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arkaniske · 4 months ago

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Say it like you Mean It

AO3 Link \\\ Chapter Six: Language of Flowers.

4700 words \ SFW \ Jayvik Beta read by @kitcatkim

Summary: Five times Jayce brought flowers for Viktor and one time Viktor brought flowers for Jayce.

The language of flowers was an unnecessary invention. That had been Viktor’s belief for most of his life, a sentiment born out of practicality. Flowers were ephemeral, delicate things, wilting long before their meanings could take root. Why rely on something so transient to convey emotions when words carefully chosen and expertly delivered, could convey so much more?

Chapter One: Daffodils \\\ Chapter Two: SunflowersChapter Three: Bluebells \\\ Chapter Four: GardeniasChapter Five: Camellia \\\ Chapter Six: Red CamelliasChapter Seven: Language of Flowers

That was, of course, until Jayce Talis made his grand appearance. The language of flowers had become unavoidable, inescapable, even. It had wound its way into Viktor’s life with every bloom his partner had left in his wake, like roots taking hold of his heart. Each offering had been a puzzle wrapped in fragrance and colour.

Viktor really loves puzzles.

It was no surprise, then, that when Jayce handed him the first flower Viktor had found himself drawn to the mystery of it all. At first, it had been nothing more than a simple curiosity. The flower had come out of nowhere but as Jayce had rambled on about finished projects and breakthroughs, Viktor had picked up on a carefully slipped-in word. Symbolism. Jayce, the Golden Boy of Piltover, Man of Progress, caring about the symbolism of a flower. Not just that, he cared about what it would mean should it be gifted to Viktor.

This piqued Viktor’s interest.

As more flowers followed, each one layered with intentions, Viktor had realised this was more than just a fleeting whim. It was more than just his partner’s latest obsession bleeding into their everyday life. There was care to it, depth even. Jayce was desperately trying to speak to him and all Viktor had to do was solve the riddle presented to him.

And that is what led him here, to the book now resting in his hands.

It was an old thing, the spine cracked and the pages worn thin, a rare relic of a life he hadn’t brought himself to think of in many years. Among the few possessions he had kept from his mother’s passing, this book had lingered in his collection. She had been sentimental to her core, always finding beauty in small things—pressed flowers between book pages, trinkets collected from the markets, a well-worn book on flora she swore by. He still found comfort in creating space for her memory in his life, to know that she could still guide him even in her absence.

The book stayed. No matter how tall the walls he built around his heart, the softness he had inherited from her still found its way through. The memories of her delicate fingers thumbing through the pages, a faint smile on her lips as she recited the name of the flower, its uses and, at last, its meaning. He remembered her spending hours writing in the margins of the book as she learned the meaning of a new bloom. Back then, he had dismissed it as one of her whims, a charming distraction to occupy her. He realised now it had been one of her ways of connecting with the world—quiet, deliberate, and deeply meaningful.

Now, the book, heavy in his hands and filled with meanings that seemed to whisper gently back at him, was forcing him to reconsider what he thought he knew of flora. Each flower Jayce had given him had nudged open a door he hadn’t realised was locked, and the book had become a guide through the uncharted territory Jayce had created.

His mother would have laughed softly at him, perhaps given him a loving tease about his sudden interest in something he once had no time for. She would have called it fate, or something equally sentimental, always eager to romanticise the quiet threads of connection that wove through life. Viktor didn’t believe much in fate, but as his thumb brushed the entry of a red camellia, he couldn’t deny that perhaps… His mother had seen truths he once had overlooked.

The words were staring back at him. Unyielding love. His mother’s handwriting, looping and intricate, filled in the meaning of the flower in the margins.

A daring flower for a daring heart. The kind of love that can change everything, if you’re brave enough for it.

Perhaps he could find it in his sentimental heart to believe in fate like his mother would have done. His gaze drifted over to the bouquet beside him. Vivid and unapologetic, their message impossible to ignore. Like an invitation to feel more. Even now, Viktor couldn’t help the faint pull at his emotions over Jayce’s boldness. Leaving no room for doubt anymore.

There was only space for Viktor to respond.

\\\

The sound of the lab door creaking announced Jayce’s arrival, his steps hesitant but unmistakable. Viktor didn’t glance up immediately, though the sound tugged faintly at the corner of his thoughts. He was sitting by their shared desk, eyes focused on the book in his hands as if the scribbled words could bring him a last moment of comfort.

“You are late.” Viktor broke the silence without looking up, his tone carrying a deliberate neutrality. His fingers slid down to the edge of the page as if the texture might anchor his scattered thoughts. The shuffling footsteps faltered, a momentary hitch that Viktor caught before he turned the page.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that…” Jayce answered, his voice softer than usual. “Didn’t sleep great.”

Viktor rose from the chair to face Jayce. He finally allowed himself to glance over to his partner standing on opposite side of the room. It was easy to spot the nervous tension in Jayce’s shoulders, the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty around the room. Viktor followed that flicker, noting the way it returned over and over to the bouquet of camellias resting on the desk. His heart gave a quiet, inexplicable tug at the sight of him. Ah, there it is, Viktor thought, the weight of things unsaid.

“Did the flowers keep you awake?” Viktor asked lightly, a subtle fracture in their charade. It was the first direct acknowledgement of the flowers’ meaning, a quiet revelation that he understood their weight, and now Jayce knew that he knew.

Jayce’s reaction didn’t disappoint. His ears turned a telltale red and he quickly shook his head. “No! No, I—uh, I just…” Viktor watched as Jayce stuttered through his words, trying his very best to come up with an excuse. In the end, he gave up, mouth shutting closed. “Maybe…” Jayce’s voice was so quiet Viktor barely caught it. His partner’s nervous energy filled the space between them like static energy of an overcharged power regulator.

“Hm…” Viktor hummed, a low sound that carried more weight than it should. He held his steady gaze on Jayce, watching the man all but squirm under it. For a moment he expected amusement to grow in his chest but no—instead he found himself overwhelmed with endearment. It was disarming, how someone so bold and unyielding like Jayce could falter so entirely in matters of the heart.

The soft thud of Viktor closing the book was enough to snap Jayce’s attention back to him. His eyes narrowing at the worn cover as if it might explain itself. Viktor studied him silently, watching the realization slowly take hold. Last time he had been subtle like this it had taken a moment. But he could wait.

Viktor waited.

Jayce stared.

Viktor waited some more, allowing himself the faintest of smirks. Jayce all but gasped loudly, breaking the fragile quiet. For a moment, it looked like he had entirely shut down, his thoughts scrambling for purchase as though Viktor had short-circuited him. He watched the realisation dawn on Jayce like the slow bloom of a flower. His partner’s lips parted as if to speak, then closed again and Viktor could see the gears turning, piecing together what was in front of him.

“Is that—?” Jayce trailed off, his words catching in his throat as his mind seemed to race ahead of his mouth. “Is flowers? Book on flowers?” The phrase sounded ridiculous as he said it and Viktor allowed a smile to crack his neutral expression. “It is.” His voice remained calm. “Ah, more specifically symbolic meanings.” His calm delivery only making Jayce’s reaction so much more delightful.

Jayce blinked rapidly, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “And you’ve been reading it?” His voice climbed a pitch, “Like—actually reading it?”

“I have.” Viktor acknowledged with a subtle nod. “It belonged to my mother. She always had her way of finding meanings in the smallest things, an appreciation for connections others might overlook. It has been… Useful in navigating, well, you.” Viktor’s eyes flickered to the flowers once more. Vivid against the muted tones of the lab. He had to remind himself to slow his breath.

Jayce’s gaze darted to the flowers, then to the book and finally to Viktor’s eyes. His throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Does that mean…?” The question died halfway, as if finishing it might make the situation heavier. Viktor’s sharp eyes caught the slight tremble to his partner’s fingers.

“It means,” Viktor began, his voice softening to soothe Jayce’s worry, “that I have been paying attention, Jayce. Perhaps more than you realised.”

Jayce’s nervous laugh was almost a relief in the tense air between them. “A-ah… That’s… That’s good, right?” He asked with as much confidence he could muster, voice still holding a light tremble to it as if testing the weight of Viktor’s words.

There was something so profoundly endearing in Jayce’s nervous energy, how someone so bold and confident in the public eye could falter so completely here, in the quiet space between them. How out there he could be everyone’s charming Jayce but in here? In the soft silence of their lab, between petals and golden thread? This was a side of Jayce only meant for Viktor’s eyes.

“Good?” Viktor echoed; he felt the amusement linger in his tone. Even now, Jayce was standing with no flowers to hide behind and he wanted to know if he did good. “I would think so, considering the effort you have put in it.”

Jayce blinked, head tilting. Viktor could only imagine the thoughts going through his head, searching for the effort it had taken him to deliver flowers. Gods he’s precious when confused, Viktor tried not to smile at his own thoughts. Jayce shook his head before speaking; “I wouldn’t say it was that much effort-“

With a simple raise of his eyebrow Viktor cut off whatever dismissing statement Jayce was about to say. “Daffodils, sunflowers, bluebells, gardenias…” Viktor continued by subtly gesturing to the red blooms next to him. “You have gifted me quite the collection. Each one with a meaning, each one deliberate. It has not gone unnoticed.”

“Oh…uh- I didn’t think you would…” Jayce answered, shifting in his place as his thumb started rubbing comforting little circles into his own palm. “I-I mean. I wasn’t sure… I thought you might find it dumb or- I don’t know? Too much? Not enough, maybe…”

“Not enough?” Viktor stared at him in disbelief. Did they go to the same event? Did Jayce not see the pride which Viktor carried his patterns? He quite literally walked the halls of the gala like a trademarked Talis just for Jayce. Viktor couldn’t bring himself to say any of that, however. “Jayce, you gave me a Gardenia. That is not subtle. That is, in fact, quite a message.”

Jayce’s lips parted, as though he meant to speak, but nothing came out. Viktor allowed himself a small smirk. He had spent countless hours parsing the meanings Jayce had gifted him, the hidden confessions wrapped in petals and scent. It had been a puzzle, yes, but one layered with tenderness and vulnerability. He preferred to be composed, methodical even, but Jayce always had a way of disarming him. Of making every moment feeling alive.

Viktor allowed the moment of silence between them to stretch, watching the ever-blushing Jayce stare back at him. It pulled at his heart, striking something tender within him. How many times had Jayce worn his heart on his sleeve, unguarded and vulnerable, even when he didn’t realise it? And how often had Viktor sidestepped the invitation to meet him halfway in fear of hoping too much? In desperation to protect his own sentimental heart?

Jayce was already standing halfway waiting. All Viktor had to do was to follow the bond that tethered them together.

“You,” Viktor began, his voice quieter now as he found himself nervously tracing fingers across the spine of his book, “make even the smallest thing feel important. Brighter, warmer—like they matter more because you touched it. It is… eh, infuriating, in a way.”

Jayce opened his mouth, Viktor assumed to apologise. “Infuriating,” he quickly continued before the other man had a chance to speak, “because… It leaves no space to hide. No corner to retreat to. Everything you do, every flower or every look or every touch, it demands attention. Demands feeling.” Viktor paused as he could feel himself getting flustered with the vulnerability of the moment. Exposed. Nervous. Was this how Jayce felt every time he’d brought a flower? Every time he’d let his heart show? He looked at Jayce carefully. His heart stuttered. Jayce was looking at him like he was hanging the moon and stars with every word. More feelings to be demanded. He felt unsteady.

“Even as I told myself I preferred my solitude, you… made it impossible. You, Jayce. Are impossible not to feel. Everything you do. Everything you are. I-“ It was Viktor’s turn to have his sentence trail off. He felt his own breath grow heavy in his chest, and for just a moment, he considered retreating, drawing back to the safety of quiet gestures and unsaid truth. But he knew, no matter where he went, no matter how tall the walls around his heart might grow—He would always seek Jayce out in the end.

“You are extraordinary.”

The words left Viktors lips before he could even think, aching with affection for his partner. Jayce’s breath hitched loudly with the gentle confession, his eyes searching Viktor’s face with an intensity that felt like gravity, pulling Viktor closer even as he fought to keep his composure. He could so easily give in, cross the room and find himself by Jayce’s side but—no. Viktor had a plan, and he was determined not to let Jayce derail him from delivering the confession he intended to give his partner.

Viktor took a deep breath before he turned slightly to the side to comfortably place the book on their desk. The motion revealing something hiding behind his frame. A small bouquet resting on the edge of the table.

Jayce’s attention was immediately locked on the flowers, eyes wide with surprise and something Viktor couldn’t quite read. The arrangement was modest but purposeful. Delicate Lily of the Valley, soft blues of Forget-Me-Not and the bold red of a Chrysanthemum. Viktor looked from Jayce and over to the blooms, his heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest.

“Viktor—I…” Jayce said his name like a plea, voice so thick with emotion Viktor wasn’t sure if the man was about to laugh or cry. His partner’s expression almost twisted into pain from yearning, he couldn’t ignore the light tremble to his frame either. Jayce was just about to crumble.

No more hiding behind walls, petals, or cautious words. No more.

“I have spent some time thinking of how to give back to you.” Viktor said, his voice soft, steadier than he felt. “How…To speak a language you have already mastered.” He carefully picked up the bouquet, holding it as if it was something precious. Viktor’s gaze met Jayce’s as the words hung in the air between them. The warmth in his partner’s eyes made his chest ache with the distance between them.

“I believe it is my turn, now.” Viktor stepped closer.

“Lily of the Valley,” Viktor began. His gaze fell to the white blooms nestled in the bouquet, white bells arching gracefully along slender green stems. “They are for sweetness, for returning to happiness. For the joy you have brought into my life, Jayce.” Although he had never heard his mother speak the words aloud, he could almost hear her voice now, gently reciting the lily’s entry as if she was beside him. A quiet kind of joy, the kind that fills the spaces you didn’t know were empty. A reminder that true happiness often whispers instead of shouts.

He took another step, cane tapping softly against the ground. Drawn to the warmth and presence of the man before him, Viktor continued. “Forget-Me-Not,” His voice felt raw with emotions, “they hold the meaning of always remembering you. Of how even in your absence, your presence lingers with me.”

The tiny blue blossoms seemed impossibly delicate as he turned the bouquet slightly, letting the light catch the soft hues. This one he had heard his mother speak once, her voice soft in his mind as he reminded himself. A flower for the memories that cling to us, for when we are apart but still hold each other. To hold this flower and say, ‘Not for a moment will I forget you, ever.’

He swallowed, his golden eyes meeting Jayce’s fully now. The man stood still; his eyes fixed on Viktor with awe. “Even when you are not here… you are.”

His eyes lowered to the deepest hue of the bouquet, his thumb lightly tracing the bold red petals as if they might lend him the courage to continue. Viktor took his final step, coming to a halt before Jayce, close enough now to feel the warmth radiating from him like the sun itself. He had closed the distance. Now he just needed the words. “And these…” His breath caught, and for the first time, he felt himself break just a little under the weight of the flowers. For a love that demands courage. It does not come subtly, but boldly, asking you to risk everything—but it is worth everything. “Red Chrysanthemums.” The words left him as a little more than a whisper, the name heavy on his tongue. “They mean—” He paused, heat rising unbidden to his face as his chest tightened. He had prepared for this, every word carefully chosen, every thought rehearsed. It should have been simple. The meaning of the red bloom stuck somewhere between his chest and throat, and he couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t have come this far just to go still, could he? He felt the flower bloom in his heart. The meaning burned warmer than any ember could.

I love you.

“I love you.”

Viktor’s eyes widened at the rough tone of Jayce’s voice as he spoke. His attention snapped back to the man in front of him only to have his heart stutter. Jayce was looking at him with a smile so pure, so brilliant, it was almost too much to bear. It was the kind of joy that seemed to overflow, unrestrained, pooling in the corners of his eyes as if a single blink would release the tears clinging on to his lashes. “I love you,” Jayce said again, the words tumbling from his lips like they had been locked away for too long, finally free. His voice cracked, but he didn’t seem to care. “I love you—Viktor— I-” Viktor’s breath caught in his chest, his mind spinning as his body moved before he could think better of it. The flowers in his hands slipped from his grasp, forgotten as they fell to the floor. His cane meeting the same fate as he let it go, his hand suddenly too preoccupied with something far more important. He closed the space between them in a single purposeful step and reached for Jayce. His hand found purchase at the collar of Jayce’s shirt and there was no resistance as he pulled the other man close with desperation. Viktor’s lips crashed against Jayce’s in a kiss unrestrained and unapologetically raw. It was though all the emotions Viktor had kept locked at bay, all the feelings he had neglected to voice, spilled forth in one singular act. Jayce let out a surprised, breathless sound that quickly melted into something deeper. One hand instinctively gripping Viktor’s waist while the other found the back of his head, fingers threading into the soft curls at the base of his neck. Viktor melted. The kiss was everything and nothing like he had imagined—messy, uncoordinated and yet so profoundly grounding it made his head spin. Jayce’s lips were soft and warm, moving against his own with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of what they both felt. Viktor tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He poured into it everything he had no words for, a silent confession of his heart. The fingers curling in Jayce’s collar became a plea to never leave, his other hand coming to rest at the man’s jaw as a promise to cherish him, the kiss becoming a promise to nurture whatever might grow between them.

Jayce pressed closer, his broad hand splaying over Viktor’s back, pulling him in like they couldn’t possibly be close enough. The heat between their bodies burning bright with the shared affection. Viktor felt ablaze with every touch, every press of lips—It wasn’t just the wall of petals Jayce had burned down but the very walls around Viktor’s sentimental heart. Jayce was keeping him so warm. So at home. Viktor couldn’t imagine a world where he felt cold or alone again.

Viktor had half a mind to chase after Jayce as the man pulled away, instead he was soothed with small butterfly light kisses to his cheekbone and right above his upper lip. Warmth lingering long after his partner’s lips left, and he couldn’t help the soft chuckle of joy.

“Please say it back.”

Jayce’s voice, thick with emotion, broke the quiet. His breath ghosting against Viktor’s lips as he spoke.

Viktor opened his eyes, tilting his head slightly to meet Jayce’s pleading gaze. A flicker of amusement danced in his own as he let a smile curl over his lips. “Eh, flowers not enough for you now?” he teased gently, his voice softer than what usually weaved through his playfulness.

“Please.” Jayce repeated, his trembling, his eyes shining with something vulnerable that Viktor felt his heart twist.

The teasing fell away quickly as Viktor let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing against Jayce’s cheek, wiping away a tear neither of them acknowledged.

“I love you.” He said simply, but his voice carried all the weight of the moment, all the meaning the flowers and kisses couldn’t convey.

Jayce’s eyes fluttered shut, a laugh slipping through his parted lips, half a sob and half relief. “Viktor—I…” He began, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His large frame trembling ever so slightly with relief. Viktor surged forward, cutting him off with another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, an affirmation wrapped in tenderness. His hand slipping from Jayce’s collar and coming to rest over his heart, feeling the steady and strong beat beneath his palm. He could feel his partner soften in his hands, melting into the moment like he’d found the place he belonged. It almost made him weep with how soft it all was. How deeply comforting it was to find the soul that mirrored your own.

The kiss stayed soft and light, every moment deliberate and unhurried. Viktor tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing against Jayce’s cheek as he savoured the closeness. It was as though time had slowed, the world reduced to just them and the quiet, electric hum of their connection.

Between the press of lips, Viktor caught faint murmurs—soft, barely audible whispers that sent a rush of warmth over him.

“I love you—I love y—love,” Jayce muttered, the words slipping free like a mantra, unbidden but true.

Viktor exhaled against Jayce’s mouth, a sound that carried equal parts affection and quiet disbelief. He allowed himself to pause, just briefly, to take in the sight of the man before him. His partner’s eyes were shut, lashes brushing against his cheeks and a flush painted his skin, vibrant and full of life. It was staggering, raw and beautiful in a way Viktor couldn’t put into words.

Jayce’s lips found his again, and Viktor couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that spilled between them. “You are relentless.” Viktor murmured as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. Jayce pulled back just enough to meet Viktor’s gaze. The amber of his eyes eaten up by the blacks of his pupils. “I mean it,” his voice was low now, hand brushing against Viktor’s as it rested over his chest, interlocking their fingers. “Every time. I mean it.” It was so honest. “I believe you.” Viktor answered, he had no other choice but to believe Jayce. How could he not? Every action, every glance, every flower had led them here, to this moment. Viktor didn’t just believe Jayce, he felt the love. It was rolling off his partner like waves of water to drown in, to submerge in and never return to the surface. Their foreheads came to a rest, soft breaths sharing the air between them as they simply basked in each other’s orbit. Neither spoke, silence filled with something vibrant, something alive. When their eyes met, the sheer joy reflected in Jayce’s gaze made Viktor’s lips twitch into a smile. Jayce broke into a grin first, wide and unrestrained, and Viktor couldn’t help but mirror it, a quiet laugh escaping him as the weight of the moment gave away to something lighter. Jayce’s shoulder shook with a soft, bubbling laughter, and Viktor let himself lean into the joy. His own chuckles joining the sound. “You are amazing.” Jayce said between breaths, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face. “I mean it, Viktor. The flowers—I—” Viktor’s smile softened, a warm glow settling over his features. “Mm, well, I cannot take full credit. Julianna helped.”

Jayce blinked, pulling back just enough to look at him properly, his expression shifting into surprise. “Wait—you know Julianna?” Viktor’s smirk returned, playful and sharp. “Of course. You think I would entrust something as delicate as your feelings just to anyone?” Jayce sputtered, torn between laughing and looking scandalised. “I—she never said anything! Did you… Did you plan this with her?” Viktor chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Plan? No, not exactly. She was eh… Enthusiastic in the supply of flowers.” He admitted, his voice carrying a faint note of pride as he continued, “but I chose them. Their meanings, their purpose—those were mine.”

He watched as his partner’s eyes shifted from surprise to something softer, almost awestruck in nature. Jayce’s cheeks flushed deeper as his gaze darted between Viktor’s eyes and the playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Gods,” Jayce whispered, “I’m so in love with you.” Before Viktor could respond Jayce leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with laughter and warmth. Their smiles growing so wide it broke through the kiss, leaving them both simply basking in the joy of each other. “You are unyielding,” Viktor murmured again, amusement and affection weaving through his words like golden thread on a tailored lapel.

“You’re breathtaking.” Jayce replied with a grin, words light enough to be carried on petals and stems. The language of flowers had once been nothing more than a charming indulgence, fragile, fleeting and impractical. But now, Viktor understood. It wasn’t about the flowers themselves, or the meanings written beside their names in the margins of old books. It was about the hands that chose them, the care that carried them, the courage it took to offer them. The flowers would wilt, their petals falling away, but what they had carried—the weight of emotions, of affection, of love—that would remain. It would take root in the space they had created, growing into something more enduring that either of them could imagine. Viktor smiled as Jayce’s soft chuckle filled the room. Yes, he thought, sometimes even a practical heart could bloom.

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light-wrath-paradise · 9 days ago

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Animorphs Book club book 8

My reaction can be summarised as this (yet again):

I don't have many thoughts because uh. That was depressing as hell and I need to stare at a wall.

But I DO gotta say that the subplot with the dead "wife" was so telenovela-esque that for a good minute it was more funny than depressing. Then it got depressing. But it was so jarring and so far out of the left field that for a good second my friend and I had to pause the audiobook and laugh because ????????? Unhinged to just appear, go "I am Eslin, I have a G U N. My secret wife was killed. By my boss. Now I yearn for sweet sweet revenge." and not elaborate. Like. Damn dude ok. Sorry about our wife also. Fucking killed me that he continued like "So anyway I reacted adequately by killing all of my boss' friends. Starvation style." Like ???? Jjhsgdjsdfghsjdfh what????? I mean damn I do respect the grind set but also that's such an absurd escalation out of context. Did your boss kill your wife? Kill all of his friends! And in context the most absurd part is probably the notion that Visser 3 has friends??????? Like??? Wait no Eslin. Eslin wait. I love your John Wick-esque "fridged wife" trope swag but you need to slow down. I need details. I need you to tell me HOW your boss even has friends.

In my heart I do not believe we will see that madman ever again but on god I do wish for an insane telenovela-esque sequence of him just showing up at the most random moment to do exactly one thing and that's to pull a gun on Visser 3. For no reason, I just think it would be kinda funny. Like,,,did your boss kill your wife?:

Kill all of his friends

Acquire a G U N

Attempt to make the local Andalite youth assassinate your boss for you

Pull the gun on your boss

???????

Profit (probably die)

Aside from that, I also need to say that the moment when Ax called Tobias his close friend at the end was so sweet. Also ngl kinda...concerning/harrowing how much Tobias really doesn't give a shit about not being a human. Like it doesn't seem so concerning from other points of view but the way Ax gets increasingly weirded out by Tobias not asking him about the nothlit (idk if I'm spelling that right rn) really reminds you that it IS kinda worrying. Like I get it, I mean...Tobias has no family that cares about him, he has no friends outside of the Animorphs friend group, why would he care? But it's still kinda...yeah.

Also unimaginably surprised by the amount of collective guilt present in the Andalite society. You'd think they're Catholic or something the way they keep beating themselves up and force everyone to also beat themselves up and their system itself is saturated with the guilt and shame and they teach it to kids at school from an early age. Like. Jesus Christ calm down. Stop that. As the Animorphs said at the end of the book - the Andalites made an oopsie once. It sucked, yes, it continues to have consequences that suck, yes, but it happens. Sometimes you think you're doing something kind and it turns into a disaster. That does not mean you should beat yourself up for it or, god forbid, tell other people that they should not be kind lest they make a mistake. Damn I guess we should all be cold assholes forever, huh? I'm sure that can't have any negative consequences.

Andalite society in general seems kinda unhinged. Like...do I get why it is like that? Yeah. But do I find it unhinged? Also yeah. Like ok duty and the collective being the most important things is totally sensible for a prey animal. Safety of the herd and all that. But it's still kinda unhinged that they do make everyone have duty as their number 1 priority and that they have rituals devoted to it. Not all rituals are spiritual or religious in nature, but the morning ritual is kinda...borderline religious in a way. More spiritual than religious, I suppose, but yeah.

Also I love Ax so much. 10/10 character. He has it all: an incredibly hilarious desire for cinnamon buns, the inability to act like a human being (same dude), spitting random facts at completely random times, a thirst for blood only a 13(?) years old could have, a dysfunctional obsession with duty and doing what is right that only a 13(?) years old could have (also lol yeah dude I was like that when I was 13 too. dw you'll grow out of it), he can even code. And he might even be bi (I'm joking but I' referring to the fact that he was like "Yeah so when I morph into a human form I suddenly agree that Rachel is beautiful and that Marco is cute.").

#animorphs #animorphs book club #honestly though i was starting to wonder WHEN some Yeerks would go 'fuck it i dont hate to put up with that idiots shit. i vote for mutiny.#because like...Visser 3 is...well id describe him as the empires weakest soldier. like he seems to have SOME brain cells rattling around bu #he doesnt seem to use them correctly?? like ok he is pretty paranoid and that itself is annoying. he is obsessed with Andalites enough to b #mockingly called 'half-Andalite fool' by some of his subordinates. he lacks charisma and cannot for the life of him even look like a leader #of any sort. he is deeply unpleasant to be around and nobody enjoys his company. he is half-decent at planning but only half-decent #and what he manages to plan he tends to ruin by every other aspect of himself (either he antagonises his subordinates so much that they don #tell him information or he makes an impulsive decision etc etc)#he is nearly fully incompetent and his only advantage is that everyone is afraid of him. but the problem is that theyre afraid for a #good reason and that is BAD because that means that one day theyll become too pissed to be afraid. like. ok. he has a famine on his hands.#he makes the brutal and cruel but strategically sound decision to reduce the numbers of the soldiers. he immediately fucks up big time #by killing them more or less at random instead of being strategic about it. a strategic plan would be to kill someone and find out who #all of their colleagues are and kill those too. if you dont kill a subordinates colleague because they happen to have a more important #position; of course that person will be pissed off and probably organise a group with OTHER similar people and that group WILL #attempt to murder you (probably brutally) or die trying. so basically he antagonises literally everyone around him by being personally #unpleasant; volatile; conceited and impulsively aggressive AND incapable of as much as hearing feedback or willing to change his mind #and the last point also antagonises people on a formal level. and he also kills their friends. at random. and threatens everyone constantly #hes like a if a chihuahua had a huge scorpion tail and it was absolutely deadset on asserting itself by simply slashing everything and #everyone with that tail. like genuinely he has no charisma he doesnt even pretend to care about anything that doesnt interest him he is #inflexible he cant adapt his plans half of the time because he wants them to be THAT way and not THAT way also why is he like my mother?#like the longer im typing this for the more i feel like im just talking about my mother. damn. thats depressing.#anyway. my point was yeah i would have been surprised if nobody wanted his head on a plate. i think all the Yeerks who are sick of his shit #should unionise. i just think itd be funny. like several of them are just like 'Man i dont give a shit about this war or whatever i just #want to be allowed to have emotions and to love my coworker over here and also my boss is a nightmare i hope he gets colic and dies'#like ok guys i have a solution. G U N

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