#the mets are better than us at this point

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [11] - Blast

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Every break up has an aftermath.

Word Count: 4244

CW: Explicit language, angst, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

The month after your brutal breakup hadn’t been so easy.

When Theo was around, you made sure he didn’t notice anything. His happiness was the most important thing for you, it had been that way ever since he was born, so you weren’t going to ruin it. Every weekend, you pretended you were incredibly happy and that nothing was wrong at all, despite the heartbreak you were going through.

Your friends were the only people who knew just how sad you were, and they had formed a very united front to change that.

“We have found the one.”

You pulled your brows together as you filled Jamie’s cup while Nik gave you a proud smile and Julie sat up straighter, repressing a squeal.

“You two are dating, so you’ve already found ‘the one’” you used air quotes, making Nik roll his eyes.

“Not for us!”

“And Julie would’ve told me if she found the one.”

“I’d also be shouting it from the rooftops, but this isn’t about me.”

You threw your head back. “I’m not gonna go on a blind date.”

“Hear me out,” Jamie said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “This guy has been approved in the group chat.”

“What group chat?”

“Our group chat.”

Your jaw dropped. “You guys have a group chat without me?”

“Yes because it’s being used purely to find you your Mr. Right.”

“And we know it’s been only a month since you and Logan broke up but fuck Logan,” Julie added. “I’ve been carrying a magnet in my purse ever since you told me about your break up, just in case I run into him.”

Nik turned to look at her better. “You’re joking.”

Julie grabbed her purse and took out a small horseshoe magnet, making your eyes widen.

“I don’t play about my threats,” she told Nik. “That motherfucker broke my best friend’s heart, so I’ll point this magnet at his—”

“Where did you even get a magnet like that?” you cut her off and she shrugged.

“I googled it.”

“I’ve only seen these in cartoons,” Nik mused, reaching out to get the magnet from Julie before Jamie cleared his throat.

“Our point is,” he said. “You’re better off without Logan, and I think you’d really like this guy.”

You heaved a sigh, resting your elbows on the counter.

“Guys I really appreciate all the effort,” you said and stole a look at Julie. “And the magnet but—seriously, you know how much I hate blind dates.”

“Well does it count as a blind date if we show you his picture?” Nik asked, getting the phone from Jamie before turning the screen so that you could see the picture.

Even you had to admit, he looked cute. It was as if Jamie had decided to find you someone the complete opposite of Logan; he seemed younger than him -around Jamie’s age if you weren’t mistaken-, he had dirty blonde hair, and just from the picture alone, you could tell he was the type of person who liked to smile, a lot. Judging by his white coat, he worked in the same hospital Jamie worked in, and you stole a look at him.

“Your coworker?”

“He works in ER,” Jamie said. “Saved a kid’s life the other day.”

“And I’ve met him,” Nik said. “He’s like a cute puppy but also a badass.”

“And he is very handsome, you like handsome,” Julie sang tauntingly and you ran a hand over your face.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not over Logan yet.”

“The best way to get over someone is good sex,” Julie pointed out. “We’re not telling you to move in with the guy. We’re just telling you to just…go on a date and see where things go.”

“And it could help,” Nik said softly. “You know, distracting yourself from your ex.”

You bit inside your cheek, then clicked your tongue.

“Ugh, fine,” you muttered, making them grin. “But if I don’t like him, I’ll leave and you guys will delete that group chat. Alright?”

“Deal.”

                                                 *

 One of the things you hated about blind dates was that you always got incredibly nervous right before. The urge to text them and stay in instead would always get the best of you—now to think of it, the only person you didn’t get that urge with was Logan.

Well.

Logan was out of the picture, and you had to deal with that.

But if anything, at least Jamie knew this guy and was friends with him, so the odds of him being an ass was pretty low.

You pulled over in front of the restaurant before checking your phone to see whether it was in fact the right place, then slipped a little in the seat. This was by no means your first rodeo but…

You really wanted to just go home and get under covers and listen to Julie’s break up playlist.

“Worst case scenario, you’ll just have one drink and go back home,” you muttered to yourself. “Come on soldier.”

You checked your makeup in the rear mirror, then got out of the car and locked it before you smoothed out your dress and made your way to the restaurant. The hostess greeted you and after you gave her your name, you followed her into the restaurant.

Oh, he was already there.

If Logan wasn’t at the back of your mind, you were sure that you would’ve been excited. He really was a good looking guy, the smile that appeared on his face upon seeing you looked very genuine, and the fact that he jumped on his feet to greet you was a great sign.

However—

Okay no, you were not going to think about Logan tonight, not at all.

“Hi!” he said and you smiled back.

“Hi,” you said and you extended your hand but he went for a hug before he paused and made a move to shake your hand but this time you were the one who went for a hug, so you gave him a curt hug before pulling back.

“Jesus—sorry, that was awkward,” he said and you tried to control your giggle at the look of slight regret on his face.

“No worries,” you assured him and he gave you a tentative smile.

“I’m Hayes.”

You introduced yourself as well before the waiter pulled your chair for you and you thanked him, then sat down. Hayes followed you suit, then motioned at his wine glass and the appetizers.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“No no, not at all,” you said and looked up at the waiter who put the menu in front of you. “Can I get the same as well? Thank you.”

Waiter nodded and walked away from your table, and you turned to Hayes.

“Uh, hi again.”

“Hey,” he said with a chuckle. “So uh…blind but not so blind date?”

“Sounds about right,” you said. “I mean I saw your picture.”

“So have I.”

“Jamie showed it to you?”

“Technically no.”

You blinked a couple of times. “How’s that?”

“Jamie has a picture of you and your whole friend group on his desk,” he admitted as the waiter brought your wine and you thanked him. “I saw your pic there and I asked about you in a way that was very subtle in my opinion but Jamie disagrees.”

You raised your brows, smiling slightly. “You’re not serious.”

“It was kind of like Jamie was an app and I was fervently trying to swipe.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you covered your mouth. “Oh my God…”

“Am I giving off serial killer vibes?” he asked to no one in particular. “Because I swear I save people for a living, that’s not—it’s just that you are very pretty and I’m very rusty when it comes to all this.”

You lowered your hands to give him a bright smile.

“You’re very sweet,” you said. “I didn’t think you were rusty.”

“No?” he asked and let out a breath. “Thank God.”

“It’s been a while?” you asked him after a moment of hesitation and he hummed.

“Listen, rusty or not I know talking about previous relationships is a red flag.”

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Let me guess, you had a long relationship and…?”

“And walked in on her and my best friend.”

“Ouch.”

“Former best friend.”

“Still ouch,” you said with a grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I mean—I changed cities but it has to be for a good cause. At least that’s what I’m choosing to believe.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“How about you? I find it hard to believe you go on blind dates if I’m honest.”

“Oh I’ve gone on blind dates,” you assured him. “And uh—my friends have made it their life mission to matchmake me, they apparently have a group chat where they approve people.”

Hayes pulled his brows together. “Holy shit, I’ve been approved in the group chat?”

“Yes you have,” you said. “Congratulations.”

“I feel very validated,” he mused, making you giggle. “No seriously, knowing Jamie, this is the same as passing a very difficult exam with a jury.”

“Yeah he’s very protective, especially after—” you stopped yourself and Hayes shot you a lighthearted look.

“Hey, I talked about my ex.”

“Well, I got dumped,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “And Jamie never approved of him, so now he’s like extra careful.”

Hayes hummed and lifted his wine glass slightly.

“Well, on behalf of all men in this city, we’re all very glad that your ex is an idiot.”

You scoffed a laugh and lifted your glass as well.

“Yeah well,” you trailed off, trying your hardest to not let your thoughts drift to Logan. “So you’re an E.R. doctor?”

“I am,” he said. “And you?”

“Oh I…I’m just a waitress,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, that feeling of inadequacy hitting you out of nowhere once again. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Do you like where you work?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with everyone there except my boss,” you said. “It’s pretty nice. And you? I heard you saved a kid’s life the other day.”

A bright smile appeared on his face. “Yeah, that’s why I like working in the E.R. I can actually make a difference in just seconds, you know? It makes me feel alive, like I’m doing something right with my life.”

You nodded your head. “I can imagine. Sounds wonderful, really.”

He sipped his wine.

“So tell me more about you,” he said. “Jamie says you have a son?”

“Yeah!” you said, your eyes lighting up at the mention of Theo. “Yeah I do. Theo. He’s the cutest kid in the world, and I’m very objective about it.”

That made him laugh. “At first I thought Jamie was a father, with all the drawings in his office…”

“Oh he still keeps those?”

“With all due respect, it’s like a shrine in his office.”

“You should see his and Nik’s fridge, they have like one picture there and the rest is Theo’s artwork.”

“Really?”

“He had his artist phase, now he’s—” you started but were cut off when your phone started buzzing. You gave him an apologetic look.

“Excuse me,” you said as you grabbed it out of your purse, but as soon as you saw the name flashing on the screen, your heart dropped.

Logan.

A part of you -the petulant part of you- wanted to reject the call but you took a deep breath, then licked your lips and then answered.

“Hello?”

There was a second of hesitation on the other line before he cleared his throat.

“Theo is fine,” he said. “But he needs you here.”

Your head shot up. “What? What happened?”

“There was a small accident—”

“What accident?” you asked, your heart leaping to your throat as fear crashed down on you. “What—is he—”

“Like I said, he’s completely fine, I promise,” he said, his deep voice soothing your fear as always. “He had a nightmare, his powers took over and he blew up the wall in his room accidentally but he’s fine and so is everyone else. He locked himself in the basement though, and refuses to come out.”

You could feel your throat tightening but you took a shaky breath, then nodded as if he could see you.

“I’m on my way,” you said and hung up before turning to Hayes.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, pushing your phone into your purse. “Theo is…he’s in a boarding school in the city but he—he had a nightmare and he locked himself in the basement.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Hayes said, frowning. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you said despite the anxiety churning your stomach, then stood up. “But I need to go, he must be terrified.”

“Of course,” Hayes stood up with you. “Would you like me to drive you there?”

“No no, I can drive,” you said. “I really appreciate it though, thank you.”

“Oh it’s nothing, really,” he said. “I hope he’s feels better.”

“Sorry, again.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Is it okay if I get your number from Jamie?”

“Sure!” you said. “I’ll—I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Have a nice night,” he said and you gave him a curt smile, then made your way out of the restaurant, your heart beating in your ears.

                                                 *

If it were any other time, you would’ve been nervous to see Logan after a month, for the first time after your break up but you were so worried about Theo that it didn’t even cross your mind that Logan would be the one to greet you.

Which, of course he was the one to greet you by the door. He probably took your scent the moment you drove through the gates.

He looked almost frozen the moment you stepped out of your car but he recovered very fast.

“Hey—”

“Where is he?” you asked without so much as glance in his direction as you walked past him into the mansion and Logan easily caught up with you.

“In the basement,” he said. “Follow me.”

When you two got to the basement, Storm and Jean were already there.

“Hey, he’s totally fine,” Jean assured you the moment she saw you and Storm nodded her head.

 “We could’ve opened the door but we didn’t want to scare him any more than he already is,” she assured you. “He only said he wants you, and now he’s not talking to us.”

“But he’s not hurt in any way,” Logan added. “I don’t smell any blood or pain, and Jean already checked his mind.”

You raised your brows, then took a deep breath.

“Thanks,” you said and smiled at Storm and Jean. “Really, thank you so much. I can take it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said and swallowed thickly. “It’s not the first time this happens.”

Storm and Jean exchanged glances before Storm turned to you.

“I’ll just go and check the other students then.”

“And I’ll fill Charles in,” Jean said, squeezing your arm in a reassuring manner before they both walked away and you ran a hand over your face, then walked to the door of the basement and knocked softly.

“Bean?”

The only answer you got was a sniffle, breaking your heart to smithereens. You could feel your own eyes burning but you frowned, forcing yourself to focus.

“Bean, are you there?”

“…Yes,” his small voice reached you and you took a deep breath.

“You think you can open the door?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“I know,” you said, nodding fervently. “Everyone has bad dreams, it’s completely normal. And what do we do when we have bad dreams?”

“We have hot chocolate because that makes them go away.”

“Exactly,” you said. “So can you open the door please?”

“People will be angry at me.”

“What? No!” you said. “No one will be angry at you, I promise.”

“Mommy, it was an accident,” he said, a hiccup escaping him and you rested your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes before swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know,” you said. “And so does everyone. No one is angry at you—Logan, is anyone angry at Theo?”

Logan came closer to the door so that Theo could hear him better.

“Not at all,” he said. “If anything I’m a little jealous. Blasting walls is so badass, I’d love to be able to do that.”

“You hear that, bean?”

“Really?” Theo’s hopeful voice reached you and Logan smiled slightly.

“Sure bub. And hey, turns out we’ll have to decide on your superhero costume sooner than you think.”

“There you go,” you said. “Superhero costume sounds fun—”

A meow cut you off, making you tilt your head.

“Bean, is there a cat in there with you?”

“…No.”

Another meow reached you and you raised your brows.

“Theo.”

“I found him here and we’re friends now.”

“Okay,” you muttered more to yourself. “Theo—”

“His name is Sir Bartholomeow,” Theo added as if it was imperative that you knew that information and you heaved a sigh.

“Very creative bean, but can you please open the door? So that we can drink hot cocoa and I can meet your friend?”

There was a momentary hesitation and another sniffle before you heard the lock turning and you took a step back so that you could see him better. Theo was still in his pajamas, his glasses slightly crooked over his face as if he had put them on in a hurry, his wide teary eyes looking up at you. In his arms, he was holding probably the grumpiest looking cat you had ever seen in your entire life so tight that it was a wonder why the cat wasn’t trying to escape. A breath of relief left you and you crouched down to get to his level.

“Hi bean,” you said gently. “How about we give your friend to Logan so that they can be friends and I can make sure you’re okay?”

Logan stepped closer. “Yeah bub, I can take the cat—”

“Sir Bartholomeow,” you and Theo said at the same time and Logan cleared his throat.

“Yeah, him.”

Theo sniffled again before tentatively handing Sir Bartholomeow to Logan, and you checked whether he was hurt anywhere before pulling him into a bone crushing hug. Theo was still shaking like a leaf and he mumbled ‘mommy’ before burying his face to your chest while you stood up with him in your arms.

“I’m here,” you said softly, still holding him tight. “I’m here, it’s fine. I swear everything is gonna be fine.”

                                                  *

Theo never liked being away from you and that turned into a whole different level whenever he had a nightmare. You would be lying if you said you weren’t relieved to have him in your sight so after he drank his hot chocolate, you had carried him to bed and stayed with him until he fell asleep, humming the lullaby he used to love when he was a baby.

There it was again.

Times like these, you always remembered just how utterly alone and clueless you were in this whole thing.

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes as you looked down at him, then leaned in to kiss his head and pulled the covers over him, and walked out of the room as quiet as a mouse.

 The mansion was mostly quiet, and even though you could still hear the voices coming from the kitchen, you desperately needed to be alone in case you burst into tears, so you walked through the hallway to step outside, the cold wind hitting your face. Heaving a sigh, you made your way to the stairs to sit down, and wiped at your eyes furiously before wrapping your arms around your knees, fixing your gaze on the stars glimmering in the sky.

You heard the front door open before the familiar footsteps came closer and you felt him drop his jacket over your shoulders before he sat down as well.

“Hi Logan,” you rasped out, sniffling and he offered you a hesitant smile.

“Hey,” he said, putting the bottle of whiskey between you two before he made a face. “Shit, I forgot to bring glasses.”

You scoffed a laugh. “We’ve done worse things than drinking from the same bottle.”

“Right,” he said after a beat and you grabbed the bottle to take a swig, grimacing at the burn before putting it down again.

“How’s your arm?” he asked and you took a shaky breath, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Healed,” you said and turned to look at him better. “I don’t even think about it anymore.”

He was too smart to miss the double meaning of your remark and his lips twitched for a moment.

“I’d bet,” he muttered. “Fun date then?”

You pulled your brows together in confusion and he nodded at you.

“I haven’t seen you in that dress before and you smell like someone else.”

You smelt like—

Oh. Hayes had hugged you.

“I don’t have the capacity to get into that bullshit right now,” you stated and Logan swallowed thickly, then nodded again.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

For a minute, the only thing you could hear were the crickets and the sound of the faint wind in the air before Logan take a deep breath.

“He’s fine, princess.”

You bit at your nail, blinking back the tears before you shook your head.

“No he’s not,” you said. “You and I both know that he’s not fine. Not really.”

“He’s too powerful,” Logan said. “Accidents like these will happen, you can’t really avoid them. What matters is that he hasn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

You took another sip of the whiskey.

“Having you here helped a lot too,” he said. “He calms down when he sees you, that’ll be good for him.”

You clicked your tongue.

“Yeah, for now,” you muttered and Logan frowned.

“For now?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Until he grows up and hates me for everything I’m doing wrong as we speak.”

“That’s not true.”

“No no it is, I’m fucking up big time,” you said with a dry laugh. “Jesus, my mom said I had no idea what I was doing and I was too busy arguing with her that I didn’t even see it but it’s true. I have no clue.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.”

“I’ve been doing everything wrong,” you told him, blinking back the tears. “He’s too little to see it now, but sooner or later he’ll see that everything that happened to him is my fault, even the fact that his powers showed up—”

You had to stop talking when your voice cracked and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, sniffling again. He reached out for a second as if he wanted to wipe at the tears falling down your cheeks but then paused, pulling his hand back, his jaw clenching like he was in pain. You wiped at your eyes furiously, letting out a shaky breath.

“I’m terrible at this,” you said, nodding to yourself while Logan kept his burning gaze on you.

“I promise you, you’re not,” he said. “Theo adores you, and I think you’re the best parent I’ve ever seen in my life which in case it has escaped your notice, that’s a lot of years.”

You raised your brows, wiping at your nose before you cleared your throat and took off the jacket to place it into his lap, then stood up with Logan following you suit.

“I can drive you home,” he said and you threw your shoulders back, trying to pull yourself together.

“I had like three sips of whiskey, I can drive.”

“I can still drive you, it’s been a long night.”

“I’m fine.”

“No I want to,” he insisted and you tilted your head, giving him a questioning look. His eyes met yours before he took a deep breath.

“I just…” he trailed off. “I want to—I want to make myself useful.”

You frowned, staring at him. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t ask for anything, just…like I said. I want to make myself useful. I need to make myself useful.”

Your stomach did a flip as a painful smile curled your lips.

Oh.

This. You were familiar with this.

You had been through the same. You were in fact going through the same right now, frantically looking for something to ease the pain. Your solution was to follow your friends’ advice and try to date around, ignoring the way it just felt wrong when you were still in love with him, and Logan—

Logan was dealing with it in such a Logan way that it was almost ironic how you didn’t see it coming.

“It’s not going to help,” you said, your voice a mere whisper and he gulped, his jaw clenching.

“It could,” he managed to say through his teeth and you sniffled, shaking your head.

“It won’t,” you rasped out. “I’m sorry, it won’t.”

The agony that flashed over his handsome features twisted at your heart but you managed to smile at him.

“Good night Logan,” you murmured and walked away from him, painfully aware of his eyes following you.

[yujiphoric]

Why I Love Caitlyn, and Why You Hate Her

⚠️ READER DISCRETION: I am not condoning Caitlyn’s actions and behavior, I am simply exploring the depth of her character and explaining what motivated her pursuit of revenge.

There’s no denying the gravity of Caitlyn’s actions as they are unquestionably wrong. However, her character cannot be reduced to these actions alone. This sudden, devastating behavior of hers is shaped by a thread of complex motivations and circumstances, but many choose not to acknowledge this simply because of her elite background. 

Like many others, I initially overlooked the point of the gassing in Zaun, which I think is a crucial thing everyone must first understand before diving into the discourse over Caitlyn's character. 

The Grey, often misunderstood as being used indiscriminately, was strategically deployed against the Chem-Barons to limit collateral damage. Caitlyn chose precision over chaos, targeting those directly responsible for Zaun’s turmoil. Furthermore, Caitlyn didn’t kill the Chem-Barons; she captured them, with net-deploying bullets. While her methods are controversial, they reflect a calculated approach; mischaracterizing her raid as a reckless attack ignores these details.

This isn’t to deny or excuse the fact that Caitlyn did, indeed, gas Zaun. Who’s to say that gas didn’t seep into the streets where innocent Zaunites roamed, harming them in the process? It’s entirely possible that innocents were affected and devastated. However, my brief explanation is only added to gain better perspective over the objectives of the gassing itself.

Now moving on, despite her privileged upbringing, Caitlyn shows a genuine effort to understand and connect with Zaunites. She places her trust in Vi, a Zaunite she’s never met before, to guide her in her search for Silco. Her journey through the undercity opens her eyes to the struggles of its people, challenging her perspective.

In S1E4, when investigating the airship attack, she encounters an undercity resident and reassures him, “I can protect you.” Later in the season, when Vi gets stabbed, Caitlyn encounters someone formerly connected to Vi. He’s grown a distaste over himself due to his appearance, and yet Caitlyn embraces him with compassion and tenderness, as a silent sign of gratitude. Then, she surrenders her cherished firearm—her only means of protection—in return for a healing potion to save Vi. In S1E7, Caitlyn’s heartfelt monologue in her conversation with Ekko perfectly captures her hope and determination: “This city needs healing. More than I ever realized. Please, let me help you.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stand in front of the Council, Caitlyn declares: “Councilors, this is Vi. She was born in the undercity. Even though we failed her in countless ways, she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there. People are starving, sick, ravaged by Shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords.” This monologue alone shows how Caitlyn embodies optimism, believing in the inherent goodness of people, even Zaunites. It also shows that she is very willing to fight for them; she sees helping Zaunites as an act of bringing justice and equality into this world.

Many overlook the depth of Cassandra and Caitlyn’s relationship, reducing it to a simple narrative of a daughter mourning her mother. However, Caitlyn’s mourning is more layered than that. Throughout her life, she has been rebellious, driven by a desire to uncover the reality her mother tried to shield her from. In S1E4, Caitlyn reflects on this by saying, “She’d do anything to keep me from seeing the real world.” Caitlyn’s defiance wasn’t just rebellion for its own sake—it was a stand for her ideals. She sought enlightenment and understanding, even if it meant stepping outside the privileged bubble her mother built for her. By venturing into the undercity and aligning herself with Vi, Caitlyn rejected her mother's own ideals. In a way, her actions mirror Vi’s: just as Vi betrayed her people by working with the enforcers, Caitlyn betrayed her mother by involving herself with Zaunites. Remember: The last time we see Caitlyn and Cassandra interact on-screen is during Caitlyn’s plea before the Council. And in that moment, Caitlyn was fighting to protect the very kind that would soon kill her own mother.

You say that Caitlyn’s drastic shift is unjustified, as she’s only experienced a fraction of the suffering Zaunites have been enduring. But that’s precisely the point! Her transformation shows how personal loss can drive the change of one’s entire character; she’s never experienced loss before which is why it feels so heavy for her. And unlike Zaunites, Caitlyn actually has the power to act on her grief. Zaunites have only known misery their whole lives. When their loved one dies, they know there is nothing more they can do but grieve. They don’t have an inch of the privilege and military support Caitlyn has. If you had given them the same resources as Caitlyn, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring ruin to Piltover. Simply put, they don’t fight Piltovans because they don’t want to, but because they can’t.

When Jinx takes her mother away, her compassionate ideals completely shatter. Having always sought justice and understanding for Zaun, Caitlyn feels deeply betrayed, as her faith in the good within every Zaunite is overturned. Her mother’s death becomes a turning point—driving her to abandon her ideals and adopt Piltover’s disdain for the undercity, finally understanding the resentment many Piltovans harbor.

We also tend to forget that, aside from losing her mother, Caitlyn has directly suffered under the hands of Jinx. Caitlyn was held captive by Jinx in Season 1—and God knows what was done to her during that period. In the dinner scene, we see Caitlyn break down in tears, visibly flinching when Jinx moves toward her. It’s clear that Jinx has traumatized Caitlyn not just once, but twice. These experiences deeply shape Caitlyn’s actions moving forward. The pain and fear she’s endured push her to a place where she’s willing to sacrifice almost anything, even if it means putting a child’s life at risk (Isha's) or severing ties with Vi.

While they share their differences, Caitlyn and Jinx are the perfect example of foil characters. Here’s an instance which proves this: Both allow themselves to be influenced by manipulative, powerful figures all while being in a vulnerable state of mind.

Jinx is haunted by guilt; her attempt to save her family only ended up killing them, leaving her with the crushing weight of self-blame. She clings to Silco, not because he was the father she needed, but because he was the father she wanted. Silco indulged her destructive tendencies, keeping her at an all-time high on the edges of chaos. Fragile and broken, Powder crossed paths with Silco at the right moment; he saw the perfect chance to mold her into someone bewildered, unrestrained, and astray.

Caitlyn has her own Silco: Ambessa, the ruthless Noxian leader with a brutal philosophy of war. Ambessa enters Caitlyn’s life at a pivotal moment, stepping in just as Caitlyn is grappling with the devastating loss of her mother. In a spiral of self-identity, Caitlyn struggles with the weight of Piltover’s expectations and her unresolved guilt over her strained relationship with her mother (as explained in previous paragraphs). Just as young Powder mourns her family, Caitlyn blames herself for the death of her mother. Caitlyn got herself involved with the Zaunites even when she was warned not to, and at the expense of her defiance came the death of her mother. Driven by guilt and a thirst for vengeance, Caitlyn steps fully into her role, declaring in S2E1: “I am a decorated officer. Leader of House Kiramman.”

Jinx and Caitlyn share a tragic parallel: they both lose everyone they hold dear. Jinx loses Vi, Vander, Claggor, and Mylo. Caitlyn is left without Cassandra, Vi, Jayce, Mel, and Tobias. Stripped of their support systems, they are left isolated, with no one to confide in or rely on. They become vulnerable, used as pawns in the larger schemes of Silco and Ambessa’s strategic games.

Caitlyn's inner turmoil is exactly why Ambessa’s manipulation is so effective. Caitlyn is compelled to take revenge, but she doesn’t know how to. And without anyone else to guide her, she places her complete trust in Ambessa's expertise. Ambessa doesn’t just give Caitlyn the authority and power to avenge her mother; she teaches her how to use them to their full potential. She toys with Caitlyn's vulnerability, making her adopt the Noxian values of wrath, bloodshed, and ruthlessness. 

It’s easy to downplay Caitlyn’s grief since she comes from an elite upbringing. While Cassandra Kiramman is laid to rest in a golden casket with a proper burial, countless innocents in Zaun become victims of merciless violence, being left to die on the streets. After the timeskip however, Caitlyn is shown to recognize the moral cost of her actions. Though the series portrays this realization subtly, it becomes evident that Caitlyn is grappling with the inhumanity and immorality of her pursuit of revenge. In S2E4, this internal conflict comes to light during her conversation with Ambessa. When Ambessa attempts to stoke her fury again, Caitlyn disarms her with a piercing question: “Why is peace always the justification for violence?”

Here's another scene that subtly depicts her realization and remorse:

Caitlyn: You're a monster. Why? Why do all this? Singed: Why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable? ... For love.

When Caitlyn steps further and sees Orianna, she realizes that Singed's revenge is a reflection of her own: a person grieving the death of their family member. Here, there's a saddened glint in her eyes. She finally understands now, that love and grief made her do things that once seemed so foreign to her. In this case, going against her own principles just to succeed in her revenge.

Caitlyn is now forever haunted by the outcome of her mistakes, but she knows her past cannot be erased. During her confrontation with Jinx in the prison, she admits, “No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.” While this statement is directed at Jinx, it feels like Caitlyn also holds this against herself for her wrongdoings. 

Caitlyn’s acts of atonement are done quietly. She’s not good with words; she’s bad at articulating how she feels. Ironically, Vi is much better than Caitlyn when it comes to confronting and vocalizing internal conflict. So instead, Caitlyn’s actions speak for herself. By removing the guards at the prison, she tacitly allows Vi the opportunity to rescue Jinx. She knows Vi will come to save her sister, and yet she lets her. She finally lets go of Jinx and the grudge she held against her, as a silent act of her love for Vi.

And in S2E9, Sevika is shown to be sitting among the Councilors. But thanks to a fan's keen eyes, we find out that she is sat particularly on Cassandra Kiramman's chair (which not many notice). By allowing a Zaunite to occupy her mother's seat, Caitlyn gives them a chance to be rightfully represented, a chance for their voices and suffering to finally be heard. It’s a quiet display of Caitlyn’s evolution and willingness to bridge the divide between Piltover and Zaun.

That said, Arcane’s ending left much to be desired regarding Caitlyn’s arc. The heavy focus on Hextech overshadowed the sociopolitical dynamics of Piltover and Zaun. This is the main reason a lot of hate is thrown toward Caitlyn—there is an act of accountability, but there a lack of consequence. While Caitlyn acknowledges her mistakes, her privileged status keeps her from real repercussions, unlike the tragedy other characters had to face. This is frustrating, even to me, as someone whose favorite character is Caitlyn. Yet, in a way, it realistically portrays the inequalities in our own world—where the elite are often shielded from justice, and repentance is the closest they ever come to redemption.

[nothingiswrongwithyourarmrests]

There is comfort in imagining your hero doing the mundane and unglamorous tasks that truly make a difference in the real world, it's the inverse of escapism.

With the monster stories you can go two ways - people who get othered are valuable because of their differences and what seems monstrous at first glance is actually beneficial or harmless. And suffering and fear are all around us and it doesn't need to get any worse actually please could it get better.

Those are different emotional needs than those met by the original stories and the original plot devices.

You are right that those things are pretty boring, but that can be the entire point of them. Postwar German popular entertainment was objectively extremely boring. That was what the audience needed and demanded. The older I get the more I understand those boring things and why people like them.

there's a fascinating type of post on this site which boils down to "what if, instead of being cliché, such-and-such work of fiction instead dodged all genre tropes in a way that instead made it really boring"

[7ndipity]

Limbo

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You and Yoongi have been friends for over a year, but when Yoongi realizes that his feelings for you might be something more, he pulls away, fearing the pains of the past will repeat themselves. You just want to give him the love he deserves; can he accept it, or will he hide away from you?

Word Count: 3.5k(whoops lol)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, angst, mutual pining, mentions of drinking, swearing, mentions of bad/toxic past relationships, eventual smut at the end, handjob, subby Yoongi bc I said so, not proofread

A/N: I got several requests while I was gone wanting some angst to fluff/smut with Yoongi, so I kinda combined them all into this mess hehe. It def got away from me, but I hope you'll all enjoy it!

Masterlist

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It’s strange how little things that seem almost insignificant at first glance, take on so much more meaning to us than we ever expect them to. Songs on the radio, a specific perfume or food, random little trinkets that can be found in almost any gift shop. Like the keychain that Yoongi fiddled with absentmindedly as he rode the elevator up to his friend Hee-jun’s apartment.

The tiny bear figure was nothing particularly remarkable on its own, but it had come to hold a certain sense of peace for Yoongi whenever he held onto it, like his own little good luck charm, something to help keep him centered when he was feeling overwhelmed, much like now as he stepped into his friends crowded apartment.

He quickly found his usual place, tucked safely into the corner of the sofa, steering clear of the noise and chaos of the main group as they talked and drank.

His friend was always encouraging him to come over for his weekend hangouts, insisting to Yoongi that all the energy and music would help clear his head and give him inspiration for work. Yoongi wasn’t particularly in the mood for this much noise and stimuli though. He’d spent the better part of the past week holed up in his studio working several new songs, though his results had been underwhelming by his standards. He was tired and had half a mind to just slip back out the door and go home without saying anything.

His mood however perked up instantly as he caught sight of a familiar figure slipping through the front door, his eyes following you as you grabbed a drink and glanced about the room, your face breaking into a huge grin as you spotted him watching you.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming this week?” You asked, taking the empty seat next to him. “What happened to “I’m too busy being a musical genius” or whatever?”

“I was persuaded otherwise.” He replied dryly, ignoring your growing amused grin.

“I’m glad.” You said.

“Didn’t say it was you, I’m just here to get back the whiskey that Hee-Jun owes me, one glass at a time.” He responded, tipping back the last of his drink as he spoke, making you laugh.

“Whatever you say, bro.” You relented.

“Yah! I’ve told you not to call me bro.” He complained.

The two of you fell into your usual routine of conversation and bickering, much the same as every other night you had spent together since you’d first met over a year ago, when Hee-jun had invited you to a group dinner and introduced you to everyone.

Yoongi had found himself instantly charmed by you, your friendly but sarcastic attitude matching his perfectly. He had spent the majority of that first night talking eagerly with you, much to the surprise of the others, not used to seeing this side of Yoongi.

Your friendship had quickly grown after that. He had found himself completely drawn in by you, finding it remarkably easy to talk with you and wanting to learn every little thing about you. Yoongi’s friends loved to tease him about his being whipped for you, pointing out things like how he always claimed that he was too busy to hang out with them, but he somehow always managed to make time for you, but he didn’t pay them much mind. He was happy around you, really truly happy. He felt safe and comfortable with you, which was something that didn’t come very easy for Yoongi.

There were times though, usually on late nights when you were still hanging out long after one of you should’ve gone home, when he would wonder if there was some truth to his friend’s jokes, feeling a faint but insistent twinge in his chest, as if something were struggling for freedom, but he quelled it down, passing it off as just a passing thought, a flicker of something that didn’t really mean anything… Right?

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of drinks and talking to you and his friends over the too loud music until late. He was in the middle of a discussion with one of the members when he felt a sudden weight against his shoulder.

Glancing down, he was met with your sleeping figure, your face nuzzled against the material of his jacket, 

All at once, that twisting feeling in his chest had returned, far more pronounced and forceful than usual, his heart stuttering like the moments before the drop on a rollercoaster. His mind went blank as he stared down at you, a familiar warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system.

Fuck, he loved you.

He loved you, with your dumb jokes and peach flavored lip balm, your terrible playlists and your quiet little hums when you're nervous, and the way you hid behind your hands when you laughed. He loved every little thing about you and he suddenly can’t breathe as he stared down at your sleeping form, taking in how perfectly you fit against his side. He stayed there for a while, not quite sure what to do now.

“Y/n?” He whispered.

“Mhm.” You stirred, shifting closer, but not fully surfacing from sleep.

He was quiet for a second, mind whirring as he tried to decide what action he should take.

He could just tell you, nudge you again gently till you woke properly, blinking up at him all drowsy and confused and utterly adorable.

“I think… I love you.” The words were simple enough in theory, mumbled out as his dark eyes bore into your own, begging for this to not be a mistake.

For a moment you didn’t move, staring as if unsure of what you’d heard, before suddenly pushing yourself up, seeking out his lips.

He wrapped his arms around you, savoring the taste of you as he pulled you closer, letting out a soft groan as your hands found their way into his hair, nails scratching over his scalp and raising goosebumps over his whole body-

The sound of glass breaking in the kitchen behind the two of you shattered the moment, ripping Yoongi roughly from his daydream.

“Yah, you see?! This is why I don’t let you help!” Jin scolded loudly.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Joon snapped back, equally loud.

“How was that not-?!”

The chaos from the kitchen had pulled you from sleep, sitting up quickly and blinking around in confusion and concern.

“What happened?” You asked groggily, shaking off the last hints of sleep.

“It’s just the guys being dumb-asses, don’t worry.” He assured you, but he shifted away subtly, a strange sense of relief flooding his system.

Mumbling out a faint excuse, he ducked down the hall to the bathroom, catching sight of his expression in the mirror as he splashed some water on his face in an attempt to clear his head. 

His cheeks were flushed a deep rosy hue, his eyes slightly too big, pupils blown wide.

What the fuck was wrong with him?! He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t say those things to you. He’d fallen down that hole before, letting his feelings get the better of him confessing, only to be viciously rejected. Or worse yet, having his feelings falsely returned, and ending up with his heart twisted into something he didn’t even recognize for the other person's benefit and pleasure, leaving him to pick up the warped pieces when they had used him up.

He couldn’t let that happen with you, he couldn’t risk ruining one of the best friendships he’s had in years over some stupid infatuation.

Taking care not to be noticed, he silently slipped out the door and made his way home, sending a half-assed text to you and his other friends about not feeling well before turning his phone off and flopping onto his bed.

He would fix this, he promised to himself, he just needed to give his little crush some time to run its course and get out of his system, like a cold or the flu. In the meantime, he decided it would be best to put some space between the two of you, try and wean himself off the dependency that he had developed with you. It wasn’t good for him to ‘need’ someone as much as he did you, it would only lead to regret if he wasn’t careful.

He could do this, he tried to convince himself. He could correct these feelings and go back to how your friendship was before.

He had to.

For the next few weeks, he did his best to avoid you without being too obvious, claiming things like busy schedules as why he was suddenly never around.

He tried to convince himself that this was necessary and the better of two options, but the full truth was that he was miserable.

He hadn’t realized just how much you had been seeped into his day to day life until he tried to go without you. There were no silly texts convos to keep his spirits up during the day, his evenings dull and quiet, no warm laughter or teasing jokes to pull a smile out of him, no encouraging touches on his hand when he was feeling frustrated or random little backhugs that brought more peace and comfort than he ever thought was possible.

He knew he could easily remedy the situation and just face his feelings and talk to you, but the ghosts of his past kept creeping up on him, whispering in his ear that he would ruin everything if he dared open himself like that again. 

His heart argued however with him constantly in your defence. This time it could be different, you were so different from all those people in his past, so kind and warm and patient.

He knew deep down that you would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, but his fear left him in a constant state of limbo, frustrated with himself and confused about how to move forward.

He decided to take Holly on a long walk to try and help clear his head, fidgeting with the tiny bear charm on his keyring in his pocket as he often did when he was frustrated.

Even this made his thoughts circle back to you. You’d given it to him not long after you’d become friends, having taken him out for dinner one evening when he had been having a tough week. You’d wandered around the city without any real plans, eating snacks from street vendors, talking and goofing around till he felt his chest finally begin to lighten. You’d won the keychain charm in a random gatcha capsule machine and had insisted that it resembled him, dropping it in his hand and saying that he should keep it as a good luck charm.

He’d humored you somewhat reluctantly at first, but he’d found himself toying with the charm whenever he was anxious or uneasy, a sense of comfort and certainty creeping through him whenever he held onto it, your words echoing through his mind.

Apparently the universe was as fed up with Yoongi’s bullshit as he was, deciding that since he wouldn’t make a decision on his own, it would give him a push in the form of you on his doorstep as he returned home with Holly from their walk.

The tiny dog rushed to greet you, having missed your presence almost as much as his owner had the past few weeks, excitedly bouncing around your feet as you tried to pet him.

Hi buddy.” You giggled before glancing up to meet Yoongi’s eye. “Hey Yoongs.”

“H-hey.” He swallowed nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi.” You said, still playing with Holly.

He watched the two of you, a tiny smile making its way across his face as he took in the way your expression lit up as you cooed over the little poodle, your smile warming him more than the lingering hints of summer in the air, instantly weaving your way back into his heart.

“You wanna come in?” The words had a slight wobble as they left his mouth, as if he was asking himself more than you.

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

He let the three of you into the house, debating awkwardly on what he should do before settling next you on the sofa.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of you quite knowing where to start.

“So, how’s the new album going?” You offered.

The two of you talked for a while, quickly falling back into your usual routine, talking about everything from work to friends to the new project you’d been working on, but there was clearly an unspoken ‘something’ hanging in the air between you, Yoongi gradually losing himself in just listening and watching you, the way your eyes flashed as you spoke, the way you talked through your hands. 

It was several minutes before you noticed the way he was staring at you, his eyes distant, an almost dreamy glaze over them.

“What?” You asked.

He shrugged.

“You just look happy.” He replied.

“I am happy.” You confirmed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

Your words sent a quiet thrill through him, warm and hopeful, but your next words also triggered a twinge of guilt.

“I’ve missed this, you, the past few weeks.” You admitted, playing with your hands on your lap. “I was honestly starting to think you were avoiding me.” You laughed nervously, trying to lighten the weight behind your words.

He was silent for a moment, the decision that he’d been avoiding hanging in the air again.

“Actually… I kinda was.” He admitted. “No, I know I was.” 

Your expression fell. “Why? Did I do something-?”

“No no, it wasn’t anything you did.” He quickly assured you. “It was-, it was a ‘me thing’ I needed to figure out.”

“What kind of thing?” You asked.

He hesitated.

Fuck it.

“The fact that I haven’t been honest with myself, or you, about a lot of things, like the fact that I like you… as more than a friend.”

Your mouth fell open at his admission, but Yoongi pressed on, fearing that if he stopped now, he might never get it out.

He laid everything out, his feelings for you and his fears and scars from the past and why he pulled away from you, his gaze never straying from the ground in front of him as he spoke.

“Through all of this, I realized a couple things.” He said. 

You waited for him to continue.

 “I could live without you, but I would fucking hate it.” He finally glanced up at you, his eyes unusually vulnerable. 

“I hated not seeing you, hated not hearing your laugh, not smelling your perfume of your stupid coffee order in my car after driving you to work. I hated it, but it was all my own fault, because I was too much of a coward to admit that I liked you more than I thought was possible, more than I should. “

“Yoongi-” You tried. but he kept going.

“And you can tell me to fuck off and that you don’t feel the same, and I’ll gladly leave you alone, or go back to being just friends, but I just wanted-”

“Yoongi, shut up.” You said, not harshly, but firmly enough to snap his mouth closed instantly. 

His heart pounded loudly in his chest, the silence stretching between you deafening as he waited for you to speak

“You really think you’re the only one who’s been feeling like this? Who’s been afraid?” You asked quietly, your voice trembling with emotion. “You think I haven’t thought about if we?... If I told you…” You took an unsteady breath, Yoongi staring at you in disbelief. “Why did you say something before-?

“I was afraid,” He admitted, feeling tears beginning to prick at his eyes. “Afraid that you wouldn’t want this. Or worse, that you would.”

Your eyes saddened as you reached out, fingers brushing against his cheek. “Why would that be worse?”

“Because I don’t wanna break this, I don’t wanna lose you” He whispered, his voice cracking. “Not when you mean so much to me.”

Suddenly, the distance between you felt unbearable, the space filled with the weight of thousands of unspoken feelings.

Before he could think, you closed the gap, leaning so close you could feel each other's shaky breaths, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Say it,” You whispered, the words barely audible. “I won’t hurt you… just say it.”

For a moment, you thought he might retreat, that he might hide behind the walls he’d built around himself again. But then his gaze softened, a quiet resolve settling into his chest.

“I love you,” He breathed, the words falling from his lips easily, soft and unguarded. “I love you so fucking much.”

He leaned in, letting his forehead rest against yours, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if you might disappear if he held on too tightly. 

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not when you’d just been offered the world in his hands.

You couldn’t find your words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a way that felt both brand new and familiar all at once, like finally coming home.

The world around you melted away, his arms wrapped around you tightly, shielding you from everything that could ever dare try to distract from this moment, pulling you close, feeling how perfectly you pressed against him.

His lips were soft and warm on yours, his touch achingly tender, every brush of his fingers against your skin like a spark of electricity.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, his eyes stayed scrunched closed, as if trying to savor every ounce of this feeling.

His fingers traced gentle paths up and down your arms to your shoulders, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know-,” He whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability and need, drawing away slightly. “Fuck, I want so much, but I don’t know if we should-”

“Don’t hide away from me again, please.” You begged, following him to keep close, your lips brushing against his as you spoke, sending shivers rippling through him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but don’t be don’t hide. Show me what you need. Please.”

At your words, Yoongi felt the last remnants of his fear crumble away, replaced only by a deep craving and need for you. 

Crushing his lips to yours again, he gave himself over to the kiss fully, gripping your waist and pulling you to straddle him properly.

His lips trailed down down your jaw to your neck, sucking marks on the sensitive skin as he went and causing you to writhe and squirm in his hold, grinding down against the growing bulge in his pants.

He let out a pained groan. 

“Touch me, god please, touch me.” He begged into your neck, bucking up into you desperately.

There was a blur of fumbling with buttons and zippers, your shirt thrown away somewhere behind the sofa, leaving your heaving chest bare for him to paw amd suck at hungrily.

You snaked a hand between you to stroke his aching length through his boxers, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he bucked up into your touch, moaning into your skin.

“Please.” He begged, for what he didn’t even fully know.

You shifted back just enough to free him from the confines of his underwear, his cock springing up against his abdomen, the tip red and leaking, desperate for any sort of relief.

As he watched through glazed-over eyes, you let your spit drip down onto his cock for lubrication, wrapping your hand around him and stroking him slowly to spread it over him, reveling in the way he twitched and whined under your touch.

“Fuck, Y/n, m-more please.” He moaned, his hips bucking up to chase your hand.

You sped up your movements, twisting your wrist just right as he clung to you, your foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air. The whole thing almost felt more intimate than if he were actually inside you.

”I-, fuck, I’m gonna-” He panted, pulsing in your grip.

“Let go baby, I got you.” 

He came with a shuddering groan, curling into you as he painted your hand with streaks of white that dribbled back down onto his twitching length, making him shiver with oversensitivity.

“Fuck, Y/n, that was, I-” He struggled to catch his breath, leaning against you heavily.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.” You kissed his lips lightly, moving to detangle yourself from him so you could clean the two of you up, when he caught you by the waist, pulling you back down on the sofa, pinning you under him, his eyes dark as they stared into yours.

“Where do you think you’re going, darling? We’re just getting started.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[mxflowercheck]

Sherlock and Co pre-canon headcanons 'cause ehh why not???

English is not my first language and I have adhd so feel free to point out any spelling/grammar/etc mistakes

Mariana:

was married for a few years after college. It was a guy she met in college, a really sweet and bright relationship, but it didn't last long after college. They're not friends, but also not enemies, just drifted apart and don't talk anymore

was a Spanish tutor for a while, before she found a job at Hudsons. Loved the kids, hated actually explaining her native language and not just using it intuitively

was a very calm teenager and had the Rebellious stage somewhere in her twenties. She hitchhiked a LOT with friends one summer and her many of her favourite memories and funny stories are related to these trips

has an older sibling - and i mean like 10 or more years age gap. Tbh they're not really close

John:

pathological people pleaser as a kid. The First Child. Look at him. Yeah, that's a man who did things just because they were expected from him.

talked to himself a lot while alone, and in his mind in public. i think it's why it's easy for him to record podcasts - he's used to just talking with no one

tried writing blogs and diaries, but it never worked out

Sherlock:

once just shaved his head because summer was awfully hot and he was ALWAYS overstimulated even with short hair. He didn't like it though and never did again

was homeless for a short period of time

met Lestrade when he was arrested. She thought "NOT MY CIRCUS NOT MY MONKEYS" really hard but it didn't work. So she acquired a neurodivergent catastrophe. Sherlock pretends not to like her, but actually respects her and cares about her opinion and well-being (and vice versa)

changed multiple schools as kid due to various reasons (aka being neurodivergent and probably undiagnosed), was finally sent to a small boarding school. Not ideal, but better than others

[pixie05love]

Wow, okay, after reading chap 285 and this post, I think I have a new and more positive perspective of the Kaisagi team up and Isagi's development.

(Please read the post I've linked, it's was very insightful, and it helped me a lot to get to this conclusion. Also *points a gun to your temple* Go follow @mvrdermeharder She's the best, ty)

Now, from that post, I agree a lot on the positive impact the kaisagi team up had on Kaiser.

Back in chap 279, it was revealed that Noa was using Isagi and agreed to join the NEL only to evolve Kaiser, so he'd have someone who'd boost him higher to beat his current opponent Loki:

Look at Kaiser's expression when Noa agrees to all of his questions and realises that Noa was using him to his own benefits:

Mild disappointment and acceptance are written all over his face. He had just witnessed how his mentor admitted using him (just like with Isagi) for his personal benefits and... he could do nothing about it. Kaiser had been used by Noa.

It's not like Kaiser liked or cared about Noa in a way but, someone like him, who was privated of a childhood, who had gone through abuse and has to experience and see how all this events still had an effect on him (remember the scene where he chocked himself as a trauma response) must have been extremely frustrating for him to know that, even now, he still doesn't have full control of his life, not even with soccer.

The thing is, Kaiser is not alone here. Isagi was also "betrayed" by Noa. It wasn't in the same level of traumatic as Kaiser because Isagi does not have a troubled past like him. But, hey, a betray is a betray. Isagi wants to win just like Kaiser, and Isagi doesn't have to go through Kaiser's past to understand what he must have felt after hearing Noa's words.

Isagi was used by his idol and mentor, the same person who inspired him to play soccer, so it had to have some level of effect on his psyche, too. Just look at his expressions when he talks to him. He was definitely hurt by Noa's words:

What Isagi feels here is not only frustration for being used by his mentor and idol but frustration for being used by a "genius"

This arc is about geniuses vs non geniuses, and Isagi felt hopeless against Noa because he saw how geniuses were toying with non geniuses to "take the spotlight from them."

Loki, Noa, Rin, they are all praised by everyone, outshining non geniuses who are the ones who have more complex plans but need the support of others to make them happen.

Geniuses are also non logical, so you cannot explain or understand why they did x or y, whereas non geniuses' strategies, once they are figured out by geniuses, have little to no chances against them because physically, geniuses tend to be way better than them (it's in their genes, dude. We've all met someone who is very good at something without trying)

It's frustrating when every effort you make is completely futile against the natural advantages of talented players.

So it's here when Isagi and Kaiser connect:

Yes, Isagi teams up with Kaiser because he wants to win but he is only able to have Kaiser agree to do so because they both share the same objectives:

Surpassing Noa and Rin, two geniuses that are both the wall Isagi and Kaiser have to overcome in order to discard their previous egos (what I believe Isagi calls "personal feelings") and create a new ego that not only will redefine this match but the current perception soccer has of non geniuses.

And also proving that non geniuses can win against geniuses by themselves [This one is more on Isagi's side since it doesn't seem like Kaiser is interested in proving such thing]:

Isagi, ironically, is being "considered" of Kaiser's feelings/situation here. This is why I don't think he discarded his empathy. That's his best weapon after all. He knows using Kaiser for his own goal won't make him cooperate because Isagi already knows what it feels to be used as a tool, so he won't do the same thing again with Kaiser.

This explains why Isagi let luck decide who scores the last goal. If is Isagi who scores, it won't be because he used Kaiser, It was luck who chose him. The same goes for Kaiser. None of them will use the other one. They'll cooperate to get both what they want -> It's a mutual agreement where both recognise each other as an individual with an ego to fulfil:

They are "healing" together from Noa's betrayal while also fulfilling what their egos desire without using each other as a tool.

That is, if you ask me, very considerated and empathetic of Isagi (for Kaiser, since Isagi is the first person to take in consideration his feelings and not only use him for his skills), but also very egotistic of him for doing all that to achieve his desire of winning.

So I don't think Isagi stopped being empathetic (maybe I just don't want to believe so idk), because that's what differentiates him from the rest -> His capability of making someone work with him, of changing fate by using his understanding of his surroundings and the opponents/teammates' mental state to his own benefit (while still taking them in consideration so he makes them work according to his plan).

I believe that's what Isagi meant by "becoming a machine" and "leaving his personal feelings aside" to focus even more on the rest so he has control over them.

It's like a symbiotic relationship between being empathetic and being egotistic/?

His weapon is his empathy which he pushes to its limits thanks to his ego, and it's what will lead him to achieve what said ego desires (winning for the sake of winning).

.

.

.

or at least that's how I understood it lol

[needanaccount2readarcaneposts]

Christian Linke has stated that Silco's eye is better in the Good Timeline because he went and got it fixed in Piltover. This is because Christian Linke and the rest of the Arcane writers have never met a timeline they couldn't fumble, especially with regard to Silco and Vander, and so fuck 'em.

Silco and Vander are rioting against Piltover during the Day of Ash, but then when Silco's eye is injured, he goes and gets it fixed in Piltover? Lmao?

If he didn't go and get it fixed in Piltover until relations improved (after Vi's death, per Amanda Overton), then he was using Shimmer before that. If he crawls out of the river with toxins burning an infection through his skull and doesn't have Shimmer to deal with it initially, he simply dies.

If Piltover was always capable of fixing it before relations improved, and/or if there was always better medical treatment than Shimmer available in Zaun for his eye, why did S1 Silco - man Literally Too Angry To Die, eye deteriorating over time, using painful Shimmer treatments to keep himself alive long enough to try and see his dream of Zaun through - not simply avail of it? He can afford it; he even has a respectable cover in Piltover as 'Silco the industrialist'.

It's kind of a whole plot point in S1 that Piltover can't do shit for a character suffering from a degenerative disease caused by toxins, and even in S2, Salo, an actual Councilor, has to use Shimmer to manage his pain.

Saying, "Actually, if Singed was simply removed from Good Timeline because reasons, then that's why it turned out good," seems like a pretty strong misread. All of these characters made their own choices based on their own circumstances, independently of Singed. Singed is simply there to provide them the MacGuffin as needed.

Conclusion: the simplest and most likely explanation that stitches all these things together is that Silco used Shimmer initially; that a partnership between the two cities after Vi's death allowed for medical advances not previously possible, specifically including more advanced research on treating the conditions created by Piltover's pollution; this enabled them to push back the infection and restore some of Silco's eye; the animators were not thinking about a specific timeline (not the first time this has happened; see the drowning flashback) and were simply working off a brief of, "Silco's still a lil fucked up but not as bad as he was in S1," because it's mostly just a metaphor; and the creators need to stop opening their mouths and offering up terrible headcanons that make no sense.

was the alternate universe Ekko ended up in meant to feel disturbing and like everyone was an artificial husk of themselves? the whole time I was waiting for it to be a Arcane induced hallucination trick. none of that made me go "aww look at how it could have been" it made me go "oh this is WRONG. there is a trick here"

[toopimpabutterfly]

mouthwashing headcanons and important NOTE. Being mentally ill/experiencing trauma doesn't equal it's okay you do horrible things / be a horrible person. You got that?

TW for certain headcanons and subject matter.

Jimmy

-CSA survivor, lived in a low income household, unstable life growing up

-This leads him into trouble in his younger life before Pony Express, IE violent outbursts , theft, ect. He didn't commit any acts of SA till onboard (Seriously guys one of the games points is capitalism is horrible but they're not going to allow a convicted sexual deviant onboard, especially not without informing his crew+Curly knew Jimmy before)

-The trauma of his childhood left him as aggressive, having violent outbursts, and undiagnosed schizophrenia and BPD, turns into the psychosis he experiences during the events of the game

-Speaking of Curly he is aware though that Jimmy is not well mentally but tries to see the best in Jimmy, believes Jimmy is more than what he was on Earth and whatever happened in his childhood (this doesn't work out obviously)

-Tried to off himself in early life multiple times (the reason why he was quick to try and kill himself the first chance he got when caught, and in the end)

-The way he grew up leaves him to not eat a lot, mostly to drink liquids or things on the cheaper side/off brand, he sees most things as luxury's one must earn, but at the same time sees them as not helpful in his situation

-malnourished and has been since childhood and growing up but has a beer belly tbh

-Jimmy is jealous of Curly as he lived the ideal life he wanted, went to school, had connections, went to University, got a high paying job, ect. Jimmy sees this as unfair for all the suffering he went through growing up

-Also he's Mexican don't ask

-His favorite movies are the Matrix Trilogy (the others suck and that's just true) ,Mysterious Skin, The Talented Mr Ripley, and Akira

Curly

-Grew up upper middle class, met Jimmy in elementary school

-He tries to see the best in everybody, a true everyman, believes everyone can let go of their past/can be rehabilitated

-His favorite movies are Starship Troopers, Back To The Future, Alien II, and Avatar

-Used to watch those true crime YouTube videos growing up and always thought they deserved souch better

-Bro has WAYY too much empathy and sympathy

Anya

-Favorite moves are Girl Interrupted, Good Will Hunting, Jennifer's Body, and The Shape of Water

-Grew up lower middle income, wanted to further her career to help people back on Earth

-Didn't have the cash to go to a proper university though

-She has the best movie recommendations 100%

-Really good at boardgames

-The SA leaves her split, her mind slowly cracking more and more

-She feels a hate towards Jimmy and Curly, Jimmy for assaulting her, Curly for enabling it almost

-Obsession with cleanliness after the SA and up to her death

-Had violent outbursts on the ship in the last months of her death

Daisuke

-Youngest of the crew

-Wanted to make his family proud

-I feel like he's a middle child tbh

-Really loves racing simulators

-Favorite movies are Clerks, Jay and Silent Bob Rebooted, Cheech and Chong, Mallrats, Idiocracy, Adam Sandler movies, and Lords of Dogtown

-Skater backhome

-LOVES to hosts movie nights

-Comic nerd, he's a DCU forever, Dark horse branch his shit specifically

-Loves techno and rave music

-Draws short comics

Swansea

-Favorite movies are Django Unchained, Hellboy, No Country for Old Men, From Dusk Till Dawn, Kill Bill, ect. Huge Tarantino fan tbh

-Was in ROTC in highschool, ran that shit like the navy

-He watches requiem for a dream to remember his alcoholism isn't worth it, trainspotting too maybe.

-He loved to get handmade gifts over bought ones, letters, arts and crafts, drawings, ect

-Woodcarver

-Former Red Cross Worker/Salvation army worker tbh

[shapard]

Sweet Delusion🌙

Lucifer x fem!reader

Tw: Gore, burning alive, angst, Violence

God's Game

Chapter 2 < Chapter 3 > Chapter 4

Story begin under the cut

Guilt consumed him, an unrelenting storm within.

The hatred he bore for himself was blinding, a corrosive force eating at his core.

You reminded him so much of her. Her voice, her defiance, her fragility. Yet you were a Sinner. That much was undeniable. There was a reason you were here, in Hell. You had taken his gift—perverted it—used it to cause harm.

His hatred for Sinners, compounded by the agonizing loss of his wife, had overtaken him. It had twisted him so deeply that he had nearly killed you.

But in his darkest moments, one truth clawed at the edges of his mind: he was no better than any soul condemned to Hell.

Lucifer’s crimson eyes shifted to your unconscious body. Guilt seared his throat, sharp and relentless. Swallowing felt like choking on fire, his very existence trembling beneath the weight of his shame. The image of you sprawled on the floor, engulfed in flames—his flames—was burned into his memory.

He’d almost killed you.

For God’s sake, he’d nearly wiped you out of existence. The hatred he’d felt was gone now, eclipsed by something far more unbearable. When he looked at you, all he saw was her. The ghost of her face haunted yours, but there was a difference that tore at him.

You tried.

You had tried to reach him, to understand the rift between you. You hadn’t run, hadn’t abandoned him like the others. And what had he done? He’d unleashed his wrath upon you. He clawed at his own hair in anguish, the memories creeping back like venom through his veins.

He was the Devil, after all. The King of Hell.

The door creaked open, revealing Belphegor, her purple eyes shadowed with grim purpose. Behind her were Angel and Charlie, their faces pale and silent. Lucifer’s gaze met his daughter’s, but she refused to look at him.

“We have a problem,” Belphegor said, her voice like broken glass in the silence. The air grew heavy as everyone waited for her to continue.

She pointed toward you, still and fragile, wrapped in bloodstained bandages. “Y/n’s body is fighting for survival. Something in her has triggered... something dark. She’s using her own ability to destroy herself.”

Lucifer stiffened. What?

The room collectively held its breath. Charlie, the beacon of hope, crumpled beside your bed, her hands trembling. “There must be a way to save her!” she pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation.

Belphegor laughed bitterly, her grin devoid of humor. “There is. But it’s not simple. We need to understand why she’s doing this—why she wants to end herself so badly.”

Charlie’s face brightened with a fragile flicker of hope. “How? How do we figure that out?”

Belphegor’s eyes darkened into endless voids as she turned sharply toward Lucifer. “There’s only one who can do it. Him. He’s the only one who can enter Y/n’s mind and uncover the truth.”

The room erupted. Angel stepped forward, his fury palpable. “No! I won’t let that monster near her again! Not in her mind!”

Belphegor’s voice dropped, her tone chilling. “Would you rather let her die?”

Angel faltered, his protest caught in his throat.

“Then shut up,” she hissed. “Lucifer is the only one capable. He’ll do it. Or she’s gone forever.”

After a long, tension-filled silence, Lucifer sat heavily beside your bed. His hands trembled as he placed them on your fragile frame. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he whispered. A soft glow enveloped you both as Lucifer’s eyes darkened, pulling him into the abyss of your mind.

_____

It was dark.

You were terrified.

The endless void stretched around you as you fell, powerless and weightless, for what felt like hours. Was this death? Was this the final punishment?

Your body ached as though you were splintering apart from the inside. Memories flashed before your eyes—fire licking at your skin, the unbearable agony of being burned alive. The screams ripped from your throat until you thought your voice was gone forever.

Your hand lifted weakly, and you saw it: flames dancing across your skin, devouring you. A voice echoed in your mind, venomous and cruel: “You’re a disgrace. Who would ever love you?”

The words hurt more than the fire, searing through your soul. You hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. You’d tried to be good, but you had failed, hadn’t you? You were poison.

The pain surged, and you closed your eyes, wishing for it to end.

Then a blinding light erupted before you.

“Kitty!” The voice was familiar—Lucifer’s. His tone held a desperation that made you hesitate.

You reached toward the light but froze. Was he here to hurt you again? To finish what he started?

The light condensed into a silhouette, and Lucifer appeared, his wings outstretched as he caught you in an instant. His hands, cool and steady, dispelled the fire on your skin, though the pain lingered deep inside.

“I took the flames away,” he said, his voice breaking. “Why are you still hurting?”

Your laughter was bitter, a broken sound. “Because I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere.”

Lucifer’s scarlet eyes widened, anguish etched into his face. “Don’t say that. Charlie needs you. I need you.”

Your grip tightened on his collar, pulling him close. “You don’t get it. I destroy everything I touch. And you—” Your voice cracked as tears burned down your cheeks. “You proved it to me.”

“No,” he pleaded, his voice raw. “Let me help you. Please. This is all my fault.”

“I’m done pretending,” you whispered, your words sharp and final. “I won’t survive for someone else’s sake again.”

Lucifer reached out as you slipped from his grasp, your body falling back into the void. His wings flared, desperate to catch you, but you didn’t fight it anymore. This time, you wouldn’t let anyone else decide your fate.

“NO!” Lucifer’s scream tore through the darkness as he dove after you. He reached for you, fingers inches away.

And then, impact.

Your body shattered against the ground below, blood pooling like shadows. Lucifer collapsed beside you, his hands trembling as he cradled your broken form. “No,” he choked. “Kitty... don’t leave me. Please.”

His powers surged, golden and furious, as he forced them into your lifeless body. The void erupted in violent light and shadow, a chaotic struggle of life and death.

“I’ll save you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Even if it means losing myself.”

Painful seconds stretched into eternity before your body jerked violently, golden markings flaring across your skin. You screamed, the sound echoing in the endless void.

Lucifer’s wings spread wide, casting shadows over the glowing thorns around you. His power consumed everything, binding you to him, forcing life back into you.

The void fell silent.

And then…

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice quiet and unfamiliar.

Lucifer turned, his eyes wide. “Kitty?”

You tilted your head, a serene smile curving your lips. You looked towards an unfamiliar Man. A chill ran through Lucifer as another voice spoke, soft but chilling. “My name is Sharen. Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped toward the source of the voice, his chest tightening. The figure who called himself Sharen wore a disarmingly pleasant expression, but something about him was deeply, profoundly wrong. 

The air around him seemed to warp, oppressive and stifling, as if it carried the weight of something unspeakable.

Lucifer’s skin prickled. He could feel it—a predator hidden beneath the mask of civility, its intentions coiled and waiting. Sharen’s smile stretched just a fraction too wide, his gaze holding a glint of malice that flickered like a shadow in candlelight.

“Who... are you, Sharen?” Lucifer’s voice was low, strained, the edges sharp with suspicion. His hands itched to summon his power, to defend himself against whatever this was.

Sharen tilted his head, the motion unnatural, a marionette moved by invisible strings. When he spoke, his tone was soft, almost mocking, each word curling through Lucifer’s mind like smoke.

“Does it matter?” Sharen asked, his grin widening. “After all, I’m not the first version of myself you’ve met.”

Lucifer stiffened, his breath catching as his surroundings began to shift. The void around him twisted, peeling back like scorched paper. He was no longer standing in nothingness but in a hazy, distorted memory—one that wasn’t his own.

There you were. On your knees, flames licking at your skin as you screamed, your voice fractured with despair. And standing above you was him—Lucifer. Not the man he thought himself to be, but a monstrous version, his expression cold, merciless.

Sharen’s voice echoed behind him, a venomous whisper:

“Recognize yourself yet, my King?”

When you think this is the worst it can get.

Just wait.

Spoiler next chapter:

“I just... I just wanted him back,” you whimpered to no one, your voice raw and trembling. “The real Sharen. The caring Sharen. The man who loved me…” Your words dissolved into a guttural sob as you looked at your hands—shaking, bloodied, foreign.

💫

Taglist

@ravensdecent36 @i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei @cimadreamer @ayanazoldyck @froggybich @ravensdecent36 @fangthesandwing @luna-naoffcial @avadakadabra93

[postsforposting]

Except it's amateurs he's interested in, not people who are good at what they do. He puts way better photos that aren't Louis's in their collection. Was it because he's testing Louis's memory? Was it because he was both testing and saying Louis wasn't good enough? A put down, an "I wish you were that good, but lol you're not", that Louis wasn't supposed to recognize?

I wonder if "and then what happened" Daniel the terrible reporter is how Armand still thinks of Daniel, and why he was okay with gambling bringing a journalist to his gaslight gatekeep fest in Dubai. He played at being a servant, just like he's playing at being Louis's servant when actually he controls his memories. I think he knew all along that Louis didn't have a solid grasp on reality, and took advantage of that.

Armand likes giving someone else the illusion of control, while still being the one pulling the strings behind the scenes. That's why he lied about "I could not prevent it" while being the orchestrator. Give up just enough power to make his love interests feel like they're in control.

Lestat was the one he couldn't actually control. He's the one who got away. That's where the power grudge between them started. I wonder if he played up losing his original sewer coven to Lestat, because he wanted to give him that power, to make himself seem weaker. To him, it's better to be perceived as weaker than he is, so that it's easier to take advantage. To go unsuspected, unquestioned. Even to the point of "changing reality" so that it stays that way.

Armand imposing his version of reality on others, vs Louis having his reality changed for him both by Armand and by his own brain. Who lacks a grasp on reality? Did Armand edit Louis's memories of Lestat too? Was he doing that since they'd met?

Loius is like Lestat when Armand met them both: Lestat bringing down the sewer coven by defying Armand; Loius defying him by not joining the theater coven, and Armand using him as an excuse to burn it down himself. As revenge for them all leaving in the sewer? To destroy what Lestat had a hand in building? Did Armand go after Louis initially because he knew he'd been involved with Lestat?

Did Armand never make a vampire because losing access to read minds and not being able to literally change people's minds terrified him? To lose that control?

Lois ate that baby. Was Louis lying, misremembering, or did Armand change it? To make him think he was a "better person", like he did with the photos?

Claudia and Lestat both thought there was a better way to live. Did Lestat resent Claudia because he was no longer the only one who wanted something different? Faced with people who wouldn't fall in line?

interesting that Armand fell for Lestat the actor, Louis the photographer, and Daniel the budding journalist. He loves those that explore the rocky terrain of humanity. The outsiders looking in.

[lovezbrownies]

LoveBird (Yandere!F!Pop Idol x GN!Reader.)

Masterlist - Previously

Synopsis: Yuna Claire is beyond famous, she's adored and admired. Yet when she meets you, a nobody, you look at her the same way, like she was a nobody. What follows is her wooing you.

It all started with a fleeting encounter that Yuna couldn’t shake, no matter how much she tried. She’d been stuck in a rare moment of anonymity, her hoodie pulled low and sunglasses perched precariously on her nose as she wandered into a small indie bookstore tucked into the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t the kind of place anyone would expect to find Yuna Claire, the untouchable pop idol. But she wasn’t there to be recognized. The noise of her world—the constant demands, the suffocating adoration—had driven her to seek solace somewhere quiet. And that’s when she saw you.

You were sat on one of the designated seating areas of the library, hunched over the novel you had in your hands, The Poppy War, flipping through the novel with an unhurried grace that felt foreign to her chaotic life. Yuna hadn’t meant to linger, but something about you caught her off guard. Maybe it was the way you scrunched your eyebrows faintly at the book, as if it sucked you right in the world. Or perhaps it was your complete disinterest in the world around you, your focus solely on the pages in your hands. For someone used to commanding attention, it was jarring to feel invisible in someone’s presence—and yet, there was something magnetic about it. She couldn’t look away.

What struck her most was the brief exchange that followed. As you got up, the book slipping from your hands, at this point Yuna was just behind you, Yuna instinctively bent to pick it up at the same time you did. Your fingers brushed hers for the briefest moment, and when your eyes met, there was no flicker of recognition. No widening of pupils, no stammering or excitement. “Thanks,” you said simply, a polite smile on your face as you took the book and moved on without a second glance. Yuna blinked, stunned. You didn’t know her. You didn’t care who she was.

That small interaction planted a seed in her mind that quickly grew into an obsession. For the first time in years, someone had treated her like a normal person, not a larger-than-life figure. The weight of her fame always pressed down on her, making every interaction feel superficial, every relationship transactional. But you were different. The memory of your indifference became a tether she couldn’t sever. It wasn’t rejection—it was freedom. Freedom from the persona she’d carefully constructed, from the expectations that suffocated her daily. You saw her, if only for a second, as just another human being.

From that day on, Yuna found herself drawn to the bookstore, always under the guise of needing “space” from her hectic schedule. She told herself it was a coincidence at first, but she knew better. Her heart raced each time she spotted you, even if she never worked up the courage to speak again. She learned your habits quickly—when you visited, what genres you lingered over, the little furrow in your brow when you couldn’t find what you wanted. She told herself it was harmless, this quiet observation. But deep down, Yuna knew it was something far darker. You’d given her a glimpse of something she hadn’t even realized she craved, and now, she couldn’t let go.

Yuna spotted you across the bookstore just as she had the first time. The familiarity of the scene was enough to make her heart quicken—though she’d never admit such a thing aloud. This wasn’t coincidence; it was destiny, she decided. You were meant to be here, meant to be hers. Adjusting the hoodie draped loosely over her figure and tugging her mask into place, she approached with the same deliberate confidence she used on stage. Each step was slow, unhurried, as though she had all the time in the world. Her sharp gaze stayed fixed on you, tracing the slope of your shoulders, and the slight furrow in your brow as you scanned the shelves. She let herself savor the sight for a moment before finally making her move.

When you turned at the sound of her footsteps, recognition flickered briefly in your eyes. But just as quickly, it faded, replaced by polite curiosity. No gushing, no fan-like adoration—just the calm, neutral expression that made Yuna’s pulse race. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” she teased, her voice low and smooth, every syllable carrying an almost musical cadence. The lazy warmth of her tone made it seem like she was speaking directly to your soul, drawing you into her orbit without effort.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard, and she saw the hesitation in your posture. “Oh, it’s you again,” you said with a polite, if cautious, smile. “Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think?” There was an edge of wariness to your voice, and Yuna’s sharp instincts picked up on it immediately. She tilted her head, letting her hood slip just enough to reveal the curve of her jawline, the faintest flicker of her smirk visible beneath the mask. “Maybe,” she said, her voice lilting with an easy confidence, “or maybe it’s fate.”

The words lingered between you, and you shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I don’t really know if I believe in fate,” you said hesitantly, your eyes darting to the shelf as if looking for an escape route. But Yuna wasn’t going to let you slip away so easily. She leaned in slightly, closing the space between you just enough to command your attention without crossing the line. Her voice softened, becoming almost a whisper. “You should,” she murmured, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Some things… some people… are meant to cross paths. Don’t you feel it? Like there’s something here, waiting to be discovered?”

Your hesitation was palpable, and she could see the inner debate in your eyes. You didn’t know her—not really. You’d only met once before, and yet, here she was, weaving her way into your life with an ease that felt almost magical. “I guess I know what y-you’re getting at but um… I mean… I don’t even know your name,” you finally said, your voice cautious but curious. Yuna’s smirk widened beneath her mask, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Yuna,” she said simply, the name falling from her lips like a spell. “ I’d like to get to know you better. How about this weekend? A little coffee, maybe? I know an amazing place that’ll make you feel like you’re… exploding.”

The words wrapped around you like silk, disarming your defenses before you even realized it. There was something hypnotic about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke, as though the entire world bent to her will. You found yourself nodding before you could think it through. “I… guess that sounds fine,” you said, the words slipping out almost involuntarily. Yuna’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and she reached out to lightly brush your arm, the touch brief but electrifying. “Perfect,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made your heart skip. You didn’t know what you’d just agreed to, but under her gaze, it felt like you didn’t have a choice.

The café Yuna chose was tucked away in a quiet part of the city, a place far removed from the usual hustle and bustle. It had an understated charm: soft lighting, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and cozy nooks lined with mismatched cushions. You found yourself surprised by how comfortable the atmosphere was, the initial hesitance you’d felt about meeting her already beginning to fade. Yuna sat across from you, her posture relaxed yet deliberate, as if she’d been born to own whatever space she occupied. Even dressed down in her hoodie and mask—now pulled down to reveal her striking features—she had an undeniable presence, a glow that made it hard not to get caught up in her rhythm.

“So,” she began, swirling the straw in her iced coffee lazily, her voice a melody that was equal parts soothing and alluring, “what’s your story? You seem… different from most people I run into.” Her gaze settled on you, not demanding but captivating, like she genuinely cared about your answer. You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the intensity of her attention, but something about the way she asked made you feel like opening up. “Different how?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Yuna leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her expression softening. “It’s hard to put into words,” she said, her voice dipping into a thoughtful murmur. “You’re just… real. Like you’re not trying to impress anyone. It’s refreshing.” She chuckled lightly, the sound warm and almost self-deprecating. “Most people I meet are either trying too hard or not at all. But you? You just… are.” Her words lingered, settling into the space between you like a confession. For a moment, you felt seen in a way that was both unnerving and comforting.

As the conversation flowed, so did your guard. You found yourself laughing more easily, sharing little anecdotes about your life, and listening to Yuna talk about hers in vague yet compelling terms. She didn’t reveal much—nothing too personal—but she had a way of weaving her words that made everything sound meaningful. “Life’s too short not to chase what you want,” she said at one point, her eyes holding yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You strike me as someone who understands that.” There was a subtle weight to her words, a quiet suggestion that left you wondering if she was talking about more than just philosophy.

The moments stretched, warm and easy, until the spell was abruptly broken. From the corner of the room, a voice piped up, hesitant yet tinged with excitement. “Oh my god… are you Yuna Claire?” Both of you turned toward the source—a young woman clutching a notebook, her eyes wide with disbelief. Yuna’s relaxed posture stiffened slightly, though only someone as observant as her might notice. Annoyance prickled under her skin, sharp and immediate. It wasn’t the first time a fan had interrupted her, but this was different. This was your moment, your time with her, and the intrusion felt like a personal affront.

Despite the irritation coursing through her, she smoothed her features into a soft, practiced smile, her charisma shifting gears as effortlessly as breathing. “I guess you caught me,” she said smoothly, her tone still warm but now tinged with the polish of someone used to this kind of interaction. “What gave me away?” Inside, though, her thoughts churned. Of all the times, it had to be now. Can't they see I’m busy? Do they always have to invade my space like this? Her gaze flicked briefly to you, worried this interruption might shatter the mood she’d worked so hard to build. The fan giggled nervously, holding out the notebook. “Your eyes. I recognized them immediately. Could I… could I get a photo and an autograph?”

Yuna hesitated for the briefest of moments, her annoyance bubbling just below the surface. She stole another glance at you, forcing a flicker of apology into her eyes before she turned back to the fan. Smile. Sign. Make it quick, she thought, the plan forming in an instant. “Of course,” she said softly, taking the notebook with a practiced grace that belied the irritation simmering beneath. As she signed, her other hand brushed the edge of the table, a subtle gesture that seemed almost possessive—as if to remind herself and the intruder that this wasn’t just her public persona’s time. It was hers. And she wouldn’t let it be stolen for long.

The fan’s interruption didn’t seem to linger too long, but as Yuna slid back into her seat across from you, you couldn’t help but notice a flicker of unease in her expression. It was subtle—gone in an instant, replaced by her usual serene demeanor—but it was enough to pique your curiosity. “So, uh… what was that about?” you asked cautiously, gesturing toward the empty space where the fan had stood moments earlier. Yuna’s hand paused briefly over her drink, but then she let out a soft laugh, the sound as breezy as it was calculated.

“Oh, that?” she said, brushing off the moment with a wave of her hand. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, though you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just her way of deflecting. “I just… I was really good at debating back in my college debate team. Hah, hall of fame and all.” She leaned back in her chair, her grin a little too perfect as she sipped her coffee. “Guess she must’ve recognized me from an old tournament or something. It’s funny what sticks with people, huh?” The explanation was strange, but her confidence was magnetic, and the way she smiled—just a little crooked, a touch conspiratorial—made it hard to question her.

You let it go, deciding that the rest of the date was far too pleasant to get hung up on oddities. By the time the conversation began winding down, you found yourself surprised at just how much you’d enjoyed the afternoon. “This was… really nice,” you admitted as you stepped outside with her, the cool air brushing against your skin. “I’m glad I came.” Yuna’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, and she reached into her pocket to hand you her phone. “Here,” she said simply, “put your number in.” You hesitated for just a moment before relenting, typing it in and passing it back. Yuna didn’t miss the shy little smile on your face as she glanced down at the screen. The car ride back to your home was filled with easy conversation, and as you stepped out, she lingered for a moment, her voice soft and warm. “Next time, my treat.”

The next morning, everything felt surreal. Your phone buzzed incessantly on your nightstand, a flurry of messages lighting up the screen. Groggily, you reached for it, wondering why so many people suddenly had urgent reasons to talk to you. But as your eyes focused on the notifications, your heart skipped a beat. Social media was flooded with pictures—your pictures. There you were, sitting across from Yuna at the café, her face mostly obscured by her hoodie and mask, but unmistakable to anyone who really looked. Her unmistakable eyes and relaxed posture, coupled with the proximity between the two of you, had sent fans into a frenzy.

Group chats were blowing up. Friends you hadn’t spoken to in ages were suddenly sending screenshots of the posts with captions like “Is this YOU?!” and “Were you on a date with YUNA CLAIRE?!” The comments on the pictures were worse, filled with speculation, disbelief, and more than a little jealousy. You scrolled through the posts, your heart pounding with a mix of shock and confusion. Who was she, really? Her explanation from yesterday seemed laughable now, but the memory of her smile—so self-assured and just a little mischievous—made your stomach twist. Yuna Claire. The name suddenly had a weight you couldn’t quite grasp.

You set your phone down and exhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself. The day before had been perfect, and now it felt like it was slipping through your fingers, no longer yours to hold onto. The pictures, the comments, the speculation—it all felt unreal, like you’d stumbled into someone else’s life. And yet, you couldn’t help but think of the way she’d looked at you, like you were the only person in the room that mattered. The charm she exuded so effortlessly had felt genuine, even intimate. You wanted to believe it was real, even as doubts crept in.

Was she just playing a game? Or had you seen a side of her that no one else had? The thought sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, a small part of you hoped you’d get to find out.

The day passed in a blur, the events of the morning casting a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. Messages kept pouring in, each one pulling you deeper into the chaos that seemed to follow Yuna Claire. The odd thing was, despite the confusion and growing anxiety, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel angry. There was something about the way Yuna had carried herself, her charm and ease, that left you more intrigued than upset. She’d drawn you into her orbit, and it was hard to resist the pull.

By evening, your phone buzzed again, this time with an unknown number. A part of you hesitated before opening the message, but curiosity won out.

XXX-XXX: hey, i hope all that debacle didnt scare u off yet lol

XXX-XXX: im sorry for not being honest wiht u, its yuna

You stared at the text for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She’d clearly seen the fallout, but her message was casual, almost too casual, as though this kind of situation wasn’t new to her. Before you could overthink it, another message came through.

Yuna: let me see you again, ill tell u everything, but this time to avoid anymore of the razzi come over to mine, 

Yuna sent you a google maps link.

The words lingered in your mind, their ambiguity unsettling yet tantalizing. You typed out a quick reply, keeping your tone light.

You: sure but ill dress up, so if they see me they dont catch me off guard and ugly

Yuna: omg

Meanwhile, Yuna sat in the quiet of her penthouse, the glow of her phone illuminating her face. The fallout had been predictable—fans recognizing her disguise, tabloids running wild with speculation—but it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it might. If anything, the chaos only served to solidify her resolve. You were worth it. She could still see the way you’d smiled at her during the date, the way your hesitance had melted under her gaze. That was real. That was hers.

Her annoyance at the fan earlier lingered like a dull ache, a reminder of the world she’d chosen and the obstacles it placed in her path. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the risks she’d taken to get closer to you. This was just the beginning. She tapped her fingers against her phone, a plan already forming in her mind. The next date would be even better—more private, more intimate.

Yuna smiled to herself, a lazy curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Let them talk, let the world speculate. She’d handle it all, just as she always did. But when it came to you? That was a game she refused to lose.

[nickscodthoughtsblog]

Shot in the Dark (König/Nikto)

hey gang. I had a thought infest my brain and now im sharing it with you guys. something a little different to x Reader fics i've been writing, but hear me out on this one. König/Nikto. first time actually writing for Nikto but i took the time to understand his character. and yes i will write more of this so i hope you like it :)

There was a pretty wide assortment of people König worked with in KorTac. Hutch, Fender, Roze… On the field, he saw how each one of them fit their roles and excelled in them. Off the field, he saw them as friends. Some took longer to bond with, like getting Calisto to warm up to him, while others just gravitated towards him. He’ll always remember how quickly he bonded with Horangi. And, even if some of the others found it strange, he couldn’t help his habit of wanting to know the people he was trusting his six with better than just their skill sets.

There was, however, one person he never got the chance to exchange even one word with, and didn’t even know the name of. Not someone new, though. He would notice from time to time, how the man sat alone, away from everyone, his mask always worn and his eyes distant. The only person he’s seen talk to him was Krueger, and it never seemed like it was a long chat. The last time he asked his fellow Austrian about him, all he got was “Don’t worry about him” and a dismissive wave. Not his name, not his relation to Krueger, not even a hint of his nature. 

And he tried to leave it alone. On his pride, he tried. With Krueger out on deployment, he only noticed more and more how the man sat alone, in the same places at the same time, like he was waiting for the one person he had a chance to talk to. Miserable, König thought, to wait so long alone. He couldn’t help his feet carrying him over to the man in the mess hall, away from the group he normally ate with. 

Maybe his sister was right, when she kept saying he was too empathetic for his own good. 

As he came to stand at the table, the man looked up to him. “Krue-” He stopped upon seeing that the sniper hood König wore was significantly different from what the other austrian wore. “Wrong person.” He went back to staring at the room blankly. 

“Are you okay?” König asked softly. 

“Да” was the blunt reply. It bugged König, so he sat down opposite him. “...what are you doing?”

“You seemed lonely, Soldat. Without Krueger around, at least.”

A short silence, the man’s stare locked on his. He almost thought he was being ignored. “...we’re fine.” His tone sure, as though there wasn’t a chance he couldn’t be okay.

We? König rationalized it as referring to him and Krueger. “Either way, I don’t think we’ve met. My name’s-”

“König.” he cut him off. “Krueger pointed you out to us.” 

…maybe he wasn’t referring to both of them. “Uh, ja. Ja, that’s me.” He nodded. “He never told me your name.” He was only met with a slight nod. Okay, maybe being direct would help. “What’s your name?”

He seemed to hesitate, his gaze shifting away from König’s face for the first time since he sat down. “Krueger thinks he’s okay…” The soft, barely audible mutter made König’s eyebrow raise, just like the questions in his head. He didn’t voice them. “Nikto.”

“Nikto…” he tested the name on his tongue. “Good to meet you.” Those dull blue eyes were focused on him again. He didn’t return the sentiment at all. If he was shy, König could easily relate. But he had such laser focus on staring at him, not a care if it would be disturbing or off-putting. The Austrian had no idea where to even begin with talking to him. Just one, possibly sensitive topic. “...why do-” 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting him off. He took it out, finding a text from Horangi. A challenge to see who could do more pull-ups. And Horangi being Horangi, there was a 10€ bet thrown down. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ah, Tiger…” He returned his focus to Nikto. “Sorry. Horangi was just wanting to-” 

“Go on.” The Russian's voice didn’t hold any contempt. Just acceptance that he had other friends. 

König stood up, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Okay. Maybe we can…talk later?” he offered, not getting much of a response. “See you later, Nikto.” He walked away.

As he left, he heard his voice, a response that gave him a bit of hope for cheering him up.

“Да. Later, König.”

[premium-deli-meats]

The yankees are not gonna make the playoffs if they keep this up, but i wanna see how far they can fall cause oh lord

[severus-snaps]

Not to be overly pedantic on a Wednesday morning (or, it was morning when I started), but I had fun writing this and it got long, so I can only apologise for that.

But Snape being Neville's Boggart and the Trevor Incident are massively overblown by the fandom, along with the rest of Snape's actions as a professor, and I've had a lot of fun writing about why.

Firstly, Boggarts don't naturally assume the form of your greatest fear (emphasis mine):

“It’s a shape-shifter,” [Hermione] said. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed.

There's room for the Boggart's own interpretation there. It's Lupin who says "when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears" - which feels more like dramatic effect than objective fact, especially when considering that Hermione almost certainly quoted the textbook and Lupin agreed with her definition - and certainly when we consider what comes next.

Because after that (probably because of the recent toad incident, which I'll come back to, and the even more recent encounter with Snape in the staffroom), Neville throws Snape's name into the ring, and...

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically.

It's a silly, embarrassing fear, and even Neville knows it. What follows is a series of other mostly silly fears - it also includes an eyeball, a severed hand, a rat chasing its tail, a bandaged mummy, and a giant spider. Later, in their exam, Hermione's Boggart is McGonagall.

But both Ron and Hermione have faced worse already, what with Ginny being possessed by Voldemort and Hermione facing a Basilisk. There's a literal murderer on the loose, and it's headline news, but Sirius never becomes anyone's boggart in that class. Ron seems very cold-blooded to be more afraid of spiders than Voldemort posessing and nearly killing his sister - but really, the point of the chapter isn't to explore Ron's (or god forbid, Ginny's) feelings about this. The point of the chapter is that all of the other students have "silly", childish fears which aren't that serious, like monsters they'll likely never encounter, mostly harmless animals, and scary teachers (as someone who used to be deadly and daftly afraid of the idea of zombies and also scared of just about all of my teachers, I get it loool).

But only noble protagonist Harry gets to have "real" fears like fear/dementors/Voldemort, being the protagonist; the kind of fear a more mature character, with real life experience, might have. Unlike whoever conjured the disembodied hand or eye, the banshee and the mummy, he's faced Dementors; they're at the school right now, because a murderer is out to get him, loyal to Voldemort, who also would kill him. Harry's fear is framed as real, reasonable, and mature.

But Neville? Neville's fear of Snape is set at the same level as the eyeball and other monsters under the bed, outright mocked by the narrative, by Neville, and by the class. Yes, he might be afraid of Snape - but exactly like the monsters, Snape's not actually harmed him, and almost certainly never will (unless we want to discuss the likelihood that each of the students have encountered and been traumatised by presumably dark creatures like banshees and mummies, or... a particularly dangerous eyeball. They've not even met Moody yet :P)

It's not a fear like Molly has in the later books of her family dying, nor is it a fear like Voldemort or a Dementor - it's a simple, childish fear that is easy to turn around. Neville, who so often struggles in class, has no trouble at all with the spell here, because it's just so easy for him to imagine Snape in a dress and laugh at him. He's scared of Snape in person, but it's not that deep, especially because Neville is scared of a lot of things through the earlier books - including his grandmother (who also could've easily been the Boggart), the Basilisk (despite being pureblood), Trelawney's predictions in his 3rd year exam, sneaking out at night, Malfoy, and McGonagall.

Later that same book, after "trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes" as he confessed (very bravely, I thought) to McGonagall that he'd lost the list of passwords, allowing Sirius to break into the common room:

Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.

We don't hear what McGonagall's detention is I don't think, but it could be anything from polishing the trophies in the common room to sending him into a dangerous, forbidden forest in search of a suspected dark creature or wizard that kills unicorns and ultimately turns out to be Voldemort himself - but that's on top of forcing him sit outside his own common room, banning everyone else from telling him the password, and banning him from Hogsmeade. Add to that that McGonagall believes that Harry "fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and- bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble" and "Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too" - it seems even more unfair that Neville and Draco receive the same punishment as Harry, who she believes was deliberately trying to get the others into trouble. That's all pretty harsh, but it's McGonagall, so she gets a pass. Harry feels sorry for Neville, but it's never considered a negative reflection of McGonagall or her fairness as a teacher.

And sure, Neville's a nervous wreck after Snape's detention disembowelling frogs/horned toads for a potions detention in GoF, but look at it from Snape's perspective. He gave Neville that particular detention after melting SIX cauldrons in like... the first week of term. How is Neville even doing that?

"Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

That's why he's so mean to Neville; he's a menace in Potions, and Snape doesn't know how to deal with the fact that he can't follow basic instructions without relying on another student to do it for him. He punishes Neville by 'threatening' Trevor not for the sake of it, but because it was Snape's version of trying to make Neville concentrate, to care more about the outcome of his potion without having someone else do half the work for him, because that won't get him anywhere in the exams. And Neville can respond to higher stakes, fear, whatever it was, by performing better; he did as part of Dumbledore's Army:

The news of his parents’ attacker’s escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in him ... he barely spoke during D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm, a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker, only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville. In fact Harry would have given a great deal to be making as much progress at Occlumency as Neville was making during D.A. meetings. Harry’s sessions with Snape, which had started badly enough, were not improving; on the contrary, Harry felt he was getting worse with every lesson.

I've added the second paragraph only because it was interesting to me, because Harry didn't want the dreams to stop. Under Snape's tutelage, Harry isn't really practicing, he's not applying what he's learnt, he wants to go through the door in his dreams. Snape was sort of correct when he called Harry out for that. And both Harry and Neville are guilty of something I was very guilty of as a student as well: just getting through it, doing the bare minimum, instead of actually engaging with the material, concentrating, and getting the work done well. In theory, Neville could've been excelling all along, even with his secondhand wand and memory issues. He just lacked the proper motivation - or, as McGonagall thinks:

“You cannot pass an O.W.L.,” said Professor McGonagall grimly, “without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.” Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. “Yes, you too, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall. “There’s nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence.”

To an extent, it was Neville getting in his own way - there's no wandwork we're told about in Potions, so we can't blame his wand. Everyone is intimidated by Snape in potions, Snape has a reputation for being mean and grumpy, but nobody else is quaking in their boots at his approach except for Neville, who quakes in his boots a lot. When Snape was absent from the potions exam in OotP, Neville was described as "happier than Harry had ever seen him during a Potions class" - but noticeably absent is the description of Neville doing any better because of it.

And still, every year, even Neville passes potions (unlike Crabbe and Goyle in other subjects: "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around..."). Umbridge describes Snape's classes as advanced, and Snape fills his Outstanding-grade-only NEWT classes every year - so Snape can't be that bad at teaching. Neville (and Harry) just don't pay enough attention in Potions, and that endlessly annoys Snape, the prickly perfectionist potions professor.

And Hogwarts isn't a modern Muggle school, either - it's a cross between generic fantasy schools, posh schools, and old-fashioned Victorian schools. That's just a feature of the worldbuilding. There's no hand-holding here. Teachers and staff are just sometimes harsh:

“I thought we’d be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he’d — ” “ — tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Copyin’ lines! What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack. Go on!”

Tone was rather aggressive, but the message was... fine, I guess. If he'd said this to Harry, it probably would've been represented differently - and if Snape had said it, there'd be more accusations of him being unnecessarily mean. But it's Draco, so despite Draco not really having done anything besides being out after curfew, it's totally fair in Harry's eyes to send him to the forest.

Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines: “I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.”

Played for laughs, but pretty humiliating for a simple, easily corrected mistake. Frame it as Snape doing it instead, and that angle would've been played up.

“Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can’t even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!” Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

Pretty mean. Again, imagine if Snape had said the same - but because it's McGonagall, it's fine, and never mentioned again.

Sure, Snape is often worse than the others in terms of being mean, or at least is described as being mean most often, but he's by no means alone in it - see again McGonagall's punishments of Neville in PoA and of Harry/Hermione/Neville/Draco in PS, which are far overblown and have potentially dangerous outcomes - compared to Snape's rather tame punishments, which include fewer points being taken than when McGonagall does it, physically safe (if gross) detentions, and the infamous Trevor incident and a detention designed to punish Harry for nearly killing a fellow student (oh, the irony of making Harry's first example being James and Sirius using an "illegal hex" in that context tickles me every time - and Harry already knows that James/Sirius were capable of worse, including probable SA and attempted murder via werewolf that wasn't even an accident, just plain malice).

Anyway, just to add further context to the old-fashioned culture at Hogwarts, the staff were still using physical punishment within fairly recent living memory:

“Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” [Molly] said. “[Arthur] got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he was the caretaker in those days — your father’s still got the marks.”

They only stopped sometime before Harry arrived. Filch has worked at Hogwarts for "a quarter of a century" (per McGonagall) by Harry's final year, and Filch even said in Harry's first year:

Oh yes . . . hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. … It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out . . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office, keep ’em well oiled in case they’re ever needed.

So they presumably had mostly faded out as punishments before or around the time Filch started in ~1973, because he still has the chains and misses using them. For reference, this is what Filch is hoping for the return of in OotP:

“I’ve been telling Dumbledore for years and years he’s too soft with you all,” said Filch, chuckling nastily. “You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stinkpellets if you’d known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could’ve strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they?

By comparison, preparing potions ingredients as a detention (in the form of disembowelling frogs, toads, or otherwise) doesn't feel like such a bad punishment in the school's eyes. And in a school where this sort of archaic schooling culture is the norm, it is also the norm for teachers to be mean to students who (as they see it) are not trying. So, in an ideal/Muggle/modern worldview, Neville would be identified as needing some additional support for his memory issues; Snape would be supportive and write out clearer instructions, and McGonagall would perhaps gift Neville an enchanted list of the passwords, so that only he could read it.

But that doesn't happen, because this is Hogwarts, and all of the teachers are trapped by genre convention and archaic methods of teaching and discipline that have just barely moved on from physical punishments.

Side note, you should see some of the school reports my mum found of her time in school in the 60s/70s - she was dyslexic, but the teachers didn't know that, and you'd think from their feedback that she was simply trying to annoy them. She and her friend also remember chalk and blackboard rubbers being thrown at disruptive students, canings, and dunce caps for 'stupid' students. For reference, I'm not saying any of this is good; both Hogwarts and real schools have a lot to answer for when considering student wellbeing. But it was considered... fairly normal? Unpleasant, but not surprising or unusual. Which is what Snape's behaviour was, in context - an expression of this era of teaching, wherein he's harsh to everyone, and given half a chance would probably have loved to have used a dunce cap like he possibly witnessed at his Muggle school, as a child himself:

“The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get D’s.”

Further to that, Lupin tells Harry that he has "inherited an old prejudice"; Hermione often comes to Snape's defence in the books; and there's no evidence that any of the teachers really mind what Snape's doing. It's just part of the 'charm' of outdated schooling.

There's also no evidence that Snape knew that Neville was the other boy potentially referred to in the Prophecy. Sure, he might've known - but probably not, since neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore are exactly known for being open and honest with their followers. I also think it would be a bit weird if both Bellatrix and Barty Jr knew, and never once mentioned or tried to attack Neville just for the hell of it, despite having the chance - Bellatrix when she tortured Neville's parents but not Neville, and Barty Jr as Moody. If Snape knew, I wonder whether there'd have been a part of the story wherein we find out that Snape tried to convince Voldemort that Neville was the "better choice" of baby to kill, in order to save Lily.

Anyway, Snape was just annoyed that Neville was an absent-minded boy who melted cauldrons, inattentively read recipes, relied on other students, and was a walking catastrophe. He could tell by sight that Neville's potion in the Trevor incident was fine (thanks to Hermione), probably had an antidote ready, and it's not unusual at Hogwarts to test potions and spells on students, pets, and other animals. Snape punished Neville for not doing as he'd asked (concentrating on the instructions) and for disobeying him (by getting Hermione's help). This method of teaching may not be considered particularly effective, nor is it overly kind or supportive, and it absolutely wouldn't fly by modern/Muggle standards - but this is Hogwarts. Boggarts don't represent your most tragic, heart-wrenching fear, just what they think will get you in the moment - and if Snape had really wanted Trevor dead, he'd have left him as a tadpole to dry up and die rather than giving him the antidote.

And none of this matters anyway, because bringing up how Snape behaved as an adult usually only happens to dismiss Snape's suffering as a child. It adds very little to the conversation actually being had, which is that as a child himself, Snape was bullied, assaulted, and almost murdered during his time in school - by a group of boys drunk on their own self-importance who bullied and hexed anyone just because they wanted to, regularly released a dark creature into Hogsmeade and the surrounding area which risked people's lives, illegally became Animagi, and used illegal hexes on fellow students (like Snape) unprovoked - and nobody seemed to do a single thing about it. Or perhaps they did - but in the wise words of McGonagall, perhaps they were pretty useless:

“Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!” said Professor McGonagall tartly. “No, not another word of complaint, Potter!”

Ah, timeless.

Unrelated, but just in case anyone made it this far - I also enjoy the idea that something similar happened to the Draco/Harry/Sectumsempra duel during the Marauders era, and James used Sectumsempra on Snape.

Okay, Severus Snape getting bullied is forgotten because he "bullied" children.

But did you guys forget what the Marauders did to Bertram Aubrey?

They used an illegal hex on him which caused his head to grow twice its original size. (I think it was Engorgio Skullus though I don't think it was ever explicitly said.)

He was likely a Slytherin, or simply didn't come from a wealthy family. Perhaps he was plain in appearance, making him an easy target for cruel jokes. Maybe he had an interest in the dark arts, which earned him the disdain of the popular crowd. Or maybe the Marauders merely disliked him for just existing.

James and Sirius were tormentors and bullies. No great transgression was needed to earn their wrath, simply breathing the same air was often enough motive for them to unleash their cruel antics upon their chosen victim.

When they finally recognize this, they concoct excuses such as, "Oh, maybe he was a future death eater in the making." Do you guys not realise that this was still bullying? It's possible that he didn't do anything wrong, much like how they unjustly targeted Severus in the train.

[cluescorner]

Arlecchino's whole deal is unbelievable

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder what's causing my weird powers? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta become King and then kill my "Mother".

*Kills Clervie and "Mother"*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I was able to defeat a Fatui Harbinger when I'm like 17 or so? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta be in jail and become a Harbinger.

*Is in jail for a while and becomes a Harbinger*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I am-

Pierro: Hey what's up hello, anyways you're descended from the Crimson Moon Dynasty of Khaenri'ah. I'm sure that this is a lot for you to take in so-

Arlecchino: Ok.

Pierro: ...You're just cool with that?

Arlecchino: IDK maybe? I can't really worry about that at the moment, I'm a father now. This orphanage full of children I love (who also are child soldiers and are not allowed to leave or else I'll execute them except maybe now I'm just gonna wipe their memories IDK I'm morally complex) isn't gonna run itself.

*Runs the orphanage/spy recruitment initiative*

Me, the fucking player: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE KHAENRI'AN? WHY WASN'T THIS BROUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING QUEST?? OR ANYTHING ELSE????

Arlecchino, talking to me through my phone: I honestly don't know why you care, I'm too busy to give a shit. Anyways, I'm gonna go fight fate itself I guess. I'm sure that I don't share any thematic parallels with any other Khaenri'an characters (particularly as it relates to acting and family angst) and that I haven't made the idea of 'curses' on Khaenri'ans and what they entail even more complicated than they already were. See ya.

[ratatatastic]

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.