#like i'm expecting one (1) thing but i Could absolutely be wrong

[bonesxbows]

Once Upon A Dream - Chapter 4 (Lucifer X Reader)

My Masterlist

In a sleeping beauty-inspired AU, a curse is placed over you when you strike up a deal with Heaven to protect baby Charlie, causing you to lose your memory. You remember nothing once the curse takes over; not your marriage with Lucifer, not the family you had with the two of them, nothing. So when a strange smiling demon offers you a place to stay when you can't remember where 'home' is, you take him up on his offer. 

(WARNINGS)

Heavy depressing themes

Loss of a parent (temporary)

Minor assault - Chapter 3 only

Relationship coercion/manipulation - Chapter 4 and onward

Updates might be a little slower now due to school and everything but I promise I haven't given up on this story! Also wanted to say that this is still mainly a Lucifer X Reader, he's coming back into the picture soon I swear, I'm just pulling some strings behind the scenes for now ;)

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

Link to Chapter 3

Banners by @strangergraphics

It was an awkward-looking building, monstrously tall and squatting on top of a hill, cobbled together from various parts and visibly repaired multiple times. But it had an air of charm to it that you didn’t mind, it seemed…homey. Comforting. Alastor had walked you through the door, arm still linked with yours. 

“Alastor! Sooo glad you're back! We’ve been meaning to look into branching out our recruiting services and we were wondering if…we…could…” A bubbly blonde bounced in front of the two of you but she lost her energy when her eyes landed on you, her whole body coming to a dead stop as her words faltered and died into silence. You could feel the heat rise to your face as she stared you down. 

“A moment, Charlie, if you would. I found this lovely individual wandering the streets and in need of some help. They’re looking for a place to stay, poor thing can’t seem to remember much of anything currently. Surely we have room for them here?” The static surrounding his voice seemed to fill the room. 

She seemed caught off guard by his question, as if she had been locked in a trace staring at you. “Oh…oh! O-of course! Yeah, absolutely! Um…why don’t you show them to one of our empty rooms for now,” she told Alastor, then turned back to you, “and then I can show you around the place after you get settled in? There’s a few others I’m sure you’d like to meet. My name’s Charlie, by the way, but I’m sure you already figured that out.” She smiled, blush adorning her pale cheeks. 

“Wonderful. We’ll catch up soon, then!” Alastor answered before you could, pulling you away from Charlie and towards the grand staircase on the other side of the room. 

You acted fast, twisting your head back and telling her, “It was nice to meet you, Charlie,” as he practically dragged you away. Her name seemed to click off your tongue. Strange. You didn’t know any Charlies. Maybe you had? 

The place was sprawling, twisting hallways that all looked alike, spidering off in all directions. You were grateful Alastor was with you, however creepy he seemed. One wrong step and you could have easily gotten lost here yourself. Your eyes roamed the halls as he guided you, cane clicking against the hardwood as he hummed a tune. Crimson red wallpaper lined every wall, adorned with a print of off-color snakes, apples, and wings. There seemed to be tacky circus decor everywhere; decades-old if the layers of dust were to speak. This place was odd, and even with your stunted memory you could remember a lot of strange places around Hell, but this one took the damned cake. 

“Here we are, your new room!” He opened the door, revealing a quaint little hotel room, set with what you had expected; a bed, dresser, desk, and a small armchair. “It’s a modest little setup, I admit. If you’d like, I’d be happy to help fetch you some things to make it more of your own. All you need do is ask.” He leaned his back against one side of the door frame, ears brushing the top of the framing with his cane outstretched in front of him, as you curiously roamed the room. He sounded sincere but that smile was still so…off-putting. 

“Thank you, Alastor, I’ll…consider it. I’d like a moment, alone. Please.” You plopped down on the bed, mentally exhausted. Well, your bed now, you supposed. 

“Hm. Very well! I’ll let Charlie know you’ll be down shortly, then.” And with that he disappeared, sinking into a black cloud of smoke and vanishing through the floor. Your door was still wide open, but you didn’t care, flopping backwards against the mattress and sighing. Your hands smacked against your face, covering your eyes as your whole expression scrunched up in frustration. This whole situation was more than you could handle. Tears burned underneath your eyelashes but you forced them back, anger replacing the despair. You felt a lot of things, but feeling sorry for yourself would not be one of them. 

A sniffle broke through your barricades anyway. 

This shit was hopeless. 

“Are you…doin’ okay?” You heard a voice call out, a knock reverberating off of the wood of your door as they spoke. You shot up, spooked, and pulled your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball against the headboard of your bed. “Woah, hey, sorry, didn’ mean to scare ya. You just…seemed like you coulda used a friend.” He held up his arms in peace, all…four…of them, as he walked into your room, still staying a good distance away from you on the bed, though.

“Sorry, it’s been…a really long day.” You relaxed a little, lowering your guard. This demon was different, far different than everyone else you had met today. He was dressed femininely, all pink and short hems, long spidery legs accentuated by tall boots. But his smile was kind, the metropolitan accent rolling off his tongue in a way that put you at ease. 

“Sure looks like it. You’re new, right? Neva seen your face round before.” He sat on the very edge of your bed, still conscious of giving you space. 

“Yeah, I…I just arrived today.”

“You got a name, sugar?” 

“It’s…” You hesitated, debating if you could trust this demon with the truth of your situation. He seemed sincere enough. “I don’t know, actually. I can’t remember.” 

He leaned back on all four of his arms, his eyes widening as he processed what you had said. But eventually he closed them for a moment as he nodded his head; a look of sympathy. “Memory problems, huh? I can understand that. Name’s Angel Dust, though you can jus’ call me Angel, sweet cheeks.” He winked playfully and you couldn’t help but stifle a small laugh. He was adorable, in an over-the-top eccentric sort of way. “Charlie show ya around yet? Meet the rest of the bunch stayin’ here?” 

“Not yet. I stopped here for a moment first to…catch my bearing, I guess. Didn’t seem to help as much as I’d hoped, though I appreciate you trying to help, Angel.” Your shoulders slumped, but there was a small smile on your face as you thanked the spider. 

“Course, sugar. Wan’ me to walk you down to the lobby? This place can be a fuckin’ maze if you’re not used to it.” 

“I’d like that, Angie.”

He beamed at the nickname, golden tooth shining in his sharp toothy grin. 

When the two of you made it down the stairs you knew you were in for a long night. The patrons of the hotel were sitting around in sofas and armchairs in the foyer, surprisingly only six of them, and they were a colorful bunch even from afar. 

Alastor and Charlie, whom you had met earlier, along with a fluffy-looking winged cat, a peculiar woman with a missing eye, an anxiously jittering snake, and a tiny cyclops girl who was perched atop Alastor’s head, tiny hands busy stringing dead roaches together on a string. As soon as Alastor saw you descending the stairs next to Angel his face creased and his smile became strained. He picked up the girl off of his head as he stood up, placing her down where he had been sitting. She hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“Ah, there you are dear! We were beginning to wonder when you would grace us with your presence again.” Alastor’s voice carried twice as much static than usual as he walked over to you. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Angel grimacing, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or disgust. You hadn’t been around him long enough to know. 

It had sounded almost sarcastic to you, until Alastor grabbed your hand gingerly and placed a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. The gesture sent heat straight to your face. 

Before anyone else had time to react to the strangely loving gesture he had grabbed your hand and led you over to the circle of furniture, taking a seat next to the small girl he had placed on the couch earlier and pulling you down to be next to him, not giving you any other option of whom you could have chosen to sit by. 

It was disorienting at first, being manipulated like a doll, but once you settled into a comfortable position you realized everyone’s eyes were on you. Your eyes widened and then fell to the floor, the stained carpet suddenly a lot more interesting than the people in front of you. Anxiety thrummed through your veins as you shifted uncomfortably under the group’s gaze. 

“It’s rude ta stare, ya freaks.” You heard Angel speak up, breaking the aggressive silence. He was sitting across from you, lanky legs outstretched almost to the point of touching yours, and your eyes flicked upwards towards him at the sound of him defending you. You mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him, grateful for the rescue, and he nodded in return. 

“Would you like to introduce yourself? And we can share about ourselves too, get to know each other better!” Charlie exclaimed, a beaming smile on her face as she gestured a pointed finger between you and the group. You heard the winged cat grumble in the corner after her statement. 

“Well, I, um���I’m having memory issues, I guess? Can’t remember my name, can’t seem to remember much of anything, really. That’s why I came here. I’m looking for help to fix…whatever this is.” The words had started to tumble out but you eventually put your train of thought on a coherent track. The reactions around the room were mixed. 

“We’ll help in any way we can! Though we don’t specialize in that sort of thing here. We’re more…rehabilitation focused.” Charlie had seemed the most reactive to your disclosure, her face shifting from shock to sadness to understanding to sympathy within seconds. 

“If I become too much trouble I have no problems with finding a place elsewhere to stay.” You told her, giving her a nod of your head confidently. You refused to be a burden on these people, even if you had just met them. You weren’t incapable of fending for yourself. 

“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room here for you to stay for however long you’d like. Though we will need some way to address you, of course. Can’t have you running around this place without a proper name.” Alastor shot your words down and threw an impossible task at you all in one breath. He had leaned back into the couch, his body tilted towards you, arms outstretched and leaning against his cane propped in front of him on the floor. 

His smile seemed to mock you. A name? Where were you supposed to get a name from? Your mind was a mess! 

“Um…”

You wracked your brain for something, anything. There had to be some memories left, buried underneath the layers of fog. Your brow furrowed as you weaved your way through your subconscious, getting lost in thought. It was mostly static, blips of scenes and half-finished faces, all of which would flit away before you could focus. But there was one that kept resurfacing, scratching at the back of your mind. It was fuzzy, but it was there. A blurred-out face, someone important, calling you by a name. 

“Ducki. I'd like to be called Ducki.” 

They had all been arguing with Alastor, apparently, while you were lost in thought, but their attention snapped to you once you spoke. 

“That’s a weird name!” The little girl exclaimed, speaking for the first time that evening, her hands flying into the air and showing off her now-finished dead roach garland. 

“Nifty!” Someone scolded her. 

“If that’s what you’ve chosen then Ducki it shall be,” Alastor said, supporting your choice. 

The group fell into casual conversation after that, chatting with one another, and you, about anything and everything. Though there was a sense of nagging crawling through your skin as you talked with the other residents. It was persistent, and you couldn’t place your finger on the reasoning, until you scanned the room, tired of the feeling and desperate to find the source. 

Charlie’s eyes had been boring into you the entire time.

To be continued in Chapter 5...

Taglist - Let me know if you would like to be added!

@kyo-kyo1 @voxslays @the-enderwolf-princess @fangthesandwing @hayamie @qardasngan

[aromanticasterisms]

actually. realizing the god that died in the oasis was in fact the previous hydro archon and that focalors in fact had nothing to do with her death. i'm crushed

[illbegottenfaith]

unadulterated loathing (a what is this feeling inspired fic)

yours and theo's feelings for each other evoke a deeply visceral physical reaction in both of you, for which there can be only one explanation (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - had this idea ever since I watched wicked and so I whipped smth light and fun up prettyyy quickly (I think this is the fastest I've ever writtena fic? then again it is on the shorter side) enjoyyy :)) p.s. im quite behind on my notifs etc cuz of college so if i havent responded to anything pls know its an accident!

tropes/warnings - enemies to lovers, quips/banter, fluff, mentions of injury

word count - 1.3k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson

"I'm afraid the rumours are true," you were saying to Penelope Skeeter, a budding journalist eager to follow in her aunt's footsteps. "Theodore Nott was just so taken by my looks this morning that he promptly passed out in the Hogwarts library, poor thing. The whole school is bereft, naturally, but Madam Pomfrey herself expects him to make a full recovery."

You paused as her reedy-looking assistant snapped a picture, putting on a breezy, winning smile with just a hint of oh-silly-me-for-putting-one-of-Slytherin's-star-Quidditch-players-in-the-Hospital-Wing-but-also-who-could-blame-this-pretty-face.

"You could say I, quite literally, stole his breath."

Your impromptu interview came to a crashing halt as a strained groan sounded from the hospital bed a short distance away. The three of you glanced over to see that Theo had woken up and was now very much alive and kicking.

"Oh," you said, abandoning that affected, simpering tone for one with a noticeable trace of disdain. You thought you'd have more time. "You're up."

"Lies," Theo rasped breathlessly, with all the menace of a kitten swaddled in a blanket, eyes darting mistrustfully between you and Penelope. "Liar."

You tilted your head, your expression as displeased as it always was when it came to Theo. "Aren't you supposed to be dizzy or something?"

"Don't listen to anything she says, especially if it's about me. Strike that all - hang on - "

You watched him flail uselessly in his attempts to sit up, unimpressed.

"I don't think you hit your head hard enough."

"Shut up," Theo wheezed under the stifling weight of the warm compresses laid across his chest, "and get out."

You pouted exaggeratedly. "But you're sickly, sweetheart."

His already pale face blanched at the pet name. "Out. Out!"

For as long as you could remember, you had never gotten along with Theodore Nott. Anything he said, you'd feel compelled to disagree with, and anything you did, he felt compelled to sneer at. The adverse physical symptoms that presented themselves within each other's proximity certainly didn't seem to help matters. One way or another, sparks were bound to fly if the two of you were in the same room.

"It's - it's her - " Theo had spat out at The Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade trip in your third year. "She's doing this to me and she's doing it on purpose."

Mattheo had creased his forehead.

"Like a...like a hex?"

"No," Theo had said, distractedly scratching the hive that had appeared on the back of his hand. "It's worse than a hex. My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing..."

"...oh," Mattheo had said, realisation dawning upon him. "I get it. It's lo-"

"That's it, Mattheo." Theo had interjected. "You're absolutely right."

"I am?"

"Yes, exactly. Loathing is what this is. Loathing." He had swivelled around, hatefully fixing his gaze on where you were laughing over some undoubtedly inane subject matter over butterbeer with your friends. "Unadulterated loathing."

Mattheo had rolled his eyes over Theo's dramatics.

That was years ago. Now, the butterbeer was gone and the inane subject matter was long forgotten, but the two of you were still too abrasive to get along. It was as though you couldn't help but rub each other the wrong way, the way you brought out the worst in each other. The detestation that everyone had hoped you would grow out of seemed to have grown with you, with petty jabs and insults and below-the-belt undermining becoming a regular occurrence between the two of you.

Today was no different. You were spending your morning free period studying at the library with your friends, roaming the bookshelves for anything that could help you with your Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. You'd turned the corner of the aisle, a heavy tome in hand, only to find Theodore blocking your path, his long fingers leisurely tracing the spine of a book like he had all the time in the world.

"Figures," you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. "Of all the dark, damp corners in the castle, you'd turn up in this one. Like a bad penny."

Theo's gaze flicked up to meet yours, his expression impassive save for the slight lift of his brow. "Charming as ever, I see," he drawled in his low voice, carrying that familiar bite. "I didn't realise the library was off-limits to people with half a brain."

You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. "Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. If brains were currency, you'd be bankrupt."

His lips twitched, and for a moment, you swore he was fighting back a smirk.

"And yet, here I am, managing just fine without the constant headache of your presence. Speaking of which—" he gestured vaguely at the aisle, "—you’re in my way."

There it was - that repulsive, three-sizes-too-big ego of his. Really, it was a wonder how he managed to fit that swollen head of his through the castle doors.

"I'm in your way?" you repeated incredulously. "You do realise the universe doesn't actually revolve around you, right?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me," he said smoothly, effortlessly plucking your book out of your slack grip. "You always seem to be in my orbit."

You peered up at Theo from beneath your eyelashes. You tilted your head, your lips curling into an insidious, self-satisfied smile that Theo didn't quite understand.

"Please. You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

Theo felt a pang in his chest. His pulse stuttered and there was this nauseating feeling in his stomach. His vision swam, and it was all a bit blurry after that. The next thing he knew, there was an awful lot of shrieking coming from the crowd standing over him. Over him? His hand twitched. The hand that was on the very same rock-hard floor he was lying on. When did he get down here?

He groaned softly as the voices around him grew louder. There was this awful pounding rattling his skull. With considerable difficulty, he cracked an eye open, trying to get a sense of his bearings. Some of the silhouettes seemed vaguely familiar. He could recognise some voices - his friends must have found him. Those looked like Mattheo's shoelaces right next to his face.

And in the middle of it all was you, ashen face with a panic-stricken expression, with a vice-like grip on his forearms.

And then everything went black again.

Madam Pomfrey had come along just then, shooing Penelope and her photographer away. You weren't quite as lucky in your attempt to slip out with them. So now here you were, stoically holding Theo's hand in your slightly clammy palm at his bedside while she checked him over.

She hadn't told you to hold his hand. Theo decided he'd pull away in a minute. Maybe two.

He cleared his throat ineffectively, dry from a lack of water. You glanced at him.

"Admit it. You were terrified for a minute there."

You pressed your lips into a thin line like you were holding back a smile, trying to give the impression of watching Madam Pomfrey.

"You wish," you mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

Still, he didn't miss the way you squeezed his hand as part of you relaxed in what seemed like relief.

"I know."

You dragged your gaze back to him, shaking your head somewhat affectionately as you took in the colour returning to his cheeks.

"I see you're feeling better already."

"Something about you gets my blood pumping."

Madam Pomfrey stepped away for a moment, leaving the two of you alone behind the screen. You leaned in until your noses were almost touching.

"Are you saying I make your heart race, Nott?"

This close, he can see the faint freckles scattered across your nose, the way your lashes brush your cheeks when you blink, and the flicker of mischief in your eyes. And for the first time in all the years he's known you, he admits to himself that perhaps you might be more than a little easy on the eyes. Especially his eyes.

"Sure," he says quietly, his gaze almost lovingly lingering over every blemish along your nose. "Let's go with that."

[honnelander]

go fish! part 2

guyssss i did NOT expect this little series to blow up. y'all are amazing! i'm turning into a Sanji writing blog and am i mad about it? no lmao i received a couple of requests and i'll work on them as soon as i can. i'm really in the zone rn so i'll ride this wave as long as i can. if you want to be a part of the taglist for whenever i post new Sanji content, lmk. i hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 2.8k

pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: after being humiliated by Usopp earlier, reader stays in her room to decompress. however, she gets a visitor.

prequel part 1 part 3 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @jovialcat123

Mortified. That’s how you felt. Still. 

Ever since you ‘forfeited’ from finishing your Go Fish card game with Usopp a couple of hours ago, you had taken your glass of water that Sanji had poured for you and boarded up in your shared room with Nami, refusing to come out due to “heat exhaustion”. 

Poor Luffy, ever the golden hearted captain, was immediately worried for your wellbeing as soon as he heard that but after multiple reassurances from you and getting up off of your hammock multiple times to prove you were in fact, just fine, he relented from wanting to stop by the nearest island so he could find a doctor for you. Usopp had managed to convince him as well that all you needed was some water, alone time, and that you would be fine by dinnertime. 

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a sigh, vowing to yourself that the next time you wanted some time by yourself, you should just take a bath or something, since any other excuse would cause someone on the crew (Luffy) to lose their mind at the thought of someone not feeling well. 

You readjusted yourself, sitting more upright, as you downed the last of your water, it being warm by this point since it had been poured by Sanji hours ago. 

Sanji. Ugh.  

Your heart fluttered once again at the mere thought of him, but that flutter was immediately replaced by a wave of crashing embarrassment at the thought of the afternoon’s sequence of events. What had happened earlier wasn’t even anything that groundbreaking or special, but to you? It was everything. It wasn’t common practice in your life for the object of your affections to be so kind towards you, so thoughtful, to read and anticipate your needs before you even knew they were even there. But Sanji? He was all of that and more. And you didn’t even know him for that long! You’ve all been a part of the straw-hat crew for 5 months at this point and it felt silly to admit to yourself that you had developed a crush on one of your crewmates in that short amount of time. 

And having feelings for your crewmate? Someone who you literally couldn’t get away from since you all were trapped on a ship together (not that you would ever want to be away from him or anyone else for that matter, besides Usopp, but still), it felt morally wrong. You guys were all a team. Sure, you all were off to sail around the world and chase dreams, but achieving all of that required teamwork and trust, and that was hard to do if two of those people were caught up with matters of the heart every hour of every day. 

Like, what if things didn’t work out in the end? Would you really want to put the crew’s dynamic at stake just because you thought the blonde guy was cute? No, you wouldn’t. It would be selfish so you would never dare to put yourself or Sanji in that position. No matter how much you liked him. 

So as much as it pained you, you could never tell Sanji how you feel. You would never cross that line of being a ‘professional pirate’ into something more, like a pirate wife. Or a pirate chef’s wife. 

It definitely didn’t help that freaking Usopp of all people on the crew knew about your affections for Sanji. Ugh, you groaned. He was the absolute worst person to know about it too. Why did he have to figure it out? Why did he have to be the one that had put two and two together to equal four? That your random bouts of awkwardness and shyness plus ‘heart eyes’ and blushes whenever Sanji was around equaled to you having a forbidden crush on the crew’s chef? It was embarrassing. And complicated.  

He loved to stir the pot too, so whenever he could tease you for it when you both were alone or in front of a clueless Sanji, he would. You remembered the kiss he had shared with Kayla back when the straw-hats had acquired the Going Merry, so you definitely jabbed him right back when you had had enough, since part of you felt guilty for it since Kayla was thousands of miles away and Sanji lived on this ship with you. Your situations were slightly similar but completely different.  

Also, completely different in the way that him and Kayla were basically dating at this point, albeit long distance, and had shared a kiss while you could barely sustain eye contact that lasted more than 5 seconds with Sanji. 

You were hopeless. 

“Knock, knock,” a familiar accented voice came through the closed door. “Y/n? Are you awake?” 

"Sanji?” you blurted out in complete surprise.  

Shit. You weren’t mentally prepared to see him just yet. At all. You were still replaying the interaction you both had earlier in your head, your overthinking mind going over every minute detail to figure out if Usopp’s careless teasing had given away your affections.  

Usopp, you mentally ground out. You were going to kill him. Sanji had never stopped by your room before so what on earth was he doing here now?  

Suddenly, a thought struck you like a bolt of lightning and made your stomach drop fifty miles below sea level: if Sanji had specifically stopped by your room just to gently let you down, that no, in fact he did not feel the same way about you, that he only thought of you as a member of the crew and nothing more....then yeah, you were definitely going to kill Usopp and throw him overboard. 

Before you could mentally plot out more details on Usopp's murder, the door opened and the straw-hat chef’s blonde head appeared. His eyes quickly scanned Nami’s empty hammock on the room’s left side before turning his head to the right, his blue eyes immediately finding your surprised ones, a (relieved?) smile lighting up his face at the sight of you. 

“So, I take it you’re awake?” Sanji asked in a light, teasing tone but not making an effort to move himself away from the doorway. 

“Uh, y-eah,” you stuttered out in surprise as you just stared at him dumbfounded. You still couldn’t figure out why he was here. 

Sanji continued to lock eyes with you, making your cheeks flush the longer you both stared at each other, and your palms sweat as the silence stretched on, making the tension in the air become thicker by the second. He blinked, his eyes darting to the side in confusion, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “May I come in?” 

“OH! Yes, of course- sorry,” you stuttered as you waved him inside, sitting up in your hammock and mentally face palmed yourself. Of course, Sanji was waiting on you to invite him inside. Like always, he was acting like a true gentleman. “Please, come in. Have a seat. Sorry, that was rude of me. Make yourself at home.” 

Sanji stood up to his full height and walked into your room with an easy smile and a small laugh, closing the door behind him. “Ah, don’t ever apologize y/n. You could never be rude to me,” Sanji rebuttalled and waved off your apology as he looked around and took in your very plain and basic shared room with Nami.  

Your room, or side of the room more specifically, wasn’t much to brag about considering you really didn’t have much to your name but for now, it was home to you. Your side consisted of your hammock, a wooden barrel next to it to act as a makeshift nightstand that housed your only book, a journal, and a lamp, along with an empty wooden crate to act as a makeshift seat and another to hold some of your other clothes and small travel bag. Nami’s side was similar to yours but had a touch more personality as she hung up some maps she found at various markets and drew up herself on her wall. 

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a tad self-conscious about the lack of things in your room considering your current guest was dressed, as usual, to the nines in his signature black suit and blue and white striped shirt complete with a skinny black tie. “Sorry for the sad state of my room-” 

“Sad?” Sanji stopped admiring your room and snapped his gaze to look at you. His eyebrows pulled together as another confused smile adorned his features. “Why would you say that? Your room isn’t sad, I like it. It’s a reflection of you,” his next words came out softer, “and I think that’s beautiful.” 

You could feel heat crawling up your neck at his words as you busied yourself with placing the empty glass in your hand on your barrel nightstand. There was no way Sanji was calling you beautiful, he was just commenting on your room. With Nami. On your shared room that owed any ounce of ‘personality’ to the ship’s navigator because it was obvious you literally brought nothing special to this room whatsoever.  

You stopped yourself from spiraling into ‘I don’t bring anything special to the straw-hats, I don’t know why they keep me around’ thoughts because now wasn’t the time to think about any of that. Those dark thoughts were reserved when you couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night.  

As you placed the glass on the nightstand, you asked, “So, what brings you all the way to my room? Aren’t you usually prepping for dinner around this time?” 

Sanji’s eyes followed your hand and lit up when he saw the sole book on your nightstand. “Oh, a book? I didn’t know you liked to read.” His megawatt smile lit up a couple of notches as his eyes sparkled, he looked like he had just learned one of the universe’s greatest mysteries as he took a seat near you on an empty crate. “What book is that?” 

“Oh, that?” You mentally deflated at the fact you now had to tell Sanji about your favorite book, “It’s Pride and Prejudice.”  

You weren’t ashamed of having that book specifically, you loved it and it was your favorite book of all time, you had lost count at how many times you had read it at this point, but it was the fact that you now had to share this part of yourself with the guy you fancied. Guys normally scoffed and turned their nose up at romance book and romantic things, so you were bracing for Sanji to scoff and laugh at you like all the other guys did (like even Zoro and Usopp did when they first saw you reading it) but it never came. 

Instead, Sanji’s smile remained bright. “Ah, so you’re a lover of classic romances? Pride and Prejudice? Romeo and Juliet?” 

Immediately, you smiled, finding yourself instantly comfortable suddenly whenever you got to talk about one of your favorite things. “Absolutely. I don’t think there’s a problem big enough out there that love can’t solve. Family backgrounds? Wealth and status? At the end of the day, none of that stuff matters. What matters is if two people love each other.” 

Sanji stayed quiet for a moment, looking into your eyes with a twinkle of an emotion that you couldn’t decipher. It made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, never breaking eye contact. “I agree.” 

You swallowed. “You like this stuff too? Have you read Pride and Prejudice?” 

Sanji blinked and that indescribable emotion he had in his eyes was gone. His smile remained, however, and became sheepish as he held up his hands, “Ah ok, you caught me. I’ve never read the full thing, but I know the main parts of the story. My favorite part that I did read though, was the first dinner with Mr. Collins and he complimented the Bennets on their ‘excellent boiled potatoes’.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head slightly as you teased, “I should’ve known that the chef of the Going Merry’s favorite part of the book is when food is discussed!” 

The blonde cook held his hands up again with a good-natured laugh, “Ah, you got me!” His face softened as he asked, “What about you?" He nodded towards the book. "What’s your favorite part?” 

You paused for a second as you mulled the question over. “Well, I'm not sure if you know about this part since you never read the book...” 

“Try me,” he encouraged softly. 

Your face turned to the side, your eyes looking at the wooden wall to your right, unable to bring yourself to look at Sanji as you told him your favorite part of your favorite book. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and calm your nerves, your voice becoming quiet as you told him, “My favorite part is...when Mr. Darcy barges in on Elizabeth for the first time, while she’s at her friend Charlotte’s house writing a letter. He had come to practice ‘conversating’ with her since he admitted that it wasn’t something he was good at and she had told him to practice it. So, Mr. Darcy just barged in and they had one of the most painfully awkward conversations ever...and he did all that just because he loves her. He did something he hated and was bad at, and opened himself up to embarrassment just because he wanted to improve and be better for her. It’s so romantic and beautiful.” 

The air was quiet after your mini monologue and for a moment, nothing could be heard except for their quiet breathing and the occasional crash of the ocean from outside your small window. 

Part of you worried that your little rambling had bored Sanji, so when you finally looked at him, imagine your surprise when you found him leaning in towards you, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees and his eyes watching you, completely engaged. It was like he was hanging onto your every word. 

Sanji scanned your face for a moment, the corner of his lips curling upwards as he said, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not familiar with that part in the book,” and before you could open your mouth to bring yourself down, he continued, “but, that doesn’t mean your answer is wrong.” He leaned back and slapped his hands against his thighs, “Hell, it’s a much more insightful answer than mine!” He laughed. “I just liked how they were poking some fun at boiled potatoes.” 

You laughed with him because yes, that part in the book also made you laugh as well. But at the mention of food, you realized that you still didn’t know why Sanji was here in the first place. Wasn’t he normally prepping for dinner at this time? He had to be running behind schedule at this point. 

“Why are you here, Sanji? Isn’t it almost time for dinner?” 

“Yeah, it is actually but I heard you weren’t feeling well so I wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re feeling alright and see if you have any special requests for dinner?” 

You couldn’t help the slight smile that overtook your face, trying to hide the blush at the fact that he was kind enough to check in on you and offer to practically be your own personal chef for the evening. 

You hummed for a moment, acting like you were deep in thought before asking with a raised eyebrow, "And what would you say if I requested some boiled potatoes?”  

The smile that lit up the chef’s face was priceless. He had never looked more beautiful. “To that, I would say ‘Absolutely. If that’s what the missus wants, then that is what the missus will get.’” 

Missus. There it was again. You felt all warm inside whenever he called you that, it made you feel like he was your husband and that you were his wife. But that wasn’t the case. Sanji definitely must have called other women that before. You weren’t special to him, he was just being polite.  

You swallowed down your emotions, putting your sudden wave of sadness away for later, putting on a small smile. “Then that sounds perfect. I would like to formally request some ‘excellent boiled potatoes’ as a side for dinner, please.” 

If Sanji noticed your sudden change in mood, he didn’t show it. Instead, he grinned as he said, “Excellent choice, Madam. Boiled potatoes, coming right up.” As he stood up and made his way towards your door, Sanji did one of the most unexpected things that nearly knocked the wind out of you. With his left hand on the doorknob he said, “And don’t worry, Madam. I’ll sprinkle in a little bit of extra love in there,” he turned and winked at you, “just for you.” 

With that, Sanji left your room, gently closing the door behind him, leaving you completely dumbstruck in your room, your mouth agape and body frozen. 

Did Sanji just say he loved you? 

You shook your head, because there was no way he did, right? He said he’d ‘sprinkle in some extra love’ into your potatoes, not 'I love you". You weren’t a chef, maybe that was a euphemism for something. 

You sighed.  

Those better be some good boiled potatoes. 

[librarygarten]

OMG I'M BEGGING FOR THE SECOND PART OF DINK AND READER MEETING

(I'm sorry if it looks aggressive 🥲)

-glitchy

Dink Kidnaps Isekai!Reader (And Regrets it Almost Immediately)

Listen, there is nothing in this world I love more than finally snapping and getting to be mean to someone. Even if that someone is a fictional villain. I have shade to throw, and WILL use this loser as an outlet for that. Please enjoy :] Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here)

“Sooooo….. I’m not saying I’m opposed, but usually I’d expect a guy to at least take me to dinner first.” You roll your eyes as you struggle against the rope currently binding your arms in front of you.

“What?” The shadowy figure turns to look at you. He had been monologuing. One of his arms was still raised, as if he was about to launch into stereotypical maniacal laughter at any second.

“I’m down to try anything at least once, but I’d prefer the gentlemanly approach.” You try to stand, wobbling as you rise. (Who knew barely using your arms made getting up so much more difficult?) “I guess chivalry really is dead.”

“What are you… OH EW.” The shadow recoils, as if burned by your innuendo. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Buddy, one of us kidnaped a person out of their bedroll and took them home, and it wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t kidnap you for anything like THAT, you sicko! Your knowledge of the universe is too valuable for the heroes to have!” he crossed his arms and stomped his foot to the ground.

“Like that would help them.” You scoff. “I know what happened on their adventures. Meaning all the stuff they ALREADY KNOW ABOUT. Not really useful when dealing with a time-hopping angsty teen made of darkness and daddy issues.” You use one of your hands to motion at him, which is difficult to do with the rope around your wrists.

“Daddy issues?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. You were giving him a migraine simply by existing. “What could you possibly be referring to?”

“I mean, you’re Dink.” You smile as he cringes at your name for him. “The first time you appear in the timeline is during Time’s adventure. Ganondorf made you and you’ve been giving off rancid vibes ever since.”

“That does not mean I have daddy issues.” Dink stares at you, red eyes bright against the shadows of the room. Is he trying to intimidate you? Poor guy. If you weren’t a fanfic-reading, depression-having twenty-something, it might have worked.

“Oh right. Some people headcanon Ganondorf is trans. Mommy issues, then. My mistake.” You smile, pretending to be embarrassed at making such a ‘mistake.’

“What? No! I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with-” Dink sputters, absolutely blind-sided by your statement. He tries to recover. “I don’t have parents! Ganondorf hasn’t been around for thousands of years at this point!”

“See, you say that, but an absence of parents is also mommy/daddy issues.” You put your hand against your hip, trying to prove your point with a pose that would make Regina George jealous. Your tied wrists make the pose less effective, but you do find something interesting: In the confusion of dealing with you after the kidnapping, Dink had apparently forgotten to take away your sword. Your quick tongue had saved you once again! 

“It doesn’t apply! I’m not a person, I’m a shadow of Link!”

“Oof.” You smirk, keeping his attention on your words as you begin to subtly drag the rope around your wrists against your blade. “I’ll add that to the list: daddy/mommy issues AND you have a complex about your existence.”

“Wait, that’s not-” Dink’s face is one of utter bewilderment.

“AND ANOTHER THING!” You interrupt him, “Don’t go calling yourself a ‘shadow of Link’ or whatever. Shadow Link is a different character from the Four Swords Adventure Manga, and he was only evil for a little bit. Not like you, Mr. I-Hate-Myself-So-Much-I’m-Going-To-Make-It-Everyone-Else’s-Problem.”

“I don’t hAte myself!” He practically shouts, trying to put you in your place. Trying to get you to shut up. Anything. But his voice cracks, and the darkness around his cheeks deepens.

“Ohhhh.” You pretend to come to a realization, all the while sawing at the rope around your wrists. “No wonder you’re so cranky! Ganondorf made you a seventeen-year-old or something! You’ve been going through puberty for the last few thousand years.”

“nO!” Dink crosses his arms, and you can’t help but notice how thin they are. He really is the splitting image of what you assume Time looked like as a teenager: built like a twig. You suppose being in a coma for seven or so years would do that to someone. He continues trying to regain his dignity. “I can turn into any form. Any Link. Wherever the Hero’s Spirit is, I am there too, as a reminder of everything inside him he is denying. Everything he is hiding from the world to be the knight in shining armor.”

Dink steps behind you for a moment before appearing at your other side with a new face: Hyrule’s. “Your poor friends certainly have a lot on their plate, don’t they?”

You glare at him as he continues his speech. You also subtly coil the now-cut rope around your hand instead of your wrist.

“Of course, there’s everyone to heal. Every scrape and scratch Link must ensure none of the others suffer.” Dink’s form blurs, and when he solidifies he looks like Four. “Every weapon needs to be made and maintained. None of the others are qualified.”

His form changes again, this time to look like Warriors. “And of course there’s managing the rag-tag army you’ve all formed. Supplies and spirits need to be kept high, even if it’s at the expense of the ever-self-sacrificing pretty boy.”

“But how can he defeat evil and save the day if he can’t even control his own head?” Dink smiles wickedly as he takes the form of Wild. He puts his hand up, and you realize he’s managed to back you against a wall. You gulp.

“How long do you figure it will take? Before they realize you don’t contribute anything.” His face changes again, to Time’s, but as he is now: an adult with a scar over his eye, not a gangly teen. “Maybe a few weeks, or even a whole month. But eventually they’ll realize you’re just a fan with nothing to give them but more problems to solve.”

“That’s not true.” You smirk before winding up and socking Dink right in the face. He goes flying backwards. Apparently, shadows don’t weigh all that much. He falls in a heap on the floor, reverting back into his teenage form. “I provide delightful commentary.”

“Sure you do. And what use is that in a fight?” Dink picks himself back up, clutching his nose. Darkness seems to flow down his hand and chin. Did you give him a bloody nose? Was that even possible?

“I mean, it worked on you last time.” You shrug and back away, never taking your eye off him.

“That was lucky timing.” He scoffs. “It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, really?” You smirk, noticing a figure creeping along the wall behind him. Backup has arrived. “Then what do you call this?”

Dink doesn’t have time to react as Four slams his sword down, slicing clean through the shadow. As he does, there is a loud BOOM from above, and the ceiling disappears. Sunlight bathes the room as Legend peers through the new opening, another bomb in his hand. Sky drops into the room, the Master Sword in hand and pointed directly at the puddle of darkness that used to be Dink. It seeps between the stones of the floor, vanishing.

“Y/N!” Twilight runs into the room with Time and Warriors close behind. “Are you okay?”

“Took you guys long enough. I almost had to tell him about the creepypasta fangirls that write smut about him.” You smile. You can see your words do psychic damage to your allies.

[scififettuccine]

maybe a frenchie x supe!reader? there’s not enough frenchie fics out there! like maybe they don’t get along but they’re forced to work together?

A Wild Fix: Part 1

Pairing: Frenchie x Reader

Summary: You, Wild Card, a 27 year old Supe newly signed by Vought, are recruited by Billy Butcher following an incident in Vought Tower. With the help of The Boys, you vow to destroy the corrupt system that wronged so many. But will your mission be tainted by your constant bickering with one of your new team members?

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, drug use, Homelander (Obviously), mentions of drug use, questionable French

Notes: I absolutely LOVED this request. I slept on it once I saw it because I had so many ideas and I didn't know where to start...but my goal is going to be a 3-5 part series! I'm going to try my best to keep each part under 2k, maybe 1.5k each? No gender was specified in the request so I'm gonna keep it as a GN reader!

From the outside...Vought as a whole seemed like the shiny pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that every Supe had striven for since the company's creation. But you? You knew the truth. Only 24 hours into your career as a member of The Seven, you had been subjected to more violence than you expected from a group that was supposedly supposed to save people. Your first meeting with the rest of the group had gone south quickly once you questioned one of Homelanders statements, and stood your ground when he told you to back down. Before you could even blink, you were pinned against the wall, with a firm hand pressed against your neck, constricting your breathing. In that moment, you understood that being compliant was the only thing that would secure your status as living. So that's what you did, you nodded your head and said “yes sir.” Needless to say, you left that room with the fear of god, no, the fear of The Homelander, choked into you…But you knew you couldn’t sleep here. So you booked a hotel room for the night, hoping maybe the receptionist wouldn't notice the bruises on your neck.But while you walked there, tears streaming down your cheeks as you hugged yourself to keep the cool night air out of your jacket, you were approached by a man named Billy Butcher. The two of you had a lengthy conversation outside of the hotel regarding the truth behind Homelander, The Seven, and Vought as a whole. Then he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse: a chance to get back at Homelander. A chance to bring yourself justice, as well as bring justice to the others he had hurt in his desperate pursuit of ultimate power. Of course…you agreed. 

You had kept in touch with Butcher the following week on a burner phone he had given you, knowing that Vought had most likely bugged all of your personal technology…and on your next day off? You met him at a location that was unknown to you, one you would soon come to be familiar with. As he ushered you down the wooden stairs of the unknown building, you weren't met with the most reassuring of environments. Drug paraphernalia, along with various illegal weapons, and full ammo boxes littered the expanse of the rather unwelcoming looking hideout. You stopped at the bottom step and pointed to a literal stack of plastic bags containing what you could only assume was coke.

“That’s…” you swallowed, “That’s coke.” Butcher, who had been guiding you down the stairs with his hand on your lower back, laughed and shook his head.

“That’s right, love. Bags of coke.” Billy said with a small chuckle as he patted your back and stepped onto the broken concrete floor of the basement, greeting the others that inhabited the space. The first person you noticed was a rather lengthy looking young man who looked to be around the same age as you with slightly curly brown hair. Admittedly, you thought he dressed like a twelve year old. He was seated on a questionable looking couch, next to an older man with a bigger build and a darker complexion…who looked like he could snap you in half with little to no effort. Your gaze then flickered further into the room, and your gaze landed on a man who was around the same height as you. Not exactly tall…but not short either. The man in question had a buzz cut, a piercing on his left ear, and was wearing an orange and black tie-dyed shirt, along with cargo pants. He was seated on one of the tables that housed various pieces of drug paraphernalia, and was seemingly using a business card to arrange lines of coke on the back of an old phone book that sat on his lap.

“Well boys…here they are. This is Y/N L/N.” Butcher interrupted your silent evaluation as he addressed the room. He walked back to your side and put a hand on your shoulder, moving to point to the younger man on the couch. “That poor bastard there is Hughie,” he moved to the man next to him, “that's MM,” and finally…he pointed to the man sitting on the table. “That’s Frenchie.” Frenchie pulled his head away from the phonebook, white power dusted on his nose.

“Bonjour-” He said, cutting himself off with a sniffle as he wiped the coke from his nose. Oh, that's why they called him Frenchie. You narrowed your eyes, the greetings of the two other men falling on deaf ears as you looked Frenchie over. Clearly something important had been said during the duration of your staring, because you were knocked out of your thoughts by a firm nudge to the shoulder by Butcher.

“Oi, Hellen Keller! Are you up for it or not?” Butcher asked. He realized you hadn’t heard him and narrowed his eyes with a sigh. “We’re going to meet up with an info plug…You can either come or stay here with Frenchie.” You sort of just panicked and blurted out an answer, not wanting to ask any dumb questions about the info plug.

“I’ll stay…with uh, Frenchie.” You said. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You weren’t an overly judgy person, you really weren't…but you couldn’t help but feel a bit of trepidation regarding staying alone with a man who had done coke off the back of a dirty phone book within the first minute of you meeting him. Butcher smirked when he saw the look of regret on your face.

“Right then. We’ll be back, love.” He said, gesturing for Hughie and MM to follow him out. “Make yourself at home.” With that, the three made their way up the stairs, leaving you alone with Frenchie. You took the moment of awkward silence that followed them leaving to look around the basement, your feet glued to the floor of course. The walls of the space were composed of a skeleton made of wooden posts, which were filled in with a mixture of red brick, and the same color of concrete that the floor was made of. The walls in question were littered with spray painted tags of many different colors, most of which you couldn’t read, due to the fact that they were in a different language, but they were oddly beautiful nonetheless. The lighting in the room, just a few hanging light bulbs, added to the strange ambiance of the room.

“You are Wild Card…Yes?” The silence was broken by Frenchie, who was still sitting on the table, but now facing your direction. You turned to him and nodded, albeit awkwardly.

“Yeah…Yeah. That's me. Just call me Y/N, though.” You said, trying your best to give a convincing smile.

“Y/N…” He nodded as he repeated your name, “Oui. A good name.” He looked at you for a moment, almost waiting for you to respond. When you didn't, he pursed his lips and blinked. “Remind me, Y/N…What are your powers exactly?” You sighed when he asked that. It was always strange explaining what exactly your powers were.

You were called Wild Card for a reason. While you were powerful…using your powers was sort of like playing a game of russian roulette, only with the gun pointed towards the other person. You could do a multitude of different things, along with the constant of your strength, speed, and agility. You could create different balls of explosive matter, you could manipulate and use the moisture present in the air for multiple different attacks, along with a few other niche things. The problem was…you never knew which would happen beforehand. All you could go off was the feeling you felt in your palms. You weren’t exactly the most reliable Supe abilities wise…but every one of your random attacks was extremely powerful, making you a good person to throw into the mix if things aren't going well for the rest of your team, which is why you were a valuable member to add to The Seven.

“Uhm…Have you ever played Uno before? Like the card game?” You asked. Frenchie nodded. “Well it’s kinda like when you put a wild card down in Uno, and you get to pick a color…Except you pick the color blindly.” Frenchie sort of stared at you for a moment, before he started laughing. You tensed up when you heard him laugh, but you tried to laugh along, due to the fact that you couldn’t tell if he was laughing with you or at you. “Forgive me, mon cher-” He stifled a laugh before continuing, “that is the silliest thing I've ever heard.” At that comment, you frowned, taking a step back even though you were across the room from each other.

“Silly? It’s not silly at all…I’m pretty powerful, all things considered-”

“But you just use it blindly?” He asked with a chuckle. “What happens when you want to shoot a fireball or something, but you summon a child’s teddy to your hand instead?” That ticked you off. Who the hell was he to insult your powers? He was a druggie, and didn't even have any.

“How can you sit there and insult me when you were doing lines off the back of a 30 year old phonebook when I walked in?” You asked, your words coming out a bit more spiteful than you had intended. Frenchie narrowed his eyes, but tried to shake off his anger. He wasn’t fond of fighting with people over small things, especially not when intoxicated. 

“Ah…I see…” He said with a chuckle that you could only describe as pathetic, “All Supes really do have an ego, don't they?” He asked, hopping off the table he was sitting on.

“Hey! You've known me for five minutes and you're already making assumptions about me?” You balled your fists and took an accusatory step forward. Frenchie raised a brow.

“And I’m safe to assume that you’ve already painted this image of me in your head like some sort of druggie asshole?” Damn. He got you with that one. But alas…You were too prideful to let him have the last word. You scoffed.

“Maybe I’ll change my opinions when you’ve done something other than do drugs and laugh at me.” You said with a roll of your eyes. You weren't a conflictive person…But the last few days had been long and hard, so you couldn't exactly help it.

“Ditto, mon amour.” He said, his face painted with an absolutely infuriating smirk.

“Fuck you.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know nothing about me.”

“Eh bien, va te faire foutre toi aussi.” He said, almost matter-of-factly, mocking your current stance. You didn’t speak French, but you could only assume he had said something insulting back. Well, fuck you too. You were about to spit something back, but thankfully, Butcher came walking back down the wooden stairs, an eyebrow raised.

“Everything's alright down here, love?” He asks, the look on his face a mix between suspicion and curiosity. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine.” You said, your tone strained. Butcher then looked over to Frenchie, who simply gave a thumbs up before leaning down to do another line off the phonebook. You huffed and rolled your eyes. You were too exhausted to say anything else.

The nerve of this man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think it's safe to say this mini series is going to be lots of fun! I love Frenchie as a character, and it was really fun to come up with a fun Supe persona for the reader! I hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for part 2! I'm also working on a taglist form so keep an eye out for that! Adieu!

Masterlist

[our-hextech-dream]

i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 1)

I cannot figure out for the life of me how to make gifs so this will have to be a gif-less essay. If anyone more tech savvy than me wants to reblog with relevant media, please do!

I've seen a lot of people saying how Aziraphale's actions in the final ten minutes come out of left field and are OOC, and when I first watched the episode I felt the same, but now I think I couldn't have been more wrong. And I don't think Aziraphale is being controlled... I think the entire season showed us exactly what was going to happen.

On first watch, what struck me was the number of plot points that seemed disconnected. I couldn't figure out how Job related to the present, or the Victorian era, or the Nazi zombies (still at sea on the zombies part tbh). I didn't know where the Maggie/ Nina subplot was going, or why we were bothering with it. Then I put my "psych hat" on and it was like seeing one of those 3D pictures come into focus. It's a psychological networking rather than a plot-driven one, which is what Neil told us to expect.

Detailed analysis under the cut, with spoilers:

I went back through the season in my head and started asking myself: why is this element there? What does it contribute?

1. Start with scene one. Why include it? Does it matter for the climax that Az knew Crowley as an angel? YES. It's actually huge. Angel Crowley was joyful, he was bursting with delight at creation, he was idealistic. He wanted to be a part of everything rather than run away from it, and that's still how Aziraphale feels. He loves being a part of things. He's a joiner. He's a landlord. He dances at clubs and he makes human friends and he learns magic. Crowley the demon doesn't seem to want any of that, and I think that's hard for Az. He wants Crowley to be free of the cynicism he thinks prevents him from enjoying life now. At some level, I think he senses that Crowley is depressed (empathy's not his strong suit but I'm sure he's aware that Crowley's in a "what's the point of it all" kind of mood; see the eccles cakes scene). He wants to fix it. Aziraphale is a fixer. Metatron offers him a chance to do that.

Another thing is that Aziraphale knows Crowley ended up Falling just for asking questions that seemed innocent. That's not okay with him. He thinks that with the two of them in charge they can actually MAKE the changes that Crowley wanted to see way back at the beginning, starting with a suggestion box.

2. Okay, now Jim. Obviously Gabriel/ Jim is the central mystery, but why does he matter? First and foremost: he's there to show Aziraphale that angels can CHANGE. Gabriel terrorized and threatened Aziraphale. Az has been terrified of him. He ordered Aziraphale's execution. And now here he is, drinking hot chocolate, doing noble self-sacrificing things, with morals that suddenly align with Aziraphale's. What an absolute game-changer that must have been! He thought Heaven was unfixable, but here's Gabriel in his shop for weeks, slowly convincing him otherwise.

Then two other things happen. First, they find out that this all happened to Gabriel essentially because he fell in love. He was fired and his memories were stolen and the only reason he recovered was because Beelzebub happened to give him the one thing that could save him. That must have seemed like incredible luck. Now, how does Aziraphale feel about memories? He lives in a bookshop that is stuffed to bursting with the records of all of human history, essentially. His memories of his time with Crowley are incredibly precious. He sees, there at the end, that everything he is can be taken from him as a punishment for falling in love. Aziraphale doesn't have a magic fly container. He'd be forever robbed of Crowley, his life, himself. It's a very real threat in his mind when Metatron intervenes.

Which brings us to the second thing. Metatron saves Gabriel. Not only that, he prevents him from being punished for loving Beelzebub and lets them both go. What better way to win currency with Aziraphale? HE doesn't want to go off to Alpha Centauri, he never has, but suddenly he sees that Metatron might protect his relationship. And he's probably the only entity with the power to do so.

So we come to two conclusions: Aziraphale, when he goes off to talk with Metatron, is feeling like maybe it's not intrinsically bad to be an angel. He believed all the angels sucked, and only God was good... but now he sees that even Gabriel can change. He met Muriel, and he likes them. (He also had a huge crush on angel Crowley, which is neither here nor there but he loves Crowley in all his forms.) So if Crowley became an angel again, would that really be so bad? In his mind, it wouldn't change who Crowley is. It would just make them both safer and allow them to be together. (He's wrong! And Crowley doesn't see it that way! But this is a key miscommunication. Aziraphale doesn't really believe that becoming a demon changed Crowley. Back to the first scene, which Aziraphale references during the Job minisode. In his eyes, Crowley is the same person (just more cynical because of what's happened to him)-- so why would it matter if he's an angel again? I truly don't think he was trying to save Crowley, or saying that Crowley would be Better as an angel. To him, it doesn't matter what Crowley is. Which is reductive and harmful, but not the same as thinking Crowley needs rescuing from himself.)

Second conclusion: he sees that an angel and demon can be in love, but they have to run away to be together. Gabe and Beelz couldn't go home again. Earth is Aziraphale's home, but after the attack on the bookshop he learned that without Heaven's protection he can't really keep them safe there. Metatron says: "Come with me, do this thing, and you can have guaranteed safety AND be with the love of your life". Poor Aziraphale wants this with every fiber of his being. All he's ever wanted was for Crowley to be safe. He's never been able to offer it. Over the past four years, he thought they were safe, but he's just learned that he was wrong.

This is getting long. Continued in Part Two!

[azrielwingspan]

'SOMEONE' (AZRIEL X READER)- PART 2

Summary: You are convinced that Azriel was the one to send the note. Anxious about facing him, you lose yourself in your head but strangely, things are turning out...weird.

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Thankyou so much for the response on the first part you guys! It was supposed to be a one shot but due to popular demand, I wrote down a second. Not gonna lie, I'm a bit nervous about this because peer pressure haha. Really hope this meets expectations. Did my best to make it fun and playful.

Read Part-1 here.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'It's hard not to pry when you're involved.' The words kept flitting through your mind , jumbling your thoughts and stirring up a butterfly party in your stomach.

You knew it was from Azriel. Who else could it be ? Not believing it at first, you tried to think of all other possibilities and came up with zero. No else could possibly know about it.

Except him.

After stewing upon the unexpected turn of events for a good couple of hours, you did something anyone else in your position would've done.

You tried to hide.

From a spymaster.

You were really setting standards in the department of intelligence.

It had all started when you were having lunch with Cass and Mor at the House of Wind. "How was your new book?" Mor asked stuffing herself with the mashed potato in front of her. "It was alright. It just felt a little flat." you stabbed at the piece of chicken on your plate.

"Why the gloomy face? Everything okay?" Cass looked at your face intently. You sat up a little straighter, forcing a small smile onto your face. "I'm great."

"Are you on something?" Your head shot towards Mor, a flabbergasted look on your face.

"What made you say that?"

"You've been acting weird since yesterday and just this morning you stared off into space with a stupid smile on your face. Now, you're gloomy. I've seen this before--"

"Oh for Mother's sake, I'm not on anything Mor." A choked laugh burst out of you at the incredulity of it.

"Is it because of the stable boy thing yesterday? Shit Y/N, we didn't know you still --"

You narrowed your eyes at Cass , daring him to finish that statement. He immediately backed off, putting up his hands in the air.

"Just a concerned friend." He said with a teasing smile.

"You guys are the worst." Soft laughter was shared between the three of you before disaster struck.

Footsteps echoed from the stairwell making your head whip towards it. Eyes widening a fraction, your brain was thrown into a whirlpool of thoughts , each one fighting for dominance over the other. You knew with absolute certainty that it was him. There was no one else in the house. You also knew the sound of his footsteps but that was a fact to be pondered upon on a different day.

Wait, he was a spymaster. Why was he making a sound in the first place?

He wants you to know. Doesn't want to catch you off guard. The still functioning part of your brain helps you out.

"Are you having a seizure?" Mor's voice registered in your head.

"No , but I might." you muttered under your breath, your body reacting before your mind could give it a command. Almost stumbling from your chair all the while trying to look as unbothered as possible, you excused yourself from the table mumbling a reason to your companions.

Exit points available. The stairwell. Your mind supplied. YOU CAN'T PASS BY HIM. DO BETTER.

The plant. - THE PLANT ?! What were you supposed to do ? Photosynthesize yourself ?!

Under the table.- Ah yes. Have a front row view to his crotch. Way to go.

Balcony.- We don't have WINGS! You screamed at yourself.

The door to your right.- Finally. A good option.

Your face must have exhibited a plethora of emotions during the internalized battle with yourself because Mor and Cass were staring at you like you had two heads.

"Y/N. Please sit down. Something is seriously wrong." Cass said rising from his chair.

"No. No. I just forgot to do something very very important. I'm going to be screwed. I just need to---"

"Have lunch. I'll help you out with whatever it is." The voice like night whispered over your skin setting off goosebumps in its wake. His scent enveloped you, taunting and teasing your senses. It almost seemed to whisper- Look at me.

So you did.

You had expected a smirk or a smile or even a twinkle in his eye. Nothing. No hint or trace of what had happened. No clue to suggest that he knew or that he was the one to send the note.

What if you were wrong? What if it wasn't him but someone else playing a joke on you?

"No it's alright. I..." You didn't get to finish the sentence as he pulled your chair back and motioned for you to sit down.

Sighing out loud you returned to your place at the table trying not to look at Azriel as he took the seat across. "What did you forget?" Cass was starting to sound suspicious. Racking your brain for a quick and believable answer, you blurted out "I have to respond to a letter. A very important one."

The double meaning of your reply hit you the moment it left your mouth. Your body betrayed you and turned your gaze towards Azriel.

Nothing. Blank as a slate.

Starting to grow frustrated, you stabbed into your chicken a little too enthusiastically.

"It's already dead." Azriel said dryly, not even bothering to look up from his food.

Mor let out a snort and thankfully started to recall a conversation she had with a friend of hers. You could feel the tension leave your body as the conversation and attention was steered away from you.

Get your shit together.

Fortunately, all of you were done eating not long after and everyone went back to their duties. Azriel hadn't said or done anything for the rest of the afternoon and you were seriously starting to doubt if you were wrong.

You made your way back to your room trying to make sense of your emotions along the way. There was a sense of relief that Azriel didn't know and yet it was tinged with the undertones of disappointment that he didn't know after all.

Did you want him to know or did you not?

You didn't know. UGH. Idiot.

Stepping into your room, you almost missed the note that caught under your foot.

Fuck. Another one.

Heart thudding painfully, you picked it up with trembling hands. It read:

Anyone is capable of falling in love with your heart. Me? I want to be the someone you give it to. -'Someone'

A/N: I did not intend to end it this way at all but here we areeee. Hope you guys enjoyed it !

TAGLIST : @crazylokonugget , @hayrunnwr , @fxckmiup , @wildlyobserving , @harrystylesfan2686 , @63angel , @charlotteintumbleland , @willowpains , @nyx-the-alien , @acourtofbatboydreams , @marina468 , @anuttellaa , @kalulakunundrum , @amygdtjhddzvb , @lulu22156

[harmonicakai]

As Long As You Care

Part 1 of the "Somebody Else" series

Pairing: Soobin x Reader, Yeonjun x Reader

Summary: From the moment he first met you, Soobin has had the biggest crush on you. The only thing standing in his way is his college roommate, Yeonjun, who you’ve been in love with ever since you were little.

Tropes: love triangle, unrequited love, fake dating, frat boy!yeonjun, nerd!soobin, roommates, college AU, childhood best friends

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: drinking, sexual tension (mdni!), curse words, yj is an asshole

A/N: TBH I feel like this is one of my weakest works so far, but I really like the concept and already have the whole thing planned out, so I will try and see completing it through <3

“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you Been here all along, So why can't you see? You belong with me" —You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift

“If you have a crush on Y/N, then go for it,” Yeonjun laughs, surprised that Soobin would even bother to get his permission, as if he wants your hand in marriage or something.

“Really? You don’t mind?” Soobin blinks back, unsure of whether or not his roommate is being serious. You’ve been friends with Yeonjun since you were little kids, so Soobin figured that running the idea of asking you out by him was surely the right thing to do.

“If you’re worried about whether me and her are more than friends, don’t be. If we were going to start dating, we would’ve when we were in high school. God knows it would’ve made our moms happy.”

“Would you help me then? You know her better than I do,” Soobin continues, eager for tips on how to properly woo you. “Do you know her favorite kind of flowers?”

“Can’t say I do,” Yeonjun shrugs. “Listen, Soob, Y/N is a hopeless romantic. And she’s never even had a boyfriend before. I’m sure whatever you come up with will exceed any and all of her expectations.”

Yeonjun’s excuses for why the moment doesn’t need to be special are precisely why Soobin wants to take so much care in planning things. It would be your first date, first boyfriend, first everything.

Well, except for your first kiss, which Yeonjun had graciously stolen back in middle school, years before he had even introduced you to Soobin. Both of you have asserted that it was only once, and simply for you to get it over with before a school dance in the hopes that your real crush would make a move.

Soobin would be lying to say he doesn’t get jealous of the two of you. Plus, Yeonjun is totally wrong. From what others have said, you’re extremely picky when it comes to guys.

“So, when are you going to ask her?” Yeonjun says, snapping Soobin out of his trance. “She’ll be here any minute if you wanna do it then.”

“She’s coming over now?” Soobin asks, his palms feeling infinitely more sweaty. He hasn’t had any time to do his hair or choose a good outfit, let alone run to the store and pick up any of the little presents he had planned on getting for you.

“We’re going to get breakfast. Some new café she’s been dying to try,” Yeonjun replies, his mouth full of a croissant. Soobin rolls his eyes. If the two of you are about to go out to eat, why the hell is he stuffing his face right now?

Soobin checks his watch. If he leaves now, he’ll surely make it back before the two of you return. “Can you make sure that you guys come here when you’re done?”

“I can make no promises,” Yeonjun sighs, staring at his reflection in the hallway mirror. He throws on a pair of sunglasses, his phone ringing to signal that he’s gotten a text, most likely from you. “Y/N is going to meet me outside. It’s now or never, dude.”

Soobin glances out the window and spots you standing in the courtyard, wearing a floral sundress that hugs you in all the right places. The sunlight shines down on your hair, leaving a glow that makes you look absolutely angelic. He swallows hard.

You’ve made yourself comfortable on a bench just outside, your feet propped up on the arm rest. 

“It looks like she’s been waiting a while,” Soobin observes.

“Yeah, I know,” Yeonjun says nonchalantly. 

“Shouldn’t you hurry up, then?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” Yeonjun scoffs. “Since you’re so concerned, I’ve got a date after this, okay? Well, if you can even call it that. Point is, I need to look good, and that takes time.”

“I guess I’ll just ask her another day, then,” Soobin sighs in defeat, backing away from the window. He knows better than to push Yeonjun. “Listen, will you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.” Yeonjun is still admiring himself, now unbuttoning even more of his shirt. He might as well go topless at this point, Soobin thinks to himself.

“Could you maybe mention me and see how Y/N reacts?” Soobin asks, adjusting his glasses.

“I will for 30,000 won,” Yeonjun deadpans, not even bothering to look Soobin’s way.

“Are you joking?” 

“No. I don’t care if you guys date, but I certainly won’t be making it easy for you. She’s my friend. If you become her boyfriend and start taking her out, that’s less time she’ll be spending with me.” Sometimes, most of the time, Soobin really hates his roommate.

“You suck,” Soobin says, reaching into his wallet and handing over a few bills. “Here.”

“Pleasure doing business,” Yeonjun grins, pocketing the cash. A knock at the door startles both of them. “Why don’t you get that?”

Soobin heads for the door, knowing you’re on the other side of it. He mentally prepares himself, smoothing his hair into place and checking his breath.

When the door swings open, you’re surprised to see Yeonjun’s roommate staring at you.

“Uh, hi,” you greet him. Soobin holds his breath. You’re even more beautiful up close. “Is Yeonjun ready to go? I’ve been waiting downstairs, for like, ten minutes.”

“I don’t think so,” Soobin says, stepping aside to let you into the dorm’s common room. “You’re welcome to wait, though.”

“Thanks,” you reply, stepping in and spotting your best friend fussing with his hair. “Hi Junie!”

“Hi, Y/N,” Yeonjun smiles. He pulls you into a tight hug. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I didn’t see your texts. I just need a few more minutes, okay?”

Soobin knows his roommate is lying, but he’s not going to be the one to tell you that.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you say, making yourself comfortable on the couch. You turn your attention to Soobin, who you don’t really know much about. “How’s your morning going, Soobin?”

“It’s good. Great, actually! A little busy, but I like having things to do, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. What are you up to?”

“Mostly running errands. Then later I have to take some photos of today’s soccer game for the school newspaper, go to jazz band practice, and study for my econ midterm,” he rambles.

“Wow. That’s… a lot.” Your eyes widen, wondering how he manages to juggle that kind of schedule. Sure, you care about extracurriculars too, but never enough to risk burning yourself out.

“Soobin is a real nerd, Y/N. If you ever need a tutor for anything, he’s your guy,” Yeonjun calls from the bathroom.

“Ooh, okay. How are you at multivariable calculus?” you inquire. It’s the class you’ve been struggling with the most this semester.

“Math is unfortunately the one thing I’m bad at,” Soobin admits. He opens his mouth to keep talking, but Yeonjun’s finally returned, at last ready to go. 

Soobin watches as Yeonjun’s hand finds yours, pulling you up off the couch before finding its way around your waist. “Let’s head out, babe.”

“Yay! Okay, well, bye, Soobin!” You wave, being pulled along. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Yeonjun drags you out the front door before Soobin can even say goodbye, the sweet scent of your perfume lingering in the air behind you.

Soobin waits a few minutes to make sure the two of you won’t be stopping back in before he faceplants onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. At this point, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever have the chance to tell you how he really feels with your “best” friend standing in the way.

—————-

Soobin’s heart nearly beats out of his chest the second he lays his eyes on you. You’re wearing the same sundress from earlier today, but this time without the slouchy cardigan draped over your shoulders, and your hair is thrown into a perfectly messy updo. To top it all off, you’ve got glitter dusted along your neck and collarbone, making you shimmer under the glow of the frat’s neon lights.

He wants nothing more than to lean down and kiss it all off of you. The only issue is that you’re surrounded by a ton of other partygoers who probably all want to do the same.

You’re the only reason he even bothered to come to this party and he might not even get the chance to talk to you. He may not have been of any help this morning, but at least Yeonjun was decent enough to text Soobin and let him know the two of you would be here tonight.

“Soob! I didn’t think you’d actually come!” Yeonjun’s voice startles him as he claps his roommate on the shoulders from behind, his hands still wet from swimming in the pool. Soobin jerks back, nearly spilling the contents of his red solo cup.

“She looks hot, doesn’t she?” Yeonjun continues, glancing past him to see you twirling your hair as you gently let another guy know he has no chance with you. Soobin hates it when he talks about you this way, even if it’s true. “Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet?”

“We haven’t even talked,” Soobin says, his voice barely reaching above the music’s blast. He stares down at his white sneakers, sticky from the spilled drinks and god knows what else is lining the frat’s linoleum floors. “Did you do what I asked you to, by the way?”

“Shit, sorry, man. I totally forgot. But you know what? Maybe we can change your luck,” Yeonjun smiles, feeling a bit sorry for his lovesick roommate. “Me and a few other people are gonna start a game of spin the bottle in the next room if you want to try and kiss her.”

It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Except when you spin the bottle and it glides past him, landing instead on Yeonjun, Soobin’s heart plummets into his stomach.

You lean past him with a shy smile on your face, wrapping your arms around your best friend’s neck as he pulls you into the steamiest kiss Soobin has ever seen. It’s enough to make him wonder if maybe the two of you have done this more than just once.

Despite being over in seconds, it feels like hours to Soobin. To make matters worse, when you pull away, your lips wet with Yeonjun’s saliva, you wave at him with the most gorgeous smile in the world.

“Sorry, man,” Yeonjun whispers to Soobin, running a hand through his hair, messed up from where your fingers were just laced through it. “Maybe next round.”

If Soobin could fight, he would’ve certainly thrown a punch straight into his roommate’s jaw. But even though he towers over him by a few good inches, he knows that he’d be out like a light and wake up with a black eye that’ll truly never let him forget about this moment.

When it’s finally his turn, it lands on a girl just a few spots over from you and he does his best not to look disappointed. She’s pretty, for sure, but she’s not you. Soobin plants a quick kiss on her lips and the crowd groans.

“More!” an unfamiliar voice chants. The rest of the players join in, although all Soobin can pinpoint is the sound of you nearby, egging him on to make out with another girl.

He relents, enough alcohol in his system to finally let loose, pulling the girl into a fast, sloppy kiss. The crowd shifts to whooping and hollering, and he sees you giggling with one of your girl friends out of the corner of his eye.

It isn’t until the two of you watch as Yeonjun gropes that same friend seconds after the bottle lands on her that Soobin notices a shift in your mood. Your once everlasting smile has been replaced with a blank stare that unmistakably signals heartbreak.

Soobin would know. He was making the same face just a few minutes ago.

Eventually, the game fizzles out and everybody disperses back into the frat’s crowd, still going strong despite being hours in.

After wandering around the party for a while, Soobin spots you at the keg, frustratedly pouring yourself another beer. From the way you’re stumbling, he knows it’s probably not a good idea for you to actually drink it.

“Hey, wait,” he intervenes, grabbing the plastic cup out of your hand. “Y/N. Maybe you should slow down.”

“Fuck off,” you scoff before turning to see who’s interrupted your binge. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of Soobin, Yeonjun’s roommate. He usually never comes to these things and has only ever been really, really nice to you. “Soobin. I am so, so sorry. I’m just going through it right now.”

“I can see that. Do you want to get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.” He loops his arm around yours and guides you outside, making sure that you don’t trip on any uneven steps or loose cans. 

If it were Yeonjun, he’d carry you bridal style, letting you nuzzle your head into his shoulder until you reached your dorm room.

“You can have some of mine,” Soobin says, handing over his drink as you steady yourself against the porch’s railing. “It’s just Sprite.”

You nod and gulp the entire cup of soda down, the bubbles tickling your dry throat.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Soobin continues, catching you off guard. You turn to stare at him, eyes wide before you fix your expression to something more nonchalant.

“No, I’m not.” He looks back at you with a frown, letting you know that he’s seen just enough tonight to not believe any of what you’re saying. Soobin doesn’t seem like the kind of person you’d want to lie to, anyway.

“Fine, maybe just a little bit,” you admit, crossing your arms in defeat. “I mean, in general, how are girls like me supposed to compete with girls like her?”

“Lots of guys would kill to be with a girl like you. She’s just more… straightforward.” You can tell he can’t actually come up with a better explanation for why his roommate isn’t into you.

“I kissed him the way I’ve been wanting to for years now. I don’t know how much more straightforward I can get. You know, last week, I asked if there was anything going on between the two of them and he told me she wasn’t his type?”

“Who isn’t Yeonjun’s type?” Soobin laughs awkwardly, regret immediately settling on his face as he realizes he probably shouldn’t have said that. He’s right and you know it, though.

“Please tell me they aren’t making out right now,” you change the subject, hoping and praying that the answer is no.

Soobin glances over his shoulder back into the party to see Yeonjun and your friend entangled, his hands gripping her hips as she grinds into him. “He’s… certainly doing something to her.”

“Wow. Okay, that’s all I needed to hear.” You walk past Soobin to stare at Yeonjun and your friend all over each other. It’s a horrifying scene, but for some reason, you can’t tear your eyes away. “You know, I’d hate to see how he is with a girl he’s actually into. Men really suck sometimes.”

“Y/N, look at me,” Soobin says, his voice the steadiest its been all night.

“Huh?” you ask in confusion. Soobin turns you back around, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. It trembles against your cheek as he leans in close to you.

“We can get back at him,” he whispers, both of your heart rates rising by the second. His breath is hot against your ear. “If you want to.”

You can’t believe the words that have just come out of his mouth. Choi Soobin, Yeonjun’s sweet roommate who has only ever spoken to you in the most polite and platonic way, is offering to help you make your best friend jealous.

Your silence makes him backtrack, the panic in his voice evident. He really has no clue what’s gotten into him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was just joking! I didn’t actually mean—”

“Let’s do it,” you say, cutting him off. Before he can protest, you’re pulling him back into the frat house and onto the middle of the dance floor, right next to Yeonjun.

Soobin can barely believe this is happening right now, and if his arms weren’t wrapped around your waist, he’d pinch himself.

Usually, you keep to yourself at parties, kindly entertaining men’s advances, but never giving them the satisfaction of dancing with you. Tonight, you’re breaking all of your own self-imposed rules with the guy you least expected to.

“Kiss me,” you say into his ear, loud enough to fight the music’s volume, but quiet enough for Yeonjun not to hear. Soobin looks at you with sheer panic on his face and you know immediately that he’s incapable of making the first move.

At least that’s what you think before he crashes his lips onto yours. Despite watching him awkwardly make out with someone else earlier, he’s surprisingly good at kissing. There’s a hunger to the way he grabs your waist and pulls you closer that makes you smile into him.

As you feel his soft hair beneath your fingertips, you almost forget why you’re kissing him in the first place. When you finally separate, you turn to see Yeonjun staring at the two of you, a sly grin on his face that makes you question if you’ve made the right decision.

—————-

“That was so humiliating,” you groan, trudging down the sidewalk. Soobin trails you like a puppy dog. “He was happy for us. So much for making him jealous. You know, maybe we should just call this whole thing off now.”

“No!” Soobin panics. “I, uh, I have an idea.”

“Which is?” you say, stopping to look at him. You can tell by the way he stares blankly at you that he doesn’t actually have an answer.

“Well… if we keep this up, then Yeonjun will see how great of a girlfriend you are and he’ll want you for himself! Really, we’ve just gotta give it more time.”

Your head aches, but Soobin does make a little bit of sense. “Fine, okay. How long are you willing to put up with me for?”

Soobin knows he can’t say forever. “Why don’t we try until the end of the semester? If he doesn’t confess his love to you by then, then we’ll stage a break up.”

“Sounds like a deal,” you say, reaching out your hand to shake. Soobin hesitates. “I don’t have cooties, you know. Besides, your tongue was kind of just down my throat back there.”

“Right, sorry,” Soobin says, taking your hand into his. It’s much bigger than you expected, nearly covering yours in its entirety. “Deal.”

“Come on,” you say, continuing your trek back to your dorm. “Let’s go.”

“My room is the other way,” he attempts to remind you. You don’t even bother to look back at him, wanting to get out of the cold and into your bed.

“We’re going to mine. Yeonjun is never going to believe we’re together if he catches you in your own bed tonight.” 

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @beomgyubabybear @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie @philijack @soobnuuy

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don't want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to keep things separate <3

[mxqdii]

nott into you - m.s

pairings: nott reader x mattheo riddle

summary: reader's brother is theodore nott and develops feelings for his best friend mattheo

warning(s): drinking, brief makeout drugs.

not proofread

FRIDAY:

my hands tangled in his hair, the smell of his cologne and cigarettes filling my senses, everything just feels right.

it's funny how a week can change everything.

okay! i know this looks really wrong, but i can explain.. let's go back to where this all started, monday.

-1 WEEK PRIOR.-

MONDAY:

i sit in potions, bored as ever at snapes lesson, feeling eyes on me.

i look over seeing mattheo riddle staring, which isn't totally weird, considering we've been friend's since first year, just abnormal.

this time it's different though, like some weird tension in the air, i feel as if red smoke is filling my lungs and calling out mattheo's name.

snapping out of it, i clear my throat and focus my attention onto the horribly boring, lesson

the class ends sooner than later and i take my time to collect my stuff, not noticing mattheo waiting for me.

i head to the door and meet eyes with him

"waiting for me, riddle?" i question and his lips curl upwards

"i might be, walk with me will you?" he asks and i nod, following wherever he's going.

"i noticed you staring" i mumble

"yeah and i noticed you drooling" he says and i scoff

"you think too highly of yourself riddle" i professed

"mmh i'm not so sure about that, have you met your brother?" he adds on and i realize

my brother, shit.

this flirty banter shouldn't even be happening right now, considering if theo saw he would absolutely loose his shit.

"yeah thats theo, uh- anyways i gotta go, nice talking to you riddle!-" i say in a rush, walking the other direction.

TUESDAY:

i hear the door open and look up seeing pansy, i'm currently in the slytherin common room working on some extra homework.

"hey" she says, plopping down next to me

"hey pans whats up?" i ask, putting my books down.

"okay so, i know this is a long shot.. buuuttt, there's a party tomorrow and before you say no just please please think about going!" she says the last part really fast and i laugh

"who's throwing it?" i question and she squints her eyes

"we are..?" she mumbles and my eyes widen

"pansy what!?!" i yell

"okay i know it seems bad, but some first years accidentally heard me saying how slytherin parties are the best and one thing led to another and all of a sudden i had to prove it was true and now everyones expecting a party tomorrow night and i need your help!" she rambles and i sigh

"fine."

later that day, i cross paths with mattheo again.

who cares what my brother thinks or wants for me, it's my life.

"hey mattheo, sorry about yesterday" i say with a smile and he nods

"don't worry about it sweetheart" the name makes my cheeks flush.

we kinda just stand there looking into eachothers eyes for a moment, i'm not sure how it was, but i definitely looked full of lust.

he moves closer to my ear, whispering

"you're drooling again"

i roll my eyes throwing in a, "you wish"

WEDNESDAY:

the party is all set up, and it took HOURS.

me and pansy had to rush right when classes ended to get everything ready

we're supposed to start the party in an hour but before doing that, me and my friendgroup decided to have a little fun

me, pansy, theo, mattheo, draco, enzo and blaise decided to play a friendly game of truth or dare before letting anyone else in.

"y/n" enzo says and i let out a shakey breath, not noticable enough for anybody to hear though.

"yes enzo?" i respond, eyeing him in anticipation

"what'a a dirty secret you've been hiding lately?" he asks and i smirk

maybe i could fuck with these people in a way that wouldn't expose me, but in a way... would?

"well enzo, so glad you asked. recently there has been someone catching my eye... someone who's off limits, someone i'm not allowed to touch, you could call it forbidden, but i prefer the term secrecy." i say with a smug smile, avoiding any and all eye contact with mattheo

before anyone has time to say anything, the clock chimes and the doors to the common room open, the room flooding with people from all different houses.

the rest of the night was kinda a blur, except for the end of it.

i'm too drunk to even function right now, feeling vulnerable and anxious.

god this is why i don't go to parties.

"hey beautiful" a random gryffindor says and i make a face of disgust

"jus' leave me alone" i say in hopes of peace, turning around to walk away, but instead he grabs my wrist.

i turn back to look at him seeing the no-good look on his face

"oh no" i mumble

"are you gonna like.. do bad thing's to me" i ask

i'm never drinking again i feel like an idiot.

"you just consented to it so i might as well huh baby?" he says and i groan.

"i actually have a-" without thinking i grab someones hand, anyone to get me out of this situation would be great

"mattheo?" i say looking up, seeing its him who i grabbed

well, i was going to say boyfriend but mattheo works too.

the gryffindor boy's expression quickly changes from being in control to being scared shitless.

i'm too hazy to even feel right, not paying attention to the bickering mattheo is doing, the way he's absolutely screaming at this boy.

my hand tugs mattheos arm, causing him to look down at me

"mattheo please- just get me out of here" i say, leaning onto his arm.

fuck i'm not supposed to feel like this

THURSDAY:

the last thing i remember, is mattheo dragging me out of that party.

i think he was carrying me? or was it theo? i don't really remember.

i turn over, opening my eyes seeing mattheo next to me

what the fuck.

"g'morning princess" he says and i wince, feeling the light hit my face.

"what time is it?" i ask and see him look over to his bedside table

"like 10" he says and my eyes widen as much as they can.

"it's thursday mattheo we have class!' i yell, attempting to get up

his arm lightly pushes me down

"you need to rest, do you remember what happened last night?" he asks and i shake my head

"you were drugged and you passed out." he mumbles and my eyes widen

"who the fuck drugged me??" i exclaim

"i don't know" he says and i sigh, thinking about last night trying to remember anything i can.

i don't even realize how close me and mattheo are, the way he's shirtless and the way the sun hits his eyes, his morning voice, his soft sheets.

i look down seeing me in his shirt and i quirk an eyebrow which he notices

"no don't worry uh- pansy changed you not me" he reassures and i smile.

the rest of the day we end up just talking and laughing in his dorm, only leaving for food and water.

i gotta admit, it is awfully suspicious me leaving with him last night and waking up in his dorm, now us ditching and spending the whole day together.

but like i said before, i don't care what my brother thinks.

FRIDAY:

i'm currently getting lectured by snape for missing class and i can't help but let my mind wander to mattheo

lately, thats been all my mind is full of.

the tension has been getting thicker and my desire for him has been getting needier.

i need to tell him.

i rush out of snapes lecture as soon as he's finished, rushing to the common room.

what am i even doing, i'm being way too impulsive right now, it's fine i only live once, i have to do this. i tell myself

i reach the common room and run upstairs, knocking on mattheos dorm frantically

he opens the door and i smile, suddenly feeling all of my words leave my mind, going completely blank

then i remembered, i dont need words to tell him what i need.

without thinking, i grab his cheek and kiss him, it definitely caught him by surprise, but it did for me too.

without breaking the kiss, he leads me inside and closes the door, pinning me against it.

my hands tangled in his hair, the smell of his cologne and cigarettes filling my senses, everything just feels right.

an abrupt knock interrupts us, mattheos hand covering my mouth

"dude come on, snape is pissed you missed class and his lecture, we gotta go" a voice comes from the other side of the door.

fuck, it's my brother.

a/n: let me know if u guys want a part 2<3

[aashiqeddiediaz]

you know, after watching day 3 of the democratic national convention, i need to say something, especially to other muslims like me.

most of the muslim communities that i'm a part of have chosen to vote uncommitted, or independent, or sometimes, even trump. they refuse to give their vote to kamala harris and tim walz, because of the way the us has handled the war in gaza, and how they have been careless with acknowledging palestinian lives lost, how it was american bombs and american tax money that went towards funding this genocide. it's fucked up, and it's wrong, and there shouldn't be any debate on that.

and i am 100% in support of that anger. i am 100% in support of forcing america to stop funding this genocide. no one wants to keep seeing palestinian lives suffer. no one is free until we're all free, and i believe that to my very core.

my only concern is that where this anger is being placed, from 1 year to 11 weeks before the presidential election, is so scary. because the reality of the situation is that america has a bipartisan outlook. whoever gets the presidency is either democrat or republican. and every vote that doesn't go towards democracy (i.e. voting for kamala harris) inadvertently goes towards trump's big plan of project 2025, which is basically dictatorship. Even voting uncommitted, even voting independent. we cannot afford to elect trump for a second term, and voting anything other than democrat draws that line way too close, especially in swing states like michigan, pennsylvania, wisconsin, georgia.

yes, there are many issues that we wish joe biden would handle better. there are many ways that the democratic party has fucked up beyond repair. there are many ways the democratic party has refused to acknowledge the pain of people affected by their military people throughout the years, and we've been seeing it for years. this is not a new thing. this did not start on october 7th. we see it during pretty much every administration.

however, voting for your candidate should never be based on a singular issue. no political candidate is ever going to check every single box. and its so unfortunate that we have to always take the "lesser of two evils" approach when nominating our president, but that's the reality of the situation at this very moment. there are many other rights to be considered that are at stake this election, all of which trump is trying to remove. abortion bans, women's rights, healthcare, social security, climate change, to name a few.

(and, somehow, there's a belief that trump will lead to a ceasefire deal where biden-harris didn't? let me tell you that is never going to happen.)

does this mean we just stop protesting or pressuring? absolutely not. you NEVER stop, because if our votes are the ones that put the candidate in their position of power, then we expect results. we expect them to work towards what they promised. and we can't let up on reaching out to our local county offices and our state governors and escalating these issues further until someone takes notice and does something about them. we don't elect them and just leave them to do what they want. we keep them accountable. use that anger i was talking about.

but it also means not having tunnel vision. the election in november could very well mean the end of democracy if kamala harris doesn't win. this post is not me all giggly-happy over the democratic party, because trust me, i have my fair share of issues with them as well. this post isn't to tell you what to do, because i can't force you to vote blue. i can't force the community i'm in to change their minds about toss-up votes. but what i can do is put down plainly what's at stake this election. and that is, very simply, our right to choose everything.

so if you are eligible to vote and haven't registered, please do. if you haven't voted before because "what's the point", please see above what the point is. a handful of votes is enough to flip the outcome of an election, especially with the electoral college.

and if you're still on the fence on whether to vote for kamala or trump, hopefully this post gives a little bit more perspective in the most streamlined way i could manage without bogging you down with statistics and numbers.

the choice is yours.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Oh no. Sir I believe I'm going to need you to explain that Dragon Age 2 opinion, that is a BLAZING hot take

I really don't think it is. Although of course all of this is personal opinion, not some sort of divine proclamation on high about which video games people are allowed to prefer, so take please it in the spirit it is offered.

Origins is a worldbuilding walking tour as much about explaining its own in-universe lore and fantasy history as it is about either its characters or the actual story that is happening in the game. It's a cool world! With some great lore! But also it is built entirely around Generic Fantasy Plot Structure #1 and never particularly seems interested in innovating, or surprising the player. On top of which, a lot of its setting and lore is pretty weakly sketched and doesn't really get developed into something either visually or narratively compelling until it gets built out in later games.

And while Inquisition has some genuinely fantastic characters, everything else about the game suffers very badly from the plague of BioWare Magic™, i.e. the production was an absolute mess up until the last minute when five hundred extremely overworked and underpaid creative geniuses somehow managed to wring a functional experience out of the trainwreck. It was made with fucking Frostbite of all things, jesus christ, it's holding together with spit and duct tape.

Now, Dragon Age 2 shares a bunch of the problems of Origins and Inquisition. It too bears the hallmarks of "our executives couldn't plan a healthy game production cycle if their lives depended on it" with a lot of unfinished content, half-assed sidequests and a truly frustrating over-reliance on a combat system that isn't half as engaging to use as it needed to be.

But Dragon Age 2 also has something neither of its siblings could ever even hope to match: an actual compelling protagonist.

Like, listen, I know people adore their headcanons about their Wardens and Inquisitors, and it has made for some truly amazing fanworks, but Hawke is literally the only actual character out of all of them. Hawke has conflicts, problems, needs and drives that actually inform and push the story forward, they have a family and a history and a reason to give a sh** about the central conflict of the narrative.

In Origins and Inquisition both, your character becomes the main character of the story entirely because of fate and random chance. You are the Chosen One and you are the only one who can Save The World because you're the last of the super special elite fantasy Hero Squad, or because you got some green magic stuck in your hand by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because the character is a complete blank slate onto which the player is expected to project themselves, random chance and circumstance are the only tools the plot can use to position them as main characters. There is no character to drive them to it.

In Dragon Age 2, Hawke becomes the champion because they're trying to build a new life for their family in Kirkwall, and end up embroiled in the chaos and politics that befall the city as a natural consequence of living in it and dealing with the conditions of it. Hawke and their family's needs and wants drive their actions, and push them to engage in endeavors that influence the course of history. They have agency (in the conceit of the narrative, at least) over how their life turns out, they make choices that have consequences, rather than being dictated into the position of Main Character by a literal looming apocalypse that permits no other course of action.

And I'm not about to sit here and claim that Dragon Age 2's story is perfect or that every character is a masterpiece or that every plotline is amazing. No, there's plenty of scuff and jank and things that have aged poorly and unresolved plot threads and all the rest of it.

And I am definitely not forgetting the godsdamned DLC where BioWare threw it all overboard by inventing a Special Bloodline Plot where oops it turns out Hawke actually IS a special chosen one specially chosen by a special fate to have a special role in Saving The World because they're special because of fate and destiny and blah blah, I still think that was phenomenally stupid (especially when Corypheus wasn't even Hawke's goddamn main villain to deal with what was any of this supposed to add to their character ffs BioWare)

But even with all its problems, the simple fact that Hawke is a character you can give a shit about independent of your own projection as a player - the fact that Hawke isn't just an empty bland blank slate with no personality, no traits, no wants or needs or drives - that has made Dragon Age 2 infinitely more memorable to me than either Origins and Inquisition. I think about it to this day. I think about Hawke to this day. I care about what happens to the character in a way that I just simply could never bring myself to do with either my Wardens or my Inquisitors.

[cutielando]

Hello love, how is everything going?🫂

I'm the one from the Jay in the truck fic, which was amazing, you made someone very happy today (someone is me)😚🩷

If you have time you could write one where Jay dates the reader but he is a few years younger than him, but he's so proud to have met a girl like her, maybe someone on the team makes playful comments about it because he is tough in part but it is as if he was always so soft with her that they come to not know him. maybe they even see a couple of hickeys on him but he looks proud because he is LITERALLY so in love that he kisses the ground where she steps and he loves that they know he has a girl, a little pretentious about it🤭

Maybe also after a difficult case he looks for her because she is his safe space.🫶🏼🥹

This is a bit messy but I'm not good at putting ideas together, I apologize, also english is not my first language in case this is something difficult to understand.🥹🫶🏼

Also sorry that there are so many haha you can take them if you want or just let them pass if you don't feel comfortable, sending you love!💌

comfort person | jay halstead

synopsis: in which he worships you

my masterlist

Jay couldn't believe his luck, in all honesty.

Ever since he could remember, his luck when it came to love and personal relationships was close to being non-existent. His relationship history was excellent proof of that.

But everything seemed to change for the better when he met you.

You had met in a bar, out of all places. Hit it off right away, chatted over a drink, promised to stay in touch.

And oh boy, had you stayed in touch.

You were wary of hanging out with Jay at first, mainly because of the dangers of his job (that he sometimes reminded you of) and because of the age difference.

5 years was not that much, if you were being realistic, but it was still something. You were afraid that you wouldn’t be the woman he was looking for, maybe his expectations in life didn’t align with yours.

Thankfully, you were very wrong about that.

And so, you found yourself together, 1 year later, happier and more in love than ever. Much to the joy of his team, who made it their mission to tease the fuck out of Jay every single day at the precinct.

Especially when they would notice certain marks on his neck after a wild night in bed.

Such an instance was right after the team had finished a very hard case involving a child kidnapping. When Jay got home, you could tell he was absolutely hammered and needed to unwind, so you did the thing you knew would help him out.

The next morning at the precinct, you went with him to say hi to the team, but you got teased instead.

“Woah, did an animal attack you last night?” Adam asked Jay as soon as he got a good look at his colleague.

Jay furrowed his eyebrows, while you were trying to hide your blush in his bicep.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, checking his arms for any kind of marks.

Adam smirked and pointed to his neck, which immediately made your boyfriend realize what he was talking about.

Even though you couldn’t see it because you were hiding your face into his arm, you could tell Jay was blushing furiously while being teased by his close friend.

“Don’t you dare say a word” Jay threatened Adam, who could only laugh at the situation between the two of you.

“I’m gonna go now” you murmured to Jay, quickly standing on your tiptoes to peck his cheek before basically running out of the precinct.

Jay could only blame Adam for your quick departure, much faster than what he had been hoping.

“She certainly keeps you active” Ruzek said once he came back from their break room with a cup of coffee.

“Shut up, Ruz. You’re just jealous you’re not getting any” Jay commented, making Adam act offended.

"I'm just saying, she's sure keeping you busy and fit" Adam continued, giving Jay a sly smile.

"She makes me happy" Jay confessed, smiling to himself when he thought about you and your relationship.

The conversation died with that, a new case putting a pause on Jay's thoughts about you for the time being.

Jay hadn't expected the case to be as rough as it was, and he felt awful by the time he got home to you. He was tired, his limbs were sore and his heart ached. The only thing he wanted in that moment was the sole comfort of your presence, your comforting hugs and just quality time spent away from his job.

When you heard the keys in the lock, you excitedly ran to the front door to welcome him, but your smile was instantly wiped off your face when you saw just how broken and tired he was.

"Rough day?" you asked as you cautiously watched him taking off his shoes and hanging his coat on the hanger.

"Yeah, got a tough care after you came home" he sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before going into the bedroom, placing his gun and badge into his safe before coming back out and joining you on the couch.

He melted into the soft couch, his hand finding yours instantly. You felt for him, not even wanting to imagine how tough his job must get on the hard days, like this one.

You moved Jay's head off the back of the couch and maneuvered him until he was resting his head into your lap, your fingers softly running through his soft hair.

"You want to talk about it?" you asked softly, careful not to disturb the serene atmosphere that had settled between the two of you.

His eyes opened and looked at you, dozens of emotions swimming behind his irises. The only thoughts that occupied his head were how lucky he was to have you, how cared for he was and how much he loved you. He cherished you more than you could ever know, especially in moments like this one, when he is reminded of just how grateful he should be for the life he has.

"I love you" he whispered softly, making you smile at him and lean down to peck his lips, your free hand caressing the side of his face softly.

"I love you more" you whispered back, licking your lips.

And so, the entire evening was spent exactly like that, whispering love confessions to each other like they were a secret to the entire world.

But you loved every second of it.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[praisetheaxolotl]

The Arsonist Theory, Part 4: Blame The Arson, Not The Fire

Part 1: Mandibles!

Part 2: We Get It, The Billboard Was A Metaphor

Part 3: Journey To The Vicious Spiral Nebula

Welcome to the end.

Before we start, I just want to shine a light on some interpretations of the billboard in relation to part 2 of the theory right here, and an observation about "Trust no one" that relates to the theory right here.

Once again, for those new to the theory: it proposes that Bill wasn't alone in destroying his dimension-- he had a partner, one that used him like he used Ford. The previous three posts are crucial to understanding where I'm coming from with this.

This post will mostly be some miscellaneous things that I think could support the overall theory, honestly. So I'm just gonna get started with it. And, as always:

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK OF BILL, INCLUDING CIPHERS

Let's finish this.

So, something that was in the original Arsonist Theory from years ago was that Bill, oddly enough, seemed afraid of his own fire powers. He never uses them in combat, even though it would be a major advantage to him to do so. In fact, he really only seems to use fire as little more than cosmetic flair, lighting his hand on fire to make deals and other situations like that. There are really only three times he uses his fire to directly effect the environment--

Ford's dream sequence, destroying the journals, and burning up the Cipher wheel in the finale.

It's a bit strange, though. All three of those times, he didn't use his signature blue flames. He used orange flames instead.

Another thing is, remember when he died? The second the room lit on fire, he panicked. He's a dream demon, he should have been able to get the hell out of there the second he realized something was wrong! He's not powerless in this situation, so why is he acting like he is? Unless, for some reason, something about the environment reminded him of a certain... other time he was surrounded by fire? A time where, unlike now, he was powerless? Curious!

That on its own doesn't support the theory directly, however it points to lingering trauma from the destruction of Euclidia regardless.

Now... I saw a theory that made an argument that the repeated motifs of "mandibles" points to the idea that Bill might have eaten his own family.

And honestly, I agree. But...

As another layer to it, we only know that Bill had a mutation that let him see the third dimension, along with most likely fire powers since birth. So where did this sudden interest in devouring people come from?

Maybe whoever was with him was the one that taught him it. The one that told him that consuming souls meant that you would never be alone, as they would always be inside of you forever. Because, to me, it seems like an odd leap from "wants to show everyone the third dimension" to "eating people as everything burns around him." So maybe, he was influenced by something? Someone?

And another thing: When Bill is dying, in the Book Of Bill, we see two ciphers on the page.

One of them is "AXOLOTL" over and over, as to be expected.

The other? "Just fit in."

That absolutely sounds like something Euclidia would have pushed upon him! Ergo, he was remembering Euclidia in that moment, ergo the fire did definitively remind him of Euclidia, ergo he seems to get flashbacks when he sees his own fire.

This next part is pure extrapolation, so bear with me here.

Bill, on one page, mentions a highlight of his glory days as being "disassociating, and waking up to find [he'd] conquered another dynasty." Score!

Except... disassociating? Think about it.

Bill had just made a mention to disassociation, implying that he knows that he does it and knows what it feels like for him when it happens.

But when he was talking about Euclidia... he says there's a "loud buzzing in [his] ears and [he] blacks out for 30 seconds."

If this was how his disassociation usually presented itself... wouldn't he just say so?

This doesn't sound like his usual denial, either. When Bill denies something, he remains perfectly cognizant of the events that occurred, merely twisting around some details and/or justifying it to himself.

...Remember back in part one, I said I'd discuss what Bill said about his weaknesses? About how he's been touchy about them ever since... something? And how the obvious interpretation is-- especially considering that he Gatsby's us after the memory gun is mentioned-- that he's touchy ever since the Pines defeated him?

Another thing this book teaches us is that multiple versions of the same object can exist. Mainly, there have been many different iterations of the portal over the centuries.

Perhaps... multiples of some other object can exist, and have existed, and have been used against Bill?

A loud buzzing in your ears. Do you know what makes a loud buzzing noise when it's used?

"No!" You're probably thinking.

"Yes," I say.

Okay, "Probably likely" I say, but that's not as good for dramatic flair.

Sure, the buzzing isn't that loud, but once it's up to your ear... it'd be plenty loud.

One of the ciphers regarding Bill says "EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES." Meaning, there's a secret, deeper layer to even his lies. Maybe it's that, at least here, this isn't necessarily a lie, moreso that he's operating under missing information.

And furthermore- Bill remembers some parts of what happened, judging by the text that wasn't blocked out, which does line up with how the memory gun works-- at the end of the clip, McGucket makes a reference to Bill himself, the very thing he wanted to forget.

And wouldn't that be another instance of some kind of damaging cycle? Something took away Bill's memories, now Bill has stolen the memories of another? I know, I know, it's kind of a long shot.

But you have to admit, it is interesting to think about.

Now, there might be one final thing you might be wanting from me.

If Bill was someone's accomplice, who is the bigger fish?

And to that I say...

I have no fucking idea.

Not a single clue. Bill says on his "weaknesses" page that anyone whose figured out his weaknesses haven't lived to tell the tale, but that's already verifiably false with Stan still being alive, and with the added bonus of his memory possibly being tampered with... are we sure?

I'm... not sure if the thisisnotawabsitedotcom.com lost files will have anything to do with Euclidia or not. I'm not sure what they'll be at all, honestly.

But at the end of the day, I do think this theory holds some sort of ground and is an interesting angle (pun intended) of looking at Bill's past.

Hope you all liked the theorizing, folks! Let's all wait for that countdown!!

[secriden]

*cracks knuckles* Okay lets talk about the elephant in the room: Style going to the support group for those who've suffered loss and telling what appears to be a fake story about losing his pet dog.

I'm going to point out a few things that I think provide a framework for Style's actions here. Not because I think it excuses what he did, but because I think a nuanced read is what the character deserves.

Point 1: An irresistible opportunity

The subs put the "Support Group for Loss" on the image in the notebook, but I'm not sure there's anything to suggest that Style would've known that was what this image represents until he showed up and saw the sign on top of the door.

In episode 2, Bison says, "He plans everything down from years, months, weeks to days" and then tells Kant:

So Style is literally just going to addresses/locations at given days and times, potentially not knowing what to expect. And as much as Fadel is certainly attending this meeting as a response to having that heartbreaking flashback (😭), this is also something he attends regularly and has planned to attend way in advance. So Style has no reason to think Fadel is attending this meeting because of a recent resurfacing of his pain.

What we, the audience, and what the characters know are very different things.

Now, should Style have turned his cute ass right around once he realised what this meeting was? Of course he should. But that wouldn't have been true to Style's character. We've been told by his best friend that he is "crazy" and been shown repeatedly that he lives right up to that description.

Style is impulsive. He's all base instinct and he acts on his desires without thought or contemplation. And by this point he is desperate for a deeper connection with Fadel. He's fascinated, captivated by the mystery that is Fadel and this is an excellent opportunity to finally see behind the wall Fadel so carefully maintains.

When Style sees the sign above the door, Style looks at the notebook (which, again, shows nothing but people sitting in a circle with the words RISE UP) like he's just realising what it means. He then gets this amused, almost rueful look on his face (like he's thinking "am I really going to do this?") before it shifts to determination and he walks through the door.

(My soul for the ability to once again gif something because FUCK Dunk is doing SO MUCH in this show!!)

To Style, this is just too good of an opportunity to give up.

Because let's be real, Fadel is so clearly lying and hiding something:

Fadel is shady as FUCK. He is simultaneously actually a really good cook (Style finally tries his burger so he knows, now), and also has the skills to work at a strip host club, and also can take on 3 guys in a fight, and also can break a man's arm with his thighs. Can you honestly blame Style for losing his mind just a little bit about wanting to get his hands on something, anything, to figure this man out?

Style is being absolutely consistent in his persistence to understand Fadel. This isn't about the car or about finally 'winning' the fight (thank you @airenyah for giving such a detailed framework to understand what Style's been doing until this point) anymore. This is about Style wanting to know Fadel himself.

Point 2: The potential implications of the setting

Now, what might give us a bit of insight as to why Style is this way? I have a theory (albeit one that could prove to be very wrong, but hear me out). I think this whole entire show is set in what could potentially be quite a small town/suburb.

There's a few things that make this theory plausible:

(1) Fadel and Bison are in hiding after Bison blew their previous cover. They're probably on the run from some section of the authorities and so it makes sense to settle in a quiet/out of the way place.

(2) Style seems to be really familiar with the people in the area. Like he grew up there and its the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone is in everyone else's business.

(3) Style is clearly the darling of the market aunties and uncles.

Style just lost her a sale and potentially a loyal customer, and she's still rooting for him? In episode 2, when Style asks the uncle to let him borrow his cart, it takes nothing but his word for the uncle to give Style his entire cart of produce for his ridiculous scheme.

Style is so clearly someone they all know well and have great affection for, and a very plausible explanation for this is that they all watched him grow up and the entire market (town/village) is fond of him.

And honestly?? Yeah, we see the way Style is actually quite sweet in that careless, guileless, thoughtless way. He goes the extra mile to fix his mistake with Fadel by replacing his car parts for free in episode 1. He helps out by taking orders in episode 2 without being asked and takes it seriously. In episode 3, he tries to drive more business to Fadel's store (bless him, he so clearly does NOT understand how restaurants work, but he MEANS well!!), and can we all acknowledge that it works?? He understands how to appeal to potential customers in the area because he knows the people there. It's not (entirely) his fault that Fadel wasn't remotely prepared for an actual rush crowd and Bison was off getting kinky with Kant and not doing his (fake) job. He is so clear about not judging Fadel's host job and tries his hardest to help him (to absolutely NO effect, but still) when the 3 guys gang up on Fadel.

Style is so loved and more importantly so very loveable.

Point 3: What this could mean for Style's character

So, potentially, Style is someone who grew up in a small town, who has been well loved, potentially spoiled and coddled, but also very much kept within the confines of the narrow viewpoint that a quiet, country town places on you.

It's in the way his dad scolds him as if he was still a child when he's at least in his mid to late 20s. It's in the way Style was so mad at Fadel for scolding him ("thanks for the lecture, dad"), like that hit a sore point for Style. It's in the way no one in the market takes him seriously; they're fond, but he's still a kid in their eyes. It's in the way he has an abundance of free time like he doesn't REALLY need to work at his dad's shop. It's in the way he sees Fadel beat 3 guys up with ease, starts wondering if Fadel is an assassin or a hitman, and is completely unfazed like he doesn't quite have a handle on reality.

It's in the way his best friend is a man who has no qualms about lying to him and putting his life in danger, and how Style seems to have no other friends or people (aside from his dad) in his life.

@wuxian-vs-wangji made a comment to me about Style being desperate for a meaningful connection, and I think she hit the nail on the head. Because along comes Fadel, a mysterious stranger with a suspiciously versatile set of skills who is also very hot and keeps giving Style these wonderfully complex reactions? Who sometimes wants nothing to do with Style, but at other times seems to be at war within himself about desperately wanting him? Who treats Style with anything but apathy?

This is catnip to Style; he never had any hope of resisting this.

Breaking news: Style is a complex and imperfect character...

Here's the thing, though: he was never going to try. The show has been incredibly upfront about who Style is as a person. Regardless of whether I'm correct about why he is this way (ie. that he is very much the product of the environment that didn't know how to handle a kid with Style's personality), episode 3 shouldn't have surprised anyone about Style. He's been incredibly consistent and true to himself.

He wants Fadel and he's "crazy" enough to go all in, no holds barred about it, and the Support Group was the biggest doorway to finally discovering something REAL about Fadel.

And its not just about sex or to prove his superiority anymore. Because if it was just that, then Style would have reacted very differently to their first time.

In this scene, Style is pleased and evidently enjoying himself, but he isn't exuberant. He isn't overcome with joy. If anything, he was more happy and excited when Fadel let him help out in the diner (I mentioned this in the tags in this post too) than he was when Fadel is literally fucking him. He lets Fadel set the pace; barely moves to touch Fadel except to hold him close. Almost like he doesn't want to accidentally mess this up, like he's worried he'll take too much, so he'll take what Fadel gives him and no more (please appreciate @braceletofteeth's amazing tags on this post). For a character that has been so aggressively on the offensive, this is shocking until you realise that sleeping with Fadel - while it's a step in the right direction - isn't Style's end goal anymore.

And he makes that abundantly clear in this episode:

Does Style even fully realise the weight of this desire? I doubt it. But I do believe that Style is in earnest. He doesn't fully understand his own feelings, but he also doesn't really care to either. All he knows is that he wants Fadel, wants his attention and his passion and his focus and his heart.

...but Style is also kind of, sort of, perfect.

Because he's exactly, precisely, breathtakingly exactly what Fadel needs.

Because Fadel is hurt and broken and bleeding inside. Because Fadel is barely holding it all together for Bison's sake, but has already given up hope for any true happiness for himself. Because Fadel can't trust anyone or anything in his life, when he's been used and used and used by the family who should've loved and cared and protected him.

Because it's going to take nothing short of this kind of unwavering, unshakable, uncomplicated determination to give Fadel even a chance of healing and opening his heart to love again.