#not the whole season but i could do that too

[roanofarcc]

YOU & ME

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: After returning to OBX, after the events of the past four years have cooled off, JJ realizes it's about time he asks you a very important question. 

Warning: JJ deserves a happy ending! Season 4 spoilers.

word count. 1k || masterlist

JJ found you out on the dock, leaning over the railing and looking at something in the water. He smiled to himself as he strolled toward you, running his fingers over the ring he stuffed in his pocket. 

“Find any treasure down there?” JJ asked as he approached you.

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “Not funny,” you replied, but there was a smile on your lips that told him otherwise. 

The Pogues had rightfully retired from their treasure-hunting days. Too many close calls and they weren’t willing to risk it anymore. They didn’t need to, not after finally cashing out for the last time. JJ, with your guidance and gentle threats, promised to be responsible with his share this time around. For the first time in his life, he saw a future illuminated brightly ahead of him. He had you, his friends, and even a God-daughter now. While his risky tendencies weren’t completely put to bed, he was comfortable where he stood and finally felt like he could relax. 

All in all, he was happy. But there was still something he had yet to do. 

He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you both gazed at the water. As much as he had once enjoyed action and adventure, JJ partially used it as an escape. He felt like he had been running from something his whole life, trying to make sense of why he was the way he was. He used to think that, if he never slowed down, nothing would have the chance to hurt him too much. But then he found a family within his friends and a reason to stop running within you. He didn’t need to escape anymore or run. He didn’t need to make sense of anything anymore. JJ Maybank finally had everything he had been looking for. His world made sense for the first time, and he had no intention of screwing that up. 

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up and brushing a hand across his cheek. 

“Yeah, just thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, moving to stand in front of him. You hugged him lightly, peering at him with furrowed brows. “Thinkin’ about what?” 

JJ leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You.” 

“And what about me?” Your breath was warm against his face, competing against the cool breeze off the water. The distant laughter of his friends sounded from up the dock, where they all sat around, eating and cooing at little baby Routledge. 

The worst years of his life, only peppered with good from his Pogues, felt like lifetimes behind him. All of the pain he experienced faded like his scars. He only had the good parts now, and there wasn’t a chance on Earth he’d let them slip away. 

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” JJ said, hesitant not because he was unsure, but because there was still a fear in the far depths of his mind that you’d leave him. It was stupid, you had told him that a million and three times, but he couldn’t help the faint voice in the back of his head pestering him in a whisper. 

You silently waited for him to continue. As he worked up the courage, he closed his eyes for just a second, picturing the same little dream he’d created in his head not long after meeting you. 

“We’ve got a pretty good thing goin’, huh?” he started. 

A breathy laugh fell from your lips. “I’d say so.” 

“Right, and I, um, I don’t really want it to end, you know?” 

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his nose. “I don’t plan on it ending, JJ. It’s you and me, remember?” 

He did; he remembered the promise you made not long after you first met. It started off as a pack between friends, but it morphed into something deeper. You and him. If he had anything, he had that to hold on to. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the ring he had stolen a while back with the intention of, one day, slipping it on your finger. Leaning back from you, he held up the ring between two fingers, letting the dainty silver shine in the growing moonlight. “You and me. Forever, maybe?” 

It took a moment for realization to dawn on you, but it struck with force. Your eyes blew wide, and your mouth fell open in a humorous and bewildered laugh. “Are you asking me to marry you?” 

JJ nodded, sheepishly using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I probably should have gotten down on one knee, right? To be fair, it’s my first time.�� He went to lower himself onto the dock, but you stopped him, cupping his face in your hands. 

“And it’s perfect,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “I would love to marry you, JJ Maybank.” 

He felt like he was going to cry too from the pure excitement and love that swelled inside his chest. Blinking back his own happy tears, he took your hand and slid the ring on your finger. It wasn’t some extravagant engagement ring, but it fit like a glove on your finger like it had been made for you. The smile on your face was enough confirmation that you liked it. 

You kissed him, the warm metal of the ring pressed against his cheek. It was a feeling he was looking forward to getting used to. To kiss you forever, until you’re old and gray and yelling at kids to get off your lawn. JJ used to have a hard time looking past eighteen, trying to figure out what he’d become if he made it that far. Would he be locked up like every adult in his life used to tell him? Would he end up like his father or the man he used to think was his father? 

But he didn’t have to worry anymore, about any of it. He made it past eighteen and a different path awaited him, a good one, a happy one. 

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[aspoonofsugar]

"I'm done blaming myself for your mistakes"

This line by Vi pretty much sums up her conflict in Act 1 of season 2, but I have yet to see it discussed. The point is, in fact, that Vi does blame herself, which is why she is unable to properly call Cait out. If Jinx specifically were not the one responsible for Cassandra's death, I doubt Vi would have stayed silent in front of Cait calling Zaunites animals or that she would have accepted many of Cait's actions without saying a word.

Vi still feels at fault for Powder becoming Jinx, which makes her vulnerable and willing to compromise on her morals, so that Caitlyn would not leave her. Ironically, I think this behavior is among the reasons why their love story does not work out in the first Act. They fail to communicate properly.

On the one hand Cait treats Vi badly. She insults Vi's people and insists that Vi should become an enforcer, despite her knowing of Vi's painful past. Obviously this is wrong, but personally I think it stems from Caitlyn's poor attempt to reconcile her love for Vi with her hate for Jinx:

"Three faces keep spinning through my mind. I see mother when they found her. And every fiber of me just sinks like in dark water. But then there is Jinx. Laughing. I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever. Then I see Vi. I asked her to put on the uniform. Suffice to say, she declined."

Cait's solution is to have be become a part of her society, so that she can keep on hating Jinx and the "bad" Zaunites, while loving Vi and the "good" Zaunites. Except it obviously does not work.

On the other hand Vi is unable to call Cait out. And the whole point is that Cait needed someone to call her out. She is grieving, but she is obviously becoming like the enforcers she once despised. Like the enforcers Vi despised. She negates Cassandra's legacy, by using her ventilation system to poison the air. She acts cruelly against a man, who is unharmed and who has clearly been hurt by that same gas she weaponized. She is ready to shoot a child (even if she does not intend to kill her), so that she can get at Jinx. Vi clearly sees all of this, which is why she asks Cait not to change:

Vi: Everyone in my life has changed. Promise me you won't change.

However, she fails to confront Cait about it all. Except that when you are in a relationship, you must feel secure and free to call the other person out. Even to get into a fight with the other person. Still, Vi is so terrified of losing Cait too, that she is indecisive. And in the end she is tragically left behind by Cait.

This happens because Vi herself has not yet decided who she wants to be. Is she a Zaunite or an Enforcer? Does she want to kill Jinx or not? Vi can't choose. Jinx even calls her out on this:

Jinx: Plastering my face all over, so someone else would do your dirty work?

She tells Cait she wants Jinx dead, but the moment she can kill Jinx she doesn't. Sure, Isha comes between them, but after Cait disarms Isha, Vi could pretty easily take Isha away from Jinx and let Cait kill her sister. However, she does not. That is clearly because she sees Powder in Isha. Jinx and Isha embraced are clearly representative of who Jinx is as a whole. She is an unstable terrorist, but she is also a hurt child. That is who Jinx is and that is what Vi (and Jinx herself) needs to see and to reconcile. Even now, Vi insists that Powder is dead and that only Jinx remains. However, Jinx is Powder no matter how much Silco, Jinx herself and Vi insist she isn't. She still clearly is.

It is just that Powder has changed, but this is normal. Just like it is normal Vi herself has changed and will need to change again, so that she can decide who she really wants to be. Just like Jinx and just like Cait will have to do.

As a side note, I am loving the foiling between Cait and Jinx. They have always been foils, but while last season focused on how this juxtaposition impacts Jinx, right now we are seeing how it impacts Cait.

In season 1, Jinx sees Cait as Vi replacing her. In a sense, Jinx's jealousy of Vi stems from that same inability to accept change. Jinx too deep down hopes she can go back to being the innocent Powder and that Vi can love her, like she did in the past. However, that is not possible because people change and forge new relationships. Jinx forges a bond with Silco she can't simply erase because Vi wants to. Just like she can't erase the one with Vi simply because Silco wants to. Similarly, Vi has a new bond with Cait that she can't break simply because Jinx asks her to. So, Caitlyn is really who Jinx wants to be. Someone complementary to Vi in battle, but also reliable, dependent, lovable. By the end of season 1, Jin realizes she can't really be that person anymore and interiorizes there is a part of her Vi can't understand. That same part Silco instead accepts.

Silco: Don't cry. You are perfect.

In season 2, Jinx becomes Cait's dark side. She is really Cait's Joker, as she is the one who challenges Cait's sense of justice and morals:

Cait: It's her blood in your veins. Vi: Then why are you the one acting like her?

Cait is letting grief and pain change her for the worse, just like Powder was transformed by her own losses and traumas. Cait keeps insisting she is different from Jinx, but she isn't. In fact, her whole fiasco kinds of hint at it symbolically. Cait poisons the underground city in her attempt to catch Jinx. Only for Jinx rewinding the ventilation system, so that the poison Cait used is sent back to Piltover. Jinx literally acts like Cait's mirror, which is why Cait's shot ends up hitting exactly this, a mirror. As in, Cait can't really kill Jinx without hurting both herself, Vi and the whole city :P

I am curious to see how their foiling will develop, now that both girls are growing into the leaders of their opposite factions.

[hexhomos]

What's your reading on the Arcane situation, do you think Jayce and Viktor's relationship wil become less subtextual as it goes on? Or is that it with the affection comment?

My honest answer: we are getting Something. Will it be fully canonized? Will it be hinted at? Will it be painted as one-sided? I have no idea on the specifics but given the arcane content being promised lately (jayce-viktor legendaries, a song that seems to be about them, their nemesis quests talking about convincing the other to join their side, jayce straight up giving viktor his iconic cape and his own final outfit having 'V's' all over...)

Animators/Storyboarders and artists at Fortiche have expressed interest in jv multiple times before and Amanda confirmed in an interview that they have been given A LOT more freedom in the montages this season, whole blank spaces to fill. Last time that happened? they inserted the romantic subtext of jinx/ekko into their fight and thats what got Amanda to see them as a potential couple (this is said in Bridging The Rift.) its not hard to see how a similar thing may happen here. The fact that jayce is getting a legendary written by the same person who did hweijhin is interesting to me idk...... something in the subtext..........?

Given Riot's track record, i don't expect a happy ending. all their male/male pairings end in terrible tragedy or breakup or open ended "will they ever confess???" but its worth noting they started taking them out of the closet A LOT MORE WILLINGLY after arcane season 1 aired and they experienced the huge negative blowback of jayvik being seemingly set up to be canon only to be shot down again. We could get a tragic love confession dual death thing or jayce dropping the L word in an ambiguous platonic/romantic context before he or viktor blow up to smithereens, and then some gay ass voicelines in game.

A lot of the gay subtext we are getting this season is from the visual/animation side too. just worth keeping an eye on 👁

[puck-luck]

14 of hearts with Quinn 🙏 they finally talk about starting a family after being at a team event where the reader spent the whole night with the kids and after the families with kids leave she gets sad…and a little drunk

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, breeding kink, PDA WC: 578

You have a slight problem. You’re tipsy and there’s a baby in your arms. You’re drunk enough that you’re not sure exactly who the baby belongs to, but Quinn had been carrying her awkwardly, so you’d scooped her up and decided to dote on her. Of course, you’d had to cross the room to get to him and the baby, your vision tunneling as soon as you spotted him. 

Turns out, Quinn was only holding her so that her parents could wish the hosts goodbye without a tired baby in their arms. She’s taken from you far too soon, which you act gracious about, but inside, you’re pouting. You love babies. They’re so cute and so precious and you love the idea of watching a tiny little human, that you made with the love of your life, learn how to be a person. 

Once the parents are gone, taking your new favorite little friend with them, you pout at Quinn outwardly. “I want one,” you whine petulantly.

Quinn rolls his eyes, but he smiles at you fondly. “You’re drunk,” he says.

“Only a little,” you reply. “And that doesn’t change anything. I still want a baby. I want you to give me one.” You bring your hands to his sides and wrinkle the fabric of his shirt in your hands. 

Quinn covers your hands with his own and removes them from his clothing. He fixes you with an unimpressed look. “We’re in public,” he reminds you.

“Then take me home.” You bring your arms over his shoulders, plastering yourself against his front. You touch his nose in a brief Eskimo kiss, ghosting your lips over his. “We should practice.”

“Practice what?” Quinn asks, playing along. He hugs your middle, keeping you close. You’re both toeing the line of acceptable PDA, especially when you’re at an event with Quinn’s colleagues, but you can’t be bothered. You’re horny and you want to make a mini-Quinn. You’ve seen his baby pictures– he was adorable. 

“Making a baby,” you sing-song, toying with his hair. He hasn’t cut it since the start of the season, so it’s growing nice and long. He also hasn’t shaved in a little while, so his facial hair is your favorite length. “I’ll let you come inside me as many times as you want.”

“Tempting,” Quinn laughs. “But, again, baby– you’re drunk.”

“I’m horny,” you correct.

“You’re horny because you’re drunk,” Quinn says. He pecks your lips. “I promise, as soon as we’re both sober, we can do every little dirty thing you could ever dream of.”

“You’re no fun,” you tell him with a frown. 

Quinn allows one of his hands to drift lower and pat your ass. He kisses your cheek, then puts his mouth right next to your ear. “We can have a lot of fun tomorrow,” he mutters. “When you’re sober. I want you to remember every second when I try and knock you up for the first time, baby.”

You straighten your posture a bit, reacting to his words. You sway with him a bit like you’re slow-dancing. It’s certainly out of place in this environment, to be holding your boyfriend so close for this long, but you don’t care. You want to be touching him and you like what he’s saying.

“Gonna look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you, sweetheart,” Quinn continues. “But I’ll have to make sure it stays inside somehow. We can’t take any chances, can we?”

[captainsbestgal]

I've been on this train for years, and I'm a huge MCU fan. Hell my username is MCU related.

Nothing has gotten me excited for an MCU movie until they dropped the new Captain America trailer. It looks like they're going back to the semi-political thriller genre that they did for the second Captain America film. If that's the case, I'm hyped. But I'm skeptical. I don't exactly trust the MCU to do this story justice. And ffs they had to change the name of the movie cause it was originally pretty antisemitic (a new world order). They also changed the background of a character so she was no longer a Mossad spy, which is a whole other can of worms. Some say they went too far with changing her background while others say they should've just gotten rid of her character all together because she represents a genocidal government.

Thunderbolts looks like it's gonna do my man Bucky dirty, and Agatha has had no appeal to me. From the gifs I've seen it makes me really confused who this show is even for.

This doesn't even get into their failed movie/tv phase post Endgame. Thor 4? Eternals? The Hawkeye TV show? Ms. Marvel? Echo?god theres probably more that im forgetting about. The only ones that I think that were all that good wete Loki, the faclcon and the winter soldier, and wandvision. Loki was good but like theres a second season, and i dont think anyone could tell you what it's about. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, which I adored but apparently no one else did. And WandaVision which I think may have been their best show by far, but they really clung onto Agatha when I think having a show about the CIA guy that Randall Park played wouldve been more fun. Like him running around the US, investigating superhumans or local super heroes would've been really cool.

I know this was a major throw things at the wall and see what sticks era, with Ironman dying and Steve Roger's going back in time they had little to no main characters left. But they really oversaturated the market with characters and none really had the magic that the OG movies had. Even those left from the OG movies are no longer appealing. Like who REALLY saw the 4th Thor movie?

They fucked it up themselves and they're trying HARD to unfuck it (ie Robert Downey Jr. coming back as a villian).

Tldr Marvel didn't think their cinematic universe through and is floundering now.

it's so insane the the mcu is still making new shit. like stop it already. go home. who is still watching.

[lover-of-mine]

Anna baby we got new stills!! I am very curious why so many of Buck's outfits have been brown. The flannel he's wearing in the loft??? Blue and red and brown??? I'm thinking they tell Buck Maddie is pregnant, and it gets Buck thinking about a family (adding to his already immense longing), add in the pictures on his fridge and he is so close to understanding what he wants! But anyway! What is with the brown????

Hello baby!! So, the brown. I was talking about the brown with @stagefoureddiediaz literally yesterday lol. But current theory is that they are playing with both the stability and growth attached to the color when put in a positive light and the sense of isolation when we put it in a negative light. Buck doesn't wear brown a lot pre-season 7, his neutral color is grey, but ever since he came out he has been in a grey/sepia scale. The only instances me and Kym could come up with at the top of our heads was when Chim kicks Buck out and he has to move back with Maddie and the grocery store fight.

It plays into movements in Buck's life he needs to figure out alone, in a sense. Only Buck can break his own patterns and using a color that's attached to both stability and growth, like who he is for Eddie in 710, and loneliness, the grocery store, is fun because only Buck can allow himself to grow, he needs to do this for himself

Brown was also very attached to Tommy, Buck hasn't worn any brighter colors, like he would do his blues and red in previous seasons, this season yet, except for his costume, and I think it also plays into the way Buck forces himself to be what his partner wants and fails to consider what chipping away pieces of himself will do to him, like the way Tommy doesn't know he doesn't like basketball or the way Buck never complained about the "Evan" thing or the way Buck didn't know Tommy is gay or was engaged before or all the tiny ways they showed us Buck and Tommy didn't really know each other. And that plays into the way Buck was dimming himself while trying to find himself in the relationship, while trying to make dating Tommy something transformative, especially because while doing that, he was negating parts of who he is.

The brown hoodie is the first time we are seeing Buck in plain brown too, he's usually in a pattern or a textured fabric, and the mopping around and the very obvious stress-baking on "faded" colors with Jee in a literal rainbow, probably leading Buck to talk to Maddie and Chim in the red and blue will be interesting if that's the correct sequence of events. Because it will allow Buck to start bringing that color back to his life.

He's back in his self-discovery blue and that red with Buck is attached to emotions, trying to get in the right direction when it comes to his feelings, like trying to let go of Abby, his speech about love, a few moments in 208, Buck, actually as a whole works for Buck to try and figure out his own feelings.

But he's not in the true red, so, as pointed out to me by Kym, it's almost as if he's locking himself. He's not ready to have the revelation yet, But he will be back in blue, that's a good step, he will probably work his way back to his blue, being in it when he's ready for Eddie.

I will taglist this one (interact with this post if you wanna get tagged)

@sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @singitforthegirls @dangerpronebuddie @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @miles--to--go @jesuisici33 @wolfdeans @lunarsolar1 @joshwritesfics @glasscities @kejfeblintz @stagefoureddiediaz @mosaicstardust @eddiedisasterdiaz @hermioneindisguise @queerprincesseddiediaz @lookforanewangle @becausebuckley @lemotmo @thenainitaldisaster

@dingdongfries @angelcamael

[cloudxgears]

I like to think that the way Jinx reacts to seeing Vi in the enforcer uniform is less about what happened to their parents and more about how her Vi never would have done that and realising the Vi she understood and who was familiar and safe and recognisable to her is gone for good. Because obviously no one in the Undercity likes enforcers or their topside oppressors, but Jinx is never once shown with the same vehement hatred of enforcers that young Vi had.

I think this is just about Vi. It's about Jinx's disappointment towards the big sister she spent her life looking up to, and her shock that Vi's life experiences were that bad that they've led her to lose any character and principles she used to have.

I really don't think Jinx ever cared as much about gaining freedom for Zaun and revenge on Piltover as young-Vi and Silco did. Jinx' world was always quite insular. She focused on her special interest and developing her talent, making bombs and weapons, to enable her survival, improve her self-esteem and to try to help the ones she loves. Everything she did was about proving she could survive after coming from nothing and being the kicked puppy, and to prove herself to the ones she admires.

The whole point of the teaparty scene was about deciding who to trust and who to choose and if it had happened differently she would have gone off with Vi and done what it took to make Vi keep loving her and if that meant not using the bomb she wouldn't have done it.

She isn't exactly driven by revenge like pre-teaparty Vi and post-Cassandra Cait, or by wanting dignity and wider respect like Silco and young-Vi. She's driven by loyalty and her desire to be valued and seen by those she loves, and she has no one left to be loyal to, Silco is dead and her Vi isn't there anymore, so she's dead inside.

Having her own daughter to care for (and probably losing her) is what will make her want to become a symbol and put the fire in her to truly want revenge for the first time.

But that moment in the smog seeing Vi in uniform below her is the moment the teaparty and watching Jinx use the bomb on the council building was for Vi. It's Jinx' first moment realising Vi isn't safe for her anymore and has become a total stranger. That's when she's confronted by understanding that she'll never get her Vi back again and she doesn't have the history or connection to this new woman anymore to be able to understand her. It's the first time realising the memory of the Vi she has loved and hated and held on to all this time has been extinguished by this imposter.

And she naturally has a total panic attack at the loss.

It gives you more understanding of Vi's internal feelings about Jinx. Vi doesn't show her reactions in the same big way Jinx does. She had to be Powder's parental figure as a kid and she desired to follow in Vander's footsteps and become a leader one day, so she had to constantly maintain a positive and strong front and suppress anything else. She always made sure whenever Powder looked up at her to project, 'Everything is going to be fine, because I will make it so, don't worry :)' because she was a great big sister.

And then she was locked in prison for 7+ years where she couldn't afford to show weakness or have obvious breakdowns. Also I like how her coping mechanism is shown by her general attitude to be optimism, and even in somewhere as desolate as Stillwater it's easy to imagine her against all odds fighting to maintain a can-do attitude and having a mantra of 'It will be fine and I'll get out of this one day because I have to', and that mindset takes a lot of suppressing too.

So she implodes rather than explodes in a way that's difficult for an observer to notice or understand. Which is why her S2 actions so far look so wack to most people.

The moment in the smog and the panic attack after is the first time Jinx is having the same big realisation Vi had to her during Season 1, realising that is not her safety or the big sister she can look up to anymore. It's losing a part of herself that Jinx admits at the end of S1 has kept her alive all these years.

[worshipme]

tyler knows he's done for when the sentiments that yaz voices out makes a stupid grin appear on his heating up face. these were things that he'd usually make fun of a person for and find them cringeworthy. but when it's yaz telling him these things and he's wholeheartedly agreeing... tyler doesn't care that its cringe. this is everything he could ever ask for in life. there was nothing better than being able to just be cringe with that one person that makes your life a whole lot better.

her reaction to the bouquet was one that he took a mental snapshot of. while he was confident that she'd at least like the gift, he hadn't expected to see tears begin to well in her eyes. "my baby~" he coos while she kisses his jaw. his arm snakes around her waist and his free hand comes up to cup her cheek. tyler's careful not to crush the bouquet as he pulls her in closer.

"you deserve it." he hushes out in a whisper. "you have no idea how many people i had to talk to in order to find a florist that was selling stargazers. they're not in season but i knew i'd be able to find someone. i just really wanted to get you your favorite flower." he brushes his thumb against her cheekbone. he admires her, and tyler feels some of his nerves die off. he'd managed to impress her right off the bat - all he has to do now is keep impressing her.

"alright, ready to go?" he asks her with a giggle. he's aware at how silly it is to switch from gifting her a bouquet to asking if she's ready to head out, but as much as he loves to just have her in his arms - he's aware that they were still in a public space and he was starting to feel shy at the thought of people just... watching them in an intimate moment. tyler kisses her forehead before pulling away from her. he holds the door open for her while she slides in. "if it's too big, you can just put it in the backseat. up to you." he tells her before he shuts the door and jogs around the car to make it to his side.

he slides in the drivers seat and starts the car. "alright, lets get you connected to the car. i'm so ready to hear your playlist." he tells her while he starts the process of pairing up her phone to his car so that she could play her songs.

post-dated 11.11.24:

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but exhale several deep breaths. She wasn’t entirely sure that this was nerves - it couldn’t be. Her and Tyler at this point were already well acquainted, so the danger of the unknown when it came to dating wasn’t entirely applicable here ... yet still, she wanted to make a good impression for him.

Outfit after outfit laid on her floor in her indecision before opting for a tight, black dress with several revealing cut-outs. She had been going back and forth while she did a small turn in the mirror. Was this trying too hard? Was there even such a thing? She knew just from her comfortability with Tyler that he would be fine with her just wearing a paper bag … but it wasn’t good enough for her. He deserved to have her at her best, just as he had done the same for her since they began whatever blooming relationship this was beginning to be.

“You think this is fine, Tofi?” She spoke to the dog like he’d give her any kind of validation and in own way, he did. With a wag of his tail and expression, happy as ever. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to the top of her pup’s head before grabbing her purse to head out the door. “Be a good boy. I’ll be back later.” She hushed as the clinks of her heels followed her out the door, leading her to Tyler’s front door. And with a baited breath, she knocked.

[deeplyobsessed]

i think the beautiful thing about buddie is that 911 came out in a time period where it’s possible to become canon

like with supernatural for example, it came out in a slightly less accepting time so destiel could never become (happily) canon as much as the fandom wanted it to be

with 911 tho, the fact that they were allowed to do that whole bi buck arc 7 SEASONS into the series (and buck’s a main cast member too!) gives fans a lot of hope that someday buddie might become a thing because the show actually listens to the fans (to some degree)

truly glad to be living in this era of mainstream television :>>>>

[stitchwraith-stingers]

since its the 14th over here and a new wish is out on netflix, heres how to help out with the ratings if you want a season 2(from what ive heard)

watch the whole show! - to and from the beginning, and without skipping any part of it, theres abunch of languages that have been dubbed from what i know so maybe you could do it a second time in that language if youre up for it

if you dont feel like watching it you could also have it playing in the background! im unsure if having it muted will effect ratings, just make sure you say youre watching

rate every episode if it tells you too!

if you are resubscribing / joining netflix for the first time then that should be the first show you watch! (or something along the lines, idk i dont usually watch stuff on netfelix)

if i understood this correctly, dont overdo it with the rewatches! netflix might think ur a bot, or something

(apparently?) only the first half of the show drops, make sure to also watch it when the 2nd half drops!

(this could just go for any show that needs a high rating to be greenlit for another season because netflix is sorta ass in the time frame department tbh)

happy wishing! or odding, whichever it may be

[tomorrowxtogether]

BEOMGYU: “I realized just how much love I have for performing onstage”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.12

BEOMGYU says he spent the time he was out with an injury falling even deeper in love with the stage. Clearly, the idol draws on hardship to propel himself forward: Even as he talks about the hard times, a humble smile flashes across his face as he adds, “but it’s okay.” BEOMGYU—who knows that “sometimes you stumble, it’s fine”—knows what it takes to get back on his feet.

Season two of Workout ZZANG is really entertaining, just like season one. You seem really comfortable doing variety shows now. You’re really in your element! (laughs)  But you’ve also said that you’re not usually so energetic. BEOMGYU: Workout ZZANG is a physically demanding show. I figured out during the first season that people find it funnier when I’m really struggling. You can just tell by looking at the view count—the episodes where I have the hardest time always got the most views. (laughs) I realized not to play it safe and that I need to put in as much effort as possible. And I think my genuine love of the show makes that possible. I mean, it’s got my name on it. I really love how you’re always quick to make your guests feel welcomed, too. BEOMGYU: Because I’m playing host to them on my own show. (laughs) I thought a lot about how to approach them without making it awkward. I couldn’t do a total deep dive on them, but I tried to be plenty familiar with them. I even watched other variety shows they’d been on to see what kind of things they like to do. HUENINGKAI made a surprise appearance, too. BEOMGYU: It was great to have someone I have perfect back-and-forth with on. He was great at coming up with these quips, probably from filming so much content, like TO DO X TXT. He was a lot of fun. Oh, and the aerobics episode was exhausting, and even though it was really hot and Huening gets hot easily, he was really active during it, which I was grateful for. I was laughing, watching that episode by myself when we were in the US and I showed it to him and said, “Hey, this one’s really funny.” (laughs)

You talked before about the pressure you feel to be good on variety shows. Do you find you’re able to enjoy it a bit more now? BEOMGYU: I was worried right from when we first debuted about what special thing I could do or role I could play to contribute to the group. Thanks to doing Workout ZZANG, I think I’ve established myself as the one who’s good at doing variety shows. I was really grateful they called me back to make a second season, and I could feel that I’ve grown a lot from it. My friends I hadn’t heard from in ages suddenly contacted me to say, “Hey, this is really funny,” and the rest of the group said the same thing and wished me the best with it. I felt really proud—like I was being acknowledged.

In contrast to your overflowing energy when you’re on variety shows, the very calmest side of you comes out when you do BEOMEDIO. BEOMGYU: Part of it’s about showing what I’m like at three in the morning, but the best part is getting to read what MOA sends in. Reading their stories let me visualize and indirectly experience things I haven’t experienced myself. I read them all through quickly and thoroughly before going live. There’s a whole lot of people who write really beautifully. (laughs) A lot of times I feel like I understand them so well that I get choked up reading them. And I’m always thankful for the ones that end with, “I love you, BEOMGYU.”

You said on BEOMEDIO, “When it comes to sharing happiness, the person doing the sharing doesn’t end up with less, and it fills the hearts of the people who receive it, too.” If you could share one thing that made you happy recently, what would it be? BEOMGYU: Honestly, this year’s been filled with a lot of good experiences. I’m making an effort to find happiness even in the smallest things now. There were minor things, like when we had our “Deja Vu” comeback, I felt great because the outfits were beautiful. I helped write the lyrics for two tracks on the latest album, and that made me extremely happy. (laughs) And I’ve been incredibly happy going to my favorite artists’ concerts and doing our own. I’d say there was more happiness than sadness this year.

Even though it’s been a year full of happiness, there was also a painful period for you because of an injury. I can guess how tough that was for you considering you were crying at the end of the concert. BEOMGYU: It was really hard for me mentally. That was right when I was deep into my work. We had this great schedule lined up, and as things started to fall apart, it felt like my mental state fell apart with it. And when we were at the Tokyo Dome, I thought, We’re at this place with this huge audience and I can’t even perform? It killed me. On the other hand, though, it also had a positive impact on me in a way. That was my first time watching the other members perform from offstage, and I could see how amazing and impressive they were. The place was packed, and hearing them cheer, I was like, I’m doing something really amazing—I’m working with some really amazing people. I found it really motivating.

Didn’t it also make you think about how you’re just as amazing when you’re up on that stage? (laughs) BEOMGYU: I thought, I can absolutely slay when I’m onstage, too! (laughs) I think the others were amazing and put on an absolutely flawless performance as just the four of them, but I have certain ways of expressing myself and there’s some breathtaking parts that only I can do, you know? I thought, I don’t even care if my foot gets more broken—I just wanna be onstage. I took performing onstage for granted, but as soon as I wasn’t able to, I realized just how much love I have for it. All the rest of them carried you around when you got hurt at the Tokyo Dome. BEOMGYU: It was really reassuring to me and I was so grateful to them, but in a way I also felt really sorry. When a concert’s coming towards the end, we’ve already used up so much energy that just standing by itself can be hard by that point. I realize how hard it was for them to carry me around under those circumstances.

You said “We’ll Never Change” is the TOMORROW X TOGETHER song that made you cry the most. The practice period for it overlapped with when you were injured. BEOMGYU: It was when we had already learned all the choreo for Japan and were about to start practicing for “We’ll Never Change.” I couldn’t learn any of it because of my injury and was just staying in my room. But I said, “I really want to go to Japan. I want to sing, even if I have to sit,” and I sat in for lessons for the live performance. I felt sort of insignificant sitting at the back just singing while all the other members were dancing, and I felt terrible. I shed a tear or two at the back, but I doubt they would know that. (laughs)

I remember you said you were disappointed that your injury kept you from making the people who came to your concerts into total MOA. It’s really admirable how passionate you’ve always been about converting people into fans. BEOMGYU: I’m in it for the long run. There’s still so much I want to accomplish. Celebrities like BTS, IU, or DAY6 feel like celebs’ celebs. I feel like you have to see them in concert at least once in your life, and I want to receive recognition from my fellow artists and be the kind of person that they want to see in concert, too. I take pride in the quality of our concerts. (laughs) I used to think accomplishments didn’t matter all that much. I thought, as long as MOA’s happy and I’m happy, that’s enough, and that it’s better just to be nice and happy, but lately I feel driven to do even better anyway. (laughs) You showed off your guitar skills at this year’s Weverse Con Festival, which you practiced for until you got blisters on your fingers. Did that come from the same drive? BEOMGYU: It was no easy task. (laughs) I kept up my lessons online when we were in the US and even gave up my vacation to keep learning and practice. I love playing guitar, but it isn’t my specialty. Lots of people are pros at it so I was worried about the thought of me going up onstage and playing it, but I decided to just go for it. It’s difficult to master anything, and practice was the only way for me to make it happen. MOA loved it in the end, so I was proud. (laugh)

You’ve been going to see a lot of other artists perform lately. How does it feel being in the audience after being the one onstage? BEOMGYU: Watching things purely from a fan perspective showed me how joyful the concertgoing experience can be. One time I went to IU’s concert, and sitting in the audience at that huge venue and watching her, I felt how amazing a thing it is to be a fan of somebody and show them your love. I became determined to give MOA not just 100% but 150 or 200% at our concerts. (laughs)

The last track on your new album, The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY, is called “Higher Than Heaven,” and it feels like it perfectly captures TOMORROW X TOGETHER and MOA’s connection, especially the part where you go, “I’ll hold onto eternity, our names / Let’s dream of an endless tomorrow together.” BEOMGYU: I thought those lyrics were absolutely wonderful. “Let’s dream of tomorrow together” sounds so romantic. Since we’re in our sixth year now, I think it’s time we focus on the future more than the past. What I want now is to keep looking toward the future with the other members and with MOA—to see them there tomorrow.

The part where you go, “What you doin’ to me?” in ‘Danger’ is a real standout. It felt like you were using a voice we haven’t heard from you before. BEOMGYU: I practically insisted that the producer give that part to me. (laughs) I said, “I promise I’ll kill this part,” and that clinched it for me. When I was recording it, I had to get the pronunciation and nuance to work together, and do it all in a really deep voice, so it was kind of hard. I couldn’t get the tone right when I looked alert and ready, so I tried making a pose like someone who’s about to start a fight—stuffing my hands in my pockets, tilting my head slightly—and sang it that way. And then I was able to really bring out the right feeling. (laughs) You’ve said before that sometimes a song doesn’t feel quite right until you’ve heard the group singing it, and then it sounds better. Are there any songs on this album that were like that? BEOMGYU: “Forty One Winks.” It’s actually my top pick—I loved it right from the start, in fact. (laughs) I always connect more with the songs after I hear them with the group’s vocals. The demo versions are good, but it really feels like a TOMORROW X TOGETHER song when you hear it with our vocals. You mentioned you were happy to write lyrics for two of the new songs. What was that process like? BEOMGYU: It wasn’t anything special. (laughs) I find it’s best to write lyrics as the thoughts naturally come to you and not overthink it. I worked on “Resist (Not Gonna Run Away)” while we were touring. I was writing like crazy on a three-hour trip to a ryokan in Japan and I think the lyrics came out well.

You said before that you tend to have an ear for what people generally like. How did you feel when you first heard the single “Over The Moon”? BEOMGYU: At first I thought it was good but not lead-single good, but I fell in love with it once I heard it with the group’s vocals. It’s got a feeling that can’t be described in just one word. It’s not just, This one’s upbeat! Or, What a tough image! It’s got a little bit of this and that and everything in it. It feels like “one of our songs” or “TOMORROW X TOGETHER-ish.” (laughs)

You truly have a deep affection for the group. During YEONJUN’s first solo promotions, all the other members sent him a coffee truck and repeatedly visited in person to support him. BEOMGYU: It was the first solo work for any TOMORROW X TOGETHER member, and I knew how hard he worked on it. While the rest of us took it easy, YEONJUN had to be getting ready for it. I really empathize with how much pressure he must’ve felt. As a member of the group, I thought about what I could do and decided all I could do was go support him in person, buy him a little something, and go cheer him on. You truly have a deep affection for the group. During YEONJUN’s first solo promotions, all the other members sent him a coffee truck and repeatedly visited in person to support him. BEOMGYU: It was the first solo work for any TOMORROW X TOGETHER member, and I knew how hard he worked on it. While the rest of us took it easy, YEONJUN had to be getting ready for it. I really empathize with how much pressure he must’ve felt. As a member of the group, I thought about what I could do and decided all I could do was go support him in person, buy him a little something, and go cheer him on.

You recently wished on a sky lantern in Taiwan for the people you know to be happy, not for yourself. BEOMGYU: I really just hope that everyone I love and everyone who loves me is healthy and happy. I think it’s always like that. I’m more concerned with others being happy because of me than I am for my own happiness. You can sacrifice or give up things and still feel like, Okay, as long as you’re happy, I’m fine. It doesn’t mean I’m not happy. (laughs) I can take care of my own happiness, honestly. That’s why I wrote that. You have to be happy yourself in order to share that happiness with others.

If you were going to write down a wish not for the people close to you but just for yourself, what would it be? BEOMGYU: There isn’t really anything I wish for. I’m content with who I am right now. (laughs)

[avelera]

Meta: Balancing the Ledger in Arcane S2

Whatever people might have thought of Vi and Jayce's actions in S1, Arcane Season 2 was definitely listening. The whole point of their arcs in 2.1-2.3 seems specifically aimed at them getting point by point retribution for everything they did wrong, intentionally or unintentionally, sympathetically or unsympathetically, in S1.

Vi:

Is hurt and abandoned by Cait in almost exactly the same manner that she hurt and abandoned Powder in S1. If you thought Vi got off too lightly for her treatment of Powder in S1, she has now experienced the full brunt of what it would be like to be on the other side of that fight.

Is attacked, terrorized, and made to feel helpless by the very undercity people who she led an attack against in S1 in which she overpowered, terrorized, and ultimately led to the death of a child as collateral damage. The escalating cycle of violence that she took part in came back to bite her, hard.

As for Jayce:

He was warned repeatedly that Hextech was dangerous. He is now seeing and experiencing first hand the risks of unchecked magical/technological progress, not only seeing how it damages the world he was trying to save, but personally experiencing the horrifying, reality distorting effects of the wild runes as of 2.3.

He left Viktor in order to pursue the higher calling of politics, ostensibly to support their research too, but it took him from his partner's side. He was also motivated by a woman, Mel, and his care for her in doing so. Regardless of intention, politics and Mel took him from Viktor's side at a critical moment when Viktor's life hung in the balance.

Now, Viktor has left Jayce, pursuing the shadow of a dead woman who inspires him now, pursuing a higher calling of bettering the lives of others in the Undercity, and while he doesn't have the same real world powers manipulating him as Jayce did, there are parallels between the Hexcore and the Council's ability to drag Viktor and Jayce respectively forward into dangerous territory, following the siren song of their ambitions to change the world for the better, away from the partnership that launched their innovations in the first place.

Jayce also took part in the rogue mission against the Undercity factory, and in the process, killed a child thus escalating the cycle of violence between Piltover and Zaun.

If you blamed Jayce for becoming a councilor, getting into a relationship with Mel while Viktor was dying, for abandoning Viktor and the lab for other pursuits, for killing that child in Zaun, or in general for escalating the cycle of violence between Zaun and Piltover, then S2 seems to have set out very deliberately to address each one of these.

Jayce is abandoned by Viktor in a similar way and for similar (if not the same) causes as Viktor now abandoned Jayce. Meanwhile, the mother of the child he specifically killed shows up to take her pound of flesh, escalating cycle of violence that has him and his loved ones caught up in it, having now arrived at his doorstep when once it was far away in Zaun, and Hextech has become everything that Heimerdinger (who he deposed in a coup d'etat in order to override his warnings and his power to stop Jayce) warned that it could be.

I stand in awe of how deliberately set up it all is, and offer this analysis of why the narrative took the time to so specifically address and bring retribution for Vi and Jayce for these specific sins, in an almost exactly eye for an eye manner.

Before Jayce and Vi can continue forward as our protagonists, we needed to wipe the slate clean.

These beats are so specifically addressed at their sins (real, imagined, or overblown) in S1 that it's impossible to say going forward that they haven't suffered the consequences of their actions. They have now both been intimately on the receiving end of the consequences of what they did to others.

Furthermore, in S2 we are seeing that Vi and Jayce were less outliers as far as people making mistakes but rather were simply ahead of the curve. Now they have seen both sides of the cycle of violence and deeply suffered the consequences of their actions, many of which were impulsive. Going forward, I think it's safe to say we're going to see Jayce and Vi become voices of reason as they continue to learn, grow and experience the consequences of the events that their S1 actions had a big hand in causing in the first place.

I think this is also why Jayce, humbled and wiser, is becoming a much more popular character in S2 while Vi is becoming a much more universally sympathetic one, though I loved them both in the first season as did many other people. But their actions were controversial in some cases and it's been fascinating to see how systematically S2 has addressed each one of their controversial actions from S1 before moving them forward as heroes and protagonists.

[mcsm-confessions]

Soren is totally an Admin in disguise. Maybe more powerful and coming before Romeo, Xara, and Fred.

People typically theorize that Soren could be an Old Builder which is fair, but like, he's called the "BUILDER OF WORLDS"—you don't give that title to some guy who's really good at building stuff!! His books are everywhere too (even in Fred's Keep which I thought was pretty big), so clearly he's explored other worlds or even created them.

He's like Romeo where he creates and does stuff for the funny and watches how the little mortals fare with it. That whole thing he had with the Endermen and studying their behavior—it was to show that he's being doing that with humans!

Bet he created the Command Block too. Hmmm yeah I'm gonna throw out all reason and say he caused both games' plots, Season 1 & 2, just indirectly.

Can you imagine the goofy, cowardly liar was actually the playwright-director-actor this whole time? God it'd be so funny

~~~

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Azerbajian GP Weekend

Masterlist

Thursday had arrived, and so had the media frenzy. It was the traditional pre-race press day, and the interview room was buzzing with journalists and cameras ready to capture every word and reaction. I was scheduled for a multi-driver interview, paired with Franco, Carlos, Max, and Oscar—a mix of veterans and rookies, all bringing their own energy to the room. I was feeling confident, prepared to answer whatever questions were thrown my way, until I noticed a few familiar faces among the journalists—faces I remembered from whispers in the paddock.

After a few light-hearted questions aimed at Carlos and Max, the interview shifted gears when a well-known journalist turned to me with a sharp look in his eyes.

“So, Y/N,” he began, voice dripping with a tone that already felt accusatory, “there’s been a lot of talk about your rapid rise to F1, especially after missing significant time in F2. Some might say that… connections or publicity stunts might be part of the story here rather than pure skill.” He leaned back, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What do you say to people who think you’re here for PR reasons, rather than merit?”

My stomach clenched, but I kept my face calm. This was it—the subtle way they were calling me out, questioning if I was here because of talent or if I was just a “diversity hire” in a sport still catching up with the times. I could feel the tension in the room rise as Carlos and Max glanced at me, both of them experienced enough to know what it was like to be grilled by the press.

I took a deep breath, feeling Franco’s reassuring presence beside me. He shot me a quick nod, like he was silently encouraging me to respond.

“Well,” I began, keeping my voice calm and steady, “I think every driver here has something to prove. Racing is about results, and I’m fully prepared to show what I’m capable of on the track. I know there’s a lot of speculation, and it’s natural—every driver faces it at some point. I’m here because I’ve earned this seat. And I’ll keep proving that every weekend.”

The journalist wasn’t done. He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Still, disappearing for months mid-season in F2 and then suddenly being ready to jump into F1… it does raise some eyebrows. Care to elaborate on where you were?”

My heart raced. Memories flooded in—of the sleepless nights by my mother’s side, of the last few precious moments we shared. I felt the urge to defend myself, to tell the whole story right there, but I knew better. I took another breath, holding my smile steady.

“As my former team and I have always said, I was undergoing extensive training to prepare for the reserve role I’d committed to with Aston Martin. My team has full confidence in me, and that’s all the focus I’m giving it,” I replied, keeping my tone professional. I felt proud of my answer, but I could tell the journalist was disappointed by my restraint.

Max jumped in, breaking the tension with his classic cool-headedness. “You know, there are always rumors about all of us. It’s all just noise until we’re on track, isn’t it?”

The journalist backed off slightly, though I could tell he wasn’t convinced. Franco shot me a supportive look, mouthing a quick “Nice one” as the attention moved to another driver. I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay composed. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, reminding me of all the reasons I was here.

After the interview wrapped up, Franco walked over and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Forget him. That was out of line. You handled it well.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice a bit shaky. “I just didn’t expect that to hit so hard, you know?”

He nodded, his eyes kind. “I know. But you showed them that you belong here. Keep doing that, and everyone else will see it too.”

As we left the interview room, Franco nudged me, a curious look in his eyes. "Did you notice how quickly Max jumped in? It’s like he was standing up for you."

I shrugged, glancing back at the room we’d just left. "I don’t know if it was for me specifically," I replied. "Max just seems to hate when journalists get too personal. He probably saw the question as crossing a line. He’s always been a no-nonsense guy."

Franco didn’t seem convinced. "Maybe, but... he didn’t have to say anything at all. A lot of other drivers wouldn’t." He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. "Look, I’ve been around these drivers a while now, and I know how they talk. I think Max might be one of the few drivers who’s actually looking at what you do on track, not paying attention to those rumors.”

I hesitated, not sure how to process that. “Maybe,” I conceded. “But why would he? He doesn’t know me.”

“Maybe he’s seen the work you’re putting in,” Franco said thoughtfully. “He knows what it’s like to face doubt—he started young too. Besides,” he added, “Max respects hard work. He wouldn’t have stood up for you if he didn’t think you’ve earned your place.”

I wanted to believe Franco, but I couldn’t help being skeptical. “You might be giving him too much credit,” I said. “Honestly, I still think it was more about hating the question than defending me.”

Franco laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Max isn’t exactly Mr. Empathy. But I think he respects that you’ve been keeping your head down and just focusing on racing. People who’ve been on the grid longer can spot real talent, and he wouldn’t bother standing up for you if he didn’t see something there.”

I looked down, smiling to myself. The thought that Max might see past all the gossip and actually believe in my abilities was… a little surreal. But if Franco was right, it meant something. "You know," I said quietly, "maybe that’s enough for now. If I can prove myself to someone like Max, maybe that’s all I need to do for the rest to start paying attention."

Franco nodded. “Exactly. Let them talk. Just keep showing up on track and doing what you do best. You’re already turning heads, whether they admit it or not.”

We walked on in comfortable silence after that, both of us aware that this race weekend would be another chance. Another shot to show everyone—including myself—that I had a place here, no matter who questioned it. 

We parted ways minutes later, Franco being asked to return to his garage for a filming session between him and Alex. I decided to walk around the paddock a bit more —given that most if not every interviewer was in the interview room right now— I had a chance to relax by myself with a nice little undisrupted wandering walk. It didn’t last long however before I was seemingly cornered by the same man who had stood up for me before. Max Verstappen had spotted me from across the paddock and beelined his way right towards me. 

I froze for a moment, a bit caught off guard. Max was one of the last people I expected to seek me out, especially after that brief encounter in the interview room. He was known for being straightforward, but also for keeping to himself, so seeing him walk toward me like this felt... unexpected.

As he approached, I straightened up, unsure of what to say. Max had that usual intense focus in his eyes, but his expression didn’t seem as cold as it often did. He came to a stop in front of me, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual but direct. "How are you holding up?"

I blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. "I’m good," I replied quickly, forcing a small smile. “Why do you ask?”

Max looked around the paddock, as if checking to make sure no one else was nearby. When he turned back to me, he spoke a little lower. “Just wanted to make sure you’re not letting the stuff they’re saying get to you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What stuff?”

He shrugged, his expression softening a little. “The gossip. The rumors. People are always going to talk, especially when there’s something new, or something they don’t understand.” He paused for a second, looking at me seriously. “But you’ve been doing well. I can see it.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was... unexpected, to say the least. Max wasn’t exactly the type to give out compliments, let alone stand up for someone in public, especially someone like me. The fact that he was acknowledging it so openly made me second-guess a lot of my assumptions about him.

"Thanks," I said, my voice more tentative than I intended. "I appreciate it."

Max nodded. "I know how it feels to be judged before you even get the chance to show what you can do. It’s not easy." He paused again, and then, almost like an afterthought, added, "If you need someone to talk to or whatever, don’t hesitate."

I was caught off guard once more. Max Verstappen, offering to talk?

"Uh, thanks," I replied, this time more confidently. "I think I’ll be alright, but it’s good to know."

He gave me a small nod, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Good. Keep your head up, alright? They’ll respect you, eventually. Just keep showing up.”

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving me standing there a little dumbfounded. The last thing I expected was for Max Verstappen to go out of his way to check on me, but now I was left wondering if there was more to him than just the hard-as-nails racer everyone saw on TV. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as the rumors made him out to be either.

BIG TIME SKIP 

After Qualifying, I couldn’t help but smile—P10! I’d made it into the top 10, just behind Franco who had secured P9. We were both on cloud nine and decided to grab dinner together to celebrate. We were walking out of the paddock, laughing and joking, when I suddenly heard someone shout Franco’s name.

“Franco! Where are you going?” Lando’s voice rang out across the busy paddock.

Both Franco and I turned, surprised. We saw Lando and Oscar jogging toward us, the latter giving me a fleeting glance. Lando, on the other hand, didn’t spare me a single glance. His eyes were locked on Franco, his tone sharp.

Franco, clearly still riding the high of a great qualifying result, gave him a friendly wave. “Hey, just heading out to grab some dinner. Want to join us?”

Oscar’s eyes lingered on me for a brief moment, and I could swear I saw something akin to pity flicker across his face, but it disappeared so quickly that I couldn’t be sure. Lando, however, didn’t acknowledge me at all, his gaze still glued to Franco.

“I’m good,” Lando replied curtly, his tone flat. “We’ll catch up later. But I’ve heard... you two are quite the topic today.”

Franco shot me a quick glance, clearly uncomfortable, but said nothing as Lando’s words hung in the air. I could feel his eyes shift between me and Franco, clearly sizing up the situation. The tension was palpable, and I knew exactly what he was referring to. The rumors.

“So, uh, what’s it like?” Lando continued, his voice now almost too casual, his gaze flicking over to me. “Being the new face around here, with all the... stories going around?”

Oscar, standing silently at Lando’s side, seemed content to watch the exchange, though his eyes flicked to me, then back to Lando. I could tell he wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was headed.

I wasn’t sure if Lando was looking for confirmation or if he was trying to provoke a reaction, but either way, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The judgment in his tone wasn’t subtle, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Stories?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow as I turned toward him. “What kind of stories?”

Lando shifted uncomfortably, clearly caught off guard by my question, but he quickly recovered. “You know,” he said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “The whole... why you suddenly disappeared from F2, then came in and replaced Stroll and all that. Guess people are curious and there are a lot of people willing to tell their stories to fill that gap in.”

Oscar’s eyes darted between us, a slight frown tugging at his lips, but he said nothing. I could see the judgment in Lando’s face now, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“I’m not here to entertain gossip,” I replied, my voice steady but firm. “I don’t know where these ‘stories’ came from, but you’re feeding into them just like everyone else. How about you let me speak for myself? Maybe then you’ll get the real story.”

Franco opened his mouth to speak, likely trying to defuse the situation, but I held up a hand to stop him. I wasn’t going to let Lando get away with it.

“If you really think that just because of my background in this sport, you’re going to judge me on rumors instead of what I can do on track,” I said, my tone cutting through the air, “then maybe you should reconsider how much you actually know from sources that don’t include bias perspectives.”

Lando’s face twitched, and for a moment, I could see the flicker of realization in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being called out so directly. But he wasn’t backing down either.

“Look, I didn’t mean—” he started, but I cut him off sharply, my tone colder than before.

“No, you didn’t mean it,” I snapped, my eyes narrowing. “But you’re still doing it. So maybe before you speak about things you clearly know nothing about, you should think twice. Because I’m not here to be the subject of your gossip.”

The air between us grew tense, and the silence stretched on. Oscar, who had been quietly observing, exchanged a glance with Lando but stayed silent. I could feel the weight of Lando’s eyes on me, but I refused to back down.

“Is that really how it’s going to be?” I asked, my voice hard. “You think you can just judge me based on some rumor mill nonsense without even knowing me? Maybe you should consider that there’s more to me than whatever the hell people want to say about my past. What happens on track is all that should matter. But if you’re still buying into that crap, then maybe you’re not the person I thought you were.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, and I could tell that I had struck a nerve. He didn’t immediately respond, instead glancing at Oscar, who now had a slightly concerned look on his face. Lando shifted on his feet, clearly unsure of how to respond to someone calling him out so forcefully.

“I get it, alright?” Lando muttered, but there was no real sincerity in his voice. “But you’ve got to admit, there’s a lot of speculation.”

I rolled my eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside me. “Speculation is exactly what it is. And it’s none of your business, Lando. What matters is that I’m here, racing, and proving myself every time I get behind the wheel. Maybe if you focused more on that, you’d see it for what it is, instead of judging me based on some stupid rumors.”

I paused for a moment, letting the silence linger between us before I spoke again, my voice sharpening. “And honestly, with all the rumors floating around that you’re a big fan of Trump after some of the things you’ve said in Miami? I’m not surprised you’re so quick to jump on the bandwagon and believe whatever fits the narrative. It’s easier to go along with what the media says, right? But I don’t listen to that stuff. I judge people by their actions, not by what the tabloids want to spin. You don’t know me, Lando, so stop acting like you do.”

I could see him bristle at my words, and for a moment, I could tell that what I said hit harder than he expected. It wasn’t about defending myself anymore—it was about standing up for the idea that I wouldn’t let others define me, especially when they hadn’t bothered to get to know the real me.

Lando’s expression flickered, a mix of frustration and something else—something I couldn’t quite place—passing across his face. For a moment, he was silent, clearly trying to process what I had just said. But I could tell I had made him think, even if just for a brief second.

He didn’t immediately apologize, which told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t ready to back down yet. But I wasn’t done.

“Just stop hiding behind your assumptions, Lando,” I added, my voice firm. “It’s not a good look. You can’t just brush off people based on things you hear when there’s no real truth to it. It’s lazy, and frankly, it’s disappointing.”

Lando stood there, looking caught off guard by my directness. He wasn’t apologizing, not really. But I could see that I had planted a seed. Maybe it would take a while for him to truly get it, but at least for now, I had made my point. And I wasn’t about to let anyone walk over me—especially not when I knew I was capable of so much more than the rumors said.

“I... didn’t realize it was that big of a deal,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “I’m just trying to keep up with everything going on around here.” “Well, try harder,” I shot back, my tone biting. “Because if you can’t see past the rumors, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

With that, I turned away, my heart still racing with anger. I didn’t want his apology, not really. I wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval. But I wasn’t going to let anyone make me feel small just because they couldn’t look beyond what they heard. I walked away, leaving Lando and Oscar to whatever thoughts they were processing, knowing that I had made myself clear.

Franco, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave me an approving smile as I returned to his side. I didn’t need to look back to know that the tension between Lando and me wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. But that was fine by me. It was time for me to prove myself on the track, and if Lando and the others had to learn the hard way, so be it.

[13as07]

Crows Breed In The Spring #1

(Shisui Uchahi Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Keji. They’re here on Tumblr; Please check them out!]

Requested by: @chamchamshisui (More or less)

Word Count: 4,086

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick-Name(s): Little/Dove, Sir, Goddess

Exhibitionism

Titty Fondling

Fingering

Choking

Nudity

Slight Degrading

Prey/Predator Kink

Arranged Marriage

Plans for Part #2

———————————————————————

Shisui’s eyes trail on me as my eyes trail on the branches above us. The trees are slowly blooming, greens, pinks, and soft reds all melting into a nature-made painting. Spring is my favorite season, both for the nature and for the clan. The world is always painted so beautifully, whereas the clan is always filled with the promise of the future generation.

I mentioned it to one of the elders, once, how it seems that the clan is always buzzing with pregnancies and young couples wishing for children during the spring months. I got a lecture from both the elder and my parents for mentioning such a thing, in front of the Clan Council nonetheless. Despite the lectures I got, something the Chief said has always stuck with me.

Crows breed in the spring.

Looking back at the interaction, it was a strange thing for him to say, especially right before Shisui proposed. Given, the proposal came as a surprise. After all, we’ve been betrothed since birth so a formal proposal was never expected but he insisted on doing it anyway, insisted he wanted things to be as ‘normal’ as he could make them for me. Still, I can’t make myself believe that the Chief didn’t know it was happening, let alone when. Though, he’s always been a bit of an off person. Saying weird things at weird times.

Our wedding is coming up, in twelve months, down exactly to the day. I’m lucky when it comes to my arranged marriage, especially to who I’ve been arranged to spend my life with. Shisui is a good man, both at home and in society. He’s a high-ranked, and even higher achieved, shinobi, praised by both the Clan and the Village for his achievements and abilities. A distinguished Anbu, one of the youngest and most skilled of our generation. Of the past few generations.

Despite all that, he’s still a humble man, a kind man, a loving man. All of which has been proven once again today. With our wedding date being exactly a year away, Shisui requested today off, speaking to the Chief and Hokage personally to ensure he could spend the day with me. I’m just as giddy now as I was when he told me the news two weeks ago. My heart skips just thinking of the event and what my future husband said to me.

Don’t worry about a thing, Dove, I’ve taken care of all of it.

It’ll be a whole day of just me and you. Nothing and no one to take my attention away from you.

I assure you that the day will be spent with me showing you the future I promise to give you.

“Your cheeks are blushed again,” Shisui comments, leaning closer to whisper the sentence into my ear, acting as if it will disturb the Spring blooms. I tilt my head, escaping the tease of his lips against my ear that causes my cheeks to darken, this time in embarrassment instead of admiration. “Don’t run from me, Little Dove,” He giggles, tilting his head too, chasing after me as I try to flee. “Tell me what’s on that colorful mind of yours.”

“You,” I answer instantly, even more embarrassed by the confession and eagerness in my voice.

Shishui’s laugh tickles my skin, the soft sound wrapping around my heart and warming it from the outside in. “What a coincidence,” he murmurs, sliding a hand onto my hip. He softly pulls on me, positioning me against his body. Our hips are fleshed against each other, and the rough existence of his knife slid into its hilt, hidden under the band of his pants, separating a section of our connection. “I’m thinking about you too.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, indeed” He murmurs, his fingertips slow and steady as they slide off my hip. They trail upward, happily disregarding my shirt, slipping underneath it to caress the bare skin of my side. “We have some time before we’re expected to meet our families for dinner.”

“Oh,” I exhale, repeating my earlier reply. My heart feels quick in my chest, beating quicker the harder it gets to underplay Shisui’s touches. His fingers feel warm against my side, sending electric tingles across my skin. His lips have made residence against the side of my head, their warmth making the tips of my ears feel like flames. “What should we do with that time?”

“I can think of a... ah, thing, or two.” His words, paired with the continued climbing of his fingers, his touch carefully tracing one, two, three of my ribs, sends my senses ablaze. “Would you like to know what those things might be?” Shisui asks, fingers curling to wrap under the band of my bra. His knuckles slide back and forth, barely moving an inch in either direction as he waits for my answer.

My jaw falls open, lips twitching to form an answer, a word, even a sound would suffice. When nothing comes, I simply nod my head, yes, to answer my waiting husband.

His hip pushes against mine, gently leading me off the dusty trail that twirls through the acres of blooming trees on the outskirts of the Clan’s territory. “First, we should wander off the path. Wonder deep into the trees, let the flowers hide us from the world. Let the glow of the blooms highlight the beauty of my future wife.” My jaw clicks closed, my eyes widening as I hang onto every word spilling from Shisui.

The heat of his eyes pulls off of me, instantly skirting over the area in front of us, his shinobi ways bleeding through whenever and wherever possible. Still, his focus stays with me. With the eyes of any passer-byer or another couple enjoying the blooms being gone, Shushi has no shame. His hand jerks upward, a strong hand cupping my boob for a second before it starts toying with me. His hand squeezes my flesh, his fingers molding around my breast as his hip continues to gently push me forward.

“Once we’re safely tucked away, truly left alone, with nothing but the trees to see us, I’m going to lay my beautiful wife down on the fallen flower petals. I’m going to lay with her, sucking in the scent and taste of the beautiful pheromones that have been dancing off her skin the past few days.”

My mind feels like it has short-circuited. My thoughts are gummy, jumbled, and messy from arousal and the sweetness of Shisui’s affection. Embarrassment and worry swirl around my thoughts as well. I know that he has an idea of my menstrual circle; the chocolates at just the right times throughout the month, his willingness to give more than he receives when I’m my neediest, the extra attention when my emotions are in a reck, but it never crossed my mind that he had a strong hold on the bio-clock that is my body.

Can he truly tell what phase of my cycle I’m on? He can’t seriously smell my pheromones, can he? I know it’s rumored that us Uchiha’s take after crows a little too much. With age, I’ve even heard rumors that our population jumps every spring, just like crows, because we’ve picked up their breeding habits, but that’s all it is. Rumors. It’s normal that my sex drive jumps in tune with my bodily clock, but does Shisui’s truly jump every spring?

“Now what’s on that colorful mind?” My betrothed asks, gently pulling me from the string of unanswerable questions. His lips brush behind my ear, paired with a soft inhale before his kiss falls downward.

“Can you really smell my pheromones?” I whisper, letting my head tip when his kisses start trailing down my neck.

“Mhm,” he hums, taking another deep breath before sliding his tongue across the skin of my throat. “It’s faint, but there. The sensitivity of your skin and heightened reactions to my touch give you away a bit more though. Still, I can’t help but crave you, knowing how much you’re craving me.” Shusui stops moving, pulling his hand from my chest and his lips from my neck. I can’t help feeling like I slammed into a brick wall, my skin suddenly chilly without his touch, and irritation bubbling in my stomach. “Is there anything else tickling that mind of yours?”

“No. Well... yes, but it’s stupid,” I grumble, my unfounded anger growing the longer Shisui stays parted from me. My eyes trail after him, carefully watching as he scopes out the area. Can’t he throw caution to the wind just once? I’m supposed to have his full attention, but instead, he’s checking the branches for the boogie man.

“No question is a stupid question.”

I think over it for a moment, my unhappiness and the teasing given to me mixing in my stomach. “Do you think we have a breeding season?”

“Of course, Dove,” Shisui answers, finally making his way back to me. His hands land on my hips, massaging them for a second before nudging my shirt up to hook his fingertips under the band of my pants. “There are hundreds of scientific articles linking the sexual activities of our clan with our counterparts, our crows. It’s not even that far-fetched. Just look at the Inuzuka Clan. The Aburame. The Sarutobi. They all exhibit traits of their animalistic counterparts, repopulation timing included.”

I barely hear any of his rambling, my mind – and hormones – swirling with the feeling of Shisui’s fingers, the teasing of them sliding back and forth against my hips, the mundane but incredibly hot knowledge that he refused to wait until I was bare to feel the sensation of my skin against his rough hands.

Silence falls between us, the forest so quiet that I swear I can hear the electricity burning between our locked eyes. My stomach flips when Shisui slides one of his hands further along my waistband, his fingertips ghosting over the front of my panties. Tingles erupt through my body, making the space between my thighs their own base. It feels like minutes tick by as he slides his hand further into my pants, minutes that are truly only seconds.

Crimson melts into my future husband’s eyes. Crimson, that swarms the darkness of Shisui’s iris. Crimson, that is quickly dotted with three perfect tomoes. Crimson, that soon trades his tomoes for the pinwheeled design of his advanced sharingan. I drown in the color, letting it seep into every ounce of me. Letting the color dance alongside the feeling of Shisui’s fingers sliding back and forth over my pussy that’s angry with the fact that it’s still clothed and hidden from the attention it wants.

“You’re not breathing.”

“What?” I ask, the exhale I release seeming to also release the scream of my lungs I’ve been neglecting.

Shisui chuckles at my lugging, fingertip pressing against my clenching hole as he leans closer to me. His lips easily find mine, gracing me with the millionth kiss of the day. Still, the kiss is a bit rough, proof of his habit of biting them present in the flesh. I eagerly wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to me. The simple act pulls more laughter from him, laughter that I suck into my lungs as I deep our kiss.

My tongue slides out, needlingly poking at my boyfriend’s lips. Shisui parts his lips for me, letting my tongue slide in and explore his mouth. I’m given free rein of our kisses, leading the dance our lips are partaking in. In exchange, he gets free rein of my body.

A hand snakes up my side, racing the path up my hip, under my shirt, and crawling under my bra. Shisui’s hand is rougher this time as he grips my boob, squeezing it until my breath goes jagged in an attempt to mellow the ache forming across my skin. My pain doesn’t go without pleasure though. The hand toying with my wetting panties slowly crawls under the material, his fingertips sliding through my folds to collect my wetness.

I back off for a second, breaking for our kisses to suck in a needed breath. A labored breath, trying to balance the pleasure teasing my pussy, the pain webbing from Shisui’s grasp on my chest, and the ting of fear that’s always flickering when his sharingan is activated.

“Dove?”

“Ye-”

My answer is cut off by a sharp inhale, slammed from my lungs when Shisui thrusts two of his fingers into me. My hands slip from his neck, gripping his shoulders with my nails digging into the dark material of his shirt.

“You’re going to be good for your husband and strip, yeah? You’re going to strip and lay your pretty self out on the blossom petals for me, yes?” His fingers move just as slowly and even as his voice. Steady, strong, dependable, but not fast enough.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur, tightening my hold on him, hoping he’ll move his fingers even a bit faster.

“There’s a good Little Dove,” He coos, giving me the opposite of what I want. Shisui pulls his touch off of me, squeezing my breast once more before breaking contact. His eyes swirl in amusement as he drinks in my disappointment, a laugh brewing in his chest, I’m sure. “Strip,” he reminds me of my command, taking a step back as he slips his fingers into his mouth.

It feels like my stomach gushes at the sound of Shisui sucking my juices off himself. Instantly, my hands jerk, taking a grip of my shirt to rip it up and over my head. My movements get messier, wanting to rid myself of all my clothing if it means he’ll touch me again, touch me sooner. My clothes are dropped to the floor, forgotten as soon as I free them from my body.

“Good job,” he coos again, eyes still rubbing my skin raw. “Lay down. Look at the flowers.”

My knees buckle, bending to let gravity push me to the forest floor. It feels like my body moves on its own, positioning myself to lie on the ground like ordered. The soft petals fallen from the trees above rub against my skin, their scent feeling my nose, and their soft colors exploding in my eyes. The petals aren’t the only thing that catches my eye. Buried in the branches are two patches of black, sticking out against the colorful ceiling of the trees.

Crows breed in the spring.

It’s probably a couple of crows, hanging around and planning the same thing I have in mind.

My sense of hearing isn’t left bored either, picking up on every sound, every sound except the sound of Shisui. That’s not surprising though. A loud ninja isn’t a good ninja.

“Dove?”

“Shisui?”

He falls silent again, my senses on high alert, edged from the forest, edged from being so exposed, edged from not knowing where my lover is.

Minutes tick by, filled with thoughts, with ‘what if’s, filled with worry. Just as my body relaxes, my mind grows silent and focuses on the branches swaying, on the petals slowly falling, my thigh is gripped.

“Shisui!” I shriek, jerking into a seat position.

“Dove,” He chuckles, the familiar sight of his sharingan filling my sight and smoothing out the fear threaded through my chest. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I jerk my head away, staring deeper into the forest as I huff, my anger with him bubbling into my actions. “Oh, don’t be mad at me,” Shuishi murmurs, dotting my cheek in kisses. “I couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous you looked. Bare and laid out just for me, framed by the cherry blossoms. After all, I see everything so much better than most. I didn’t mean to scare you, my Little Dove.”

Slowly, I let my anger leak out of my veins, leaning into his soft kisses and letting my muscles loosen under his touch. “You’re mean,” I grumble, slowly turning to face him again.

A loose smile hangs on his lips, enjoyment, and amusement mixing with the crimson of his eyes. “I’m mean?”

“Yes.”

“I took time off to celebrate our future marriage. I planned our outing, our walk through the woods, our dinner with our families, and you think I’m mean?”

“I know you’re mean,” I shoot back, shaking my head back and forth in a matter-of-fact fashion.

The laughter that seeps from Shisui ends the trumpet feeling from my comeback. The sound is darker than usual, laying heavy in the air instead of flowing freely with the soft wind that’s been present throughout the day. “Fine, I’ll be mean then,” he purrs, giving enough time for my heart to skip before his hand is wrapped around my throat, using his grip to push me flat to the ground again.

I shriek when my back hits the ground, a sharp smile ripping across my face from the fear and excitement braiding together. After all, what’s the point of having a scary anbu as a boyfriend – and future husband – without a little bit of fucked up playtime?

“Naughty, naughty girl,” Shisui lectures, clicking his tongue at my excitement. His body crushes me into the ground, keeping me pinned against the petals decorating the forest. His thumb rubs against the side of my throat, his other fingers digging into my flesh to control my oxygen intake. “What would our Clan think? Calling one of their pride and joys mean? What would your parents think of you right now? Stripped naked, laid out on the ground, so eager to do everything you’re told.”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I shoot back, my voice pitched from the grip around my throat. “Just like everyone keeps telling me to do.”

The dark laugh is back, echoing among the trees. “Oh, is that so? I didn’t know being a good wife included getting fingered in the woods. Since when did it include stripping bare among the branches? Which housewife taught you that being choked by your husband is a part of sex? Which gossiper told you a good wife gets wet when their husband makes fear flutter in their chest?”

“Your mom, mostly.”

Shisui’s eyes flicker, excitement appearing before quickly being replaced by his fake hardness. “Little Dove,” he exhales, leaning down so he can peck my lips between each of his words. “A good wife watches her temper and most defiantly does not speak of their mother-in-law in such a way.” He pulls away, leaving a very unwanted gap between our lips. “I think you just need some of my attention. Is that what you need, Dove? Do you need some of my attention to get your attitude straight? Should we play?”

A weight drops in my stomach, a new wave of fear swirling in my stomach. My butt already stings, the memories of our last game whirling through my head. The last time Shisui and I played, really played instead of the quick sessions between his missions, I was left with a two-day long hand print and a limp the next morning. Simon Says is not my strong suit.

“Let’s play...” My heart skips as I wait for Shisui’s choice, hoping, praying, that he doesn’t pick Simon Says. “Tag.” I take it back; I’ll very willingly play Simon Says. “I’m it first.”

He releases me, crawling off of me and climbing to his feet. My eyes trail after him, watching Shisui wipe his clothing clean before he turns and walks away from me. My heart skips and my stomach flips as he leans his arm against the tree across from my spot, his head tucked into his elbow.

“One hundred.”

My mind runs a million a minute, every other thought about how unfair this game is. Shisui is a shinobi, a highly trained shinobi, an active duty anbu. The only thing I’m trained in is the things he likes and what makes a good housewife.

“Ninety-nine.”

I’m so going to lose. What’s he going to do when he tags me? What’s he not going to do when he tags me? My thighs rub together as my eyes skirt down his back, cursing his shirt for hiding away his shoulders. I’m so screwed.

“Ninety-eight.”

The numbers finally click in my head. Shisui is giving me a head start, one hundred seconds to run for my life before he chases after me. Three of which I’ve wasted. Once the thought is settled in my mind, I’m up on my feet, quickly glancing around before deciding on a direction. I can’t go forward, that means I’d have to pass him. I can’t go backward, I’ll stumble onto the trail. I choose to go right, jerking my body into motion once the decision is made.

Oxygen is pulled into my lungs as I race away from my boyfriend, trying to get as much distance between us as possible. It doesn’t take long for my body to scream. My lungs are angry from ove working. My legs are angry from the speed I’m forcing them into. My skin is upset at the sharp branches scrapping against it.

My thoughts run right alongside my feet. Every sound makes my heart beat faster, worried Shisui already found me. Theories of what he’s going to do make my nerves bounce with even more excitement and even more fear. Is he going to fuck me? Pressed against a tree or in the grass? Is he going to tease me? Leave me on edge before making me go to dinner, using my irritation and need as a reward for his win? I wonder if he’ll -

“Litte Dove?” Shisui’s chilled voice laces between the trees, making it impossible to tell where it’s coming from. My heart stops at the call for me, my feet freezing, following suit. I stay, stuck in place like a deer that heard the steps of a hunter. Fear trickles from my heart, straight to my arousal like a melting icicle, set on overflowing the pot under it as the spring air warms it. “I’ve decided on my award for winning, are you ready to hear it?”

My heart thumps heavily in my chest, the reminder I need to get my feet moving again. My body jerks, my feet sliding for a moment before shifting back into a run. I don’t know what direction I’m going in. I don’t know which direction I came from. Most importantly, I don’t know where Shisui is. All I do know is that the break from whipping leaves and hard branches has made my skin angrier.

My mind is so torn, focused on not tripping and trying to look for signs of my hunter that I don’t catch the forest line until it smacks me in the face. The brightness, brought by the sun and the gap in the trees, colors the path, burning my eyes that have adjusted to the darkness of the forest. Fear of being caught by someone from the village, or even worse, someone I know, makes me freeze, my steps stalling once again.

Oxygen pumps into my lungs as I soak in the silence, keeping myself hidden in the shadows of the forest edge. Should I turn around or should I run along the forest edge -

“You’re it, Dove.” Shisui strikes before I can shriek, a hand wrapped around my mouth as the other one wraps around my eyes, cutting off my view of the sun just five steps away. “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would,” he softly praises, his knee pushing against the back of mine until it buckles, gravity pushing me to the ground once again. His breath is heavy in my ear as he feathers my fall to the floor, tickling my pride a bit. I made an anbu winded from our little game of tag.

Slowly, the hand around my eyes slips upward, Shisui’s gentle fingertips brushing through my hair and picking out the leaves it picked up during the chase. My head is gently pulled backward as he plays with my hair, my eyes scanning the branches above us. “Your pretty smell, and all your questions, the sight of you looking like a Goddess on the forest floor, and our little game has me so worked up, Dove. So, I’ve decided we’re going to partake in this year’s breeding season.”

Crows breed during the spring,

And I am a crow.

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