.” 

The boy sighs, allowing her to calm him down. “Let’s just hope it’s before we find another dead body.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The nighttime air is crisp, sending a comforting chill down Fallon’s back as she sits on the bench with Danny, retying her shoelaces before going out onto the field. It's finally game night. The brunette is slightly nervous watching Scott and Stiles walk out to join the rest of the team. Luckily, Scott hadn’t tried to kill anyone on his latest rampage around town. He apparently just ended up jumping onto Chris Argent’s car after creepily staring at Allison through her window. 

“You okay?” Danny nudges her shoulder. “You look upset or something.” 

She shakes her head with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yeah, I’m good. Just super excited to play,” she tries to convince.

By the look on his face, he doesn’t buy it in the slightest. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He reminds her. “I know you classify those two as your best friends,” he points to Scott and Stiles, “but you still got me if you ever need a break from… whatever that is.” She follows his gaze, grimacing as Stiles continuously berates Scott. 

For a moment, a genuine smile takes over her face. She nods in appreciation, “Thanks, Danny. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he pats her back affectionately before standing up and walking over to the goal. 

Fallon takes her own leave, standing up and traveling over to Scott and Stiles who have just joined the rest of the team on the sidelines. The bleachers are full of spectators excited for the Beacon Hills Cyclones' first real game of the season, and both teams are milling around on their respective sidelines as the referee gets in position on the field. She smiles when she notices Melissa and her dad sitting next to each other on the bleachers, engaged in what must be a very entertaining conversation. 

Allison and her father also enter the stands, the former waving enthusiastically at Fallon, holding her popcorn in her other hand. Chris smiles and nods at the girl as well, making Fallon’s nerves skyrocket as she pictures him with an automatic rifle in his hand. Then she remembers she’s going home with them after the game, her overnight bag shoved inside her gym locker. 

“Scott!” Lydia’s voice rings out causing the trio to look in the direction she’s coming from. There’s a certain confidence in her step, a plethora of threats no doubt about to leave her lips as she grips the boy by the collar of his jersey. 

Fallon watches as a jealous expression takes over Stiles’ face. She takes a step forward, leaning into his side. “Down boy,” she whispers. He bites the inside of his cheek but simply wraps his arm around Fallon, pretending the sight doesn’t irritate the living hell out of him. 

“I just want you to remember one thing for tonight…” 

Obviously uncomfortable by Lydia's close proximity and aggressive tone of voice, Scott looks down at her hand, which is still gripping his jersey, and responds nervously, “Uh... w-winning isn't everything?” 

Lydia chuckles sarcastically before letting go of his jersey and smoothing out the wrinkles, straightening his shirt sleeves before answering him. “Nobody likes a loser.” She patronizingly pats his chest before turning to take her seat with Allison and her father. 

Scott shakes his head from the encounter, going to sit down with Fallon and Stiles. He blows out a puff of air, “She’s scary,” he tells them, eyes blown wide. “If Derek doesn’t kill me for playing, she’ll definitely kill me for not playing.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, his eyes following after the redhead. “But she’s hot so it doesn’t matter.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Fallon says with a grossed out expression. 

“At least I don’t find a murderer who buried the body on his property attractive,” he spats back, referring to her comment about Derek in the woods. 

“Why are you acting like you didn’t find him hot too?” She quirks a brow. Stiles opens his mouth and closes it, not able to find a good retort. She smirks, readying her lacrosse stick, “That’s what I thought.” 

The referee blows his whistle causing both teams to charge out onto the field from their respective sides. Loud cheers emanate throughout the crowd as the starting players get into their assigned positions. Fallon takes her spot near Jackson, the two fist bumping as they get ready to play. She keeps a close eye on Scott, watching as he mumbles something under his breath. 

“You’ll be okay,” she whispers, knowing he’ll hear her. “Just try to keep your heart rate down.”

He barely glances in her direction, but she doesn’t miss the grateful smile he sends her. His stature becomes slightly more confident as the crowd continues to whistle and cheer loudly. It’s not long before the referee steps forward, placing the ball between Jackson and one of the players on the opposing team. 

“Down!” He orders them into position. Jackson and the other boy do as they’re told, crouching with their lacrosse sticks touching the ground. “Set!” The ref gives the final warning before the game starts, then the whistle blows. 

Jackson easily scoops up the ball, barely giving the boy in front of him a chance to blink. Fallon follows after the blonde boy, blocking for him as the other players try to knock him down. She manages to lose the player guarding her, freeing herself up for a pass. 

“Jackson!” She yells out at the same time Scott does. 

Scott’s wide open as well with no one coming after him. Fallon swerves to the side, trying to avoid another oncoming player that’s after her. She hopes Jackson takes the opportunity to pass to Scott as she now has more people blocking her. To her dismay, Jackson completely ignores Scott and tosses the ball to her. She grunts before managing to maneuver her way out of the trap the opposing player put her in. The ball lands in her net perfectly. Fallon turns to pass to Scott, but is stopped by player twenty-six on their team, taking the ball from her. 

She furrows her eyebrows, not understanding why he would do that. She shakes off her confusion before continuing her fast pace. Scott once again shouts for them to hand him the ball, but is completely ignored. Suddenly it makes sense to Fallon. They’re doing this on purpose as revenge for Jackson. She rolls her eyes, determined to get Scott the ball at least once during this game. 

Twenty-six throws the ball to another player who has at least three guards on him. Understandably, he misses the catch, giving the other team a perfect chance to swoop up the ball and head in the other direction. 

Scott throws his arms up frustratedly, “Are you kidding me?!” 

The Cyclones manage to get the ball back with number twenty catching the ball and passing it to Jackson. However, Jackson ends up getting slide-tackled, hard, which causes the ball to fly out of his lacrosse stick. Fallon and Scott seem to have the same idea as they see the white ball sitting idly on the grass. She nods at him, silently communicating that she’ll block for him if he wants to go for it. Unfortunately, Jackson sees the small interaction which causes the blonde to shoot up and dart for the ball himself, not wanting Scott to have any of the glory. 

The three of them all begin running towards the ball. Right as Scott is about to scoop it up, Jackson shoves him aside so that he’s able to regain possession of the ball. Scott falls to the ground with enough force that he rolls over several times. Fallon watches angrily as Jackson runs to score the first point of the game. She scoffs at his behavior, but diverts her attention over to Scott. She walks up to him, helping him on his feet. 

“Don’t worry,” she grumbles. “We’ll kick his ass.” 

The crowd in the bleachers starts to stand and cheer, while Stiles watches apprehensively, afraid that the unfair treatment towards Scott will cause him to inadvertently shift on the field. Coach, however, is thrilled by the fact that they scored the first goal of the game and screams from the sidelines, “That's it, Jackson! Get fired up! Fired up!”

It seems now that the rest of the team is purposely ignoring Fallon as well, seeing as she tried to pass to Scott. She waits patiently to hear what Scott has to say as he’s the one who can hear what they’re talking about in the huddle. 

Fallon can hear Lydia loud and clear from the stands. She’s standing on her feet, forcing Allison to hold up a sign that says We Luv U Jackson. Watching Scott’s reaction made her frown. She rubs his back, “Ignore her. We’ve got this. Seriously, don’t let it bother you,” she warns. “We have bigger fish to fry.” 

Scott grumbles under his breath but goes back to listening to the other players. Fallon stays quiet to allow him to hear and isn’t surprised by the information he reveals when he turns to face her. “They were keeping it from me on purpose. And now, they’re doing it to you too.” 

She glares in Jackson’s direction who doesn’t even seem to notice her death stare. They’ve always gotten along as teammates so it makes her furious to see he’s icing her out just because he has a weird need to be in the spotlight. When she glances back at Scott, his eyes flash yellow, and his fangs slowly begin to poke out beyond his lips. She tries to grip his shoulders to calm him, but he’s already storming away from her, getting into formation. 

“Crap…” Fallon huffs. She shakes her head, running back to her own spot as well. Her eyes constantly travel over to Scott, her nerves at their peak at watching him in the process of shifting midgame. 

Allison and Lydia once again hold up the sign, cheering on Jackson. Fallon shakes her head as Scott’s eyes flash yellow again. Lydia really knows how to get under people’s skin. 

“Down! Set!” 

The whistle blows making everyone get ready to try and gain possession of the ball. The two players at the ball come to a stalemate, neither one able to push past the other to grab the ball. The force of having two lacrosse sticks with pressure from opposing sides causes the ball to fly haphazardly into the air. Fallon takes this as an opportunity to help Scott. She darts forward, somehow managing to jump over the heads of the other players, using her smaller stature to gain more height. She makes eye contact with Scott and both of them immediately start running as fast as they can towards the goal.

She deftly dodges a few players, smiling as she hears her father, Melissa, and Sheriff Stilinski cheer in the distance. Seeing a few more players chasing after her, she throws the ball towards Scott who continues the journey. He ducks, weaves, and spins around the other players. He easily slides the ball into the net causing the crowd to jump on their feet ecstatically. 

Fallon runs up to him, the two chest bumping confidently. He wraps his arm around her as they run back to the center of the field, high-fiving their teammates who congratulate them on their play. Both of them find it rather amusing as they were just conspiring against them moments ago. 

“McCall and Donovan!” Coach screams. “Pass. To. McCall and Donovan!” 

The brunette girl smirks smugly seeing how furious Jackson is over the attention being shifted from him to Scott. Everyone returns to midfield, getting in position as the referee gets ready to blow the whistle. Once he does, another stalemate ensues before number forty-three on the opposing team snatches the ball and heads towards their goal. 

Unfortunately, he gets right into Scott’s line of sight. Fallon watches as the boy terrifiedly tosses the ball deliberately into Scott’s net. She can only assume some of his werewolf-itude is what caused the sudden change in ferocity from the other player. She doesn’t take enough time to question it though, focusing on helping Scott make another goal. 

Scott rushes down the field, ducking to avoid any incoming blows from the other team. He runs in a zig-zag pattern, his newfound confidence and skill starting to border the line between natural and supernatural. He takes his shot, throwing the ball so hard that it tears directly through another player's net and flies straight into the goal. Fallon’s jaw drops. How on earth could they explain that? 

With the past two goals, the score is now five to five with only thirty-nine seconds left in the final quarter. Tensions and spirits are high as both teams are desperate to bring home this win for their individual school. Fallon isn’t quite sure if Scott is going to make it through this game without fully shifting. Her and Stiles exchange worried looks, which seems to be the only look they’ve been able to send each other recently. He nods at her, encouraging her to continue playing. She sighs, getting back into her starting position. She tries to ignore Scott’s heavy breathing, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that his canine teeth are now actually as sharp as an animals. 

The chirp of a whistle causes Jackson and the opposing player to fight for possession, which ends up with the latter getting the ball. However, his journey down the field is short as he drops the ball. Scott manages to snag it and starts running the other way but suddenly stops. He freezes in place causing everyone in the team and in the stands to start shouting at him. 

“No, no…” Fallon starts inching towards him. “Scott, come on.” 

The clock ticks down to seventeen seconds and the other team starts circling Scott like sharks, trying to get the ball back. “Scott!” She shouts. “Pass the ball! Look at me! Pass the ball!” 

Time is fleeting fast as the girl bounces around the field. She prays that something inside Scott’s mind snaps and he gets back into the game. And somehow, her prayer is answered. His eyes snap up, the golden tint gone as he throws the ball over the heads of the oncoming players and directly into Fallon’s net. 

She acts quick on her feet, knowing that they don’t have much time left. She approaches the goalie, the boy looking slightly terrified by her determined demeanor. Fallon spins, using all of her might to throw the ball into the net. The goalie actually flinches at the amount of force applied to the ball. His net comes nowhere near her shot, missing it completely as it makes it perfectly into the goal. 

The referee blows his whistle just as the buzzer sounds that the game has timed-out, leading all of the supporters of the Beacon Hills Cyclones to leap to their feet and cheer ecstatically, thrilled to see the final score is six to five with Beacon Hills winning the game

Fallon wants to focus on the fact she just scored the game winning point, but her mind is immediately drawn to Scott. She looks over her shoulder and through the masses of people trying to find her best friend, or maybe Stiles. When she finally finds the boy she’s looking for, he’s darting off towards the school. The need to go after him is strong, but if he’s about to shift it would be a better idea if she had some backup.

“Stiles!” Fallon shouts, politely thanking people who congratulate her on the game. She weaves in and out of the crowd, finally reaching the bench where he is. “We need to go,” she tells him with a serious expression. “Now.” 

“Hold on,” the boy mumbles, looking at his dad curiously who is on the phone. 

The girl huffs frustratedly, but knows better than to stop Stiles’ snooping. She waits patiently, hugging her dad and Melissa who have come up to tell her how great she did. She’s a tad surprised though when Chris Argent approaches her with an almost calculated smile. 

“That was some impressive stuff,” he compliments. “Allison wasn’t kidding when she said you were good.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Fallon says appreciatively. “I’m glad you could come.” 

“Yeah, me too,” his voice sounds almost distant. “So, your teammate, McCall is it? He had some pretty interesting moves…”

Fallon swallows thickly, “Uh, y-yeah. Scott’s pretty good at what he does.” 

“Yeah,” his eyes are still focused on something in the distance. “Well, I’m looking forward to having more of a formal introduction with you this evening. That is if you still plan on coming over? I know Allison was really looking forward to it.”

His blue eyes are piercing through her soul. She chuckles awkwardly, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m really excited. I’ll be there, just after I change and stuff. Don’t wanna stink up your guys’ house,” she jokes in attempts to gain some oxygen back that’s been stolen from her lungs by the tense conversation. 

“Perfect,” he pats her back. “Congratulations again, by the way. I look forward to seeing more games.” 

And with that, he walks away from her. Fallon lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. When she finally turns around to talk to Stiles, his face represents how she feels on the inside. She furrows her eyebrows, “What’s wrong?” 

Stiles hesitantly makes eye contact with her, not really sure how to say his next sentence. “They let Derek out of jail…” he trails off, his mind still trying to process all of the information. 

“What?” Fallon tilts her head. She didn’t necessarily think he did it, but finding the body on his property was pretty damning evidence. It shouldn’t have taken just a few short days to get him off that easily. 

“Yeah,” he shakes his head. “And the real kick to the nuts is that my dad ID’d the dead girl. Laura Hale. His sister.” 

Fallon’s mouth goes dry as she tries to find the right words to say. “That would kind of explain the makeshift burial,” she says weakly. 

Stiles just narrows his eyes at her, not knowing if he’s more appalled learning the dead girl was Derek’s sister or the fact his best friend just tried to justify it. He decides it can be both. “C’mon,” he grabs her hand. “We’ve gotta tell Scott.”