#people express love and interest in different ways

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Madri Lager: drunk words

Contents: cursing, just a little conversation between them to set the mood and provide a backdrop for the next fic, not proofread

No fucking way. 

There’s just no fucking way. 

“Why the hell are you here?” You hiss. 

Gojo fucking Satoru strolled into your lecture hall, smug grin on his fuck ugly face, arms folded behind his head and swinging his legs like a maniac. From the doors at the front, he immediately spotted you all the way at the back, sat by your lonesome and you could see his shit-eating grin widen. The whites of his teeth blind you almost as much as his impossibly white hair.

Then, the freak had the audacity to climb the stairs, ignoring the whispering and the pointing, and sat next to you. Well, a seat down because you refused to move your bag, even fought with him a little when he tried to lift it. 

He shrugs, slinging an arm around the back of the chair between you, fingertips way too close to your shoulder, and black sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge. “Was feeling bored so here I am.”

Counting to ten, you tried to put on a patient voice, like you’re berating a child, which you pretty much are, and you grit out, “Bored people take up hobbies. Bored people do things like puzzles and cooking and knitting. Bored people don’t crash lectures and bother other people.”

“I love when you lecture me on common knowledge, wifey. It really warms my heart.” To emphasise his stupid point, he presses a hand to his chest and fans his face with the other. “You’re just so smart.”

You slap his hand away when he tries to boop your nose. People are staring, turning their heads like owls as they strained to listen to your conversations. Some people are taking pictures, no doubt sending it to The Bulletin or whatever, because people have nothing better to do than gossip. You hate this attention; the pointing and whispering because of your appearance you’ve learnt to tolerate, but this? 

This is just irritating on a different level.

At least once a day, a cheerful stranger comes up to you and asks in bewilderment if you’re Gojo’s fiancee. In fact, they ask if you’re really, actually the future wife of Gojo Satoru like he’s some mythical being and you’re a frumpy little worm. Fuck them. And fuck him. 

“Go away, Gojo,” you roll your eyes, typing as much of the lecturer’s notes as you can, a little distracted by the peering eyes around you and the ones running over your clothes . 

He sighs and lifts the lace from your dress, rounding the neckline. You feel it tickle your neck, and you fight the urge to shudder. In disgust. With a forced melodramatic tone, he complains, “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Are you fucking twelve? Go watch a movie like a normal person.”

“Movies are boring,” he retorts as if it’s fact. 

You roll your eyes. “And what? I’m so much more interesting?” 

What a stupid question. You really shouldn’t have asked that because the serious expression on his face as he lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug makes you blush. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Did you meet Suguru on the course or was he your piercer first?”

Still typing, you throw him a side glance, feeling suspicious of the sudden change in conversation. But it’s welcomed. “We met on the course. First year. We were in the same class. He’s a good guy.”

Gojo huffs as if he didn’t like your answer. 

The piercer’s actually a decent person; he was friendly, smart, and kind. He made long, boring classes feel shorter with his interesting insights and opinions, and he had such a great way of expressing them — he was the most eloquent male you’ve ever met. However, there was always something off about him, like an inner turmoil that neither you nor he could ever quite understand. 

It was when he absentmindedly said he was thinking of dropping out that you felt you knew him a little better. You both shared a long talk at the back of the Life Sciences building where your little stroll took you, him smoking and you listening to his mutterings. He spoke of this feeling of being out of place, which you understood better than anyone else, and how the traditional path didn’t suit him. He disappeared for a while, a couple months, and you thought your response might have spooked him. After all, no one ever really comes to you for advice. But when he reached out to offer you a free piercing as his first ever client at his newly opened studio, you realised maybe you are capable of dropping an odd pearl here and there. 

“Well, Suguru’s my bestie, so back off,” Gojo pouts.

From your peripheral, you see him eye the big lecture hall and you don’t really know what he’s thinking. It’s an odd realisation to think that Geto, the guy you’ve always kind of admired, is actually friends with this loser – the suggestion that there’s a redeeming quality to the frat guy is one that doesn’t suit you. 

Most times he’s easy to read; he wants fun and excitement and thrill. He does whatever’s convenient or interesting, a totally impulsive guy. But there are rare moments, emphasis on rare, where you think there might be something more going on in that huge head of his. Maybe there’s something deeper to him. A maturity and wisdom he’s yet to show. 

“Fuck, marry or kill,” he lifts three fingers, “Marx, Satre or Aristotle.”

Yeah, unlikely. 

“Gojo, seriously, go away,” you sigh, exasperated. Just five minutes with the guy and you’re already drained. And somehow, you’re expected to live a lifetime with the weirdo?

Satan strike you down. 

“Me personally, Satre’s cute but something about big, bushy beards really gets me going. So, it’ll have to be: kill Aristotle, no offence dude, fuck Satre, and marry Marx.”

Two girls in the row in front of you giggle. Your lips turn down in repulsion. 

“I’m not sure Marx would like either of us, Gojo,” you give him a pointed look. 

He laughs. It’s loud and sudden and he has to say sorry to the entire lecture when it echoes around the hall. Some people laugh at him, or with him, and the lecturer can only shake his head and carry on. This lecturer is strict and merciless when it comes to interruptions, but of course he doesn’t say a thing against the interloper. How could he when there’s a huge placard over the double doors of this building titled ‘From the Loving Hearts of The Gojo Charitable Foundation’?

A couple minutes pass in relative silence, just the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the droning of the professor filling the space, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep or maybe he’s so bored that he’s actually thinking of leaving. 

Of course, neither of those things happen because the universe hates you. 

Gojo pokes your side with a pen. You writhe with a blush. 

“Oh, ticklish, are we? Very interesting.” He wiggles his brows like an idiot, and you fight the urge to land a punch there. “Our wedding night’s gonna be fun.”

“We’re not going to have one if you had it your way, remember?”

Leaning back in his seat, he taps the pen —where the hell did even get that? He wasn’t carrying a bag— against his chin, considering his words carefully. He shrugs again. “Well, seeing as everyone’s so set on it, I’ve decided to, you could say, open myself to the idea.”

You try to quell the spark of hope there, that maybe your family could be saved, that you’ll be saved. It’s not wise to let that spark fester into something more. 

Gojo’s impulsive. Fact. 

Gojo’s a thrill-seeker. Fact. 

Gojo is an unserious guy set in his bachelor ways. He cannot be relied upon. He cannot be trusted to keep his word.

All facts. 

It’s easy for him to be able to have the option to be ‘open’ to an idea, whereas it’s thrusted upon you without much say. He can wake up and make decisions solely based on his urges, but you have to be mindful of the family’s reputation, your father’s bad habits, your mother’s social conservative ways, and the fact that this is all your fault. 

“Gojo,” you turn, fixing him with a solemn expression, “don’t do that. Don’t lead me on. I may not want to marry you, but I do want to marry. I must. It’s important to me, so please don’t wave it around like it’s some pretty flag.”

There must be something in your eyes, a graveness or a sombre quality that makes his smile disappear. His brows furrow like he’s trying to understand, trying to piece things together but you’re turning away before he could see. 

Clearing his throat, he pokes you again. “Alright. How about this?”

You throw him a doubtful look, worried about what dumbassery is going to leave his mouth. 

“Go on a date with me.”

“No.”

“Hey! You said that way too quickly.”

Resuming your typing, you’re already trying to drown him out, focused on the history of pragmatic ethics instead of his humoured tone. He’s suggesting something ridiculous again. As if you’d go on a date with him. Him. The guy who’s been getting in the way, the one who’s been making your life difficult and family dinners awkward, and the one you certainly cannot trust to not set up some trap to humiliate you like in the movies. 

“I’m being serious. Let’s go on a date.” Seeing you open your mouth to argue back, he hurriedly adds, “This isn’t fair on me either, y’know? I’m supposed to marry a stranger, one who wears all black and looks like she’d haunt me — not a bad thing, I’m actually kinda into it, question mark? — but my point is, we don’t really know each other. So why don’t we go on a date? It’s a pretty brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mull it over. Sure, it makes sense, it would be good to get to know the freak you’re marrying or supposed to marry. This is how it should have been in the first place. Plus, your mother would certainly approve; she’d think this is a golden opportunity to secure him, to make him fall for you or whatever Mrs. Bennet thing she’s thinking of. 

However, as good as that idea is, you can’t just eagerly agree; there’s no guarantee this isn’t a trap. 

“You’re thinking this is a trap, aren’t you?” Your eyes meet his. He’s grinning ear to ear like he’s proud he guessed correctly. “Why don’t you plan the date, then? Set the time and place, that way there’s no way I could have rigged the environment with explosives or something.”

“No pig blood?”

Gojo smiles even brighter, and you have to squint to prevent losing your vision permanently. 

“No pig blood.”

[queervegancryptid]

Seriously, academics and the like are flawed like the rest of us, so use critical thinking skills even when you're talking to an "expert" (obligatory disclaimer half because this is the internet and half because I majored in philosophy and am wont to quarrel about what exactly counts as an "expert" because my brain is wrong)

BUT

I promise that, in general, they will be very happy to talk about their work. Academics in particular, a lot of them I've known, don't get to pursue exactly what they want all the time. So when you engage with them on topics they actually have a background in, they sometimes forget how to act and infodump with the enthusiasm of your autistic friend who lights up talking about their special interests. All the ivory tower pretentious bullshit you sometimes have to cake onto yourself in that world, it can just crumble to dust with the force of their excitement about actually getting to talk about things that interest them rather than having to publish for publishing's sake or having to teach a course because someone in the department has to and it's their turn. (Seriously, I don't know if this is common knowledge, but that's actually how some departments run things: I taught the intro course last year, so it's so-and-so's turn next. See, for example, the dude who taught my intro to astronomy course. Lecture was a snoozefest. The planetarium and outdoor work? He was a different man. The final grades for the class had like a 40 point curve. It was kind of a mess. But it was cool when he actually wanted to be there.)

I used to say that was my favorite part of academia, but then I realized it's the main thing about that world that drew me in: I wanted a place where I would be expected and encouraged to explore in ways I wasn't allowed (or wasn't able, not having the resources and living in a small town) to do when I was a kid. It didn't work out the way I wanted it to, but that's a story for another post.

It's why I love libraries. There's a "bookmine" near me (I don't want to doxx myself naming it but DM me if you want and I'll elaborate) that I would fucking adore to roam for days and days. Or just nights. You know, sneak in and hide in this massive building full of books, wait for them to close and go home for the evening, and just go to town exploring various subjects. Also my partner would be there so we could gab to each other about our discoveries. I feel like a lot of people, academic types especially but not exclusively, can relate to this yearning to explore and share.

Don't feel like the only people worth talking to are folks with advanced degrees or prestigious titles, though. Academics can be easy to find relative to other kinds of experts, but good information can come from anybody. Not just somebody with an email address ending in edu. At the same time, beware of influencers and whatnot, obviously. Good information can come from anywhere, and the same is true of bad information. Someone saying things with a lot of confidence isn't necessarily telling you the truth and doesn't necessarily know what they're talking about.

Anyway. Send the email. I promise you're not bothering them by asking about the thing they literally got at least one advanced degree learning about on purpose (in the case of academics, but like I said, this can apply more broadly than that; read the room and shoot your shot, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays). I have a lot more to say about this and may even make a post to help people find experts in a given field of study and how to use responsible critical thinking skills and research methods more generally, especially if anybody expresses an interest in any of that. But I've babbled enough on somebody else's post lol I apologize and also it will happen again

Signed - your local autistic philosopher weirdo who just really really likes information and libraries and finding and exploring cool stuff and can't shut up about it sometimes

[reiding-writing]

I’d love to know how Spencer meeting cold!reader for the first time went! Like I’d imagine she wasn’t always as soft on him as she is now right?

GREETINGS & SALUTATIONS — SPENCER REID!

you meet spencer reid for the first time.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 0.9k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — this is super short but i wrote it to procrastinate an essay i have due in tomorrow 😭

The air is sharp with the tang of coffee and the subtle rustle of case files as you step into the BAU conference room for the first time.

You're no stranger to these environments—two years of working with the VCAC Program have hardened you to the sterile camaraderie and cautious smiles of seasoned agents. But this is a new team, a fresh start, even if you’re not entirely convinced you need it.

Agent Hotchner stands at the head of the table, his presence as steady and no-nonsense as you expected from your prior phone calls. “You’ve all been briefed on the newest addition to our team,” he says, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmur of the room. “She’s joining us after transferring from VCAC. Her experience will be invaluable here.”

You nod briefly, scanning the room. There’s a mix of polite smiles and speculative looks, each agent sizing you up in their own way.

One face catches your attention—not because he smiles, but because he doesn’t. A young man with a mop of brown hair and wide, curious eyes hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, studies you like a puzzle he’s already halfway through solving.

He looks too young to be an FBI Agent. But you can’t say much about that yourself.

—

“Your desk will be over here,” Hotch says after the short introductions, gesturing for you to follow him out of the room. You’re led to a desk directly opposite the curious-eyed man, his desk cluttered with neatly stacked books and meticulously arranged pens.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch introduces. “He joined not long before you, so I trust you two will be able to aid in each other’s adapting to working here.”

“Hi—” Spencer blurts, standing too quickly and almost knocking over a coffee mug. He’s taller than you realised, looming slightly as he tries to straighten his tie. You’re grateful he doesn’t try to shake your hand.

You nod curtly. “Hello.”

It was like looking at a perfect opposite of yourself, both in the same situation, but so utterly different in the way you conducted yourselves.

Spencer's smile falters for a fraction of a second before he launches into what can only be described as a deluge of words.

“You know, it's really great to have multiple academic doctors on the team. Statistically, the BAU has a higher concentration of advanced degrees than most FBI units, but even then, it's rare to have two people with different PhDs working in tandem. It reminds me of this study I read about cooperative dynamics in small teams—“

You tune out the rest of his rambling, nodding occasionally out of thinly-veiled politeness while setting your bag on your desk and beginning to unpack. His voice is animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he dives into tangent after tangent.

“—and, of course, there's the entire field of developmental psychology, which is fascinating, especially when applied to criminal behaviour, though some people argue it's more of a soft science compared to neuroscience, but I disagree—“

You glance up, meeting his gaze with a neutral expression. “Sure.” Your tone is flat, your attention already shifting back to arranging your space.

Spencer stammers slightly, clearly searching for a way to salvage the conversation. If you could even call it that. “I-I mean, I guess you probably already know all that, given your background.”

“Yes, I do.” you reply simply, not offering him a lifeline.

There’s an awkward silence as Spencer shifts from one foot to the other. “Where did you complete your degree?”

You bite the urge to tell him you’re not interested in small talk. God knows you’re going to be sat across from him for who knows how long.

“Stanford.”

“Wow,” Spencer’s eyes widen just a tad, nodding. “That’s really impressive,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No—” He back tracks immediately. “Not like— I didn’t mean—” He takes in a sharp breath. “It’s a very good place for Psychology, and I’m sure learning there was a great opportunity for you— Stanford has been held to extremely high academic standards since it was founded, and so the workload has been known to overwhelm a lot of it’s students, especially PhD students, so you having graduated from there is a really impressive feat,”

“It’s a College. Who cares?”

“Right… Uh, well— Welcome to the team,” he says, retreating into the comfort of his desk chair at the dismissal in your tone. You definitely didn’t want to speak to him.

You don’t miss the way he glances at you periodically over the rest of the work day, as if trying to figure out the best way to approach you next time.

You don’t mind that as much. At least he’s not numbing your eardrums anymore.

[thydungeongal]

Is PF2e a suitable dungeon-crawl system? Or would you recommend sticking to D&D? Iirc you rec specifically D&D before 5e (I don’t play D&D so the acronyms have been a struggle to keep straight). Better yet, for someone running their first dungeon crawl, what would you recommend? My players really like PF2e, hence my first question, but they also like exploring different systems, so I have two oysters. Maybe even several.

Okay so this is a really multifaceted question so I will try my best to answer it! :)

Pathfinder, to me, represents the same design and gameplay structure I like to broadly call "modern D&D" or "WotC D&D," which other people also call "neotrad." Basically, editions of D&D since the acquisition of the license by WotC have changed the game structurally to such an extent that while the games have not become exactly antithetical to dungeon crawls they have become somewhat harder for running a straight old-school dungeon crawl. For example, modern D&D is not very well suited to random encounters as a means of straining character resources owing to the fact that encounters can often take a lot of time to resolve.

Now, having said that, there is a place for dungeons in Pathfinder and other games in the modern D&D lineage: while the slow and methodical dungeon crawl is not fully supported by modern D&D, there is a place for what can be called a dungeon dive. This difference was articulated really well imo by @100-manslayer in this response to a post of mine:

The point being that you can absolutely have dungeons in a Pathfinder 2e and I in fact think Pathfinder 2e can be the perfect system for a dungeon dive: the sort of systemic design that Pathfinder represents means that a dungeon environment can act as a perfect microcosm of allowing players to use pretty much all the tools at their characters' disposal. It will be less like a slow, methodical crawl, but more like a romp in a cool puzzle dungeon. That I feel is where modern D&D and its kin shines.

A dungeon dive will basically end up looking structurally like a dungeon crawl, but specifically with "encounters" of various types already prepped in. I know Pathfinder 2e is very generous with encounter prep tools for GMs, so the best way to think of a modern D&D dungeon is as a way to structure content while giving players freedom in how they go about tackling it.

Now, if you want to go for an older edition and a proper old-school dungeon crawl my personal game of choice is B/X D&D, the B/X being a common abbreviation for "Basic/Expert." The game was released in a red box which includes both a Basic game and an Expert game, which together formed an extremely nice and coherent game, which happens to be my favorite edition of the game. It is a very straightforward dungeon game. Now, it is available digitally, but there is also a modern retroclone of it called Old-School Essentials, which basically takes the rules and mechanics of B/X, clarifies them, presents them with nicer layout, and makes them consistent (as there were some inconsistencies across the two sets). OSE is a fantastic game and it is also easy to expand upon, as it has a very active community producing content for it.

There is also Basic Fantasy Roleplaying which is an entirely free open source D&D clone. It is also a fantastic product, owing a lot to B/X in terms of its rules but having some modern touches.

But yeah, there is nothing about Pathfinder 2e that is entirely antithetical to dungeoning, but it is going to look like a slightly different type of dungeon!

[kinardsevan]

I find the writing of 806 absolutely wildly awful. First, we have a date that is completely antithetical to what we've been shown a week before; we had an established couple who takes care of each other like it's the most natural thing in the world and evidently spends a lot of time together, we have Tommy 100% integrated in Buck's everyday life both on their own and with the 118 (the hospital scene, the birthday party for Chris) and all of a sudden we get Buck bumbling over a hot girl who doesn't say he's on a date (100% OOC) and who doesn't even know Tommy's gay and not bi. Second idiotic idea, Buck's answering yes to Josh's questions which are evidently things you would only say yes to if you loved someone (you don't put someone's happiness above yours if you're casually dating) and then randomly regurgitating that awkward speech instead of a very simple ' I love you' which he's had no trouble using before with other people. It just DOES NOT MAKE SENSE.

i feel like when y’all send me these messages, you’re expecting the long-winded responses at this point (at least I hope so 😂😂). EIther way, you’re about to get one lolololol.

I won’t disagree with you on the writing entirely. I don’t hate it as much as others do, mostly because I feel like I ~kindof understand what they were going for, but it wasn’t perfect by any measure. It left a lot to be desired, and I think what they were doing could’ve been achieved more effectively in other ways.

I also don’t think you’re wrong about how it feels antithetical, especially when we have Buck suggesting to Eddie in 705 that Tommy is gay, and we’re supposed to believe these two are spending all their spare time together, but are apparently not having real conversations during all that time. To that end, I can’t solve that issue for the writers. However, there are parts of your argument that I have counters to. 

For one thing, I don’t think we can knock the fact that even being in a committed relationship doesn’t stop the best of us from stumbling over ourselves when we see someone we’re attracted to. People get so upset about how Buck acts in this scene that they fail to appreciate the major points that I actually enjoy about it: Buck yes, looks, (and is obvious about it), but he apologizes to his boyfriend about it in a way that makes it clear that he’s not outwardly interested in the women. Tommy also tells him that it’s okay (and we know that there’s a deleted line from this scene where he mentions finding one of the waiters good looking). To that end, we get the distinction that while these two don’t have an interest in stepping out on each other, they’re not blind. 

People also get upset about the lack of Buck’s distinction that he’s on a date. And while there are a million different reasons to complain about it (or explain it away), I’m gonna go with the obvious answer of, he doesn’t owe some random woman in an italian eatery his personal life situation, especially in a place where he may not feel ready to express exactly how he defines himself. There’s a massive difference between accepting things about yourself and actually dignifying it out loud, and the fandom has been so quick to assume one requires the other. Buck knows he’s bisexual; he even knows his feelings for Tommy are deep. That doesn’t necessarily have to mean he’s put a label on who he is. Just speaking from personal experience on reaching a point where I’m comfortably labeling myself as queer,… I even struggle with that. Because people throw around all of these terms (bi, queer, pan, etc.), and it creates this pressure to say exactly what you are, which I don’t think is fair to real people, let alone a fictional character. Some might say his decision to not dignify it verbally suggests fear to, but I don’t think that’s the issue. 

Further, I think the issue of “he doesn’t know Tommy’s gay”… I don’t think that’s the intention with the question. When watching it back, first of all, you have to remember from a writing standpoint, they have to have an entry for how Tommy and Abby were (previously) inclined. Moreover, asking Tommy if he’s ever been with a woman is not the same as asking him if he���s gay. Those are two entirely different questions. I can literally cite from a book to you that I own (Guilded Razors by Sam Lansky) which directly discusses being involved with women even though he knew he was gay. Evan first says that he notices Tommy didn’t look at the women when he did. I imagine that trying to figure out how fluid he is in his own mindset towards both sexes makes it confusing to understand someone who is strictly straight or gay. I can’t conceptualize of it and I’ve known personally that I liked both since I was in middle school. So I don’t think it’s ridiculous for him to ask his boyfriend (who he later will distinguish as someone he’s extremely comfortable with, and would be comfortable asking those kinds of questions to) about his attraction (or lack thereof) to women. I also think it has more to do with the follow-up question (“have you ever been with a woman”). Sometimes we ask questions that we already have the answer to just so we can get to the follow-up. When you intersect that with the “How do we bring Abby in to the conversation” of it all, it makes sense. 

Second, I totally agree that Evan answering those questions points to him being in love with Tommy. When I wrote up my psychology breakdown of the break-up, I referenced two things which tell us they’re in love with one another. 

-The entire “we don’t have to go that far” exchange with Josh. I think there’s a lot to be said about the fact that with Evan still figuring himself out, maybe it’s hard for him to dignify being in love with Tommy verbally. I also think that when you’re an adult and you get into serious relationships like this, there’s a period of time where you’re in love with them but you haven’t put a label on it. 

-“If I were move in with you, you won’t mean to, you wouldn’t plan for it, but you’d end up breaking my heart. And I don’t think that I could deal with that.” THIS ENTIRE FUCKING LINE MY GOD. (Just rip my heart out LFJr.) 

However, I think your argument about the fact that he skips over the “I love you” and straight to “move in with me” negates some serious engagement with the source material. First of all, we have an acknowledgment that Tommy’s clearly responding from a place of trauma. He’s responding from a place of “I love you more and then lose you; better to lose you here and now by my own hand”. From Buck’s side, we’ve seen him struggle with being in love. He was in love with Abby and never got to tell her, and then was strung along for months until he finally ended things in a letter to her. He was left by Ali when she couldn’t deal with his “lifestyle” (job). Love may not have entered the equation there, but he was clearly serious about her. Taylor was messy for him, but he clearly felt deeply for her, and even that blew up in his face. There are competing schools of thought on whether he truly loved her or not, but at the end of the day, that relationship fell apart due to issues with trust. Natalia wasn’t around long enough for him to dignify anything towards her. 

And then there’s the mess with his parents. We’ve never had this acknowledged, but I struggle to believe that Evan grew up in a house where “I love you” was actually said out loud very much (if at all). Based on how absent we know Phillip and Margaret were (and are to some degree still), I feel like they probably lived by the attitude of “we may not have always said it, but we always felt it”….which isn’t really good enough as a parent. Your kids need to hear you say it, and they need to know it’s okay to say it back. When you don’t have that foundation, it’s hard to put those feelings into words towards others, even if you do feel it, because they might burn you. Evan has been burned, and even though we don’t know a lot of his backstory, we know Tommy has too. So while you argue that he’s used those three words towards others in the past, I counter with, did it feel this real? Did stand to lose as much? Because I don’t really view the relationship as Tommy being more in it than Evan is. I think we’re kind-of getting that “grew up in the same house but turned out different” trope.  We see Tommy as someone who wants to take care of the person he loves because he hasn’t had that before, while Buck fumbles his way through wondering if it’s okay to do those things because no one has really shown him how. There’s also been commentary on the fact that he asked Tommy to move in instead of saying “I love you” because this entire relationship has been grand gestures. I think there’s something dignifying in that choice. He’s telling Tommy he sees a future with him. He talks about things like marriage, but from Tommy’s end it reads as out of left field from someone who’s still figuring out who they are in their sexuality. I think (after watching the scene back), that Evan doesn’t necessarily feel that way about himself, but the same way he railroads Tommy with the starry-eyed future, Tommy kind-of does the same thing back to him with the breakup. It’s very…. “I pushed you five steps in the wrong direction and now you’re pushing me ten steps back” (for lack of a better metaphor). And I know people argue about the fact that this entire relationship has been so key with communication from day one, but those forms of communication have never required the two of them to get down into their traumas with one another. It’s really fucking easy to have day-to-day conversations with people that stay on the surface and just keep powering through. Go back to 710 and notice how we don’t go deep into the daddy issues. They both touch on them, and then Evan changes the subject and Tommy goes with him on it. I don’t think it’s unreasonable at six months in to not have done a deep dive on major trauma. You can skate around it if it’s not something you’re ready to talk about. It’s one of my reasons for why these two will ultimately be back together in 8b, because at some point you have to flesh out the unfinished business of it all (ala Wyatt and Judd when Judd’s leg was broken). Now, I don’t know if that happens the involvement of a serial killer, or a truck/jeep/helicopter accident, or trapped in a burning building… I just know that at some point, it has to come to fruition. TM enjoys these kinds of standoffs too much to not have a plan for these two to end up in one. 

That all said, I’ve said before, the general audience doesn’t have a psychology degree or years of trauma counseliing under their belt. They’re not going to look at these two and read it the same way I can. TM probably doesn’t even realize the way he’s writing it is very direct into psychological motives 😂

But, just to cover my own skin… I could always be wrong. One of my very favorite people has a completely different theory on how b/t will be handled, and we agree to disagree 😂😂😂. as I’ve said to him “the best part of this entire scenario is that one of us eventually has to be wrong”. 

(circling back to your “simple i love you” just one last time as I looked at it again…. it feels siimple to us as an audience. however, verbalizing that shit out loud when you fear rejection and abandonment is an entirely different story. we know they had abandonment on the brain for Buck going into the midseason finale, and this obviously would’ve played right into it. So in what world are you going to expect him to give up “I love you” when he’s about to be broken up with. That would’ve been unnecessarily cruel.) 

My last little addition, to circle back to other points I’ve made… there’s a give and take in this relationship that we need (or at least deserve) to see. Personally, I feel like Buck will be the first one to say “I love you”, but my preference would be that Tommy does. It’s the whole issue of stepping beyond the fear for me that makes me feel that way.

By correlation, I feel like Buck has to give up the loft. He asks Tommy to move in, but we’ve had many discussions about the fact that Tommy has a house with a car lift and a muay thai set up. those are not things that would translate well into a loft. Having that trade-off would show a meeting in the middle on things that they both hold close to the vest. Tommy allowing himself to love and be loved would be a major point for him, while Evan giving up the loft would suggest that he’s not just in things for the short-term, because he can also give things up for Tommy. (also, the loft is very bachelor-esque, and these two are not bachelors when they’re with each other so….) 

sorry not sorry. you’re welcome for my rambles lol

[aishangotome]

[Silvio] A Love Tailored To You Part 2

Credit to @shatcey for providing the video upload.

When I asked him about last night's events, Carlo thought for a moment and then––

Carlo: You were very drunk.

Carlo: Tanzanite liquor really doesn't agree with some people.

Emma: It seems like I'm one of those people...

Emma: By the way, what happened after the party?

Carlo: Prince Silvio took you back with him.

Emma: Was I... different then? Like a different person?

Carlo: Hmm, well, you were certainly more affectionate with Prince Silvio than usual.

Carlo: But I don't know about being like a different person.

Emma: Is that so...?

(So Silvio took me back to my room after that. I'm sure that's where...)

Silvio: You don't remember? You were incredibly erotic and bold, like a different person.

(Ugh, how embarrassing...)

Carlo: Ah, speaking of which, last night Prince Silvio was unusually––

???: Asking other people about yer drunken antics, huh? You've got interesting hobbies.

Emma: !

Just as I heard a jingling sound from the end of the hallway, Silvio came striding towards us.

Silvio: Chattin' in the hallway, huh? Looks like you have too much free time, Carlo. If you're saying you don't have enough work, I can give ya more.

Carlo: No, it's fine! I'll get back to work. Excuse me!

Carlo bowed and then dashed off like a rabbit.

Silvio: So, did you find out what you wanted to know?

He put his arm around my waist as if to say he wouldn't let me escape, and gave me a mischievous smile.

It felt like he was peering into the depths of my mind, trying to access the memories of last night that seemed to be sealed away, and my heart skipped a beat.

Emma: I learned that I was very drunk last night.

Silvio: Anything else?

Emma: I heard that you took me back to my room.

Emma: Thank you.

Silvio: Well, if I had left a drunkard at the venue, it would have been troublesome.

Silvio: But thanks to that, I got to see you make a fool of yourself. So we're even.

Silvio gave me a satisfied smile and placed a light kiss on my temple.

(Somehow, he seems to be in a better mood than usual.)

(Is it because last night was so amazing? Does that mean he's usually not satisfied?)

Anxiety sparked in my chest, and at the same time, the uneasy feeling from last night returned.

Even when I saw Silvio being approached by women at the party, I didn't feel particularly jealous.

Rather, I even felt envious.

I thought, if I could be like that, alluring and confident, Silvio would surely be thrilled by a different side of me––

(Maybe that drink made it possible.)

(A bolder, more sensual me that would make Silvio happy...)

(.........)

Silvio: You don't remember anything else?

Emma: Huh?

Silvio's voice brought me back to reality with a start.

Emma: No, I don't remember anything after that.

Silvio: Good.

(.........?)

I felt like Silvio had an expression of slight relief.

(Could it be that there's something inconvenient for Silvio if I remember last night?)

(Like, maybe he was overwhelmed by my boldness and showed a different side of himself...?)

Silvio: What are ya staring at?

Emma: Nothing.

Even as I shook my head, I was making a certain resolution.

-

That night---

I visited Silvio's room, wearing a more seductive negligee than usual, hidden under a gown.

––I masked my embarrassment with strong alcohol.

Silvio: It's unusual for you to come to my room dressed like that. Are you drunk again today?

Emma: Yes. My body aches, and I want you now...

I gently took the glass from Silvio's hand as he sat drinking by the window, placed it on the table, and led him to the bed.

(I won't blush or be shy. Today, I'm a very bold and seductive woman...)

As I told myself this, I pushed Silvio down and tried to take off his clothes, but---

Silvio: You're not that drunk, are you?

(Huh?)

Emma: I-I'm drunk.

I unbuttoned Silvio's shirt and showered his neck with kisses.

His hand slipped into my negligee, moving from my thigh to my buttock, but I managed to keep my expression unchanged.

Silvio: If you're saying you're the same as last night, then of course you can undress yourself, right?

Emma: I can. This is just a hindrance to making love with you.

Still straddling Silvio, I crossed my arms and took off my negligee.

(This is so embarrassing...! But if I back down now, it'll be the same as always.)

With my breasts exposed, I placed both hands beside Silvio's face and leaned over him.

Silvio: So, what are you going to do next? You're not satisfied with just taking it off, are you?

Emma: Of course not.

I took Silvio's hand, placed it on my breast, and kissed him.

Emma: Mmm...

I slipped my tongue between his lips, entwining them, and felt a heat building deep within my core.

Emma: Mm... ah...

As I kissed him hungrily, the hand I had placed on his chest brushed against his nipple.

(Normally I would pull my hand away, but...)

I pressed my hand more firmly against his chest, and as if in reward, his fingertips teased a sensitive spot.

Emma: Ahh... oh...

After a while, our lips parted with a soft sigh.

Silvio: It might be better to take this off too, before it gets soaked.

He lowered my underwear slightly, and I felt the dammed-up honey threatening to spill over.

(Silvio seems completely unfazed. I'm trying to be bold, but...)

I pulled down my underwear along with Silvio's fingers.

Now completely naked, I tried to take off Silvio's pants, but then---

Emma: Whoa!

Silvio sat up and pushed me back down.

He lifted my legs and pressed my knees up near my face, exposing my most private parts.

Emma: W-wait a minute, this position is too embarrassing!

Silvio: You really aren't drunk, are you?

When I flailed my legs, Silvio let go of them with a mischievous laugh.

(Was I really bold enough to accept this position last night...?!)

I hurriedly covered myself between my legs with my hands, the air feeling slightly cool against my skin.

Silvio: Seems like you didn't have enough to drink.

Silvio: Now, move yer hands. Your turn is over.

Emma: Ah...!

He moved my hands away, and his fingertips sank into my thoroughly wet center with a soft sound.

As he stirred inside me, even my resolve to "be bold" melted away––

(As I thought, just being a little drunk isn't enough.)

(That drink I had last night... I need something that will make me lose myself completely.)

After that, I was thoroughly loved by Silvio as usual, and drifted off into a sweet slumber.

-

-- The next day.

Shopkeeper: I do have what you're looking for––but are you the one drinking it, young lady?

I was visiting the tavern that was said to have the largest selection in town, my appearance modestly concealed.

Emma: Yes.

Shopkeeper: I think you should reconsider. Well, you have enough money, so...

Shopkeeper: Here you go, the strongest Tanzanite liquor I have.

.

.

.

.

Part 1 | Part 3

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[highlordofkrypton]

This is the story of Lucien Vanserra, as told in his own words, of his journey through his immortal life. Lucien recounts how he, a vampire, fell in love with the radiant and innocent Tamlin and how he destroyed both of their lives.

Finally, the time has come for your main gift @yaralulu for this year's @acotargiftexchange. This is the first of five chapters, so I hope you are seated and ready for bloody and toxic yaoi! Special shoutout to @olenvasynyt in this chapter, hope you like it and thank you for the inspiration!

TAGS: Explicit (oh yes, there will be smut), Lucien Vanserra/Tamlin, Alternate Universe - Vampire. More tags to be added along with new chapters.

READ ON AO3 OR UNDER THE CUT.

Vampires aren’t real.

If they were, surely the world would know about them by now? Science has advanced far too much, along with surveillance and weaponry. There’s no way that a vampire could get away—

No, they could.

The nights are more active with workers and party goers alike keeping the streets alive. People go missing all the time, and the understanding of disease and unique conditions could easily explain away the symptoms of vampirism. Fear of the sun? No, an allergy—skin sensitivity. Sunglasses? It’s nothing more than the consequences of a hangover. Nesta has seen it all, and she unravelled every single thread with plausible explanation and proof. If this one doesn’t work out, then she’ll know: vampires aren’t real.

Her manicured fingers trace the winding banister, up to a plain apartment. She would have imagined something much more wondrous and lavish for someone with the means to live forever, thus accumulating limitless wealth. Instead, he lives among the people, blending in with what would be his next meal. I could be next, she remarks, made of flesh and blood just like his neighbours. Is this worth it?

Curiosity is an insatiable hunger, and poverty deepens it. This could be the discovery of the century, and it would have her name on it. Nesta Archeron would carry her surname out of disgrace and finish her father’s work—the work that had him branded as a madman. People are much kinder to her, likening her interest as esoteric. It works in her favour that witchcraft and astrology are becoming more and more on trend. But she doesn’t want to be a trend. Her hunger lies in the truth, no matter how painful and terrifying. Her work is Putlizer worthy, she just needs the right subject.

Her knuckles rap at the door, just below the metal plaque written ‘406’.

Nesta had met the breathtaking stranger at the bar, drinking her woes away. Another opportunity slipped through her fingers in favour of lesser, more amenable male colleagues. Her mouth is too sharp, and her brain too smart. Maybe journalism isn’t for me, she’d lamented into a glass of whiskey, and at that very moment, he’d slid into the stool beside her. Her lips parted to reject him, but they hung there in muted surprise as she stared. He was beautiful, except beautiful didn’t cut it. He was breathtaking, so much that she could not find the words to express the depth of his handsomeness. Not quite pale, his pristine skin carried an olive undertone which she was sure would ripen nicely under the kiss of the sun, if he cared to venture out into it. His eyes—one amber, and the other pure gold—glinted in the darkness, as if stealing the light in the very room. There wasn’t enough light to make them glow like that, but that made him all the more entrancing. His long auburn hair was tied into a loose bun, strands artfully placed around his face to frame his high cheekbones and sharp jaw. He was so beautiful that she could not doubt that he was something more.

They got to talking, and he made her laugh in ways that were not obnoxious or at her expense. His flirtations were smooth and subtle, but not so much that she did not notice. His words were like the undertones of sweet maple in her drink—present, but not overwhelming and yet, it marks the difference between a good whiskey and everything else.

“I have your story,” he said so easily, as if changing lives were something he simply did at the drop of a hat. “Do you believe in vampires, Nesta?” He slipped a card into her pocket, and she had run her fingers over the gold printed address over and over again before finding herself here. 

The door swings open, and there he stands, nearly a foot above her in all his ethereal glory. His red hair had been let loose to fall across his shoulders like soft silk. She yearns to reach out and touch, her curiosity running wild in his presence. Instead, she tightens her grip on her purse and tips her chin up in defiance of the nerves bubbling inside her.

“You’re here.” The velvet of his voice sends shivers down her spine, and the delicate smile makes her weak. Does he know its power? He has to. His confidence is unmistakable. “Come in, Nesta.”

The apartment is modest, to say the least. It is the antithesis of its inhabitant who naturally commands a crowded room. Here, in the plainness of the room, he is the only thing that matters and it makes her painfully aware of him and his every movement.

He takes her coat, but she keeps her purse, and guides her to the small living room. He sweeps his slender hand towards the single seat while he takes the couch across from her. His arm rests along its back, extended and possessive, and he crosses his long legs. Although he’s the one being interviewed, his gaze weighs on her. It dissects her, and his thoughts are unreadable. He is nothing more than pleasant, patient and willing.

Nesta quickly takes out her things, as if not to waste his time—as if he didn’t have plenty of it. Her recorder is placed between them on a cheap ikea coffee table of pressed wood; she prefers it over using her phone, too easily distracted by the pop of notifications if she were to leave it out within view. In her lap, she keeps a notebook and a pen to jot down any questions that float to mind so as to avoid interrupting him.

“Are you ready?” He asks her. “Do you have enough battery on that?” His eyes flicker down to the recorder.

“I have my phone if ever,” Nesta explains. A small part of her thinks this is some kind of prank, and that she came all this way for nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time I went home with a man and ended up disappointed. What do I have to lose?

She sits back into the chair. “You were saying vampires were real?”

“I’m not just saying. They are real.”

Nesta smiles, and chuckles softly. “You’ll have to excuse me if I seem… incredulous. In my line of work, people make bold claims all the time and they rarely have the proof to back it up.”

If her resistance bothers him, he doesn’t show it. He is nothing more but comfortable. He watches her for a long moment, smiling again. His lips spread to bare his teeth, and the smile widens and widens to reveal two pointed fangs in place of his canine teeth. Before Nesta can argue about the use of false teeth, his eyes light up, and he speaks a single command: “Undress.”

Oh, yes, she would like that. She would like nothing more than to please the man before her. Nesta looks down, fingers darting to the buttons down the centre of her shirt. She frees the topmost one, then moves to the second one.

“Enough.”

Nesta blinks, her attention still pointed downwards to her blouse. A small gasp escapes her as she looks to Lucien in horror, and though his display had been innocuous, the realization that she is not safe prevails. He could hurt her, and she would be willing.

“I won’t harm you, Nesta. I just needed to show you that the things I can do… they are beyond human ability.” He keeps that pleasant smile on his face.

“Why me?”

“Because I want to tell my story. I have lived a long life, and to think that one day, it could fade to nothing,” he turns his head, glancing out the window, thoughtful. “It was not a good life, and I thought to confess to a priest, but I do not care for God’s forgiveness. Perhaps by helping you, I can atone for what I have done.”

Fear simmers beneath her curiosity, but Nesta won’t leave. She wants to know, she needs to know what could haunt someone like him? The terror he brings makes him even more attractive, and Nesta loathes herself for that thought. She nods. “Go on.”

“My name is Lucien Vanserra and I am a vampire, like my brothers and my father before me. I can no longer remember when I was born, or how I became the way I am, but what I remember is the first time I felt alive.” As he speaks, he looks beyond her, to a distant past she will soon be privy to. “And the day I died.”

Vampires don’t die… do they? Nesta isn’t sure what he means, whether he’s hinting at the way he was turned, or something metaphorical. Regardless, she knows exactly what her hook is going to be.

“My early life is nothing more than a haze, walking through this world as something more than human, but less than…” His pink lips purse, looking for the words. “Less than,” he simply decides, and Nesta simply understands. Sometimes, there are no words for that feeling, but only someone who has experienced it will understand. 

“You see, my father is very old and controls most of the world’s… interests. He has worked very hard to build an empire. My six brothers and I were his tools to achieve that.”

Were? These brothers, are they biological?

Nesta knows better than to interrupt a story. She jots her question down, and leaves it for later in case it’s answered later in their evening together. He pauses to give her time to write, and when she lifts her gaze, her breath catches yet again. The weight of his full attention is something. It brings heat to her cheeks, and she glances away, as if to wordlessly ask him to do the same.

Lucien glances away, lightly resting his chin on his knuckles. “His will was all that mattered. He would starve us, make us fight each other for scraps.” He looks back at Nesta before she queues another question. “Of human meat. We’d have to try and draw blood out of it.” Again, he turns his head and finds that distant point to stare at. “It was more of the same. Pain. Hunger. Hate. It all blends together after a couple of centuries. I can’t imagine what it is like for my father. Thousands of years,” he says breathlessly, shaking his head. “And so stagnant.”

“He’s still alive?” The surprise draws the question out of her before she can help it, but Nesta is rarely apologetic, even for the most honest of mishaps.

A purse of the lips is all his father is worth it seems. So little emotions have poured from this man before her; perhaps that’s her responsibility then. Not only to tell his story, but to feel it on his behalf. His life is more than words on a page; she’ll make sure to do it justice, to give it the second chance he so clearly yearns for.

“I would say so. My father has a way of… surviving even the worst odds. Or perhaps my eldest brother has finally dealt with him.” The corner of Lucien’s lips twitch, mild annoyance rearing its head. “I find it strange how humans are the one who show more grace than any of the gods you all worship so.”

“She was my first, a peasant woman in some distant countryside. The details of the place have long faded, but I remember her face, clear as day. The most beautiful human I had ever seen.” Lucien looks at Nesta when he speaks the next words. “At the time.”

“My father had tired of me and my weak heart. You see, out of my six brothers, I fancied his methods the least. Humans are… not cattle to me. They’re small, and weak, yes, but what they excel at is beyond the physical.” He lifts his index finger, tapping over his heart. “It’s here. With every beat. Jesminda embodied that with her every breath. She was better than all of us put together.”

“But that… comes later. I tend to digress when it comes to her.”

The corners of his lips twitch again, and this time, Nesta thinks it's the ghost of a smile come to haunt his melancholy.

“I was starving, and for my kind, hunger is madness. I lunged at her. I was going to drink her dry. I didn’t want to, but there is nothing that can stop us when we are… like that. Or perhaps I am simply a weaker creature. I don’t know how she knew, and she only ever told me that I looked desperate, not evil. She offered me her wrist to drink. I don’t remember letting go, but we both survived the encounter.”

Lucien leans forward, holding his hands out for Nesta’s notebook and pen. She hands them to him without complaint. He begins to draw.

“I loved her, and it was my first time experiencing such a feeling. You cannot truly understand love until you have been truly devoid of it. Anything else is fascination. Affection. Complacency. It was like seeing the sun for the first time and realizing that it does not burn me. It was a drink that could sustain me for the rest of eternity, even in the smallest doses. She was my heart, and every memory of her is a beat in our song.”

He finishes the sketch, handing the notebook back to her. Jesminda is beautiful —a match to his ethereal beauty. Nesta traces her fingers over the lines drawn, etching clearly defining her darker skin tone and long dark hair. Her irises are left clear, likely a pale colour. Are they as sharp as Lucien’s? No, Nesta doubts it. Jesminda has a warmth to her, even in a simple quick portrait drawn by the only soul left to remember her. Was she a vampire, too? Did she choose to stay by his side as long as she could?

“I didn’t have a chance to turn her,” Lucien supplies, and that leaves Nesta even more in awe. 

A human as beautiful as a vampire. A human who’s kindness cleared the haze of Lucien’s meaningless existence. Nesta is careful not to smudge the ink, still tracing her outline as if she could learn more from Jesminda herself. She wants to know what she saw in Lucien, but that is a mystery lost in time, isn’t it?

“I wanted to, believe me, but my father rather enjoys inflicting pain. I do not think he found greater joy than tearing my heart right out of my chest and making me watch.”

Lucien goes quiet for a long, long moment. When he goes still, it’s unsettling. There is nothing natural to it. He might very well be made of marble. 

“I’m so—”

“Save your breath. You’ll see, I’m not worth your pity. Looking back, I think he did us a favour.” He shifts again, peppering in the smallest mannerism tied to humanity. “The story isn’t about her because I don’t think Jesminda would want anything to do with the thing I’ve become. No,” he says to himself. “She’d grieve, I would think. Hm. Yes. She saw something in me that was worth believing in, and my father killed it along with her.”

“I promised a story about a vampire, and you will soon see that the only thing we share in common with you is this mortal plane, and our features. The rest…” Lucien huffs, amused. “Is a fantasy you’ve all made up to cope with the existence of the devils walking among you.”

“I have an amendment to make,” Lucien says, suddenly.

“Oh?” Nesta asks softly, invested in where this is going.

“This more than the story of how I lived, and how I died. This is the story of how I became my father, and it all begins with him. Tamlin. My love, my mate and my greatest sin.”

[leif-is-finally-awake]

I 100% see where you’re coming from here.

Silco was such a fundamental part of Jinx as a person; there is so much we don’t get to see about Silco and Jinx’s relationship (how it came to be structured the way it is, how she adapted to the new Underground and way of being raised, struggles and jobs that she was forced to run for Silco) and season 2 definitely swept that side of her pain in order to tell a completely different story.

That being said, I don’t agree that Vander didn’t care about her or the other kids.

The directors have a very hard time with balancing everything out. You can have Jinx kidnapping her sister’s situationship and battling her childhood best friend in one episode, so it means that no matter how much they WANT to explore different relationships or storylines they simply don’t have time for that.

For a long time I saw it a similar way you did, until I went back and rewatched the first season after the second. The animation studio does a phenomenal job with subtle hints at motifs or body language, but that also means that the nuance they’re adding to the story may get missed. After the scene where Felicia announces she’s having Vi, you can see all the way back to S1 Ep1 just how much Vander cares about the other kids. ESPECIALLY Powder.

Vander wasn’t a stranger then. You can see from Vi and Powder’s facial expressions that they recognize and trust him implicitly, even when they just saw him kill a guy. When he sees Felicia’s body, he knows that he has to make good on his promise. Yes, 10000% Vander and Powder don’t share the same relationship. As Jinx is to Silco, Vi is to Vander. But that’s because what it’s built off of is fundamentally different.

They’re foils of love and parental affection. The fact is that Vander, no matter how much he loved her, put an exceeding amount of responsibility on Vi because he couldn’t always be there to protect all of the kids. So who does he trust? The oldest, of course. The one who he’s seen can take people twice her size. He had already promised Felicia that he would take care of Vi, and the best way, in his eyes, is to make her a Hound of the Underground as well. He sees himself in Vi. And if he can get her to protect herself, he can get her to be his eyes on the other kids while he isn’t around. This isn’t unlike Jinx and Silco. Silco saw himself in Powder, and he thought that the best way to teach her to survive was to get rid of the part of yourself that made you weak. Fight for your place in the world, take everything you need to, and you’ll always make it in the end. All of season one built that up, and it is very disappointing to not see a more explicit fallout of that.

ESPECIALLY after Jinx kills the person who taught her to “be strong”. The directors, though, couldn’t follow through on that storyline. They couldn’t have her face all of her internal pain because they were busy trying to add to the theme of found family, reinvention, forgiveness and love. And to make that half decent, the needed to cut that part of her out. And in a way, not facing those parts of herself are the same reason she ended up sacrificing herself in the end. A very unfortunate missed opportunity, but not uncommon for the story that the writers were trying to tell.

I think season one does something similar with the relationships of the OG found family of Mylo, Claggor, and the sisters. In the scene where Vander serves Powder her drink (in Felicia’s cup, of course. And there’s a whole conversation about how Jinx takes more after Felicia than Vi does, someone who Vander loved a considerable lot) and you can see how he’s worried and wants to be there for her. But he can’t talk to her the same way he talks to Vi. And anyway there isn’t enough screen time.

This is where I’m gonna end it cause I yapped way more than I intended to lol…I’m still very down to talking abt this tho bc there are so many interesting angles. You made some really great points and I would love to hear what other takes you have. Sorry if im overly pushy in this, I get very passionate abt this show :p

OMG!!! I forgot I can actually elaborate here so...

I hate hate hate hate hate hate so much that Jinx called Vander "Dad" and I hate more that she never did it with Silco.

Since the first episode it is clear that Vi is Vander's favorite and actually his only child. Powder, Maylo and the other were just kids that he took care of. The same from Powder POV, he was just the guy who took her in.

When he mets Silco the first thing she did was hug him and he LEFT the dagger and hugs her back, he empathizes with her, became her guide, her rock, yes in a terrible way but it was there, he convinced himself that he only wanted her as a weapon but through the first season he little by little realizes that he made the mistake of loving her until the talk with Vander's statue where he says that he understands now how you can do everything for the sake of a daughter (the core idea of S1), once again letting clear that everything Vander did was for A daughter, not two, not four kids, only Vi.

So it is complicated to believe that Jinx sees him as a dad, they barely know each other while Silco see her through the worst and the best of her childhood-adolescence.

I would prefer her seeing Vi and Vander/WW from far, feeling envy because Vi had her dad back while she didn't and will never get him because SHE KILLED him, but from that culprit she feels she learns to respect and protect what her sister loves because her sister is the only person she has, but this involves a rewrite of the first half of Arcane 2 so whatever.

In conclusion, I would've like to see Jinx say "I miss you dad" or "I miss my dad" while broking into tears (ugly crying) in any moment she was remembering him.

Oc I don't think Silco and Jinx had the best and most healthy relationship, this is more about Vander wasn't Jinx dad, Silco was and we were robbed of seeing how it affected Jinx.

[guppygiggles]

Not less, just different!

[bitchapalooza]

I relate to Sanji too much because it really does seem like he’s adopted the mentality that physical and mental abuse is a form of significant affection but only directed towards himself, like he sees it’s wrong and unjust when other people are being abused, but when he’s the victim he feels this conflicted sense of I deserve it and Wow they love me so much! It’s heartbreaking just to think about tbh

[taralen]

I love that Spamton is simultaneously:

Funny

Scary

Hideous

Handsome

Tiny

Gigantic

Angelic

Demonic

Villain

Anti-Hero

Piece of @#$%

Lovable Weirdo

Disgusting

Sexy

Silly

Angsty

Manic

Depressed

Chubby

Thin

Buff

Dirty

Clean

Ball-jointed

No jointed

Badass

Loser

WINRAR

He's like the perfect poster boy. He fits into so many categories, and yet, most of them fit him anyway. Want an ad for something horrific? SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. Need a model for the latest lingerie? SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. Looking to advertise good dental care? SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. Need a scapegoat for all the city's problems? SPAMTON G. SPAMT—

[zorua-adorable]

#not only does this support in my very educated opinion do a good job at emulating inigo’s way of speaking #but i think theres also a very underrated characteristic he has that not a lot of people talk about and its that hes honestly quite morbid #him spending hours talking to and dancing with his mother’s grave is very beautiful and moving but it is also not a normal way to grieve #which makes sense because duh nothing about his life is normal but its j like. you know #if robin is his father (and maybe j the normal convo i dont remember) in the hot springs scramble he’ll insist upon bringing— #severed risen limbs home as a way to remember the peacefulness (lol) of the springs #and he thinks absolutely nothing of it!! #i think he gets attached to things just a little too intensely and because his life is surrounded by death how he expresses that can be #very interesting. and he talks about death all time more than the other kids #bc while a lot of their coping mechanisms are based in fear and the need to instill confidence in themselves (think cyn or gerome or owain #or sev or yarne or noire) #and how their SCARED of death and of loss and adapt different behaviors to act like theyre not (to varying degrees of success) #i think inigo is much more accepting of the fact that death follows him and has made it a normal presence in his life #which is not a good thing it means that he hasnt let himself grieve. he lets death hang over him and follow him instead of pushing back #also guess which one of the awakening trio in fates has the canonical story death. just by the way lmao #anyways bc im writing this in the tags on my phone i cant actually see what the hell ive been saying im j stream of consciousnessing this #but my point is that inigo has a weird fixation on death and dying that stems from his inability to make peace with death and grieve #and i think him idolizing death in this support (this BRILLIANT fan support that made me ill) is so in character and so lovely

Ann cannot stop me from sharing her great tags with the world. For this being a stream of consciousness, it’s VERY eloquent; to be expected of my girl, the resident Inigo expert.

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[charalol]

Hi tumblr,,,, I'm scared of you. But. We accidentally went mentally ill in the groupchat again.

[foxesandrabbits]

Not only Kevin's entire future with Exy, his one purpose, was crushed alongside his hand, but also, for a moment, his life was on the line too. And he was so scared, he spoke and plead in every language he knew, in hopes anyone would help him, and how soul crashing it must’ve been to know that no one would.

He asked Jean for help, not really understanding that he was damning them both by speaking french in front of Riko because that moment was it- he was going to die. But they both had their hands tied, not having full freedom to actually act the way they wanted. And how devastating is that? Asking for help, and not receiving it. Watching the person you love the most hurt, and not being able to help them. Both their lives at stake, both unable to do something about it.

At that moment, I think, was when Kevin fully recognized that no matter how Jean felt about him (even when Kevin made him break the rules, like teaching him french), there was always going to be a wall between them in the form of a raven. How he truly learned that Jean wouldn’t go with him that night even if he asked, why he used him, because he knew Jean couldn't allow himself to do it willingly, knowing he was betraying the Moriyamas, their cuts ran too deep for that to happen.

And oh, to see Jean for the first time since Renee rescued him must’ve been so excruciating, “bottomless guilt”, how easy was to be back in the nest tending each other's wounds, and how much he didn't want that to happen ever again.

Once Kevin learned how to trust himself, how to be a little less afraid, how to convince himself that there was more to life that what he had been taught, he truly saw Jean, this person that would have done anything for him, at one point.

Kevin couldn’t rescue Jean once, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again, so he made sure to give Jean the best chance he could find so he could have the same hope the foxes had given him. Even if it was without him.

[soullessjack]

oh my god like. the stark contrast between mob’s inner self — saying that everyone around him held him back, everyone was afraid of him, everyone treated him differently, everyone only saw him as something to use and that he was never accepted by anyone at any point; that he would never be accepted for who he really internally feels he is — vs all of mob’s friends and family repeatedly saying “we aren’t scared of you because we know you and we love you, this is just a part of you that we can live with and accept,”— not to mention reigen fully admitting that he was using mob and apologizing for it, as well as telling mob that the only person who really needs to accept mob is himself..? It’s just. It’s so good man

[thewistlingbadger]

Wow guys thank you for all your additions it means a lot to have this conversation sksks. The idea that people would be more receptive to silco and Jinx's relationship if they were both women is so interesting to me, and I think it is true. People seem to be very receptive of the relationship between Mel and her mom even though their relationship is very similar to jinx's relationship with Silco. They're able to understand that Ambessa loved Mel even though she damaged her, but some people really struggle with understanding that Silco was the same way. Some people believe that Silco groomed Jinx to be a weapon but they fail to see how Ambessa canonically DID groom Mel to be a weapon. I definitely think people wouldn't see their (jinx and Silco's) relationship as sexual if they were mother and daughter because in our society it's like once you hit a certain age (or rather begin to look a different way) your relationship with your parents HAS to change because certain things are "no longer appropriate." People see Jinx crawl in Silco's lap and think there's something sexual to that. I see Jinx crawl in Silco's lap and see a daughter who still acts like a little girl with her dad, even though that time has passed. To me it's clear that Jinx's disregard for Silco's space is because their relationship lacks boundaries, and it lacks boundaries because everytime silco tries to show some restraint, jinx ignores him and he really doesn't put up a fight. He does get upset at her he does try to control her but she's so unbothered by it that it makes him just give up.

There's also something about the fact that Jinx is trans coded and Silco is her primary supporter. Silco is the one affirming her identity and helping her transition from "powder" to "jinx" (I'm not saying that Jinx is implied to be trans in the story I'm saying Jinx's story IS trans, if you know you know and if you don't you can ask about it and I'll explain). I think there's a lot of added value to the story when you consider Silco as trans. He's been fighting all his life to be seen a certain way, to be given respect he feels is commonly afforded to others but not to himself, and suddenly when he finally gets it he encounters a little girl. To me in the story it's clear that having Jinx in Silco's life is healing him, like how Isha healed Jinx's inner child Jinx did the same for Silco. It takes a whole new meaning behind "silco saw himself in jinx." Something about a story of a fully transitioned man deciding to raise a little girl because she reminds him of how he used to be...yeah. That hits. That resonates with me.

Also yeah the points about his makeup, his style, his voice being not too low and very soft, him having no sign of facial hair, his build, how the people he's closest with and surrounds himself with are women, etc, does seem very trans. At the bare minimum silco is comfortable with his gender and his expression and masculinity. I also tend to consider his relationship with Felicia. This is pure speculation and indulgence but I see them as brother and sister, the way Silco is brothers with Vander he's also Felicia's brother. I like the idea that he knew Felicia before Vander, that they grew up together and looked out for each other since childhood. That long ago they were sisters. That resonates with me too.

Extra note the way Silco uses makeup is symbolic he's using it to cover his scar, to cover his past because he wants to leave it behind. And he's doing do with a substance that society would consider reserved for women. Silco covers his scar not only for himself but for others. He doesn't want people to see it, to see who he used to be. He wants people to see who he is.

I'm so glad people are finally realizing silco is trans lol