#like i said i think it would have been better to have the entire first season be milly and emily

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo)

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired word count: 3.7k warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[boomstab-papa]

Oh absolutely, giving misogynists captive girlfriends/wives isn't going to fix anything. Being a little more misogynist to try to appease misogynists won't work.

But "giving any credence" is such an interesting phrase to use here, because it's so ambiguous and also accusatory. What does "giving credence" mean? Who has been doing it? What have they been advocating for? Who, for example, has been saying leftists should be more misogynist, and how?

I'm not alone in this confusion, either, there are several comments on the tweet who are equally perplexed.

The fact is that the left DOES NEED a better approach to people who are feeling lost, angry, and scared.

Alt-right "self-help" authors and programs are hugely popular. These predators target lost, scared, and angry people. They're cults, really. And no matter how much the left discusses things like "can we stop parroting bioessentialist bullshit because hey, men aren't destined to be misogynistic assholes"... these alt-right cultists don't ever even have to TALK TO a leftist to repeatedly hear "leftists hate you for being born white/male/rich/etc". I really can't get over how Rush Limbaugh popularized the term "feminiazi" and told an entire generation that feminists were angry man-haters when they literally are not. But that's exactly how the grift works!! I should know, I grew up in exactly this Rush Limbaugh kind of house!!

"Don't blame the hyper-wealthy for ruining the economy, blame women and foreigners for taking all the jobs! Don't blame the ruined economy when nobody wants to have kids anymore, blame the women! Don't blame patriarchy and all the misogyny it taught you when women avoid your misogynist ass, blame the women! Remember, the feminazis hate you!!"

So what to do?

On an interpersonal level, sometimes it can be really easy. This is a comment made to Innuendo Studios's video "How to Radicalize A Normie" on this exact topic (which I highly recommend watching).

"Hey, ex-alt-right member here. First, really like this series. I feel like you’re validating the radicalization that me and my male friends experienced. Putting it into words and showing us how we got tricked, exposing the magician and their tricks. Second, I vot out not through argument and discussion but actually through feelings. I was very edgy and would use the n-word in jokes all the time. My male friends would not call me out on it. But a female friend of mine said it made her uncomfortable and that she didn’t appreciate these jokes when we played fortnite together. That shook me to my core as I cared for my friend and that’s how my deradicaliztion started. Just wanted to add in this personal story, keep up the great work :)"

If this is someone you know, tell them their behavior is not cool.

THIS GOES DOUBLE FOR THE MEN READING THIS. Misogynists are more likely to listen to you than they are to listen to women!! If someone is being a shithead in your vicinity, consider: are you gonna let it slide? Or are you maybe, possibly, going to be the one thing that yanks them out of a hatespiral and prompts them to re-examine their hateful worldview? Tell them "hey not cool".

This might not work the first time. This might not work at all for some people. But if the situation is relatively safe, then it's worth trying.

And this does not mean that you personally are responsible for "centering men in your conversations" or "marginalized people putting in even more emotional labor" or "if a man is misogynist it's because you failed him" what the fuck ever like I've seen in this discourse. Come the fuck on.

It means you can probably try saying something to somebody you know. And if it doesn't work? You can say you tried.

On a policy level, we have more work to do. It shouldn't come as a surprise to any leftist that the current economic and political system in the USA exists to separate and exploit people. I think we all agree it really sucks to live in a system like this. Your average reactionary misogynist also thinks the system sucks, but as explained above, they've been trained to place the blame on some convenient scapegoats instead. Immigrants. Women. Queer people. Muslims. Anybody who's not white. Et cetera. "Government needs to get out of the way of smart people and then Elon Musk will build a utopia for The Faithful (which includes me) on Mars" or some shit.

These people need to hear that their anger is justified, but that their blame is misplaced. They need policies that will hold the responsible parties accountable. They need policies that won't leave them impoverished and isolated and exhausted after working a 40+ hour work week. They need to realize the system isn't sorting people into "the worthy rich" and "the unworthy poor", rather, that it's exploiting everyone except the wealth-owning class. They need to realize it's their politicians' biggest campaign donors that are doing this to them.

The Democratic Party needs to actually talk about this. I'll be dangerously pithy here: the Democratic Party needs to sound more like Bernie Fucking Sanders. Politicians need to oppose health insurance companies and get Medicare For All going. Politicians need to stop voting to give the military two fucking billion dollars every single day and fund free college and trade schools. Politicians need to tell business interests to fuck off and get a livable minimum wage AND a universal basic income passed, which will severely undercut employers' ability to exploit and isolate us.

And we need Citizens United repealed. Badly. I'm not trying to imply the problem is only with Republicans' campaign donors, because Democrats' biggest campaign donors are also often the same people exploiting us. But look at how Democrats did a tiny little bit of pro-union and anti-trust work these past 4 years and they screamed bloody fucking murder. If Democrats are relying on these people's money to get them elected, I think it's going to be really hard to get policies passed that will actually make USAmericans safer and happier (ie. address Republicans' economic fears that they keep blaming on various scapegoats).

Although with Republicans controlling the entire Federal government for the next two years minimum, this feels more distant than ever.

That's what we need to be taking seriously. If you don't give any credence to the fears and insecurities underlying the horrifying reactionary politics, you're not actually addressing anything. If you can't admit that capitalism fucks all of us over and makes all of us miserable and looking for a remedy, are you even a leftist?

[3liza]

part of the age-phobia that haunts millennials and gen z is our parents' fault. i only know this because my parents actively worked against it my entire childhood and now i am almost completely lacking any sort of angst related to aging. my mom inoculated me against it by approving of aging bodies. my mom told me she didn't care about her sagging breasts or gaining weight because her body had worked hard for her and fed her children and was strong and capable and beautiful. my dad said things like "you're going to be beautiful when you're 40, i cant wait to see you all grown up". neither of them worshiped youth or spoke with envy about anyone's lack of age. they both have friends who are older and younger than they are. it is actually our parents' job to do this. this is what "values" is supposed to mean, they're supposed to give us frameworks to think about and navigate life with, but the term has been so abused and is a neutral thing in the first place, people can have shit values. but yes you are actually supposed to teach your children what to think about things. and you'll end up doing it anyway so you better do it on purpose, and give them lenses through which to see the world that make them stronger and braver and more capable, not fearful and helpless. idk. the older i get the less i blame people for not having the right mental skills and the more i frown and shake my head at whoever's parents didnt teach them that they would be 50 years old one day and how to anticipate and value that process

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[auroracalisto]

opposites attract, or so they say

simon x gn!reader, 1.9k words summary: simon's got a crush on the sweet little thing down the street. a/n: I love him. I love kyle gallner. send help. tw: lots of cussing but it's mostly because I went with simon's pov and ran with it, simon is buzzed, brief mention of sexual content but like nothing other than the idea

Simon was a lot of things.

Angry. Vile. Crude. A badass punk rocker.

But there was something more to him than just that. There was something deep within him that screamed for release, that just wanted to be a part of his world just as much as the rest of him.

And that, which it's far more simple than you might think, was the need to be loved.

His family was shit. That was a given. Never once looked at him like they were proud of him, which for what it was worth, he couldn't give a shit.

His bandmates were fucking righteous, but what the fuck's that got to do with anything? Love from a bandmate? Right. Weird as fuck. This wasn't one of those half-assed teen romcoms where the drummer fell in love with the lead singer. He'd rather vomit in front of an entire set than have his drummer fall in "love" with him.

And then, there was you. That bitch down the block that made him question anything and everything. Just looking at you made him feel things that he wasn't used to, and it infuriated him.

Sure, maybe he wanted to be loved, but by you? Sweet, little Y/n who'd never had a bad thought in your life? For fucks sake, it was as if the universe was laughing at him!

The universe was always laughing at him.

But who cares? He was in a punk ass band, he always stuck it to the Man, and when it mattered most, his bandmates showed up when others didn't.

But you were always on his mind.

Shit.

He was down bad for you. There was no way around it.

Standing outside your doorstep, half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips, he knocked rather loudly. If you didn't answer, he'd just leave. God, he hoped you didn't answer. The cherry wine coolers he'd had just moments before weren't doing much to settle his nerves.

Why the fuck was he even nervous?

It wasn't like it was the first time he'd been around you. Hell, he'd smoked a cigarette or three on your doorstep, complaining about anything and everything as you drank a soda, a coffee, or one of those cheap wine coolers he brought you.

It wasn't like he didn't know you.

There's a pause as he sucks in a deep breath of smoke, and the door opens to reveal you. In your pajamas like a good little samaritan, ready for bed at 10 in the evening.

Simon silently scolded himself. Of course you were ready for bed. A goody-two-shoes who most definitely wasn't waiting up for some kind of divine inspiration for a new song. Who wasn't waiting up for some kind of alcohol to finally kick in.

You blinked slowly at him. You knew him—not as well as you would like to, but you knew him. You had a history class together back in high school, and while you weren't that teenager from way back when, you still remember the inkling of a crush you had on him. You knew him way better then than you did, now.

Ethics be damned, am I right?

"Simon?"

Your voice was so soft, so sweet. He just wanted to turn around and walk away, to avoid you so he wouldn't taint you like he wanted to.

Dammit.

"Hey, Y/n," he said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it beneath his boots. "You, uh, got a minute?"

You blinked slowly but gave a small nod, stepping out onto the porch. You closed the door behind you to keep the cool air from going in. Your arms crossed over your chest and you watched Simon closely before he spoke. It wasn't the first time you had done this.

You stood barefoot in front of him, the cold concrete a not-so-welcome addition to the conversation.

"Look," he began. "I, uh, just wanted to—well, fuck, I don't know what I wanted to—"

He was a blabbering mess. What the fuck was this? He was confident, but around you, it was as if every little bit of his brazenness melted away.

"You, me, bar tomorrow night, yeah?" he blurted.

Simple. To the point. Far less embarrassing than what happened just moments prior.

Your eyes widened, and he can see the gears turning in your pretty mind. But you didn't seem adverse.

You smiled a bit. "What bar?"

He blinked slowly. "What bar? The fuck—uh," he looked over his shoulder, clearing his throat. "Sure. Why the fuck not? Bar on Main Street."

"Will I meet you there?"

He scrunched his nose. "Yeah. Meet me there."

"Cool. What time?"

He blinked slowly. "Time? Fucks sake, Y/n, you ask a hell of a lot of questions," he said, snorting softly. "Let's, uh, say nine? Or is that too late for you?" He eyed your warm pajamas.

"I'll be there," you said.

He perked up a bit before he looked you up and down one more time. "Fucking right," he said. "Be there." He took a step back, nearly faltering on the first step of your porch, but then he turned away and without another word, left you behind.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn't stupid. He was smart in his own ways, sure, but what the actual fuck was that?

Girls threw themselves at his feet, especially when he was John Q. Guys did too, in their own ways—hell, he had one guy one time tell him he'd give him a blowjob if he looked at him for longer than five seconds.

He almost took him up on the offer. But that was nearly a year ago, and the way you looked at him tonight made his heart melt in the confines of his beaten chest.

Dammit all, what the fuck was he doing?

Love. What the hell would love give him that he couldn't get from some random fucker down the street?

What in the ever-loving hell was he doing?

Nine o'clock on the dot, he was there at the bar on Main.

Down bad. He knew it, too. Even canceled his band practice just to come and see you. His drummer had nearly cussed him out, but Simon didn't give a shit.

He went straight to the bar and ordered a beer, downing half of it in the first few seconds of having it.

When he felt a hand on his arm, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked down, seeing you standing there. You actually came. You weren't pulling his dick, you actually showed up.

His heart pounded nervously in his chest. Shit. When was the last time he was actually this nervous?

"Y/n," he said.

You smiled up at him. Did anyone ever tell you how pretty your smile was?

What. The. Fuck.

"You said nine, right?" you asked. "I'm avoiding my pajamas just for you."

Just for him. Fuuuck.

You were cute.

He shoots a cheeky grin, leaning against the bar counter. He could be suave. He could be confident and not seem as needy as he felt. The pyro was more than capable.

But for some reason, he didn't feel like lying to you. He didn't feel like joking around, or trying to show you something that simply wasn't true.

He'd loved you since that stupid class back in high school—the one with Mr. Fuck-face and that terrible toupee. You had been so nice to him, while everyone else had treated him like a parasite. Not that he blamed them. He knew what he was.

He cleared his throat and looked around the bar. Maybe it hadn't been the best place to ask you to, but the alcohol definitely would help at some point.

"Yeah. I said nine," he said.

You ordered a drink. He doesn't listen to what you say to the bartender. He's staring you down, eyeing you like a fine choice of meat. Fuck, you were, though. Every inch of you was like heaven to him.

Maybe it wasn't love he wanted. Maybe it was just lust that kept him in a chokehold.

Besides, he hardly knew you. Knew you briefly in high school, but the fuck's that matter? How long has it been since the two of you graduated?

Long enough.

Long enough for everything to change, except for him, apparently.

"How've you been?"

Your voice drew him out of his thoughts. He looked at you, blinking slowly, before he shrugged.

"Busy," he said.

"You still playing?"

He blinked slowly. "Huh?"

"In high school. You had a band. You still playing?"

You remembered that? Shit.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm still playing. We play a couple gigs here and there."

Your eyes widened. "Really? Where do you play?"

"Wherever we can get a spot. You, uh, should totally come out to hear it some time."

You smiled immediately. "I would love to," you said.

He stared you down. Either you were lying or you were one of the fuckers who he knew he'd never get enough of. It's looking like it would be the latter.

He looked away from you, taking a swig of his beer.

"You think that—"

He interrupted you, slamming his beer onto the counter. "Look," he said rather quickly. "I don't know what it is, but I need you to take me seriously for a second."

You blinked slowly. "Yeah. What's up?"

He clenched his jaw as he looked at you. He wasn't angry with you—nah, he was angry with himself. Not talking to you sooner, not kissing your pretty mouth, not—

"I think you're fucking tits," he said, taking hold of you by your shoulders. "I'm not about to sit here and tell you I love you, because I don't, but for fuck's sake, I want you more than I've wanted anything in my entire life."

Okay. Lie number one. Starting off strong. But how could you love someone if you didn't truly know who they were? Guess it wasn't really a lie. It just... was a half truth, if that.

Your eyes are wide as you stared up at him. "What?"

"I want—" he began, letting out a labored breath. "I want you. Okay? There. Fuck. I said it."

"You... you want me? How?"

He snorted softly at your question. "I want you in every fuckin' way imaginable, Y/n."

He said nothing more, leaving it up for your interpretation, but clearly, by the way he was looking at you, it was obvious.

"Simon—"

"Nah, don't," he said. "If you're gonna protest, I don't want to hear it."

"I'm not gonna protest—"

"—I've had enough people tell me they don't want me, and it pisses me off."

"But I—"

"—I'm serious, Y/n."

"Simon. I'm not protesting," you said defensively. "I—I feel the same way."

He blinked slowly at you, like he didn't just hear you correctly.

"What?" he asked.

"I like you," you said. "Have for a while now."

"You..."

"Yeah. I do," you said.

"Well shit," he breathed out, looking down at you. "Well that was easier than I thought it would be."

He pulled on a cheeky grin, and those pretty eyes of his bored into yours.

"You should kiss me," you said, smiling up at him.

"The fuck?" he let out a curt laugh, but he took you up on the offer. A hand moved to the back of your neck, and his lips pressed to yours almost instantaneously.

Fuuck, he'd wanted to do this shit for ages. Why the hell didn't he ask you sooner?

[ratatattouille]

i honestly did not expect this post to get more than 20 likes lmao, and i must admit that this was more of a thought dump than a super-deep analysis, but i'm glad a lot of it has resonated with so many of you!

that being said, i think my criticism warrants some criticism as well, and i feel like it would be disingenuous to just edit the post (let it be seen in all its imperfect glory lmao).

so here's my criticism of my criticism:

-Vi and Jinx: Vi did not create Jinx. Well, I mean, not entirely. And Silco did not merely weaponize her. Granted, it is Vi who slaps little powder across the face and shouts "You're a jinx!" but Vi is also just a child, and would have gone back for Jinx had she not been apprehended by that asshole also known as Marcus. THAT BEING SAID, Vi still feels a measure of guilt for her reaction (and that's not unjustified), and as Vander's daughter, she would still not stand for the Caitlyn S2 BS and would still default to Jinx much faster than she does (because she's all about family, and Jinx is the only family she has left.) Vi would feel even more guilty at how she is literally in an enforcer's suit when she is about to kill Jinx, the only family she has left. She is literally hunting down Jinx, a Zaunite, like the enforcers had her parents. It's still too far, lmao. Also, Vi's motivation to team up with Cait had more to do with getting revenge on Silco than restoring peace to Zaun, and I didn't mention that at all.

-Jinx and Silco: This fucked up dude did a whole John-the-Baptist thing with Jinx so she could embrace her Jinx-ness. But I don't think he was telling her to embrace that she was a curse like Vi meant it, but to embrace her new life (baptism is all about death and rebirth) and her new self and take responsibility for it. As much as Silco WAS WRONG to lie about Vi (manipulating Jinx) and even try to kill Vi (which was a dumbass move on his part), he wasn't wrong about Jinx's path to healing: self-acceptance and self-forgiveness. And even though Silco's own stupidity led Jinx to "embrace" Silco's version of Jinx to the point that she bombed the Council right when they'd granted Zaun independence (I wanted to fucking kill myself watching that), Jinx was still not ENTIRELY a jinx as Jinx (e.g. when she rescued Zaunites from Stillwater Prison). Isha and Sevika understood (even though Silco unfairly set it up) that Jinx was actually their good luck, their hope, more than just a hex (pun intended) on the city. After all, Jinx made Sevika her new arm (even though she's the reason Sevika lost her arm in the first place), which further proves that Jinx had the capacity to fix some of what she broke. It would have been better for her to embrace responsibility and have the faith to try and fix things (ESP her relationship with Vi). While it is not unrealistic or necessarily bad writing that she would fake her own death to run away and start over (or just die) trying to save Vi, the arc people she represented deserved was her embracing Vi back, not accepting that she was a curse in Vi's life.

-BACK TO MY MAIN POINT: If the focus had been on the coming war between Zaun and Piltover, then we could have better explored the internal struggles happening with Vi's and Jinx's characters. Using Isha and Vander as misery porn for Jinx was a bad move. I stand by that. Isha didn't need to die that uselessly. Jinx did not need more "trauma" for any character development (positive or negative). It's not unrealistic that Jinx would be depressed after Isha's death (and that Isha was likely meant to symbolize the constant cycle of violence), but that this sub-plot really wasn't needed given what we'd already established in Season 1. Why do I say this? Because the cycle of violence is not a "Jinx" issue, but a Piltover one, and the writers making it an interpersonal issue instead of a political/sociological one damaged the story and what Jinx's character could have meant to mentally ill people like her. It wasn't illogical storytelling, just far less meaningful than it could have been. It would have been more powerful and moving and impactful for Jinx to realize where the true cycle of violence (as established the whole fucking show from the dead parents on the bridge, to Vander and Silco, to Jinx and Vi, to Jinx and Ekko, to Isha and Warwick, to Cait and Vi, etc) was coming from.

This is where my gripes with Jinx's and Viktor's arcs in S2 really lie: the story tries to strip the political from the personal! Viktor, on waking up with the arcane in him, goes back to The Lanes, and what does he see? The cycle that Silco mentions in Jinx's hallucination in the cell. This cycle is not merely coming from the interpersonal struggle Zaunites have, but rather, the forces behind those struggles: the starvation, the lack of resources, the poverty. All caused by Piltover. Where Season 2 fails while Season 1 succeeded, is it points the camera away from Piltover as the origin of all this mess, and instead, makes it a stupid cosmic clash between chaos and order (kinda fascist ngl). Zaun lost, and Arcane Season 1 had the tits to show why those in The Lanes were always on a losing streak: Piltover.

But what, instead, do the writers brandish as this solution to the cycle?

Fucking forgiveness (of those who harm and oppress you) and acceptance of your imperfections (like that's what we were apparently talking about, which no, it wasn't). By refusing to acknowledge Piltover's hand in the desperation and violence and struggle the Zaunite characters find themselves, the show inadvertently ends up excusing Piltover.

And I'm going to make a Part 2 to really get into it.

arcane season 2 was artistically beautiful and thematically cheap. every interesting and meaningful thing it did with its characters (even in season 2 act 2) was reduced to romanticized bullshit, utterly divorced from its season 1 roots. it's so bad it can be considered pro-status quo propaganda (and i do mean that). good ships aside (and i do mean the caitivi, jayvik, timebomb holy triad), this season squats and shits on every zaunite character in the show. not just their zaunite-ness, but how it literally shaped who they were as characters.

Let's start with Vi:

-Vi and Vander: Vi's loyalty to The Lanes always went beyond Powder. Zaun was her father's, Vander's dream. Zaun was her friends (do you remember how protective she was of Ekko aside from her adopted brothers?) and her family. When she's giving Caitlyn a tour of The Lanes, we see how much she embodies and revels in Zaunite culture (esp in the food scene). She cared for Zaun like Vander taught her to. Her "protective" trait extended to ALL the vulnerable in The Lanes, because Vander taught her that. It wasn't EVER just Powder. Zaun is her HOME. As a child, she wanted to make a name for herself IN ZAUN "one day, this city's gonna respect us." You can make the excuse that Vander's death meant that side of her died, but it clearly didn't because of how she regarded it while showing Caitlyn around. "Family" to Vander, extended to the vulnerable of Zaun, which is how Vi and Powder came to be his "daughters" in the first place. Because Zaun was for THEM. Zaun WAS THEM. Vander and Silco "weren't allowed to fail" at Zaun (i.e. the two daughters). Additionally, Vi and Jinx were supposed to succeed where Vander and Silco hadn't: forgiving each other and uniting so they could realize their dream for a free Zaun. The whole reason Zaun struggles to be free is because of their own internal divisions (the different gangs fighting for scraps). But if they united, they would be able to liberate themselves from Piltover (who is still the enemy). The whole reason the others are prosperous in the alternate timeline Ekko and Hemmerdinger travel to is because Vander and Silco reconcile (not because Vi dies).

-Vi and Caitlyn: Caitlyn was an interesting development for Vi, particularly because Caitlyn mirrored Vander's care for all people. Caitlyn was an enforcer that wanted to truly understand and help people. This challenged Vi's biases and also gave them a common goal. Caitlyn appealed to Vi because she gave Vi renewed hope for peace in The Lanes. That Zaun could be free through co-operation instead of violence. Her whole teaming up with Caitlyn, romance aside, was predicated on Vi brokering for peace between Zaun and Piltover. The first break-up between the two (Season 1's "Oil and Water") centred around Jinx, more or less. Vi believes Silco is a threat to peace between Piltover and Zaun (even though The Lanes aren't known as Zaun to her, I'm just using the names interchangeably). She believes Jinx is acting out due to Silco's influence, as well (and she isn't entirely wrong). Had Caitlyn not been injured on the bridge (and had Jinx not felt betrayed by Vi), Vi was going to leave her in pursuit of Jinx. Vi has never fit into Piltover (and that's also shown in Season 2 act 1-2).

-Vi and Jinx: This show was ALWAYS about a tale of two sisters/cities (cue the record insert of their two faces at the beginning of every episode). When Vi becomes an enforcer, it isn't because she's switched loyalties. She wants peace for Zaun, she just wants to take Silco's (and her own) creation--Jinx--out of the equation so it can work. The only reason she agrees to Caitlyn's plan is because, again, their two goals align: get Jinx. The difference is Vi wants to kill Jinx to get Powder back, while Cait wants to kill Jinx to get her city (mother) back. The show in season 2 TOTALLY LOST THIS FOCUS. Vi's guilt at hunting down her own people with enforcers (and it's already insane that Vi would even agree lmao) is ignored a lot by fandom, especially bc her post-breakup scene where she goes full goth is framed as regret for letting Cait down (rather than the self-disgust she would feel for joining her oppressors). Vi played a part in creating Jinx. Every single step of the way. This is barely acknowledged, and every time it might be, it gets shoved aside for romance with Cait. Cait, who, literally became a dictator and weaponized the air ducts her mother had created to SAVE ZAUNITES. The whole thing is viewed as Vi betraying Cait instead of Vi betraying Jinx/Zaun/her family and Cait betraying Vi ("promise me you won't change") and her mother. Cait was the one who sought to help Zaun (like her mother) but betrayed who she was when she was willing to kill Isha, an innocent child. (ALSO IMPORTANT: Just to further prove my point on how integral the sister's love for each other was, every show started with a record playing. The cover of the disc was Vi and Jinx. They were always the center focus of the story. The song that the record played? Likely "Our Love" by Curtis Harding and Jazmine Sullivan which goes "Our love is a bubblin' fountain, our love, that flows into the sea, our love, deeper than the ocean, our love for eternity." This love deeper-than-the-ocean can apparently crumble in the face of a dictator girlfriend you've known for less than a year lmao).

Where the writers FUMBLE is:

-Vi's and Jinx's relationship becomes secondary not just to the entire plot of the show but to Vi's arc. Zaun and Piltover's conflict was set up to be the epitome of the show, and the fact that it got shelved for a more *ahem* American industrial military complex epic battle between humans and robots is very telling about the writers and showrunners.

-Vi forgives Cait easily and prematurely, trashing Vi's true loyalties as established in earlier seasons/episodes

-Vi herself takes a back seat in most of season 2, and becomes a passive yes-man to Cait

-Vander's re-introduction is almost completely worthless to the plot and narrative (he comes back just to die), and he is used as a cheap way to re-unite the daughters in a way that has no significance to the themes (also, Silco as Jinx's father is completely ignored)

-Cait's deferral to fascism should have been permanent. Idc about the shippers at this point. Vi and Cait should have never come back from Cait shoving the back of her gun into Vi's injured side (let alone the gassing of the ducts). Vi would've never forgiven her, attraction or no. The fact that Cait could become a dictator after losing one parent is proof of their class divides (after all, Vi held onto hope despite losing all her parents to enforcers and Jinx was all she had left of her family). That should have cemented the death of that relationship (and it would have made for more compelling storytelling on class). The only reason it was kept was because it matters more to white Western audiences to have a Romeo x Juliet rendition that assuages their classist sensitivities. Cait becoming a fascist made sense and was true to her character and the world. Vi forgiving her (and then having sex with her in the prison she was thrown into as a child?) destroyed both her character and the narrative. And it's frankly made the ship that much more unpalatable. If Vi had to be destroyed as a character for the ship to work, then the ship wasn't all that good (even though it started off that way). It's honestly left such a bad taste in my mouth. What a fuck you to oppressed groups that whole subplot was. (And it's made worse by the fact that the creator thought that was somehow an empowering and liberating act for Vi, like fuck that).

Let's Talk About Victor:

-Viktor and Heimmerdinger: This is one of the biggest fumbles, IMO. Heimmerdinger and Viktor were the most polar of opposites. Heimmerdinger was not only a privileged, ulta-wealthy Piltoverian, but he had a comparatively endless lifespan while Viktor's own human life-span was cut short due to being a Zaunite, born at the bottom of the barrel and raised on toxic fumes that led to his terminal illness. Viktor's desperation to unlock the Arcane was explicitly about him overcoming his circumstances, his illness, his premature death. It wasn't merely about his internalized ableism, but the unjust way in which he had to suffer. Heimmerdinger could afford patience because he had all the time and resources in the world, but Viktor didn't. Not merely because he was a mortal, but because he was a Zaunite.

-Viktor and Singed: Viktor's arc with hextech is foreshadowed with his childhood interaction with Singed. I understand that in the games, Viktor is a villain-type character and his catchphrase or whatever is "Join the Glorious Evolution." While Viktor is horrified by Singed killing the creature that he eventually uses for shimmer, Viktor later says, "I understand," hinting that he saw the sacrifice (and death) necessary to "heal" the world of its ailments. Both Viktor and Singed grow up in The Lanes, and both have ailments they want to cure (for Viktor it is his lung cancer and for Singed its his daughter's dying). In season 2, Viktor tells Singed that while he understands what healing all those people could cost him, he will not sacrifice their humanity for Singed's cause. Then Jayce blasts him in the chest and that all goes out the window. All this despite Sky being there with him in the astro-nether. Now Viktor's idea of becoming a higher being is just getting rid of emotion (despite the fact that his character was one that was consistently willing to sacrifice himself and die in order to not harm others, and Sky's death only solidified that). Jayce killing him without explanation was all of a sudden all he needed to become a divine dictator, lmao. The same Viktor that looked terminal illness in the face and preferred to spare others instead of himself? The same Viktor who's immediate action after waking up with a new body was to go and use the arcane he wished had been destroyed to help others? Sure.

-Viktor and Jayce: Now, I think Jayce's speech had some merit and could have been framed better with a little more time and thought. The philosophical idea of perfection or a perfect world (one which Piltoverians strive toward) being untenable, maybe even undesirable, is a fascinating concept worth exploring. BUT MAKING IT ABOUT SOME INTERNALIZED ABLEISM FROM VIKTOR IS FUCKING STUPID!!!! I'm sorry, but Piltover being the city of progress until it actually included becoming progressive with Zaun was absolutely one of the things Jayce and Viktor's sub-plot was trying to explore. Viktor WANTED TO LIVE. Viktor wanted his people to STOP SUFFERING. Viktor WAS RIGHT. He wasn't merely eliminating "imperfections" (and of FUCKING COURSE A PILTOVERIAN WOULD SEE IT THAT WAY), he was trying to cure sick and dying people who did nothing to deserve it. He was buying them time that people like Jayce and Heimmerdinger had in spades, but Viktor and Zaunites had stolen from them. Children dying of disease and violence in The Lanes was by Piltoverian design! It was not some predestined cosmic necessity. Viktor WAS RIGHT TO HATE HIS FUCKING TERMINAL ILLNESS ARE THESE GUYS INSANE??! Wtf kind of message is Viktor embracing it as part of himself sending to vulnerable, impoverished and ill people? Is that supposed to be some kind of fucking comfort? Fuck off right to hell! And don't even get me STARTED on Jayce's trip to other-world hell being some kind of "Jayce seeing the world through Viktor's eyes" bs. Yes, it was good that our idealistic Jayce got to see the dark side of the Arcane as Viktor showed Jayce the beauty of the dream he sought for all people, but whatever message on class struggle Jayce is said to have learned or paralleled in his alternate timeline clearly didn't sink into his head because he still gave that dumbass speech to Viktor. And I'm glad if it resonated with any disabled people, but Viktor's struggle with his body was a protest against Piltover, not himself, and I hate that the writers gutted that character development. Viktor's and Jayce's paths "diverged a long time ago" because Jayce had the luxury and time of pursuing his dream while Viktor didn't. Viktor, even up there as a scholar of Piltover, was still getting the Zaunite treatment. Jayce had the time to pursue a better world, while Viktor had to struggle for a little more time. When Viktor becomes part of the arcane, suddenly he has all the time in the world to realize HIS OWN DREAM. Why would wanting a better world for others have to result in "dreamless solitude"? Viktor becoming obsessed with fixing what ailed humanity was warranted, and his extremism was hinted to have been due in part to the effect the arcane had on him, but it still made the themes of arcane a joke. There was so much potential and the writers (and showrunners) just squandered it for some more romantic bullshit.

Where season 2 FUMBLED:

-"Humanity, our very essence, is inescapable. Our emotions, rage, compassion, hate. Two sides of the same coin, intractably bound. That which inspires us to our greatest good is also the cause of our greatest evil.” That's a neat quote, but wars don't start simply due to emotions or whatever. This lacks class analysis, and it's annoying that the writers made this the whole theme of season 2 (and retroactively the show) in a story on class divides. Cait did not merely gas the Zaunites because of her mother, but because of her privileged upbringing that made it more acceptable to her to view Zaunites as animals (remember Ekko telling her "you guys hunt us down like animals"). Cait knew the humanity of Zaunites was real. She'd seen it. She just chose to ignore it because she could afford to. While it is interesting that Viktor would come to see being human as a flaw that destroys any hope of achieving peace (conflict theory would like a word with you), it ignored that fascism is not an inherently human trait and detracts from how or why it persists in the first place. It's almost the same as saying men/white people oppress women/poc because the latter were mean to them. It's victim-blaming (and false lmao). The British didn't colonize the Americans because the natives did anything to them. All prejudice is unjustified, that's what makes it prejudice. Again, Cait became a fascist when her mom died, but Vi still drew the line at killing children and even council members despite losing every single one of her family members to Piltover's violence against The Lanes.

-Jayce's speech would have been cute in another story, but it's downright insulting in Arcane's. Yes, yes, Jayce's words would have been the only ones to have broken the real Viktor out of Arcane Viktor's grasp by appealing to this deep childhood wound, but Viktor's desperation was not to belong (because his leg kept him from playing with other children) but TO LIVE (because he was dying of an illness). Jayce's speech isn't bad, just misplaced.

-Viktor did not have to become a fascist-aligned deity in his quest to heal people. It is a typical MCU thing to have a "villain" that's technically right and then destroy their entire character to make their (correct) philosophy untenable by making them do something extreme. Typical pro-status quo propaganda trope. Idc if it was so we could get some game version of him. Viktor was right in bringing progress and his discoveries to The Lanes instead of devoting his efforts to Piltover, the fake city of progress.

-While I am annoyed that the climax of the show hinged on Jayce and Viktor and hextech (a tool to explore the inequalities of Piltover and Zaun) instead of Jinx and Vi, I think it kinda makes sense. Hextech built what Piltover has now become. Jayce, Viktor and hextech kinda represent Piltover (what it could be) and Jinx and Vi represent The Lanes (and the Zaun it could be). Both would have been integral, but the story shouldn't have hinged on hextech, IMO. Hextech should have remained a tool to explore the politics of both cities, but instead it overshadowed everything, cheapening the story's themes, characters and world-building.

-Jayce calling the Zaunites to arms was downright absurd. But not as absurd as Zaunites volunteering.

And Then There's Jinx:

-Jinx and Isha: Isha's only use, as far as I'm concerned, was to be a reconciling force between the sisters. When Cait was willing to shoot her to get to Jinx, that should have stopped Vi right there and brought her back to defending Jinx 100% idc. When Isha sacrificed her life to save Jinx, that should have been Jinx's wake-up call right there and helped her understand why Vi kept leaving her out of missions as a kid. But instead what do we get? Depressed, suicidal Jinx and an astoundingly even more resentful and indifferent Vi. Vi still refuses to acknowledge her own hand in creating Jinx in the first place. Jinx, who has always wanted to be useful to those she loves. Who pursued her own hextech inventions in order to give her siblings a fighting chance when facing down Silco. Who wants to give Zaun a fighting chance as Silco's daughter. To be useful to the goals and dreams of her family. Isha was the perfect opportunity to bring the sisters together, but no. Instead, the kid was some kind of foreshadowing to Jinx's own heroic self-sacrifice for her sister (a message that left both sister's arcs unfinished). Vi had to acknowledge how wrong she was for abandoning Jinx and Zaun (instead of taking responsibility as Vander had taught her). Jinx needed to accept herself and the love others showed toward her (Silco, Vander, Ekko and Vi). Jinx keeps blowing things up because she repeatedly rejects herself (both Powder and Jinx), ignoring the good she's done and tried to do. Isha was a call back to the good Jinx has done and can continue to do for Zaun and others.

-Jinx and Ekko: Timebomb is the only ship that didn't ruin anyone's character, lmao. Because Ekko's and Jinx's relationship is precisely an exploration of how Piltover's violence against Zaun forced these children with entire futures ahead of them (they are both child prodigies) into endless war and hellish heroism. Ekko and Jinx are repeatedly shown to be hesitant and even unwilling to participate in violence against others, especially their own. Ekko does not hate Jinx, though he wants to, and Jinx does not like who she is when she's violent. She is trigger-happy because she already expects Vi and Ekko to want to kill her (projecting her self-loathing on them, but not entirely unreasonably). She doesn't have faith in their love or mercy because she doesn't see any part of herself as redeemable or loveable, which is why she consistently sabotages her life (but not without help from Vi and others). Ekko and Jinx are symbols of progress for Zaun AND Piltover (and Heimmerdinger saw that, especially when Ekko insisted he had to go back to his timeline, even if the one he had landed in was better). Heimmerdinger saw what they could have been in the alternate timeline, all the genius that was squandered in The Lanes. Jinx and Ekko are the ones most willing to put an end to violence and injustice because both of them are nostalgic for their families. Jinx just doesn't have the same faith in her ability to do so as Ekko does, but Ekko manages to convince her for a moment anyways. Ekko recognizes (like Silco, Viktor and Isha) how integral Jinx is to the creation of a new world. She injects colour and life and hope into Zaun and is the only one who can unite all warring factions in Zaun in the first place. Both her and Ekko are rebel leaders, but that is hardly used in Zaun's interests in the end. (ALSO THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION WITH VIKTOR AND JINX. This show would have won with a Viktor and Jinx team-up to unite Zaun--also in parallel to Jayce and Vi's team up. We could have had it all!)

-Jinx and Silco: This, is only second to Vi in the most FUMBLED things about Jinx. Silco was her guide once Vander died and Vi ran away. Silco not only took care of her, but gave her purpose and nurtured her talent (one that Vi and their brothers scorned). Silco accepted Jinx (he did not create her, Vi did) even though he weaponized her (which backfired for him). Silco, like Ekko, was the one who saved Jinx from death and offered Jinx a home. While everyone else patronized Jinx for her own childhood trauma, Silco was gentle, understanding and provided space for that, even when her psychosis killed him. He showed zero resentment toward her. But when Silco dies and Vander returns, Jinx just . . . oopsie, doopsie! Forgets about Silco until one final hallucination she has of him in the jail cell. The only one she has where he talks. And what does he say? She needs to break the cycle. How? Not by eliminating Piltover or gaining Zaun's independence like he'd talked about and dreamed about. Not by accepting herself as Jinx and Powder, the inventor, the fighter, daughter of both Silco and Vander, but by offing herself? Leaving her family to think she's dead? Embracing the lie that she really was the poison in their lives and the reason none of them could be happy? The reason they died? NICE! SWELL! WHAT A SATISFYING CONCLUSION! Even worse, they made her "death" staged. I'm sorry, but do we really believe that this same girl who killed herself multiple times in front of Ekko just 24 hours ago somehow found the will to live and escape into air ducts when she was falling with Vander? She decided to live right when she was about to die? And let's not forget that she was falling to the same song that was playing when she was trying to commit suicide. Why? And why would a heroic death (staged or not) be any form of character growth for Jinx in the first place? When her whole thing is distrusting the love offered to her? Or was she accepting herself by being the one to kill Vander because she knew Vi couldn't? Either way, it's cheap!

Fumbling points summarized:

-Jinx not being radicalized by Isha's death and the sight of her sister hunting her down with enforcers.

-Vander's letter to Silco could have been why she hallucinated Silco talking to her about forgiveness, but breaking the cycle here is about forgiving (unapologetic) Piltoverians instead of herself, which needed to happen to complete her arc.

-Jinx being the reluctant Girl Saviour of Zaun after clinging onto her identity as a jinx so she didn't have to take responsibility for Silco's dream (and by extension death) should have been the point of the show, IMO. As far as Jinx's arc is concerned, she was meant to reject the identity of jinx that Vi gave her and embrace the identity of Jinx that Zaun (and Silco) gave her. Loveable and capable of doing the right thing and saving others. Using hex-tech, something Jayce and Piltover had levelled against her people, against them. And she does this to some extent, but we don't even get a hint as to why Ekko's speech worked (and how he got her to fight alongside him and the Firelights in the first place). We know she does so for Vi, but she so quickly gives up once she and her sister are back on the same team. She allies herself with her sister just to die and then fuck off to another land? BRUH! Like act 3 is SO FRUSTRATING!

-The commitment to saving Piltover instead of destroying it ruined so many arcs, most notoriously Vi's and Jinx's. This should have ended in a war between the two cities, not one where both fought against robo-people and Ambessa.

I could go into how the show fumbled Mel, Ekko, Sevika, Jayce and more, but I think they still fare better than the ones I've talked about here. Caitivi has now (narratively) become distasteful, jayvik a joke, and timebomb unnecessary misery porn with little to no reward for all their efforts.

TLDR: Bad message to send to oppressed people, mentally ill people, and people dying of terminal illnesses, lmao. The Zaunites ALL LOST with this one.

P.S.: It's okay if you think the show is good because it succeeds in many other things, I just think it drops the ball in the places I've mentioned. But if your main criticism of my criticisms is going to be defending your ships, please find another post. Oppression is a serious reality that deserves serious depiction and it's insulting to have such necessary political discussions devolve into dumbass ship wars.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Sexual situations, Threesomes/Throuples, Dominant Ghost, Submissive König, Submissive Reader, Gentle Ghost, Caring Ghost, Ghost aftercare, Ghost expressing emotions/feelings, TW: Spanking (briefly), TW: Pet play, TW: Restraints (leash and handcuffs), TW: Sex denial (initially), TW: Double penetration, TW: Rough sex

Okay, I want to give a big big thank you to all of my readers for sticking with me this long. Y'all are my squad and I love you all. To quote my own story lol, "I'll always have your six". Seeya in Ending 3! *finger guns*

(Also, while there are sad moments in part 3, it literally has one of my favorite happy endings in this series. It may taste bitter at first, but don't let that put you off pls 😭 I PROMISE it ends so sweet!)

Reader POV:

The rest of the evening went off wonderfully. After a few more rounds, everyone was either too drunk to continue or had grown bored with the game altogether. So, for the rest of the night, the group had dispersed. Some had gathered to chat at the bar, and some had ventured outside to smoke. But you had been more than happy to just dance the night away. You had danced until your feet were sore! But now that you were back at the barracks, you were an entirely different kind of sore.

You yelped as Ghost’s leather belt smacked your bare ass, gritting your teeth through the burning sensation it left behind. He had you kneeling on his bed, face buried in the pillows to muffle your cries as he met out your punishment. But as the belt continued to rain down, the pillows were proving to be an ineffective solution. Another strike landed, and you groaned in pain.

"I thought I told you to count!" Ghost snarled, sending another fiery sting across your ass quickly after.

"I can't, sir!" You gasped, whimpering at the next impact. "I lost track, I'm sorry!"

He struck you one more time for good measure before throwing his belt across the room. There was a potent darkness in his eyes as he stood there fuming. The fury rolled off him in waves, and you shrank back as his glare pinned you where you lay.

"I told you to behave tonight,” he spat, venom dripping from each word. “But no. You just had to cozy up to the captain, didn’t you? You still think it was a good idea to make out with Price in front of me? You think I enjoyed seeing you sitting in his lap making him feel good?"

“But you didn’t tell me no!” you yelled back before you could think better of it. “You said it was my choice!”

Ghost lunged forward, his hand grabbing the back of your neck as he knelt over you. “You should have known better, princess. Thought I trained you better than that.”

"I’m sorry, sir," you hissed when his hand grabbed your ass, firmly massaging the tender and reddened skin. "I misbehaved and I’m sorry!"

“Good,” Ghost growled, the sound rumbling through his chest like rolling thunder. But with a huff, he let you go. "It wasn't completely your fault, though. Because someone encouraged you to act out. Isn't that right?"

He turned towards König, giving him a withering glare. König blanched at the sight, quickly looking down at the floor. Goosebumps dotted his skin as he shivered, desperate to hide from the seething specter before him. Clothing would have helped a bit, but Ghost ensured neither of you had that privilege. As soon you had entered his room, Ghost had commanded both of you to strip down. You had been directed straight to the bed. But he clearly had other plans to deal with König once he was through with you. So König sat there kneeling at the foot of the bed, cowering under Ghost’s stern presence. He whimpered, tugging against his restraints. A chain leash was hooked to the center loop of his collar before the rest of it wound around the leg of the bed frame. And though he continued to struggle, having his hands cuffed behind his back made the effort even more useless. There was no escape and he knew it. Ghost wanted him to see you punished with first. He wanted the anticipation or dread to fill König’s mind as he was forced to wait his turn.

"Yes, sir," König whispered in a small, pitiful voice. "It was my idea and I'll accept my punishment."

König’s eyes darted across the room, lingering on where the belt had landed on the floor. After seeing how ruthless Ghost could be with it, he shivered at the thought of taking your place. It was a shiver of both fear and anticipation, but a shiver nonetheless. But as Ghost followed his gaze.

“Oh, no. I’m not gonna spank you,” Ghost smirked, slowly pulling his shirt over his head. “I know you. You’d enjoy that a bit too much.”

Ghost kept his eyes on König as he eased his pants down his thighs. His boxers quickly followed, both unceremoniously kicked to the floor. König’s eyes zeroed in on Ghost’s crotch. His breathing had gone shallow and his eyes were half-lidded with longing. And Ghost let him stare as he stroked his length, taunting him a bit.

“You like what you see, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” König gasped, letting out a needy whimper. “Bitte, let me show you how sorry I am. How good I can be.”

"That’s cute. But I don’t think so,” Ghost hissed, turning away to approach the bed instead. “I want you to feel what you made me feel tonight. I want you to know how it feels to have your girl dangled in front of you. To see someone else in your rightful place," he hissed. "Princess, get on your back. I want him to watch."

You obediently rolled over, gasping in pain when the bed sheets made contact with your ass. But Ghost was not in the mood to be patient. He grabbed your ankle, tugging you across the bed to give König full view. He spread your folds open with his fingers, letting your evident excitement drip out onto the bed

"See how wet she is?" Ghost taunted, dipping a finger into your opening before holding it up. "I’m gonna show you how to really make her squirm."

He repeated the motion, this time inserting two fingers and earning a loud gasp as you writhed beneath his hand. But you didn't get very far. With his other hand, he gripped your hip and pressed it down into the bed to keep you in place.

"You gotta hold her still sometimes," he chuckled, probing your clit with his thumb before withdrawing his hand. "Can't have her getting away before the fun starts, can we?"

"No, sir," König whined, staring longingly at the display. His cock twitched in his lap, betraying his growing desire to take Ghost’s place.

"When she’s nice and wet like that," Ghost smirked, giving himself a few firm strokes before lining up at your entrance. "She'll take you balls deep in a heartbeat."

With a growl, Ghost snapped his hips forward and buried himself within your throbbing core. You moaned loudly as he filled you. The sensation of his length settling against your cervix made your back arch sharply as you let out a needy whimper. But there was no time to catch your breath. Ghost jumped straight into a frantic pace, his hips slamming against yours as he fucked you into the mattress. This wasn't for pleasure. This was for show. This was to make a point.

"See what fun you could be having?" Ghost panted, ramming himself into your slick core. "I bet you wanna feel her tight little cunt around your cock right now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," König moaned, his erection straining in his lap. "Please."

"Too bad. I guess you'll just have to watch me make her cum."

"Oh, fuck!" You whined, every thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You could hear König whimpering across the room, but Ghost was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything but what he was doing to your body. "Oh, god!"

"Just like that," Ghost murmured, slipping a hand around your throat. "See? This is how she wants to be handled. She wants to be put in her fucking place. Gotta make her take it."

The way Ghost talked about you like you weren’t even there. The way he used you like a tool, like a teaching aid? It sent your mind straight to the most depraved places. Subspace quickly kicked in and you happily surrendered to the raw pleasure he sent coursing through your body. It was addicting. And it felt so good.

You let out a gasped whimper and your walls quivered around his length with every thrust. But Ghost was accustomed to your unspoken signals. He knew you were getting close to your release. In response, he kicked his pace up a notch.

“When she twitches like that,” he moaned to König, his voice tightening as he continued his speech. “When you feel her cunt grabbing at your cock? You tell her to cum for you. You make her cum for you. Whisper some naughty words in her ear and she’ll fold. Isn’t that right, princess? You like being called a fucking whore while I fuck the shit outta you?”

You tried to say “yes, sir”. You opened your mouth to form the words. But when you did, all that came out was a stream of incoherent sounds as your climax tore through you. All you could do was clutch the bedsheets and whimper as your body seized up. The sound of Ghost moaning through gritted teeth blended with your own sounds of pleasure as he rode it out with you. He hadn’t finished with you, but he could not deny himself the reward of increased tightness as you clamped down around him. König let out a gasped moan as he watched you writhe through your orgasm. His eyes burned with envy and hunger. And with a whimper, he glanced down at his lap. Pre-cum was streaming down his erection and pooling beneath him. It was a humiliating sight and he knew it. But there was nothing he could do to remedy it. His body trembled with desire as he watched your climax gradually begin to fade.

After the last wave trembled through your form, you sank back onto the bed with a breathy sigh and Ghost pulled out. You didn’t have the energy to even lift your head, but you still turned to watch as Ghost climbed back off the bed. He sauntered over to where König sat, chest heaving. The chain of his leash was pulled taught from him crawling as close to you as it would allow. His eyes were wild behind his hood and his chest heaved with need. But Ghost wasn't planning on releasing him just yet. He was enjoying teasing him and making him bear through the agonizing wait.

"Look at you all chained up like a fucking dog," he spat, crouching down to put his face in his. "You look hungry. I bet you want a little treat, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," he gasped, giving the leash another futile tug. “Bitte, untie me. Please.”

"Untie you? No, I said you’ve earned a treat. So I'll give you a fucking treat."

Ghost grabbed the bottom of König’s hood, tying it back to uncover the lower half of his face. Once satisfied, he seized his cock in his hand and slowly stroked himself. It was still hard and liberally coated in your juices. He gave König a commanding stare as he looked down at him from above, slowly rubbing himself against König’s lips.

"Clean me off."

König quickly parted his lips, willing to do anything if it meant he could join you on the bed. He relaxed his jaw, allowing Ghost to shove himself into his mouth. He let out a choked gag, recoiling when Ghost nudged the back of his throat. But he quickly adapted, choosing to take half of him into his mouth before licking the rest of his length clean.

"Good boy," Ghost purred, fisting his hand in the fabric of his hood. "Still room to improve, but I'll allow it for now."

König moaned, your taste driving him wild as he obediently served his master. He had Ghost’s rapt attention as his tongue moved over his member, occasionally earning a gasp of pleasure. Once Ghost was satisfied with his work, he reached down and released the leash with a click. As soon as the leash fell limp against the floor, König didn’t even wait for his hands to be freed before scrambling towards the bed. Towards you. But Ghost grabbed his arm and shoved him right back down to the floor.

"Sit," he barked, pointing at the floor before climbing back on the bed. "Stay. I didn't say you could move just yet."

The sound that came out of König’s mouth was a strange combination of a whimper and a sob. You could see his erection throbbing, clearly demanding immediate attention. A steady stream of anticipation dripped onto the floor with every move he made. But Ghost paid the display no mind. He gave König a smug chuckle before returning to the bed, settling with his back against the wall. And holding his gaze, he tugged you between his legs. Ghost hooked your calves over his thighs, ensuring König had a perfect view of your swollen sex. Then, keeping steady eye contact with him, Ghost began drawing slow circles around your clit. You gasped, legs trembling at the focused stimulation.

"Oh my. I don't think she doesn't want me to stop, König. Looks like you'll have to wait a while longer," Ghost chuckled, gradually increasing his pace. "I wonder just how many times I can make her cum. Don't you?"

A steady stream of pleas poured out of König’s mouth as he looked on. He knew that if he moved towards the bed even an inch, Ghost would draw this out even longer. His whole body trembled as he fought to restrain himself, eyes locked on the movements of Ghost’s hand. As he continued to work at your clit, Ghost slipped another finger into your depths. He curved it slightly upwards to hit the most toe-curling location inside you. You let out a low moan, instinctively bucking your hips. You were well beyond overstimulation and he knew it. And as you shuddered in his hold, you knew there was no escaping the pleasure he was determined to give you.

You threw your head back against Ghost’s shoulder, unable to stop the next orgasm that crested over your body. But it wasn’t just one. As Ghost continued to increase his pace, you could only whimper loudly as three orgasms hit you in rapid succession. You cried out, arching in his arms as the last climax swept you away. With it came a sudden spray of liquid from your open folds. And the sight made both men moan with desire.

“Good girl,” Ghost purred, stroking your hair before resuming his pace. “Bet you didn’t know she was a squirter, huh König?”

König wasn’t speaking anymore. He couldn’t. All he could do was bite his quivering lip and clench his jaw, low whimpers coming out in rough pants. His arousal was bordering on pain and lust fully clouded his mind. He couldn’t think. The only thing on his mind was making you do that for him. He subconsciously bucked his hips like a dog in heat, whimpering at the lack of friction he desperately craved.

Finally, Ghost decided to be merciful and end his torture. He didn’t look up, but he gave him a single crook of his finger. "Come, I think you've learned your lesson."

König wasted no time scrambling onto the bed. Though Ghost produced a key and set about unfastening his handcuffs, König was driven mad with desperation. He couldn’t wait any longer. Your breath hitched as König pushed into your opening, moaning wildly at your delicious warmth. As soon as his hands were free, they seized your hips in a bruising grip. He tugged you forward to meet his rapid thrusts, hot breath washing over you as he panted in your ear.

But Ghost’s hands were on you too. He maintained a firm grip on your thighs, holding you securely between his legs and keeping you sufficiently spread for König. He tugged your legs open even wider and König increased his pace with a tense moan. Every buck of his hips pressed you back against Ghost’s chest. Apparently, a period of denial brought out his animalistic side. Because König was practically feral. His movements were forceful and frantic. And the breathy growls that he was making were like music to your ears.

“Oh fuck ,” König hissed, burying his face in your neck. “I need- I- Oh Mein Gott, yes.”

Every snap of his hips sends pleasant tremors through your body. And the sight was clearly having an impact on Ghost. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against your back. You could feel his own erection firmly pressed against your ass. Every move König made created the most tantalizing friction for him too. The two men groaned uncontrollable as they clutched you between them, writhing together in pure pleasure.

König growled loudly, throwing his head back and quickly losing himself in your wetness. “Oh god, I’m- Shit, I’m close. P-please.”

You whimper as a spasm rolls through your body. And you can hear König cry out at the sudden tightness. His thrusts were getting rougher. He wasn’t lying. He was dangerously close to his own climax. You could feel it. You could hear it. And he wasn’t slowing down.

“Don’t you dare finish,” Ghost growled, grabbing König by his collar and twisting. “Quit moving and be still.”

“Please,” König lets out a strangled moan of desperation. “Please don’t- Don’t make me stop again.”

You can feel him twitching within you and his whole body trembles, but he obeys. His voice breaks as he continues to beg. Ghost had taken this mountain of a man and quickly turned him into putty in his skillful hands. He wielded the power to give him the most powerful pleasure, but he could also take it away at any moment. You’d never seen König beg like this before. Voice shaking and raw. But Ghost would not give in. Not yet.

“Hold on to her and lift her off me,” Ghost growled, shifting behind you. “Don’t pull out. Just do as I say.”

“Y-yes, sir,” König pants.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you with him as he rose up onto his knees. You can see the unfiltered need in his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours. In an effort not to add to his torment, you try to fight the tremors that ripple through your core. But after so much stimulation and no time to come back down, your body was running on autopilot. König squeezed his eyes shut with a gritted hiss as your body continued to squeeze at him.

“P-please hurry,” he sobbed, moaning desperately. His arms began to shake. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Okay, set her back down,” Ghost murmured from behind, placing a supportive hand on your hip. “Nice and slow.”

As König gently lowered you back onto Ghost’s lap, you let out a startled gasp of surprise. You could feel your entrance suddenly stretching impossibly wide as Ghost began slowly forcing himself inside you alongside König’s length. Overwhelmed by the excruciating tightness, Ghost grabbed your hips and continued to ease you down into his lap. And as his cock gradually pushed up into you, both you and König moan in bliss. But the fullness was almost too much. You almost tell Ghost to stop before you remember your manners and choose your words as carefully as you could manage.

“Ghost! Ah! Ghost, please!”

“That’s my girl,” he shushed you, not halting his determined progression but moving as slowly as he was able. “You can take us, can’t you? Nice and slow.”

You chest heaved, shrill whines coming out of your mouth as he finally bottomed out. Your lower stomach bulged outwards ever so slightly and your sex throbbed as you tried to adjust. Thankfully, neither of them moved right away. But you could tell they desperately wanted to. The frantic rise and fall of their chests pressed in on you from both sides as they panted, overcome with lust and desire. Ghost’s fingers gripped your hips, his nails digging into your skin as he fought to restrain himself. As for König, he was lost in another world entirely. His eyes were unfocused, the skin around them tight.

“Fuck!” he rasped. “Fuck, Maus! Shit!”

“Princess,” Ghost groaned from behind, his body trembling in anticipation. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t know how long I can hold out like this.”

You screwed your eyes shut, trying hard to let your body relax and accept the two massive objects lodged deep within you. After a few more shuddered breaths, you buried your face in König’s neck and clutched his shoulders for support.

When you finally nodded, the response was instant. Ghost growled through gritted teeth as he reared back and started ramming his length into your opening. König moved too, snapping his hips forward at an animalistic pace. The increased tightness, the increased wetness, the added friction from sharing the cramped space. The powerful sensations overtook them both. You’d never been claimed so roughly before. Here, squeezed between twin walls of muscle. Between two sex-crazed demons determined to bury their seed deeper than the other could reach. They sparred ruthlessly inside you and all you could do was cling to König for dear life as they pummeled you with reckless abandon.

The sensations were intense for you too. You didn’t know how an orgasm would feel with two massive cocks crammed inside you. But you didn’t have to wait long to find out. The familiar tendrils of pure bliss were wrapping around your mind. Heat pooled deep in your stomach, threatening to spill over and take you with it.

“Ghost!” You whimpered loudly. “Ghost, please! I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum! Oh God! Oh my god!”

“You just called me ‘Ghost’. That’s twice tonight,” he groaned.

He might have been a slave to his desire, but he still had the presence of mind to enforce his rules. You screamed loudly as his teeth sank into your shoulder. The pressure didn’t break the skin, but the unexpected pain was delicious.

“Not yet,” he panted, increasing his pace. “Just a little longer, princess. You can wait for me, right?”

“Fuck!” you gasped as a particularly firm thrust buried itself against your cervix. Your whole body shivered as your climax tried to pull you under. But you fought it, trying to hold out.

König had his head thrown back, spewing choked strings of incoherent German. His voice was urgent, desperate, and raw. As his thrusts began to grow jerky, you know he was in the same position that you were. But Ghost wasn’t ready to let either of you go. Not yet.

With an impatient growl, Ghost hoisted you up higher. König instinctively responded, taking hold of your ass to lift you off Ghost’s lap. Ghost re-entered you roughly, thrusting into you at a new angle. The new angle really allowed him to lose himself to his pace, driving himself as deep into you as space would allow. König bore the brunt of each impact, struggling to keep you upright while fighting off his own climax as Ghost pounded into you from behind. Every thrust sent your body rocking forward against König. But he reacted, staggering his own pace so that he’d push you right back each time he did.

Ghost’s growls became ragged and his thrusts more direct. And König wasn’t even mentally present anymore. Rough growls of broken German filled your ears as he gripped you tightly, bucking up into you with renewed ferocity.

“Come for me,” Ghost gasped, yanking your head back by your hair. “Come for me, princess.”

The room erupted in vulgar sounds of pleasure as the three of you weathered your releases together. Your walls tried to constrict, but they were already stretched to their limit. Your body resorted to sharp twitches that flickered through your core. Your nails left trails of fire down König’s back as you scrambled for anything to hold onto. And as you did, a flood of hot liquid gushed within you as both König and Ghost spilled their seed into your battered core. There was so much of it. Too much to contain. You could feel it almost instantly overflowing and dripping down your thighs as they continued to force even more into your trembling depths.

As you came back down from your high, you gasped for breath. Ghost shuddered behind you, whispering comforting words as he kissed along your shoulder. König still couldn’t speak. He lay slumped against you with his head on your shoulder, trying to catch his breath. You could feel drops of moisture fall against your shoulder and trail down your arm as he softly wept, overwhelmed by the sheer heights his pleasure had taken him. You shushed him, rubbing his back and whispering words of love in his ear.

“I love you,” you whimpered.

“I-I love you too, Maus,” König whispered, gradually beginning to calm.

“We love you too, Ghost,” you said, rubbing his thigh affectionately.

“Mmmm,” he murmured against your shoulder, reaching around to interlace his fingers in König’s. “I know. Me too. Everyone okay? Did I go too far with you?”

König sat up, still sniffling a bit. But you could tell by his eyes that there was a tired smile on his face. “No,” he whispered. “You were perfect. This was perfect.”

Ghost cradled his face in his hands, stroking the soft fabric of his veil before planting a tender kiss on his forehead. König still held onto his hand and Ghost was more than happy let the gesture continue. But he still wanted to check on you.

He turned your face towards his, gently brushing your curls away from your eyes. His gaze scanned you, carefully searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. “You alright, princess?”

“Yes,” you nodded, leaning into his touch. “You didn’t hurt me, I promise. I trust you.”

“I don’t take trust lightly,” he said. He trailed his thumb along your cheek lovingly. “And the fact that you think I’ve earned yours is a high honor. That goes for both of you.”

After he was certain both of you had emerged unscathed, Ghost carefully lifted you off his lap. You hissed as they both pulled out, every part of your body at its peak of sensitivity. But the blissful calm returned when Ghost laid back against the pillows and tugged both of you against his chest. He laid there with a contented sigh, one of you tucked under each arm.

Ghost just laid there, gazing at you both snuggled against his chest. For a moment, he looked away and shifted uncomfortably. But when he lifted his gaze again, his eyes were uncharacteristically tender and the slightest bit emotional.

“I-I’m not great with… feelings. Words like ‘love’ or ‘soulmate’ just feel weird coming out of my mouth,” he huffed, chuckling at himself. “But I never want their lack of use to make you feel any less important to me. All I can say is that no one has ever made me feel this way before and I know that no one else ever will. Both of you drive me crazy, but in a good way. The best way. So, uh, I’ll always have your six, okay? You need anything - I don’t care what it is, what time you come knocking, or what I’m doing - you come to me, alright? And I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“Ghost?” König began, voice timid and hesitant.

“Yeah, precious?’

The pet name rolled off Ghost’s tongue effortlessly, without a thought. The way he said it so easily made you suspect it was an endearing term he’d used for König but only in his mind. This was just the first time he’d spoken it out loud. Though Ghost didn’t react, König blushed cutely at the unexpected nickname.

“I was j-just going to ask if we could, um. If we could stay here tonight?” He shifted his weight, tangling his legs in Ghost’s. “I don’t want to leave.”

Ghost chuckled, pulling you both closer and tugging the blankets over the three of you. “I don’t see why not. I think I could get used to this.”

You looked up at them both. Your angel and your demon. Your yin and your yang. Your light and your darkness. You needed them both and they needed you. And though they each completed you in their own way alone, you couldn't deny that you would never feel truly complete with them both by your side. Lying here with them, you felt whole in a way you never imagined possible. With a soft smile, you snuggled into the warmth of his embrace.

“I think I already am.”

[itshermocrates]

Some thoughts on Vander and Silco's relationship

I already talked about this when Arcane S1 first came out, but now that the show is over and we got to see a different reality where everyone has a good ending (except for Vi I guess) I want to bring back my Silco x Vander thoughts

So yeah, vanco ?? silder ??? post

Even if in Arcane S1 there’s some sort of parallel between Jinx/Powder and Silco + Vi and Vander, in my eyes those two were made for an old man yaoi story

Now that we have seen Jayvik’s evolution and that glimpse of them together in a “better future”, I realized that Vander and Silco (+ Felicia) could have something similar to what was happening initially with Jayce and Viktor (+ Mel)

Two best friends working together for a common cause, one hopelessly in love with the other while his partner can’t see ―or doesn’t want to recognize― his own feelings. Since I already have a Jayvik analysis in my drafts, I’m going to focus on Silco and Vander

This will be half a theory - half a fic + I also posted this on BlueSky so yeah, if you see it there it was also me lol

[Pinning, Unrequited love and love confessions that go wrong ahead]

I think Silco and Vander were the perfect duo back in their youth, together they had the brains and the strength, using both charm and cold logic to make people eager to follow them. What Silco lacked, Vander was able to provide and vice versa. Together they were the greatest leaders Zaun could ever ask for.

They not only completed each other like two puzzle pieces, but also shared a bond that had been nurtured since childhood. They had been facing hardships and Piltover’s aggressions since they were little kids, so it was natural that the years of friendship brought them impossibly close.

Some even said that they could have entire conversations without exchanging a single word.

At some point Silco developed a crush on Vander, how could he not? Despite his strength and sometimes scary appearance, Vander had always been the big sunshine boy who was looking after him. That urge to protect and take care of others seemed to be part of his very essence, and if someone benefited from this, it was his best friend.

Of course, they needed to fight and get dirty in the deepest hellholes of Zaun, but even when Vander got his knuckles drenched in blood, Silco could only see the kind man with bright eyes and a dream for a better life that Vander truly was.

Silco really thought that this new beginning for them was only possible because Vander was there with him, since when hope seemed completely lost, when the circumstances took another member of their little family, Vander always remained firm in his stance. They would find a way, they would fight back, they would keep pushing forward and they wouldn’t stop until they finally had the future they deserved.

Oh, wasn’t he convincing? Always the beacon in their times of need, who else could lead them out of their misery?

Vander’s kindness was disarming, and his light was so bright that Silco couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He loved him so deeply it made him feel sick, but he could do nothing about it. Vander had been in love with Felicia for almost as long as Silco had loved him, and even if she wasn’t really interested in him, there was no way that man could get over his emotions.

Just like Silco himself couldn’t make his own feelings go away. He pinned for years, forcing himself to hide how he felt so nothing changed between them and he didn’t lose his best friend. He had to protect their friendship, but, above everything else, he had to protect their dream of a free nation for Zaun.

Silco pinned and suffered in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore, until his unrequited love felt like an open wound badly infected, moments away from killing him. Then, and only then, he confessed.

Vander didn’t make a huge deal out of it, he was understanding and visibly confused. It was an awkward situation, but he could be nothing but kind, even as he broke Silco’s heart. Of course, he didn’t feel the same.

Or maybe he did, but he was too blind to see it, too infatuated by the idea of a future with Felicia to give a shot to a real future with him.

Vander had used a very familiar word to excuse his lack of introspection, one that served him as a shield while unknowingly harming Silco as if it had used the sharpest of blades.

“Silco, you’re my brother…”

They used brotherhood a lot to describe their relationship. Their found family, their friends, their allies in the Zaun revolution and even the fucking pilts, they all could see how deeply they cared for each other. And every time that was the reason they assumed to be behind their bond.

No one could ever deny the love in their eyes, the protective gestures, the smiles... It was obvious, but everyone assumed that what they shared was a blood bond. For Silco it was much more than some stupid liquid running through their veins, what they shared had been built over years of companionship, years of pain and struggle, blood was fucking nothing in comparison. Their souls were connected in a way no one could ever imagine or understand.

And Vander knew this. He knew how strong their bond was, but he hadn't really asked himself if what he felt for Silco was something more than brotherhood. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do if it wasn’t the case either, but he didn’t go as far as to truly consider it.

Vander didn't know how to react to Silco's confession, he didn’t want to hurt him or change their world forever. He was happy as they currently were, it was easy to live with Silco as a brother, but he didn’t know what was waiting for them if he ever allowed himself to analyze his own feelings.

Because of this, and completely unaware of the pain he was causing, Vander uttered that seemingly harmless word that Silco couldn’t stand anymore.

Brother.

The softness in his tone didn’t make it any less devastating. The pain in his eyes, as he knew how badly he was breaking Silco's heart, didn’t make it easier to hear.

The countless "I love you"s he pronounced after that, reassuring that even if it was not the same feeling, Silco was still one of the most important people in his life didn’t soothe the agony of his reopened wound.

None of that mattered.

Because he didn't feel the same as Silco.

The same word that once had been forced on them was now stronger than anything he had built together.

Silco didn't want to feel that pain, he couldn't allow it to stay inside his chest, not when it was so profound.

So he decided to leave The Last Drop. It would be only for a couple of days, to distance himself a little from the source of his pain and try to stitch close that damned cut.

During that time, alone and completely heartbroken, he focused on thinking of ways to achieve the goal they had been fighting for since they were teenagers. The Zaunite revolution and Zaun’s independence. He ignored his pain and used all his anger to plan their next move in their fight against Piltover, thinking of new ways to finally defeat their enemy.

It was during those days, blinded by the pain of his aching heart, that he understood they could only win against Piltover if they showed their true nature to the world. He knew by then that they needed to be more aggressive in their methods and destabilize, not only their government, but also their peace.

Let their own people know what monsters they had for leaders.

Let the people of Piltover suffer the same pain they had suffered since the very moment the City of Progress came to be.

The fight had turned into a way for him to forget his own suffering, and in his anguish, provoking pain to others stopped feeling wrong at all if that meant they could get closer to their goal of freedom.

It was at this point where the conflict with Vander started. Suddenly, the word "brothers" didn't quite fit them anymore, it seemed too caring for them. Now it was a word pronounced in a low voice, and when it was Silco the one saying it, his tone could only express disgust. He rolls his eyes as if the word was some sort of sick joke he hated to voice out loud, a reminder of what could never be.

Silco’s pain is a heavy weight preventing them both from going back to what they once had, and seeing this wounded Vander every single time his friend reminded him of his rejection. This, and how differently they started to approach their fight, made them step further and further away from the other.

And when they saw each other during important meetings, Silco threw the word “brother” extremely carelessly, always with the intention to wound Vander instead of calming him and expressing how much he still loved him.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

[There's still a lot of resentment in Silco's expression, and in this scene before saying brother, Silco rolls his eyes. The man was PISSED]

In conclusion, I think "brother" was Silco and Vander's equivalent of Jayvik's "partner" and I bet Viktor was pissed as hell everytime he heard someone reffering to him as Jayce's partner AND JUST THAT, for both scientific pride and his hopeless crush on Jayce Talis.

[7s3ven]

NOTES: angst, reader has divorced parents, Simon and reader lowkey aren’t all that nice to each other, closeted Simon I guess, Simon x Jonny

Simon Riley is a tough lover. You don’t really understand what goes on in that head of his, just that you should leave him alone if he expresses annoyance.

He’s more of a distant partner than the boyfriend you used to spend every waking hour with. You aren’t married but sometimes you wished he’d pop the question. Or break up. Anything to ease the tension that had settled between the two of you.

You aren’t an easy person to love either. You overwork and sometimes you’re a little over ambitious. You’ve made time for Simon in your busy work schedule but he never seems to do the same.

Sometimes he comes home, other times he doesn’t. On the rare occasions you hear him creep into your shared bed, you often feel his arm sling around your waist, pulling you closer in an attempt to deny the feeling that your relationship was falling apart.

You love Simon more than anything, perhaps more than yourself. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for him and that fact alone seems to scare him.

You don’t predict the intense argument between you and Simon after you find him in a bar, looking a little too comfortable with Jonny.

You’ve always known there was a spark between them but you’ve done your best to ignore it.

“You said you were at the gym.” You snap. You and Simon are standing outside the bar in the chilly air, entirely aware of how his coworkers are watching through the tinted window.

“I did. Then I stopped by the bar and ran into ‘em.” Simon gruffly responds but he’s never been good at lying, especially not with you.

“I don’t care if you wanted to go to the bar. You should’ve told me. I would have let you go.” You fold your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover up your freezing limbs.

Simon says nothing for a second. “You don’t like Jonny.” He pauses, “If I told who you I was with, you would have gotten mad.”

“So you thought lying was a better option? Simon, I work in this area. Besides, you know why I don’t like Jonny.”

“I ain’t gay, love.”

You stare up at him through your lashes, quirking an eyebrow. “Then how come you never look at me the way you look at him? We used to be close, Simon. Then you joined the military and I barely hear from you. You disappear for months without telling me and just when I’m ready to give up, you come back. It’s a continuous cycle that I can’t stand.”

“My job is demanding.”

You have the urge to slap him. “So is mine. That leaves you with no excuse. You don’t come home in days where I know you’re at the base. And when you do come back, you smell like him.”

You don’t have to specify who you’re referring to. Jonny’s cologne is strong and sharp, a smell you can’t miss. Even now, Simon reeks of him.

“You aren’t perfect either.” Simon chimes in. You roll your eyes, fully aware of your flaws but at least you don’t brush past them. You acknowledge them unlike Simon.

“Simon, I’m going to be direct with you, we’ve been dating for… well, most of our lives. I don’t want to waste any more years on a man who doesn’t love me back.”

Simon knows what you’re suggesting. Either he pops the question… or he risks watching you walk away. “But I do love you.” He insists but you can’t hear any genuine emotion. He’s always closed off, never open with you anymore.

You’re sure Jonny knows more about Simon than you do. You barely even know his favourite color now.

“Then why don’t you fucking act like it?” The way Jonny is staring at you so innocently riles you up. “Ever since you met Jonny, you haven’t treated me the same. Face it, Simon. Between me and him, you’ll always choose him.”

“I can’t love someone who refuses to love herself first.” Simon harshly retorts.

You furrow your brows. “Think about it, Simon. I care deeply for you… but nothing is stopping me from leaving.”

You’re a few steps away from Simon when he speaks again, always wanting to have the last word. “The reason you can’t love yourself is because you are the product of two people who couldn’t love each other either.”

It takes only a second for you to retrace your steps. You’re standing in front of Simon again, silent. Then, without another word, you lift a hand and punch him square in the nose. “As if your parents were any better.” You sneer. “Don’t bother coming home. I’ll leave your things outside for you to collect.”

You spare Simon one last look. Your lip curls into a frown as you glare at him. “Jerk.”

Simon says nothing as you walk off for the second time, successfully disappearing from his sight. His nose is heavily bleeding but he almost doesn’t feel the pain.

His ears are loudly ringing as he stares at the spot where you once stood.

A few years ago, Simon was over the moon for you, despite not visually showing it. Things had changed; he had changed.

In the end, you were right. Between you and Jonny, he would always pick the latter. Once upon a time, you were his top priority but not anymore.

It was just sad seeing a person he knew so well in the past walk away.

That was the problem with your relationship anyway. The two of you were always stuck in the past, trying to rekindle a flame that had already died, refusing to believe that this was the inevitable end.

[violent-viscera]

my true (respectful) thoughts of arcane s2

so much of the promotional material promised so much in the way of vi and jinx/powder and their sisterly relationship, but i feel like with the amount of storylines/plotlines they did in this season, it was just too busy to focus on anyone–let alone the two supposed protagonists of the show. i think the best way for me to articulate how i feel about the writing of this show is that it fell flat, lost its heart, and emotional impact of the first season.

i would have been okay with them straying from my personal favourite focus if:

the storylines had been fleshed out better

the decisions the characters made actually made sense

main characters didn't become plot devices (vi)

new additions of the show weren't just plot devices (isha, loris, maddie, etc.)

motivations of characters made sense

characters had even small lines/dialogue to articulate their intentions/ideas

less time spent on off-screen development

and the thing is with the amount of plot lines they were ambitiously aiming to see out to fruition, its really hard to also set up all these new facets or opposing characteristics in former characters–plus adding new ones too. for example:

caitlyn's facist arc that didn't really have much meaning or attention

jinx's s1 mental collapse which changed abruptly into her redemption arc via isha (plot device)

jinx's revolutionist arc (first, reluctantly and then, willingly w ekko)

vi's pitfighter/brawler arc which was literally just one clip (which ended up being a teaser that showed everything)

im almost grateful to the minimal screen time ekko got bc they didn't try to change the core and essence of who he was in s1: he stayed true to himself. he's just a boy with a huge heart and love for his people that chose to leave his happy ending in an alternate timeline to return to the ppl who needed him where he is almost guaranteed heartbreak in some way or another.

i think the main reason so many ppl loved the first season was bc the characters were relatable in one way or another and they became so multidimensional when you explored how their environment/circumstances shaped them. but this season bc it was so purely focused on the endgame instead of HOW everyone got there, the characters fell flatter, they lost a soul and heart, and i felt the show lost its charm.

i know we all have our favourite characters and storylines we want the show to focus on and i would have been okay if i didn't get my way. if the show didn't focus on jinx and vi, i would've lived (although the promotional material was unfairly misleading) if the storylines, characters, and everything else made sense to me.

of course, the animation was lovely and the music was catchy/heartbreaking. i dont regret watching the show out to its final episode. it was one of the most beautiful visual experiences of my entire life. i still love the characters and will never regret staying on board until the final moments.

but i cant lie and say im not a little sad at how it ended too.

edited add-on:

also, the voice actors did phenomenally. ella purnell just absolutely nails the delivery for every line and reed shannon also hurt me with how he portrayed ekko. so on and so forth.

but that being said, i also felt the dialogue and lines of each character felt much less impactful this season (again, writing.)

i liked viktor’s monologue at the end of act 2. that was compellingly well written

but the lines this season weren’t the same quality as silco’s monologue about drowning, jinx’s speech at the beginning of the doomed tea party, etc. everything just felt so flat and shallow this season overall.

[faorism]

im feeling real the call is coming from within the house vibes rn, so im going to be kinda nasty for a hot minute because you actually were the reason i came across this post in the first place. my friend and i were so aghast at your racializations of hardison in a fic, that they had to see who the fuck you are. and your own ignorance highlights why this response is kinda bullshit.

incorporating race is absolutely something that fandom needs to be better about doing. absolutely. but up your attempts at doing so show how stomach churning poor follow through can be, where i would have preferred you not give an attempt at all. because in the fic in question, you use the wildly outdated term "ebonics" to refer to hardisons exaggerated speech that he codeswitches into occasionally. my friend and i spent fifteen minutes trying to decipher your implications in the line: "He’s young, or maybe (hopefully) just black, is the first thing."

i did not read your evil!hardison fic, because i didnt trust your ability to write an entire fic focused on him. that said, i felt like a got enough out of this hc post:

so! i think there's some good points here (perhaps!) about what hardison would look like with a possessive god complex, as opposed to him being a thoughtful provider building homes for the people he loves. and yes, "ownership" is a very contentous topic in the Black community, given how white supremacy has subjugated Black capital. but whatever analysis i would give you credit for—and any brownie points you could get from naming the racialized aspect—is immediately wiped when you fucking compare hardison to a goddamn overseer. you know, like an enslaver overseeing enslaved people? you imply here hardison, a Black man, would be a kind master to his employees. which is just so vile to be casual about.

attempts were made, i can say about your posting and writing. but i don't at all respect it, because you still have so much to really pull together to not be offensive about things.

which gets back to this post. you say your saw weirdness. why the fuck didn't you name it? no, really. did you actually see it or are you trying to save face now? you're not welcome for the labor i (nonblack latinx) and my friend (Black) had to go through to process this post. don't rely on others to do the work of naming racism and antiblackness; do the work yourself, or just don't reblog if you can't give commentary.

and, because i have been nasty and might as well be petty: honestly, there's just so much more work you need to do if you want me to trust you with handling race in fandom when you out here posting shit like this:

you're the fucking issue here too.

Well, a realization just hit me. Don't know if this is true of not, I don't remember the timing.

Eliot said he didn't hit cops in the OG show. Well now that makes sense. His dad is Black. What do Black parents teach their kids when it comes to dealing with the cops? Part of The Talk. Just do as they say, not that that always work.

He would have at least heard that talk with other foster kids, or teammates, if not given it himself.

And why would he stick to that? Because his dad was upset with him and he was still trying to be a Good Boy in one way.

[thegreatestchange]

as soon as i finished s2 of arcane i knew i wanted to hear your takes on it. any opinions as to how they handled caitlyn’s arc, vi’s story, and the development of s2? i would love to hear anything you have to say about this season!!

also - the end of this season has me scouring Ao3 for some fics to fill the void. have you had any recent one shot or fic ideas now that the show has ended? i’ve been dying for a hurt/comfort and really soft sex type of story for cait and vi. maybe something where cait is taking care of vi after the events of 206? lord knows they could both use the comfort and vi deserves to be loved and taken care of. i know you would write that beautifully.

or if you have any recs for fics along those lines? 👀

as always, thanks for your incredible work both inside and outside of fandoms! love hearing from you! <3

Omg hiii! I appreciate that you care what I think haha!

Let me preface this by saying that the criticisms I have for the writing of s2 does not take away the love I have for this show and what it's done for animation as a medium.

Now, with that said...

S2 was a mess.

I said this on twitter, but I think the writers had a lot of ambition — too much ambition — for the amount of episodes they had to wrap this story up cohesively. This AMAZING show suffered because of corporate greed and not having enough time to flesh out character arcs and plots from s1. I think it started off promising. I was really excited to see how they would handle the Zaun/Piltover conflict, Vi's journey toward healing and forgiving herself for her past mistakes, Jinx's descent and then return as a hero, as well as Caitlyn's descent and redemption arc.

Instead we got... that.

There's one word that keeps twirling around in my head: commitment.

The writers lacked commitment (and a diverse writing room) to properly handle the Piltover/Zaun conflict. S1 had such a good starting point, whereas in S2 it's like they diverged from the path and forgot the finish line existed. Sitting Sevika at a table with her oppressors who will most likely tune her out and outvote her on everything is NOT a solution. Why not a complete overhaul of the council? Make it an even split? Instead it's the same people who never gave a fuck in the first place, and Sevika, who helped get half of the population of Zaun hooked on shimmer in the first place. Like what???

They failed to commit to Caitlyn's villain/dictator era. When episode 3 happened, I was skeptical about how they would handle it. And after watching the entire season, I had every right to feel that way. They make her so unapologetic and blasé about gassing Zaunites and letting Ambessa unlawfully arrest people. That's not my Cait from season 1. Does grief change people? Absolutely! But once it settles, you should be able to look back on what you've done and feel remorseful. Cait's lack of remorse was jarring. Her inability to apologize or outwardly own up to everything she did was OOC. You know what could've been the perfect moment for that? When Jayce gathered Piltover and Zaun in that room and she was standing right across from them. Why not have Sevika or Scar call her ass out and hold her feet to the fire? Lay out the facts of what her grief looked like to the innocent people of Zaun who had nothing to do with it? That would've been the perfect time for her to say something.

They failed to commit to Jinx and her story as a whole. At its core, this show was centered around two sisters growing up impoverished and oppressed, constantly separated, but always finding their way back to each other. Jinx is such a heartbreaking character used for trauma porn. Episode 6 fucked me up so badly but I THOUGHT it would lead to something big for her character. Like her stepping into this unwilling hero role and working with Ekko to lead Zaun into a better future like the one Ekko saw in episode 7. BUT LOL NOPE. Instead she's suicidal and self harming while her sister is fucking the oppressor in a prison cell. DA FUCK?

And lastly they failed Vi's character in every possible way. From putting on the badge in the first place to not exploring the depth of her character. She's basically a passenger in s2. Has no agency. Used as a punching bag (literally). And treated as an afterthought. I'm so pissed. There should've been a lot of conflict in act 1 between her and Cait. You mean to tell me Vi, who HATES enforcers. would willingly let her situationship gas her people? Fuck no. Absolutely not. It does not make sense, narratively speaking. Her ending did not make me hopeful. Even if Jinx is alive and moving on from Vi to "break the cycle" that does nothing for Vi's character. She is without family once again, and I fear it would lead to an unhealthy codependent relationship with Cait. Like she'll never be able to voice opposing thoughts or feelings without fear of Cait leaving her AGAIN.

As for the Caitvi relationship. This is tough. On one hand, I was happy to see a lesbian s*x scene in animation for an awarded television show. But on a heavier hand, it rings hollow after everything I've said. Much like the Piltover/Zaun story, Caitvi had a good starting point in season 1. I did have my issues with it because, as a Black woman, seeing someone oppressed get with a cop does nothing for me. But I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt because I believed the writers knew what they were doing. But I was wrong again. CaitVi is unfortunately one of the weakest points of S2. The writers did not COMMIT to their conflict. It's barely glossed over and then Caitlyn gets rewarded with s*x. And this is why I could never commit to them as a couple. At least not in canon. I liked them in s1 and the idea of what they could've been to each other in s2. And it looks like I'm going to have to find that elsewhere, unfortunately.

Overall, it all comes back to what I said in the beginning: lack of time, a diverse writing room, and corporate greed. I'm disappointed, but unfortunately not surprised. I hope the writers can learn from their mistakes moving forward.

As for fanfiction, I have actually not read any yet! So I don't have any recommendations for you. I need some for myself! I'll get back to you if I find any good ones.

Sorry for the lengthy post! I really just needed to get this all out and I feel so much better.

[agathawellbelovefanclub]

if i didn’t know better - Carry On Countdown 2024

Day one - Something Old

A/N: hoooooo baby i have NOT done a countdown since 2016 but ur girl. is struggling. so we must revive the hyperfixations

Desc: Simon is stuck grieving a mother he never knew, but an offer of comfort gives him some peace. Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, daphne my beloved.

Closure was a tough thing to find in solitude. No matter how much Simon willed it, the world just would not stop spinning and give him a moment to breathe. It was one thing to be preoccupied with depression, on a couch, with every waking thought a battle to stay afloat and every dream a nightmare. It was another thing entirely to just feel nothing.

(Not nothing, if you were asking Baz. He could sense the grief in someone from streets away. If he caught Simon staring at a wall, consumed with ‘nothing’, he knew it was the consumption of trying to avoid thoughts of the life he could have lived. It was familiar; it was strange. Someone who had once been so visceral in his feelings, now a shell.)

The photo of Lucy Salisbury stayed in Simon’s wallet. White creases and sun damage were threatening her smile, but the urge to look at it and reconstruct what her voice would have sounded like, what her embrace felt like, were too strong for him to ignore it. That, and his thoughtless fidgeting, flicking the corner of the card in an unsteady rhythm.

Baz was soft about it. Perpetually nervous and treading on eggshells, Simon knew he wanted to say something. Stop damaging it. Stop hurting yourself. Come back, like you did before.

The best he could offer was an unwavering shadow. Grief had pushed them back to square one.

So it was surprising, but not unwelcome, when Daphne showed up at their front door with a bag of groceries. She smiled at Simon like she was excited to see him, and didn’t hesitate to hug him despite 2 days of sweat sticking to his skin.

“I’m intervening,” she said, a bit like a joke that wasn’t that funny. “Basilton isn’t too bad of a cook, but I know you prefer baking. He’s useless at baking. Can’t follow rules to save himself.”

The crease in the couch where Simon had been rotting was covered in crumbs and empty crisp packets. Baz usually encouraged him to clean up when he got home from work, but stubbornness had kicked in over the past couple of days. It was getting close to Simon’s birthday — a date marred by death, as far as he was concerned — and he’d been hoping to sleep through the week.

“It’s a mess, sorry,” Simon offered. It got him a dismissive wave.

“Darling I had 3 kids under 3 for a while,” Daphne chuckled. “I can handle some mess.”

She unloaded ingredients and began putting them away, making verbal notes about how their cupboards were arranged and doing her best to follow their order. When she corrected her placement of the flour from the top shelf to the bottom, Simon got a dull feeling in his stomach that they’d organised their pantry wrong.

“Sorry, lovely — I went on autopilot for a moment.” She followed most of what she said with a small laugh at herself. “I think you ought to sit at the counter and help me bake. I’ve not a clue how your oven works.”

So, Simon excused himself to the bathroom and changed his clothes, unable to look at himself as he applied new deodorant. When he came back out, the oven was on, and Daphne was tying up Baz’s apron around her waist.

“I figured it out! First win of the day!”

Simon imagined her with a pleated chef’s hat, just because he felt it fit, and took his assigned seat at the counter.

“I tried this at home with very little success,” she admitted, “but in my defence, there aren’t a lot of recipes for sour cherry cakes.”

His heart picked up a bit — through excitement or fear, he didn’t know.

“That’s okay,” he said.

“Well, we’ll see.” She assembled their stand mixer. “How are you, dear? Baz says you’re having a tough week.”

How was he supposed to answer that? “I’m okay,” came out before he considered whether he should be lying or not.

Daphne arched an eyebrow. Very Baz. “You’ve been through enough terrible things over the past few years to tell me that’s not true. But, if you don’t want to talk, I won’t make you.” She drummed the stand mixer. “I’ll make you a cake instead.”

She’d always had a way of speaking that was evident of her motherhood. The twins were little terrors, and on more than one occasion Simon had seen Daphne encouraging their harmless mischief. He thought they must have been the happiest kids alive, but then he’d not known many happy kids.

“Did you know Lucy Salisbury?” Simon asked. He wasn’t planning to.

Daphne paused, smiled, and sighed. “I did. She was sunshine embodied. A couple of years older than me at school.”

That was what everyone said. Always nice, always kind.

“She did, however, have a mischief streak. She got caught a couple of times, sneaking into the Enchanted Woods to smoke.” Daphne laughed fondly. “Everyone did, back then, but it was always funny to see them get dragged back through the gates. Lucy always looked so smug when she did, though we couldn’t tell if she was proud or stoned.”

This was new. Always perfect Lucy Salisbury, adored by everyone, an average misfit. Like Simon, to an extent.

“And she was a fiend for mystery. One time, we caught wind of a Normal having snuck into Watford and hiding in the catacombs. Oh, she was down there every night trying to catch the bastard. It turned out to be nothing but a rumour, but she was dedicated. And— that’s right — she had every copy of Nancy Drew. Figures! We used to borrow them from her. She got the whole girls dorm hooked.”

Nancy Drew. His mother, a snoop.

Daphne turned the mixer on and let her ingredients combine, glancing around the room while she geared up to say something. Simon wished she wouldn’t, whatever it was. He didn’t want to stop hearing about the person Lucy had been.

“Basilton isn’t my biological son,” she reminded him. “When I met him, he was tiny and moody and upset that his father had replaced his mum. It made sense, of course. A child can’t replace a parent so easily.” She sighed. “I love him so dearly. Always have. As far as I’m concerned, he’s always been one of my babies. I never wanted to replace Natasha, because that’s impossible.”

She gently nudged his hand.

“You are my son-in-law. I don’t care that you’re not married, or if you never get married, or whatever. I will never claim to be Lucy Salisbury. Even so, I still love you as my son.” Her eyes glossed over. “You’re easy to love, frankly. You make my baby happy. So, if you need anything, or if you forget that at any point, I want you to know you can call me. Show up at the house. Track me down, I don’t care. You’re our family.” She stroked his cheek and smeared a tear against his skin. “Lucy is so proud of you, I just know it. The two of you are so alike. She loves you. Always.”

Simon held her hand to his face, not ready for her to pull away. She didn’t. Not until he’d cried as much as he needed to and the stand mixer was turned off. Daphne rounded the kitchen counter and hugged him despite his grime.

“Are you sure you want another kid to worry about?” He asked.

“I’ve had enough kids to know that I can handle it.” She kissed his forehead. “As long as you can forgive me for giving you a subpar birthday cake.”

[luxheroica]

under your tree (2/3)

Part 2/3 - our Ekko, Jinx, and the tree.

Part one

Also on AO3

---

He drags her off that ledge by stealing seconds and finding the right words, and once he’s pretty sure she won't blow the both of them to smithereens he holds out his hand to her. 

Ekko doesn't think it's possible but Jinx takes it. Holds onto it. Her grip is so slight he thinks she might slip away, but as long as he's holding her hand it means she's still here. 

“Come with me?” he asks. 

She doesn't protest. He isn't sure if it's assent or empty resignation. He's not sure if she knows which one either. 

He doesn't know what's happened to her while he was gone. He hasn't seen her since the fight on the bridge, and the only reason he knew she was still alive was the Enforcers were still looking for her. If she were dead it would have been sung from the rooftops. 

Jinx is… broken. Not in the way she usually is, mad and manic and dangerous and wild and the creature who replaced the girl he once knew. She is silent, and her cheeks are streaked with black tear tracks. 

Ekko takes her to the only place that makes sense. The place that has always represented healing and light for the undercity for him. 

He takes her to the tree. 

Nobody stops him–he’s Ekko, and he’s returned from the dead, and nobody wants to question him– but the other Firelights scatter when he walks in with Jinx. 

This raises the first reaction he's had out of her in their long walk. She snorts. “So, this is your little hideout,” she says, looking around. “Aren't you worried I'll come and blow it up?” 

Ekko looks at her sidelong. Maybe before he left and came back. Maybe before he found her like this, with her eyes bruised and her voice faint. “Nah. That's not gonna happen.” 

That earns the ghost of a smile from her. “Just wait– the day’s still young.” 

He leads her further into the Firelights camp, and she takes it all in with a wide and hungry expression. Her gaze roams over the tree, green and live giving and towering over everything. Her fingers intertwine stronger with his as she takes in the camps all around. 

She stops dead when she sees the memorial wall. 

Ekko can see her tracing each of them with her eyes and her lips. Claggor. Milo. Vander. Benzo. Vi. 

Powder. 

He doesn't say a word, and for a long time she stands there in silence. Just staring and taking it all in. For a moment he wonders if he's sent her on another spiral, if he's going to have to play another game of chicken with a bomb meant to end the both of them. 

“You really think I'm dead, huh?” 

Her voice is light and contemplative and whatever reaction he was expecting it wasn't this. He’s wondering if it would be better to apologize or try to explain, when Jinx blows out a breath. 

Her hair runs away from her exhalation. “Not that I would disagree.” 

“Powder’s gone,” he says. “But you're still here, Jinx. And I'd like you to stay.” 

She hasn't taken her hand from his. Jinx’s fingers curl. “Huh.” 

He’s willing to stay there as long as she needs, hand-in-hand and staring at the memorial wall. He meant it when he said that he gave up on her once, and he isn't going to do it anymore. 

“Would you mind?” she asks at last, looking up at the painted faces. “If I added to it?” 

Ekko is surprised, and reluctant to leave her alone just now– but he nods. “Sure,” he says. His fingers slip from hers and she doesn't move. “Let me go get some paints. Be right back.” 

She doesn't even nod. He's not even sure she's listening. But he goes as fast as he can to gather up his paints and brushes and run back. He's not entirely sure she'll be there when he gets back or whether he’ll find a black scar on the ground. 

Jinx is still standing there transfixed by the wall when he dumps the painting supplies at her feet. 

“Thanks,” she says, and she spends some time picking out the paints she wants and then hoisting herself up and picking an empty spot on the wall and starting to sketch. 

Ekko watches until she turns back to him with a roll of her eyes that's the most normal thing he's seen from her all day. “You can stop hovering like a weirdo, you know. I promise not to blow anything up.” 

Thus (mostly) reassured, Ekko leaves her to her painting. A couple of the other Firelights express concern at her presence, but he talks them down. She's not a threat to them, not like this. 

And it's time he started trusting her. 

Jinx is still painting when exhaustion overtakes him and Ekko at last can't keep his eyes open and longer and he falls into a much needed sleep. 

Hours later he starts awake. He's sure that Jinx is going to be gone when he rushes to the memorial wall, but she's there and sleeping under a thin blanket she scavenged from somewhere. Ekko lets out the breath he's been holding. 

There are two new figures on the tree. Both are drawn in bright colors– clashing and complimenting his realistic style with neons that nearly hurt the eye. Both figures are nonetheless unmistakable. 

One is Silco, and for a moment it feels wrong to see his face on a memorial alongside so many of his victims. But, he thinks, Silco was no less a victim of the undercity. He had hope for a bright future once. Who is this paint depiction hurting? 

The other one is a young girl Ekko doesn't recognize. At first he thinks that it is Powder, that Jinx put herself on the tree– but no, it’s someone else entirely. There's brown mixed in with her violently blue hair, and he never saw Powder wear that helmet. 

He traces her lines, wondering who she was. Why Jinx felt compelled to draw her on the wall. 

“Her name was Isha.” 

Ekko turns around to see Jinx waking up and watching him with wide eyes. He steps away from the wall and towards her. 

“Who was she?” he asks gently. 

At first he thinks she won't answer. That she can't. He won't press her if she doesn't want to. 

“A friend,” she says at last. “Just this kid I knew. She followed me around like… some lost puppy. I ran with her for awhile. Begged me for the blue hair like she wanted to be me, like being me was so great. And then she…” 

Jinx clutches at her wrist, her fingernails digging deep into skin. 

“I'm sorry,” Ekko says, approaching gently. 

“Yeah, well, I shoulda known it was coming. Everyone around me dies, remember?” 

He thinks that she will stop him when he takes her hand and gently prises her fingers from where they are digging deep furrows in her wrist. Instead she just stares, eyes wide. 

“I'm not going anywhere.” 

Jinx looks askance at the time travel device resting on his hip. “Yeah, well it helps when you can cheat.” Then her eyes fix on it like she's really seeing it for the first time, and her gaze narrows. “Who was it, this person who taught you there was something worth building?” 

Ekko chuckles. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” She folds her arms over her chest in open challenge. 

“Sit down,” Ekko says, and to his amazement Jinx obeys by flopping down next to him. He joins her in a cross-legged position as he thinks about what how to begin this story. He hadn’t planned on telling her– there's parts of his journey to that other world that are too personal. “She was you– or, well, another you. From an alternate universe.” 

Jinx snorts. “Yeah right.” 

“I told you you wouldn't believe me.” 

“Oh, I believe you about the alternate universe part. That's just the kind of wild shit that happens in this city. But me, helping you? That's rich.” 

Ekko wonders how to explain that other Jinx who never became Jinx, who still went by Powder, who still had most of her family. “Vi was dead, in that other universe. She died young, before everything that happened. And it changed a lot of stuff– Zaun was finally independent and standing on its own, Vander and Silco made up– they were married and running the bar together.” 

Jinx makes a face. “Eugh.” 

Ekko laughs. “Believe me, it was weird.” 

A ghost of a smile flits across Jinx’s lips. “It makes sense though. Vi created the Jinx, so if she died before she could do that…” 

Ekko doesn't bother untangling whatever's going on in her head. “And you were– happy. Two dads who loved you, and you had friends, and we were all gunning for this science contest. And you were helping me– or well, she was helping the other Ekko, actually– to build an energy device.” 

Jinx tilts her head at him, disbelieving but still listening. “Science contest? And I was in it?” 

“Yeah.” Ekko strokes the edge of his time travel device. “Trying to invent something that would help the world. Milo and Claggor had this plant thing that was cleaning up the air, and the other me wanted to build an energy device, but he couldn't do it without your help. She– you– ended up doing like half of the work.” 

He sees the way her eyes trace him hungrily, like she doesn't quite believe him but desperately wants to. 

“Why'd you leave?” 

Ekko turns to her, surprised. 

“I mean it sounds perfect– other than Vi, I guess. I wouldn’t have wanted to come back to this shitty universe, except I guess I would have probably fucked that one up too.” 

“Because you needed me,” Ekko says. When she raises a skeptical eyebrow he realizes what he said, what it implies. He flushes. “I mean, you all– this universe. And that place, it wasn't mine. I was just borrowing it for a while.” 

“Smooth, brain-boy.” Jinx snorts. Then she rocks back so she's staring up at the murals. “What was she like, the other me?” 

“Like you,” Ekko says, and she blows out a breath in disbelief. “I'm serious. Maybe she was more stable– she had people around, people who loved her– but she liked to mess with people, and she liked bright colors and tinkering with things.” 

“Lucky her.” 

“There was a dance, and she wore all this bright makeup, it was neon blue but then there was like this gradient of colors, and… I couldn't help but think, Jinx would totally wear this, if she ever had an occasion she wanted to dress up for.” 

Jinx levers herself up on her arms. Scornfully asks, “Ok, was I like your date to the dance?”

“Uhh…” 

“Seriously Ekko, what the hell? Did you ask me out in another universe, who does that?” 

“You were my girlfriend so it's not like I had much choice!” Ekko defends himself without thinking. Then he cringes. “I mean she was his– the other Ekko’s– girlfriend.” 

Jinx taps her fingers on the metal of the platform, thinking. She looks at him askance and he can’t tell what’s going on in that head of hers, but he feels like she’s sizing him up. “You don’t say.” 

“I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Ekko says. “I didn’t want you to think I came looking for you only because, well– of her. I came looking for you because it’s you. I gave up on you once, Jinx– I’m not going to do it again.” 

She tilts her head at him. Considers him for a long time. “Would you kiss me like her, Ekko?” she asks, almost too quiet to hear, but the words reverberate in his chest. “Like I’m someone who deserves–”

He cuts her off, surging forward to smash his lips to hers. Jinx is surprised, her eyes wide and her whole body tense. Ekko presses, cradling her face like she’s something precious and hard to hold, and she is– his explosive girl, always slipping through his fingers. 

Jinx responds at last, surging forward and nipping his upper lip with her teeth. He responds by opening his mouth so she can tease him with her tongue. 

At last they break apart, although Ekko doesn’t let go of her face. He only stares at her, amazed that out of every possible universe they’re here. 

“You know, I always kind of liked you,” he admits. 

Jinx smirks. “Did you now?” And she pulls him in for another kiss.

[khaire-traveler]

Hello there! I'm very new to hellenic polytheism and came across a question that I am not sure how to approach. I would be really grateful if you could let me know your thoughts on this (please don't feel obligated or anything, tho. I know I am just a random person asking a random question 🫣). So, for a while now, I've been getting more into greek mythology and from there into fandoms that depict the deities (e.g. Epic the musical which I love a lot). Would you say it is inappropriate to seek out fanfiction or fanart (especially those including ships) in those fandoms, or should I refrain from doing that as it would be disrespectful? Or are there limits I should be aware of? Thank you so much should you choose to answer this 💜 (I apologise for missing paragraphs. I am not sure how to do those on mobile.) (Also, is there a right way to end these kinds of letters/messages/questions? Like a way to express my gratefulness?) (Sorry if none of this makes sense. I always get anxious messaging strangers, but I couldn't find answers anywhere, so I thought I'd just ask🫣)

Khaire, Melie!

Ah, yes. The age-old question. How sinful is fanfiction, exactly? /joke (wanted to start this off light-hearted)

In all seriousness, I'll start with this: If you want to know how the gods feel about it, ask them. There is no better answer than the one that comes directly from the source. I understand the nerves around asking this question; some Hellenic Polytheists feel VERY strongly about it, and honestly, seeing their strong opinions has made me doubt my own interests in such media. Remember that some rando's opinion online, however, isn't the law, regardless of how strongly they feel about it or how desperately they want you to do exactly what they're doing. Opinions are opinions; facts are facts - they are separate things. Personally - and this is MY opinion -I think never engaging with modern media depicting the gods is a little too strict of an approach, and by following that, I feel that a lot of people are banning themselves from engaging with fictional media that they might enjoy. Each piece of modern media about the gods is a creative interpretation of Greek mythology, and people have been doing this kind of thing with other religions - that they don't believe in - for AGES. It's entirely normal, even if it is kind of annoying sometimes. Now, some retellings, games, shows, etc. genuinely take things too far, in my opinion, and warp the mythology so completely that it might as well be a different story entirely. I'm bordering on a tangent, so I'll move on.

Modern media about the gods isn't an inherently abhorrent, evil thing that should always be avoided, however, but personally, I do draw the line of engagement at shipping.

First and foremost, live your life the way you want to. Engage with your practice however you wish. I'm not the law-maker of this religion - no one is - and while I might disagree with someone's approach, I'm not going to shit all over them for doing things differently from myself. Now, into my opinion. I don't think shipping gods - be it from a modern form of media or not - that you worship is appropriate, personally. In my experience, it will blur your actual perception of those gods. I've seen it happen over and over again that people confuse the fictional representation of their God in media with the actual god, then feel the need to distance themselves from the media in order to regain something they feel that they lost. Like I said, you do whatever you wish, but I find it's just better to avoid the awkwardness of shipping entirely.

If you want to read fanfiction about the gods in fictional media, go for it, but I'm not personally a big fan of that. I don't know how the gods feel about it; I can't speak for them (no one can). For all I know, they could be reading the fanfiction themselves and laughing their asses off, who knows? But as a worshipper, I'm not personally comfortable with the idea of reading it. Again, do what you want with your life. If you want to read some spicy fanfic of one god with another, I'm literally not going to stop you, but make sure you're able to separate the fictional characters from the gods you actually worship before you do so - that's my advice. Too often, people end up conflating the two. When a fandom or fanfiction begins affecting your worship, practice, or even just the way you view the gods, that's when it's a problem.

I think the community has been torn on the topic of modern media for a while. Some people love it, while others utterly despise it, and you'll notice that answers will vary from person to person. In my opinion, these pieces of media become problematic when they swarm the fuck out of a small religious community that already struggles to be taken seriously. An example of this is what happened with Lore Olympus a while back. When the comic got popular, a ton of people would swarm and attack worshippers of Apollo online, calling them all sorts of extremely vile things, all because of a comic that literally wasn't even mythologically accurate. In my opinion, fandoms can get out of control sometimes, and when you're engaging with one based around the gods, I advise you to just be careful and aware. For some people, fanart and fanfiction of the gods are extremely uncomfortable, similarly to if someone were to ship Buddha with Jesus in the regard that it just...feels weird for people who actually worship those figures. Other people could care less, being able to fully separate the fictional characters from the gods they worship. Base it on your comfort, and the comfort of your gods.

I hope this helped to give you my perspective. I'm not going to tell you what is or isn't the right choice because honestly, different people will give you a different answer, and I'm anything but a religious authority. You're allowed to do as you wish, but I will always advise you to tread with caution and check in with yourself about how it feels for you personally. Reach out to your gods and directly ask them (such as through tarot, or another form of divination), "Hey, how do you feel about me engaging with this?" Asking directly is ALWAYS a good idea, in my experience. Take care, Melie. 🧡

[losergender]

you know what's timebomb coded? the entire home video album by lucy dacus released in 2021. (s2 act 3 spoilers ahead)

"you used to be so sweet, now you're a firecracker on a crowded street" -> from powder being a major sweetheart to jinx being (lovingly and not so lovingly) a pain in the ass that annoys everyone (and also literally carrying explosives around) | "led me to the floor even though i'm not a dancer" -> literally them dancing in ep7 | "how did i believe i had a hold on you? you were always stronger than people suspected, underestimated and overprotected" -> GUYS THIS IS LITERALLY EKKO TALKING ABOUT POWDER ISTG !!! "a hidden gem, my own goldmine, you had the wide and wild eyes" -> jinx eyes changing color and all "NOW YOU'RE THE BIGGEST BRIGHTEST FLAME, YOU ARE A FIRE THAT CAN'T BE TAMED, YOU'RE BETTER THAN EVER, BUT I KNEW YOU WHEN IT'S BITTERSWEET TO SEE YOU AGAIN" -> GUYS IS THIS NOT EXACTLY EKKO'S FEELINGS ABOUT JINX COME ON GUYS

the entire "first time" is peak "can we pretend like it's the first time?" | "YOU CAN'T FEEL IT FOR THE FIRST TIME A SECOND TIME" , "and how will i know if history repeats itself? how will I know when it's gonna come back around? how will i know? has my face changed, baby? how will I know?" this ekko after breaking free from the perfect dimension guys ,,, guys..

cartwheel guys. cartwheel. "FIREFLY juice on your skin / you're glowing like an ATOM BOMB" it's them it's them it's so them | "this natural thing that you've undone / outgrew older sister's clothes again / won't admit you're growing tall and thin" ekko watching her turn from powder to jinx from afar,,, | "i thought back to many years ago: a late-night promise on the telephone, we'd build a house of twigs and vines, grow old together just to pass the time // now there's only past and present day, i can't believe a word you say" EKKO WATCHING HER TURN EVIL FROM AFAR GUYS !!! WHILE STILL KEEPING FEELINGS !!!

thumbs it's ekko thinking about what silco has done to her. "i would kill him if you let me, i would kill him quick and easy, your nails are digging into my knee, i don't know how you keep smiling" / "you've been in his fist ever since you were a kid, but you don't owe him shit even if he said you did"

please stay. please stay is literally canon because he literally had to stop her from killing herself a good 5 times. "change your name, change your mind, change your ways, give them time [...] call me if you need a friend or never talk to me again, but please stay" like pleaseeee

and triple dog dare,,, "you're dancing in the aisle 'cause the radio Is singing you a song you know and the kid at the counter is gawking at your grace / i can tell what he's thinking by the look on his face, it's not his fault, I'm sure i look the same / it's what you do, but it's not you i blame" EP 7 TIMEBOMB GUYS | "you know i'll be seeking if you run and hide, if the door were to open, would you walk through the frame? if you're too afraid, it won't be you i blame" that's ekko trying to save her at some point | "i want you to tell me that you miss me, want you to hold and hurt and kiss me [...] it's a triple dog dare, you're a chicken if you don't" -> no explanation needed. | "i can fish for our food and you know how to start a flame, if you don't get out now, you'll only have yourself to blame" this is what he sounded like when he tried to save her from silco (bc i know he tried guys) "You said 'you have me there, if it's a triple dog dare'" bc tell me she is not the kind of person to do anything if it's a challenge. | "they put our faces on the milk jugs, missing children 'til they gave up [...] can't find the feeling of relief, nothing worse could happen now" -> ekko literally putting her face on the missing/dead poster, ekko disappearing in s2, jinx fleeing (she did not die guys trust me),,,