#these series both mean equal amounts to me they are VERY important to me

[starlightswordfight]

I need to post about adventure time right now but I think my interest in it is a lot more. idk the word. intense??? Intense

w pikmin you can interpret whatever however you want and I'll go "SO TRUE AGREE AGREE AGREE" and mean it. w adventure time I scream and shoot laser eyes at people and go "THIS IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED" while doing this

[weltraum-vaquero]

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

[PART 1]｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[PART 2] ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[PART 3]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.

Tags: Modern AU, SFW (for now…), DILF professor Viktor, romanticizing and eroticizing borsht, lab shenanigans, reader being filled with equal parts shame and lust

Word count: 7.8k

Notice: This fic is written with a transmasculine reader in mind, but that won’t come into play at all until the final third chapter of this mini-series.

Notes: A little something something while we await season two ;] The draft for this post deleted itself twice now. If the formatting looks wonky (especially in the texting section), NO, it doesn't. Shut up.

He didn’t lie. 

Which is all the more shocking, considering you attend his 8AM lecture on the very same day, and he seems more bright and alight than you’ve ever seen him.

When did he find the time?

Though there isn’t a daunting amount to your thesis just yet, you still want to believe you’ve written something quite substantial over the past months. 

You toss one glance around yourself before you follow him into his office after his lecture, and you find the stack of papers you’d left on his desk last night looking positively devoured, in the most… academic way possible. Scribbles and notes litter the margins, the edges of the papers are already somehow lightly worn. 

He must have read it multiple times.

“Coffee?” He offers.

“Yes, please.”

As he gropes the machine in search of its switch again, he cocks his brow at you. “And what was that for?”

You frown. “What was what for?”

“That… glance, before you followed me into my office.” The switch clicks, the light comes on. “Looking around like you were being followed.”

“Oh,” caught in the embarrassing act, you shrug. “I don’t know. Being cautious, I guess. Students have been looking at me a little funny, lately.”

“Much too late for caution, I’m afraid.” 

Uh oh. 

As he retrieves two paper cups, you’re left wondering what exactly that should mean.

“Why’s that?”

“I thought you were well aware of the fact that rumors would start, um… circulating the moment I made it public that I had hired an assistant.” Coffee trickles into the cups, a soothing little melody. Viktor leans against the wall beside the machine as he watches the cups fill.  “I’ve always been adamant about not needing one. It is natural for people to have questions — and to come up with, eh, answers — when I suddenly do.”

The notion of the answers students might have come up with swirls around in your brain. 

You wish they were right.

You’re glad they’re not.

You look at Viktor.

“Do you mind it?”

The coffee stops pouring. Viktor does that thing again, spreading long fingers apart to grasp both cups. And he’s quiet — for a beat longer than he should be.

“No. There are more important things to worry about than… gossip.” He sets the cups on the table, then takes his seat. He hesitates for a brief second, craning his neck before he fixates on you, motionless. Waiting. “Do you?”

“Trying not to.”

The answer makes him… deflate, somehow. It’s barely visible, for just a fraction of a second his chest sinks, before his tone is back to his composed cadence.

“You will get used to it,” he assures. “Now, onto more interesting matters — your work.”

Thank god. You don’t know how much more of the awkward tiptoeing you could have handled.

“Yes.” Your heart leaps into your throat. Acting normal has never been so difficult. “What did you think?”

“Very impressive.” He slides the stack of papers towards you. “I have made some… suggestions here and there, should you wish to take them into consideration. But, I think you struck gold with your hypothesis. Should you need a conversation partner, guidance, anything at all — I would gladly be at your service.”

“Thank you, Viktor. I really appreciate this.”

At the sound of his own name coming from you, something in him shifts. Shifts with an unfamiliar near bashfulness, he stifles a little smile into the rim of his paper cup, the corners of his eyes crinkle, he settles into his seat a little further.

“But you never held up your end of the bargain,” you point out. That snaps him out of it.

“Ah, yes. I did not.” He continues to hide behind his cup, before he finally seems to decide to take a metaphorical leap, as he sets it down and stares down at it. “I fear the unfortunate truth may be that when it comes to research, I either work better with a partner, or that… Cecil is right and I need to slow down. Though I’d guess the former is more likely.”

“You used to work with, uh…” you’re not sure how to approach the topic, “Talis, didn’t you?”

“The five basic principles of applied arcanism are commonly referred to as Talis’ princies, you do not have to feign uncertainty to appease me.”

So you drop the attempt to tiptoe around the subject, and ask, plainly:

“Why wasn’t your name added on?”

Viktor scoffs. “Talis-Sidorov-Sviboda has a terrible ring to it. Or so he’d said. And admittedly… I was more of a conduit than the co-author of his idea. He said we would name the next big thing we would discover after me, but… well, you know how it is. I dedicated myself to teaching, he retired to lead a quiet life in his gaudy mansion with his sports cars and his purebred German shepherds after he married some businesswoman.”

Though his story does line up, those aren’t necessarily the rumors you’d heard. There’d been talk of more than just a mild dispute of names, and… well, there had been… something between Talis and Viktor. But that’s about all you know.

Under your gaze, Viktor grows suddenly uncomfortable — both with the subject and the fact that he might be able to tell you know more. He’s quick to redirect the conversation.

“As for my research: I have been studying the laminal hexoin cascade in stabilized hexgems in various matrices. And though bold, I have been attempting to figure out the ideal matrix — something that will allow for close to a hundred percent energy renewal and render all other sources of energy obsolete.”

”That is bold,” you say. Your other thought, you keep to yourself: it also sounds impossible. You suppose stabilizing hexgems 20 years ago was also something thought impossible — and yet, Viktor hadn’t shied away. If anyone is apt for the job, it is him. “Any luck so far?”

“Partially. They have been yielding favorable results, but not enough to be viable energetic alternatives as of now.” He takes his cup again, bringing it to his lips in a rushed movement, drinking a mouthful, rather than a sip. Once Viktor sets it down, his hand remains on the table, fingers tapping on the shiny surface once, twice— “I could use a theorist to assist me with a few things.”

The implication dizzies you. Is he…?

But then he slides another one of his drawers open, and retrieves a stack of papers. Slanted handwriting, barely legible — you’re by now intimately familiar with it: his cursive. It litters the pages, in different inks and in pencil, diagrams, sketches… just looking at it makes you hungry to read it.

He smiles as if he’s read your mind, again.

“I was thinking it could be you.”

—

You’re invited to his office for lunch break the very next day too. And though he assures you there is no pressure in having to read through his notes by then, you disregard it.

It takes you a reread to be able to make sense of all his scribbles, but… it’s brilliant. He’s brilliant. 

It should stop surprising you by now — his ideas, his drive, his curiosity, his mind — but with every single time Vikror impresses you anew, he becomes something more distant.

As you’re marveling at his intricate weaving of concepts, it strikes you, unpleasantly, that this is the same man you’d wanted to devour just days ago. The man who’s made you coffee, the man whose sharp eyes fold at the corners when he smiles. 

You’d have deified him, had he been your teacher. You still do, especially now, after you’ve seen more of what his mind is made of. The mere notion of him becomes terribly out of reach, and you’re plagued with guilt for that night. Guilt for having tainted such a man with your thoughts. 

And yet, you still can’t help but think of his neck, the soft pink of his chapped lips, the hollow of his cheeks. You wonder what his mouth tastes like, and you want to slap yourself on the wrist for it. You should have, because minutes later, you wonder about worse things too. The scent of his skin, the coarseness of his body hair, how far up under his navel it might reach.

And when you finish reading his notes a second time and bring the paper to your nose to sniff it — hoping for a trace of him — you realize you have a problem. A serious one.

It torments you for the rest of the night, through the hours you spend writing up some suggestions and ideas, all the way to when you switch off the light, and hug whatever pillow’s within reach close.

When you get the urge to tilt your hips against it, you decide to get up and splash your face with water.

And you wish you could do the same thing the very next day on your lunch break, when you’re standing in the doorway of his office and he’s eating borscht. The sweet-tangy smell of vegetables, beef and beets makes your stomach growl, but your physical hunger is long lost on your otherwise preoccupied brain.

The beet red of the soup has pigmented his lips. They look kissed raw, puffy, ripe. A lavish speck of colour on his otherwise pale face, it draws your gaze and does not let it stay somewhere more respectful.

You want to taste them.

He does it for you, raspberry pink tip of his tongue darting over the plush of his lips before he swallows and finally greets you.

“Sorry,” you say, and it comes out tense, near horrified. You’ve caught him eating soup, for chrissakes, not being bent over his table. Oh, god. Why did you have to think about that? ”I’ll come back later.”

“No,” Viktor gestures to the empty seat across from him. He screws his thermos shut, and puts it away. “Please, I’ve been waiting for you. Sit.”

And you do, like the dog you feel like you are right now.

“Did you manage to find the time to read my notes?”

Oh, did you.

“I… followed your example and made some suggestions of my own. But on separate pages. Here.”

His reaction is more than what you’d hoped for. It’s more than the impressed raise of thick brows that had kept you fueled last night, it’s more than the smile you’d been hoping for. 

“You are unbelievable,” he grins, and takes what you offer, pushing his glasses up his nose before he starts reading. You selfishly use the distraction to stare at his lips again. He mutters to himself as he reads, pink mouth molding around whispered jargon, nodding. “Yes, this… this is exactly what I’d hoped for, when I’d asked for your assistance. Your fresh set of eyes is invaluable. I hadn’t thought of approaching the modification from that angle.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the page for even just a moment, flipping it surprisingly fast, and taking it with him as he leans back in his seat. 

And decides to torture you.

Viktor traces the pad of his own thumb over the curve of his bottom lip as he takes in your handwriting. The give of the flesh under his fingertip hypnotizes, the slight drag of rough skin on soft pink one, your mind is long gone.

You think of rough fingertips on his lips, on his chest, rough fingertips on the pasty white of his gaunt lower stomach, rough fingertips in coarse hair. Rough fingertips dipping between his milky thighs, rough fingertips on where he runs just as pink as he does on his lips, rough fingertips dipping, slipping on slick skin—

You need to stop.

And you most certainly need help.

“Is something the matter?”

It feels like you’ve swallowed your own brain whole when he speaks, because your skull rings hollow when you try to come up with a reply that isn’t incoherent babble.

“Wh— me? No. Why?”

And because embarrassment loves to stick around once it has made its presence known, the stars align for the next social disaster: your stomach growls. Loudly.

“Did you not have lunch?” Viktor asks.

“I… didn’t get around to it,” you admit.

“I won’t take up too much of your time, then,” he assures. If he knew just how much of your time he’s started taking up — and the fact that you wish you could give him what is left of it to him, too.  “I would like you to work alongside me on my research. But if you don’t feel like you can squeeze another project into your presumably busy schedule, I understand. I would be glad to have you merely as… a colleague to consult with, as well.”

Is that even a question? He’s offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You would be an idiot not take it. 

And an even bigger idiot to turn down more time spent with him.

“You don’t even have to ask,” you joke. “Yes. I would be thrilled, Viktor.”

This is his first smile you witness when his pretty boyishness doesn’t shine through. It’s a gentle quirk of his lips, no teeth to be seen, just tenderness. It makes your heart leap to be the cause of it.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Thank you.”

Silence.

Just as you’re about to breach it — he does it first.

“Would you be free for lunch tomorrow as well?”

He watches you from below long, dark lashes as you give a breathless yes.

—

“I brought you something.”

It’s the last thing you expect as you step into his office at noon, upon exchanging hellos.

You’re alight. With curiosity, above all else. And with worry — why would he bring you something? What will you do to reciprocate? 

“Thank you,” you say, though you have no idea what for just yet. “What is it?”

“I saw you eyeing my borscht yesterday.” There’s a glint in his eye that suggests more, so much so you can’t decide between flirting or digging a hole for yourself in the hardwood floor of his office. 

The middle ground is standing in his office awkwardly as he unzips his backpack.

He retrieves two thermos bottles: the one you’re already familiar with, and another that looks older, more worn, and sorely lacks the sticker you’ve so come to love and fixate on and dream about. “I, eh, I made you some. In case you wouldn’t get the chance to eat before you came here.”

Your chest swells so much it hurts. 

He made you soup?

“You… Viktor, this is… thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to. Have a seat.”

You practically jump into the seat across the table from his — a seat you’ve come to associate as yours, in spite of being well aware of the oppisite.

As he screws the bottle open and pours some steaming soup out into a paper bowl — god, he’d brought paper bowls — his eyes flick to you.

“But if you don’t care for borscht, you don’t have to—“

“I do care.”

And that rings true not just for the borscht.

It rings true for the soup he brings you the next day too, it rings true for every word that passes his lips. And it rings true for the time you start to spend in the insane coffee shop queue to surprise him with his preferred order and a slice of cake (a different one each day, until you figure out his favorite: cinnamon coffee), it rings true for the dark blue roughed up thermos he lets you take home the day you don’t finish the soup he brings you because you’re just so busy talking.

It’s November before you know it.

As the days grow colder, it’s not rare to be finding warmth by lavishing in Viktor’s attention as you ramble on about ideas — either for his research, or your thesis. All while he intently follows your thoughts with a smile, stopping just to shave another mouth-half-full’s worth off his cake of the day with his plastic spoon.

And once he savors the last bite, Viktor almost always flips it hollow side down, sliding it down the swell of his tongue within his mouth, removing it from between puckered lips. His cheeks hollow, he holds eye contact all the same, and it’s a mental image that haunts you. A mental image you project in your mind, nestled between the apex of your thighs. The thick of his tongue. The cushiony seal of his lips, the suction of his cheeks. 

It never becomes any less distracting than the first time it happens. 

You startle when Viktor speaks as he sets down the plastic spoon into the now empty packaging. 

“I would like you to accompany me to the lab sometime soon. When would you be free?”

You’ve been before — but just a handful of times. Mainly for him to demonstrate or disprove certain guesses, or test conclusions you’d reached together. 

“I’m free right now,” you suggest.

Viktor shakes his head. “I have a lecture in an hour.”

Right. 

“I mean… I think we could make it in an hour.”

“I prefer to take my time.” Viktor leans back in his seat, stares thoughtfully at the clock on his wall for a moment. “Would seven PM work for you?”

“Uh…” you mentally go through your schedule for the day, “yes. It should. I might be a little late, though. How about… seven fifteen-ish?”

“Good.” The flow of the word is syrupy, yet his next sentence comes out surprisingly peppy with excitement: “See you then.”

—

Though you’re well into the final week of November, it never stops bothering you just how quickly the sun sets. By the time you get to the lab, the air’s gone cold, dry, and the darkness is heavy and thick.

Viktor waits for you just outside the university lab, under the halo of the street light — perhaps just a hint overdressed for the cold, in your opinion. It’s certainly trench coat season, though his is surprisingly long, reaching somewhere along the middle of his shins. The hand he hasn’t tucked in his pocket holds his cane and is clad in a leather glove. Around his lengthy neck, a red knitted scarf lays in chunky, impenetrable layers, reaching almost all the way to the swell of his top lip and his ears. You can hardly see his smile from underneath when he spots you — but his eyes give him away. 

“Right on time,” Viktor’s tone has just as much pep to it as a few hours ago, perhaps even moreso. He rolls his shoulders, before he subtly nuzzles further down into his scarf, shying away from the biting cold. “Let’s get inside.”

He leads the way into the building, its warmth embracing you the moment you step in. The tip of your nose and your fingertips feel like they’re beginning to thaw, tingling just a hint. As you go to take off your coat, you notice Viktor isn’t in a rush. He rests his cane against the wall before he unwraps the thick, wide scarf from around his neck, folding it. He sets it on a nearby table, shucking off his trench coat, slender shoulders under a wool sweater. You watch closely as he then takes his scarf and stuffs it into the sleeve of his coat before he hangs it up. 

There’s something stiff, painful, about how he moves. You wonder if it’s the cold.

“What?” He watches you with appeased amusement.

Caught red-handed, you jump, still halfway clad in your coat.

“Nothing,” you reply, scraping for a way to deflect from your obvious staring. “Not a big fan of the cold?”

“Never.” He says it like it’s a very serious matter. “I still don’t know how I made it through my first eighteen winters in St. Petersburg.”

“You grew up in Russia?”

He laughs through his nose like you’ve told him a half good joke. “What gave it away? The accent? The surname?”

“No, I just thought… Svoboda is a Czech surname.”

With how his smile turns knowing, self-satisfied, you’re suddenly back in his office again, uncertain and nervous and asking for a job as his assistant. He could taunt you with the knowledge that you’ve looked up his last name, embarrass you a little, play with you.

But he isn’t that man anymore — not to you. This time, he feeds your curiosity, albeit just with crumbs.

“My mother’s,” he clarifies. “Sidorov is Russian — my father’s.”

Oh.

“It’s nice that they used both their names. I’m assuming that wasn’t… common, back then, and back there.”

“It wasn’t, and they did not.” Viktor waits for you to hang up your coat, watchful gaze making your every movement feel loaded with static that’s about to snap. “I added hers when I changed my name.”

Changed his name?

The image of the sticker on his thermos turns up fresh in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…

“Well? I was hoping we could discuss more in the lab, but if you prefer the coat hanger…”

Goddamn it. Focus. You need to focus.

“Sorry.”

You catch up, then slowly follow Viktor down the hallway, into the small lab he has been assigned. It’s one of the less grand ones, but it has all it needs — from a pretty new hexion accelerator to a humble whiteboard. It smells sanitized, sterile, ozonic.

You assume your usual seat by the whiteboard while he sets up. It still doesn’t feel… right to let him do all of that by himself, but he insists upon it, so, you stay out of his way. Viktor tidies up the space just a little, finding his goggles among the mess. He slips them onto his head, elastic pulling back his soft hair into a fluffy grey and brown mess. His cane thumps against the linoleum with every hurried step — though he doesn’t seem to be hurrying on account of you being there as much as excitement to show you.

Once he’s done, he sits in front of the accelerator, slipping his goggles on, and nods for you to come. Which you do — you’d be at his beck and call beyond just the academic context. For a moment, you pluck the inviting tilt of his head and the quirk of his lips out of their context, and you plant it atop your own bed, him in just a loose shirt, underwear, lax with freshly received pleasure. More comfortable than he’s ever been, all because of you. Beckoning for you. Come here. Smiling at you when your knee dips into the mattress, tucking his index under your chin as you crawl to him, reeling you in for a kiss.

“Come closer.”

God help you.

You comply with a wildly beating heart, stepping forward until you’re close behind his sitting form, watching the accelerator over his shoulder. 

He smells nice. Like an indistinct, aromatic cologne, covering up the natural, gentle musk of his skin. You have to resist the urge to dip your head down and trace the tip of your nose along his spine, from where the bones of his neck show to where the scruff at the back of his head goes thicker, fuller. You wonder if he’d shiver as you let the scent of him imbue you… you wonder if he’d lean into it, if he’d tilt his head for you, let you dip your face into the slope of his shoulder, where his scent’s more potent.

The mere thought of him, vivid in your nostrils and clinging to your palate and the floor of your brain, rattles you with a shiver.

“I thought I’d rather show you than tell you,” he explains, wrapping both pale, bony hands around the handles of the accelerator. Steam hisses from the exhaust, flooding the room with more ozone, and gently, but certainly, the gem starts to spin behind the glass panel, beginning to levitate out of its socket, illuminating the room. 

God, you should have put on goggles too, it’s making your eyes hurt. It’s a welcome reminder as to why you chose to spend most your days staring down a blackboard rather than the thing itself. The screen right above it is more of a familiar sight to you: numbers, reading the rotations per minute, as well as energetic output, steadily increasing. 

It whirrs, magic static whirling up around the blue orb, electricity crackles. 

You can see the appeal of this over a blackboard. But you’d still take the chalk. Especially considering the deafening noise. 

Nevermind the damn goggles. You need to remember to bring some ear plugs.

“Watch the panel.” Viktor raises his voice over the hum of the machine, and turns to you, watching you from behind foggy lenses with a smile. You wish you could see the way his crow’s feet deepen. It rumbles harder, so much so Viktor almost has to shout the next thing he says, which is a shame, because his usually playful lilt is lost in the noise of it. “Not to… spoil the outcome of this experiment for you, but I implemented the conclusions we came to last week, and, it is safe to say…”

With a well-timed click and tug on a lever, the machine disengages, and the gem drops back into its socket under the influence of gravity. Its violating light returns to a faint, blue glow, like an artificially lit aquarium; fluctuating and undulating gently in its intensity. The potential energy indicator’s numbers climb back up, steadily, but faster than what you’ve seen before. 

Much faster.

You can’t help but grin with excitement. “It’s regenerating fast.”

Viktor smirks at you over his shoulder like you’re sharing a sacred, intimate inside joke. 

“It is.“

You await the verdict with a bated breath.

“How much?”

Viktor’s smile only grows, like he’s about to give you a present. And, all things considered, this is going to be one, in months’ or maybe even years’ time.

“A thirty-seven percent recovery after usage within an hour.” Viktor spins in the lab stool to face you with the theatrical self-satisfaction of a magician who just sawed his assistant in half and is waiting for the applause. You nearly forget to step back to give him the space for it, so much so your knees knock together. But there is no chance for you to apologize, Viktor is unbothered, sliding the goggles up his forehead enthusiastically, his show of complacency ditched in favor of pure excitement. “That is more than I’ve ever achieved thus far. Thanks to y—” 

His voice sticks in his throat, turning into a pained hiss.

His hair’s tangled in his goggles.

“Oh, wonderful,” he grits out sarcastically. 

A frustrated half-sigh half-groan rumbles in his chest as he pulls again and only makes things worse.

“Could you get me a pair of scissors? I should have some in the third drawer over there.”

“Wait. At least let me try first,” you insist. Reluctantly, you step closer, and after a moment’s hesitation, Viktor lowers his head for better access like a feral animal letting itself be pet for the first time. He sits still, the sound of both your breaths suddenly loud in the tall, quiet room as you’re forced to step even closer. “Could you…”

You nudge his ankles apart with the tip of your shoe.

He listens.

After a stuttering, fragile exhale, Viktor spreads his thighs. 

You take the space offered. And you try not to think about kneeling, about making a home for yourself between his thighs.

“Do you think you can do it?”

You wish he’d asked you that about any number of things, except for the goggles tangled in his feathery, soft hair.

But yes. You think you do.

It would have been a terrible shame to cut it — though some shorter, bluntly cut hairs that sit a little further back near the top of his head tell you his suggestion was not the product of a new idea. Carefully, you pull whatever hairs are looser from between the lens and the bridge of the goggles, though a strand remains stubborn. 

You try to ignore the warmth of his breath on your shirt, the intoxicating, soapy, yet distinctively human smell of his scalp, and the mesmerizing ratio of grey to dark brown, the subtle heat on the sides of your palms and wrists, resting on his head for stability.

As you separate another few hairs from the stuck strand and accidentally tug at them, Viktor has no reaction. Beyond swallowing thickly, and sitting through it dutifully. 

You wonder if he’d act just the same, had you bunched his hair into the spaces between your fingers and tugged — simply biting his tongue and chewing through the pain — or if he’s leaned into the force, moaning with it, and god, you’ve hurt him, and you haven’t even apologized.

“Sorry.” You sound twice as genuine — mainly because you apologize for much worse than the inflicted pain. “Almost done.”

“The scissors would have been faster,” he half-jokes.

His voice sounds different. A hint more… strained. He shifts in the seat, wipes his hands on his slacks.

“Would have been a shame, though. You have pretty hair.” The last part of the sentence positively escapes you, and once you hear it, you freeze. Your brain scrambles itself trying to add something that will fix the inherent following awkwardness, the horrifying realization you just called your boss pretty, the fact that it’s true, the fact that—

Viktor flinches with another accidental tug of his hair, and so do his thighs — jumping with the surprise, clenching together until they squeeze around yours. But they’re gone just as fast, flinching away with horrified urgency. Before you get to savor the supple flesh pressing into your own in another new perverted way, before you get to imagine his ankles locking behind you, tilting and rubbing your hips into the hug of his thighs.

You need. To get. A grip.

“Sorry.”

You continue on in silence, and thank everything above he at the very least can’t see the way your hands shake, because he’s staring at the floor like he could drill a hole into it with just his eyes. 

You should have gotten the damn scissors. As if through divine intervention, the rest of his hair comes loose not soon after.

“Okay. All done.” You smooth the slightly crinkled, but now free strand back down into the rest of his soft hair. 

Viktor’s dainty features come into view from below his face framing pieces as he tilts his chin up. His lips quirk into a gentle smile, his eyes sparkle in the faint blue glow, soft shadows under the hollow of his cheeks and the swell of his lip and the tip of his nose and the bone of his brow. You wish you could immortalize him in whatever way he’d let you — a sculpture, a painting, a poem. He looks ripe for kissing, eyes half-lidded and twice as dreamy as he peers at you.

You’re going to see him like this in your mind’s eye later tonight.

Nestled between your thighs, or kissing down your stomach, molten gold under long, dark lashes, sitting atop carved marbled bone.

“Thank you.” He says it quietly — like it would break the sudden holiness of the moment to say it any other way.

He’s so warm. 

You could kiss him. See what the ozone of the room tastes like in the slick of his mouth. You wonder if he’d let you, if he’d suckle your tongue into his mouth in a show of submission, or if he’d bite your lip, licking your teeth, pressing, pushing, make you earn the privilege to taste him. 

You wonder if he’d hold you, or if his curious hands would roam, tracing the front of your stomach, or your spine, or press to the middle of your breastbone like he wants to see where you’d split open for him down the middle like a ripe peach. You wonder if he’d let you dip a hand down the front of his slacks, you wonder if he’d tilt his hips into it like he’d been aching for it, aching for you. Scorching your hand with want, materialized in slick or straining hardness. You wonder which it’d be.

From where you’re standing, the distance between the apex of his chin and the space where his slacks stretch between his thighs is small — and your gaze takes the leap, searching. But the material dips and curves in such a way that you’re left none the wiser, and with nothing but a disgusting realization.

You’re staring at your boss’ crotch.

You step back from the heat between his thighs, painfully awake, aware. It squeezes and wriggles in your chest like you have a parasite lodged in the chambers of your heart. 

You’re disgusting.

You need to put an end to this.

“You’re welcome, professor.”

With that, you’re practically bolting from between his thighs, to stash the scissors away again.

You’re neglecting your job, you’re putting it in jeopardy. Putting yourself in jeopardy, risking all the rumors circulating becoming a shameful truth, you’re risking the first man who ever kept up with you, followed you where you wanted to go and took you further — you’re risking it all because he makes you unbelievably fucking horny. 

And it’s absurd. Embarrassing. You need to get a hold of yourself. 

“I was… thinking, actually,” you begin, and want to punch yourself over how Viktor perks back up from where you’d left him. “About some things regarding my thesis that I’d like your thoughts on.”

“Oh. Of course.” You have got to be imagining the subtle disappointment in his tone. The second you let yourself believe it’s more than just a figment of your make-believe, is the second you will be doomed. 

Viktor, with all his years and experience, would and does know better than to fall for his assistant. You know he does.

“What’s on your mind?” He prompts after your prolonged silence.

If he knew the half of it.

—

You’re late.

And it’s a direct, shameful consequence of last night’s lusting, the time you’d spent frustratedly tossing and turning and thinking of his mouth and his eyes and his scent, before you’d given in past midnight, and humped your hand into completion.

Thinking about him under you, about pressing your face into his neck, about pressing him into the mattress and rutting into him until he gushes and his tired body sings for you and his voice cracks. Until he breaks for you, until pleasure itself oils and unscrews all the biological cogs of his body and he comes out unstrung, reborn.

Viktor’s in a wheelchair. 

And he looks worse for wear than you’ve ever encountered him before, slumping in the chair and massaging his eyelids with his thumb and index, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He’s dressed even warmer than usual, in a loose but thick, dark red sweater. There’s a colorful knitted blanket folded and set over the tops of his thighs. 

Viktor doesn’t acknowledge you when you come in and sit near the whiteboard, simply resumes his lecture as he regains his mental footing. And he goes on for a while, not sparing you a single glance, as he goes through powerpoint slides today, instead of his usual writing and hand drawn diagrams. 

He’s at it for a while, not as fast as his usual pace, but undeniably concise, certain. Until…

“The energy output increases proportionately to the spin, and, with powerful enough matrices, some hexgems can create force fields of their own. This is a particularly common phenomenon in unstabilized gems as well, though with the activation of their force field, those tend to also create… eh…”

Viktor stops, sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. He frowns, mumbling something in another language, which, judging by the heavy consonants and squeezed vowel, you’d assume it’s Russian. The word must be slipping his mind, so you decide to help out.

“A shock wave.”

Viktor’s gaze cuts. He’s looked at you with disinterest before, sure, but this… 

He doesn’t even turn his head to look at you, just eyes you from the corner of his vision like something unworthy of acknowledgment. You wish you could swallow your words back up.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you. A shock wave.”

You don’t say anything again for the rest of the lecture. 

Once the door falls shut behind the last few students who have left the room, Viktor turns to you. You wish you could shrink; and it feels like you do, when he finally speaks.

“I appreciate your intention to help — but do not interrupt me again. I know what I’m trying to say.” He sounds utterly unlike himself, both spent and angry. “I don’t need help. Especially not in the middle of a lecture.”

“Sorry.”

That alone softens him up a hint. He looks away, rubbing his thumbs against the wheels of his chair, before he speaks again. Calmer. 

“Just… do not let it happen again.”

As he slumps in his seat, massaging at his temples, you understand that his anger… might not have been as directed at you as you’d initially thought. He’d been snippy when his back hurt — having switched to a wheelchair must mean he’s in a lot more pain now.

And you understand his frustration. He’d just gotten himself an assistant a few months back, and started a new project — looking like he requires help in front of his students is certainly not doing his reputation right now any favors. 

“But if there’s other things I can do to make your day a little easier, I’d like to do them.”

“No, thank you.” He shakes his head, before he grabs both wheels and advances to where he’d left his bag. As he starts packing his things, he stops again, quietly groaning somewhere in the back of his throat. “Where did I put my pen…”

Viktor eventually finds it right behind his water bottle on the table, tossing the both of them into his bag, shutting it tightly. You expect him to wheel himself over to the ramp that leads to the exit, but he just hangs his head, massaging at his temples again, before he looks at you.

“Actually, I’d like it if you went to my office and got me a silver tin box in the… fourth drawer on the left side of my desk. Do you have the key with you, or should I give you mine?”

“I have it. I’ll be quick.”

“Thank you.”

And you deliver on your promise. You don’t run, but you power walk there, and you’re back with (hopefully the right) tin box in the same lecture hall before his break ends.

Viktor takes it from you gladly, popping it open. It contains two foils of painkillers, one already half empty, a small ziploc bag of… gummies, and at the very bottom, some dark chocolate. 

You must have pulled a bit of a face at the contents — particularly the gummies — because Viktor cocks a brow at you, before he faintly chuckles under his breath and pops three painkillers in one go.

After depositing the foil back in the box, he fishes out the dark chocolate bar. It looks to be the expensive kind, something Belgian — Viktor breaks off a piece, putting it in his mouth, before he holds it out to you.

“Peace offering,” he clarifies when you hesitate. 

You’d be a fool to turn him down. You take some — it’s rich, buttery, and melts on your tongue. It coats your mouth with its taste, dark and aromatic and unfortunately not as sweet as you thought Viktor preferred. He’d always favored the almost disgustingly sugary cakes.

“Didn’t think you’d like something so bitter,” you say.

“I do not. It sometimes helps with my migraines,” he tells you. “Sugar makes them worse. A very… devastating discovery to make, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

You wonder if right now is the right time to be curious — and you decide it might be.

“Do the migraines also affect your leg? Or the other way around?” 

“No.” Viktor shakes his head, popping off another piece of dark chocolate. “This,” he gestures at himself, the wheelchair, “was just a very unfortunate… overlapping.”

“Oh.” You grimace in sympathy. “Fun.”

“A punishment for it, more like.” 

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Let’s hope my migraine eases up on me throughout this lecture.” He smiles at you — and for the first time you’ve known him, he looks old doing it. Exhausted. The face of a man who’s seen enough hardship for a lifetime, but has yet to cave under it. 

You wish you could hold him. You wish you could melt it away, kiss it better, love it better. Whatever he’d let you.

You surprise both him and yourself when you lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and let your thumb rub a small circle over the wool. 

Though he flinches at the first contact, once something in his brilliant mind unfurls and settles, so does he. Through the cracks, tenderness shines under the fatigue. Viktor can be soft — in spite of everything im his body and his past that protests against it. “Thank you.”

You take your hand away sooner than you’d like — but at the ideal time to keep it from being anything more than a friendly touch.

“I’m glad I could help,” you say.

—

Viktor isn’t there at all next week. 

You come in on Monday to find his office empty during lunch break, and when you attend his lecture, it’s another professor from his department teaching it. The students don’t seem all too excited about the change either — and you leave before it even starts.

Heimerdinger is none the wiser about Viktor’s situation when you talk to him — in spite of their shared history. He simply tells you he’d taken the week off and had arranged for substitutes.

You consider messaging him… and ultimately end up doing so, after some internal debate. You simply text him to get well soon and that you hope he’s getting some well-deserved rest. He replies with just a plain thank you.

Tuesday is quiet. You receive a stack of midterms you need to get through from the substitute, and you do, by Thursday morning. Which is when Heimerdinger messages you.

Dr. Prof. Cecil B Heimerdinger

Good morning! I’m well aware this is on very short notice — but the substitute professor has unfortunately suffered a minor car accident. Not to worry; they only sustained small njury. However, I am finding myself forced to task you with Viktor’s lectures today. Do you think you could take care of that? Thank you.

-Cecil B. Heimerdinger

9:32

Just the thing you needed — teaching two full lectures, entirely unprepared.

Alright. You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You just need to find out what’s even on the agenda for today. You could text Viktor, right? If he answers on time, that is… he’s sick, he might as well be asleep right now. You could call, but… he said only to do that in the case of an emergency when he gave you his phone number. 

Would this count as an emergency?

Your phone beeps.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

There should be a black flash drive in the third drawer on the left in my desk. It has all my lectures.

9:34

Today’s topic is LHC segments naturally occurring in unstabilized gems. Feel free to use my work laptop to familiarize yourself with the presentation before the lecture.

9:35

Me

Thank you so much! 

9:35

His answer comes a few minutes later, just as you fish the flash drive out of his drawer, and plug it into his laptop.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

Good luck 👍 

9:42

It would be a lot easier to get caught up in the desire to snoop around on his laptop if you didn’t have less than 20 minutes left until the lecture. His background is disappointingly the default image, but some of his folders look undeniably tempting — not just the scientific ones, which take up most of the space. There’s some photo albums titled with the year and location: Germany 2011, Czech Republic 2009, among many others. There’s also a photo album titled Persichka. 

Who is that? 

You almost click it. But then you check your watch again and realize you only have 15 more minutes until the lecture, and decide against it.

—

For how utterly unprepared you are, it goes surprisingly well. You stumble, once or twice, but you’re glad to see that even by the end of the lecture, you still have most students’ attention.

After you dismiss the class, you don’t expect questions. But a good handful of them, a little under ten, approach your desk, whispering among themselves, before a hastily appointed representative emerges. 

“We were just wondering,” she awkwardly begins, “if professor Sidorov-Svoboda is alright. And when he’s coming back.”

“Oh.” You hope they’re asking because they understandably prefer him, and not because you did a particularly shabby job. “He texted me just today — he’s doing alright. But I can’t give you an exact estimate for when he’s coming back just yet.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

With that, all of them turn to go. After the last student has left the room, you reach for your phone, and pray you don’t see any other day-altering messages today. 

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I did not mean for you to have to do this. 

10:11

You unlock your phone and jump straight into the chat.

Me

Don’t worry, it’s alright. I handled it :)

12:02

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I knew you could.

12:02

Thank you.

12:02

Me

Focus on resting up and getting well soon! 

12:03

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I have been. I actually feel well enough for company now. Coincidentally, I’ve gotten some ideas for your thesis and I would like it if we discussed them sometime. Would you be free this weekend?

12:05 

He wants to meet? Outside of the university? Undoubtedly for academic purposes still, but your heart squeezes and bounces and pops with the implications. 

No. You shouldn’t let yourself hope for more than just a few formal, at best friendly hours spent together.

Viktor doesn’t want you. He would never want you — he knows better. You know better.

Me

I’d like that! Saturday works for me. Where would you like to meet?

12:05

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

If you’d prefer somewhere on academy grounds like my office or the coffee shop, either would be fine.

12:06

My apartment is also an option.

12:06

The choice is obvious.

[tommycorriander]

Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, And Disability

I am disabled. This is something I've talked about a handful of times on this blog and on my Twitter, and anyone who knows me knows I am a disabled man. As a result, while I do enjoy dissecting media and politics, the need to be an advocate for disability issues would have fallen on me to some extent regardless. Disabled folks are often left out of conversations regarding diversity in media, in a continued oversight from able bodied peers.

What does this have to do with the Hellaverse?

Both shows contain at least some small amount of disability representation; specifically, they both have characters that are physically disabled. In Hazbin Hotel this is Vaggie, as she is missing an eye and prior to the finale had lost her wings. In Helluva Boss, the characters would be Fizzarolli, a quad amputee, and the unnamed deaf child in the special. The only character I ever see talked about in regards to their disability by the wider fanbase is the unnamed child, and on a smaller scale in critical spaces I occasionally see remarks on Fizzarolli's disability.

This is a problem.

For as much as fans of one or both shows would love to claim diversity in their shows, the lack of disability representation and the lackluster portrayal of the minimal representation is poor. And I haven't seen any of my fellow critics discuss this, which I feel is an oversight, though I don't fault them for this as there are many problems with both shows and they tend to have their hands full. However, this angle of viewing the shows has been overlooked, which is why I wish to discuss it today.

Firstly, I'd like to specify what I mean when I discuss disability. While the conversation regarding the Hellaverse is primarily centered around physical disability as this is the only form of disability portrayed in the shows, coded or otherwise, disability comes in many different forms. Intellectual disabilities and mental disabilities are just as important for representation in the media as physical disabilities. Among physical disabilities, there's also a difference in visible and invisible disabilities, the latter of which is hardly ever shown in media compared to the former. Ideally all forms of disability would be portrayed equally and with respect, but unfortunately this isn't the case. I also don't expect every show to tackle every demographic at once; this isn't a reasonable request, and to be very clear, my issue with the representation in HH/HB does not come from every single unique experience with disability not being covered, but rather with the narrative the creatives behind the show and the show's fans continue to push: that both shows are diverse and are, in some way, more progressive than other shows.

This isn't the case for many reasons. Fellow critics have gone into depth about the show's lack of representation of women in nuanced roles, the lack of queer women, the racist ways in which the very few characters of colour are presented, the lack of trans representation, and even the way sex and sexuality is presented being rather conservative at times. That isn't the focus of this essay, but I would implore anyone who is reading this who is somehow unaware of the previous issues to seek out essays that talk about those points; Cassidy Whiskey on YouTube has a three-part series that covers a multitude of topics, not just issues of representation, and I would have recommended helluvareceipts on Twitter, but her account has sadly been deactivated. I'm sure there are others, but I'll lose focus if I try to name every single person to go to. If you're willing to trawl through general pettiness in the critical tag (which, let's be real, that is probably how you found this post) you'll find well-worded critiques as well.

Back to the topic at hand. The lack of representation of people with disabilities is already frustrating, but there isn't a complete drought: Vaggie, Fizzarolli, and the unnamed imp child do exist, after all. However, their representation is not just flawed, but even exploitative in some ways.

First we have Vaggie. Aside from the visual of her missing eye and seeing the incident in which she lost that eye, nothing comes of it. She never has to contend with the difficulties that come with impaired sight, and it's never brought up by other characters. In the training scene between her and Carmilla, it's not a factor: instead, her greater flaw in the physical realm when it comes to combat is having longer hair. This is an extreme oversight, which I believe shows that Vivienne and the various writers for the show never actually take into consideration what should be a major element of a character, that being her impaired vision. Furthermore, the loss of her wings isn't even considered at all, with her somehow gaining them back at the end of her training montage with Carmilla. This could have been an excellent vector to discuss physical disability in a coded form, with her wings being a stand in for more traditional forms of limb loss. Still not ideal, as I believe it's better to have forthright depictions of disability over metaphors, but it would have been something. Instead, it's never a factor, and worse, it's effectively cured. As far as representation goes, Vaggie might as well not even count.

That's all that exists for Hazbin Hotel. In Helluva Boss, we have two characters, and I will save the unnamed child for last, because that is where the real issue with the representation is on full display.

So, Fizzarolli. He is a quad amputee and potentially hearing impaired, though the latter is speculated on due to a single scene which I discuss later. Since that scene is the only time it ever comes up, I will focus on his amputee status. He lost his limbs in a fire, something we see on screen. I will disagree with some of my fellow critics in that this scene should have been more detailed; I feel that had the scene shown more of the damage dealt to Fizz's body it would have come across in poor taste, and focusing on the tragic aspect of disability usually ends up feeling like trauma porn in the hands of poor writers, which Vivienne most certainly is. I do not trust her to handle a more detailed scene with grace, especially given her track record (more on that later). It is ultimately for the best that the scene is mostly brushed over, even if it would have been better in the hands of someone with the maturity and sensitivity to cover such a topic for more to be shown in regards to his injuries.

Otherwise, Fizzarolli is mostly fine. He's shown not just surviving but thriving, he has a loving partner (criticisms of the portrayal of said relationship not withstanding) and generally sees success in his life while still having to grapple with the realities of his disability when it comes to his prosthetics being prone to damage and potentially shutting down. I would, in the hands of anyone else, like to see more of this character and what his daily routine looks like as a disabled man.

Unfortunately all the good will built with Fizz comes crashing down when we get to the unnamed imp child in the Fizzarolli special episode. This child is the poster child for virtue signalling. Frankly, it's disgusting how a majority of the fandom seemed to ignore how fetishistic this portrayal was. This is where the real meat of the essay comes in to play.

This unnamed child is given a single scene, and is then promptly forgotten about and never mentioned again. They are introduced as being a fan of Fizz here to view the competition, there is a brief exchange between the two, and then we all move on. And yet this scene was championed as somehow revolutionary or a sign of the top-tier diversity and progressiveness in Helluva, when in reality this type of scene has been done to death. This is tokenism.

One major stumbling block many of the people championing this scene seem to get tripped up on is a very simple question: why was this child a child to begin with? Really, this seems like a simple question, it shouldn't have much thought. Sometimes characters are kids. But within the episode it's clearly shown through multiple different avenues that this is an adult show. The performances are dripping with sexuality, several of the fans of Fizzarolli are there because Mammon sells sex robots of the guy, there is no mistaking that this is something no child should be at, let alone by themselves.

So why was this child a child? Simple: brownie points.

It's a lot more difficult for people to share clips of a wholesome moment from your show if the person Fizz was interacting with was an adult. People are ableist, this is pretty par for the course; as a disabled person I find it generally safer to assume people are ableist before proven otherwise. I can guarantee if this scene were to be between Fizzarolli and a deaf adult fan as opposed to a young child, it would not have been championed as this amazing representation by mostly able bodied fans. And that is by design: if Vivienne genuinely cared about representation, if she truly wanted to show something meaningful to her adult fans in her adult show, she would have had the interaction be with an adult. But that doesn't get her clip shared around on social media. That doesn't get her brownie points for inclusion. It's safe, it's palatable, it's sickeningly wholesome, and it's insulting for that. This is a show for adults, something Vivienne and company is adamant on, and yet they treat their audience like children. As a fan, you should be insulted to have this key-jingling one minute clip presented to you. You should demand more, demand better.

Unfortunately I do not see ever getting better from Vivienne. She has made it very clear she truly does not care about creating art, she really only stumbled into being championed as a paragon for animation because her majority white and able bodied fans saw the inclusion of primarily gay men and thought that was good enough. She does not give a damn about disabled people, and she never will. To expect good disabled representation from her is like expecting good queer representation from a Marvel movie; she is in it for the money, and it just so happens that the inclusion of that scene makes money.

Addendum thoughts that were too long to put into the tags: I would like to make it clear that disability, because it presents very differently, is experienced very differently by many different people. If you felt seen or represented by the disability representation in either show, that's fine, and I don't want you to feel bad for feeling seen. Ultimately disabled people are largely given scraps; I have not once seen someone with my particular physical disability portrayed in media. Sometimes we latch onto things that are subpar or lacking; my criticism of reception to this scene is targeted primarily at able bodied audience members who may be lacking in this perspective and to also champion fellow disabled people to rightfully demand and expect better. Thank you for your time.

[avatarmerida]

It’s been awhile since I’ve had something to share but this is the piece I wanted to have ready for Valentine’s Day but better late than never, right? No plot really, just cringe fluff 💛💚

———

Hunter had a very specific way of managing stress. If there was something he needed or wanted to do that was important and he found it was overwhelming him, he would simply plan a series of slightly smaller but equally important tasks ahead of it to make the original task seem less intimidating.

It worked wonders in the coven. When he tried to work up the nerve to ask his uncle something important, he prolonged it by setting goals for himself to run a certain distance in a certain amount of time or memorize portions of the handbook or to make a certain amount of arrests first. The lists grew longer and more elaborate and while he did end up doing some things that previously caused him a great deal of anxiety, he still found a way to put off the thing he truly needed to do.

And despite the progress he had made, old habits die hard.

So now, here he was in the middle of Grom supposed to be enjoying the fruits of his labor but all he could do was scream internally. He had done the impossible, he had asked Willow to Grom and yet he couldn’t enjoy it because there was more (or at least there was supposed to be). Normally, this would be the impossible task he aspired to accomplish but he had one more outlandish feat to reach for and he was having trouble finding a solid, logical reason to keep putting it off.

“Gus,” Hunter whispered nervously under the guise of coming up to his table to request a song . “Are we totally sure that Willow knows we’re here together like on a date?”

Gus’ smile faded as he lowered his glasses to give his friend a look. “Seriously dude?” said Gus with a familiar sigh, having been there at every step of Hunter’s doubt and anxiety regarding his feelings for their friend. “I was there: she said yes. She said yes and hugged you and like a billion flowers bloomed in her hair. She was obviously so beyond happy that you asked her, why are you so worried?”

“Because of how I said it,” groaned Hunter. “I said ‘do you want to go to Grom’ I didn’t say ‘with me’ or ‘as a date.’ I mean, of course she wanted to go!”

“Hunter, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

With no impending doom or unrealistic and unhealthy expectations set for him, Hunter’s mind had more time and room to focus on more pleasant things. His feelings for Willow had been progressing slowly in the background but now that he was embracing what it meant to be a normal teenager, his feelings rose to the surface as soon as they could. Now there was no reason to feel guilty about getting distracted by the sound of her laughter or practicing jokes in the mirror before bed each night to try and impress her. No, guilt was not a feeling he associated with Willow but the feelings he did associate with the plant witch were unique and powerful and confusing.

Hunter’s friends had assured him this was a totally normal way to feel about a crush, but Hunter didn’t have much experience with normalcy and he highly doubted that he’d ever get used to the way his lungs stopped working when she stood near him. So when he had decided to do something about these feelings, he approached it with the extreme attention detail he had always approached everything.

The only difference was that unlike a vast majority of his other interests, Willow was real.

“Well usually when you do a gromposal it means you want to go as more than friends ,” said Gus. “Otherwise you say ‘hey since we don’t have dates let’s all go to Grom as friends.’ You usually don’t spend all night arranging her favorite flowers to spell ‘GROM?’ on the flyer derby field for someone you like as just a friend.”

Hunter blushed, rather pleased with how his efforts had turned out. He had aimed for something both grand and personal in hopes it would translate to romantic. It had been a unique challenge to get Willow to look down as she was so focused on winning their usual end of practice match (loser paid for the eyescream) but when she finally did, her expression was priceless.

They had flown back up so she could take a selfie with it in the background and he had made it his scroll’s wallpaper because he simply could not stop looking at it.

“But we had already agreed to go as a group so how can I be sure that she knows I asked her specifically because I like her as more than just a friend if we’re doing group things all night because I don’t know what to do on a date.”

“You can just be direct, dude,” said Gus. “Tell her you like her and you’re having a good time and stuff.”

Hunter had no problem doing that, he had done it plenty of times. Whenever Willow planned something or suggested they do something like that, he always made sure to tell her what a nice time he had. It was just proper manners. But complementing her in a way that voiced his constant thoughts was another thing. He could tell her the cafe she suggested was a great spot any day of the week, or that her plants were looking strong, but he wanted to tell her his admiration for her far surpassed anything she merely did , it encompassed everything she was . It was confusing because it seemed like something beyond mere words, he wanted to express his gratitude every time she messaged him or said his name or walked into a room.

For some reason he thought Grom would give him the courage to do it.

“It’s just that… there’s… more …”

“More?” Gus repeated, intrigued. “More how ?”

“It’s just… well Luz might have mentioned- and I’m not saying this is the only reason I asked Willow to come with me- that sometimes at Grom people who are more than friends have certain ways to… express that.”

Gus narrowed his eyes and offered Hunter a knowing smirk. “You wanna kiss her, don’t you?”

Hunter wrung his hands as his breathing became shallow, his eyes darting over to Willow laughing with Luz and Amity and Hunter felt a familiar lightheadedness that the event’s ambiance had been amplifying all night.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, knowing he couldn’t and truthfully did not want to deny it. “Yeah. I do. Very much.”

“Dude!” Gus explained, playfully punching him in the arm. “That’s great! You should go for it!”

“I mean, there’s just one problem with that…”

“What? Bad breath?”

“No, I- wait,” Hunter quickly checked his breath to ensure he hadn’t neglected that detail. He had been chewing mints all day. “No, not that. It’s just that, well, uh,” he chuckled nervously as the words quickly spilled out of him. “Willow maaaay be under the impression that I don’twanttokissher.”

“And whyyy exactly would she think that?”

“Well…”

Three weeks earlier:

“Hunter!” Willow greeted him joyfully as she opened the door to find him waiting with an equally wide smile to hers. “Hi! You’re right on time!”

“Oh, that’s a relief, I timed my pace so I would be,” he said

“Did you bring the stuff?” Willow asked with a giggle.

He held up his book bag with pride. “Got it all right here, safe and sound.”

“Perfect!” said Willow, her voice low and mischievous. “Let’s go!”

“Perfect! Yeah, okay let’s go-woah!”

Willow excitedly reached out to take his wrist to pull him inside and Hunter happily trailed after her.

“Dad! Papa! Hunter is here and he says hi and we’re gonna be in my room!” she called as she ran up the stairs.

“Okay petal, sounds good! Hello Hunter!” called Harvey.

“Hello sirs!” Hunter called back as best he could.

“Have fun!” Gilbert added.

“We will!” Willow called back as they finally made it to her room and just as she was about to shut the door behind them, her fathers added in unison:

“And make sure the door stays open!”

Willow groaned in defeat as she obliged, as though she had been hoping to outrun the instruction.

“Why do they always say that?” Hunter asked as he unpacked his bag, a collection of threads and patches as they prepared for a long evening of uniform customization to surprise the Entrails for their upcoming game with personalized jackets. Darius was always asking him to close his door, mostly because of how loud he liked to play his music.

“Oh, you know how they get,” she said simply, rolling her eyes endearingly. “They’re just overprotective.”

“Are they… scared of me?” Hunter asked, his voice low and hurt and Willow jumped to address the misunderstanding.

“Oh, no! No, nothing like that I promise,” Willow assured him with a smile he knew could never be deceptive. “No, they love you, they really do. They wanna give us our space but they also wanna make sure we’re not up here kissing.”

Hunter completely stopped working.

"What?” he basically squeaked after a moment, certain he had misheard her somehow.

“Oh, well ya know if we keep the door open then they think we’ll be less likely to kiss because they can like walk by and see,” Willow explained casually as she went to help him unpack the bag.

“W-why would they think we would be up here k-kissing?” Hunter asked in a panicked chuckle before clearing his throat, he felt like he was on the surface of the sun. “Ya know, cause we’re totally not.”

“Well, yeah I know that but if we leave the door open they’ll know that too,” said Willow with a shrug. “Personally, I think they’re just nosey because of how they used to be when they played flyer derby.”

“How come they never say it when Gus is with us?’

“Uh, it’s just a dad thing I guess,” said Willow, as she sorted the supplies trying not to show the mild blush creeping on her face. She knew why but she didn’t know how to say how she knew why.

“Just a dad thing, sure,” Hunter repeated lightly. So her dads thought there was a possibility they would kiss? Cool, cool, cool, no biggie. He knew he had been the last one to arrive at the Park residence several times and opened the door to find her and Gus laughing on their scrolls, or Luz or Amity would be over when he came to pick her up to go train and often the door was even locked. No he was the common denominator. He suddenly recalled Camila had a similar rule for when Luz and Amity were left alone. His mind raced to connect the dots as he realized that the Parks thought that if the two of them were specially left unsupervised, that they would…

“Ha ha yeah! A dad thing, totally!” Hunter exclaimed with forced laughter. “So totally not based on anything! Haha, because that would never happen!”

“Um, okay?”

“Yeah because we don’t, I mean we’ve never, we would never… I mean, what?”

“Are you okay, Hunter?” asked Willow, sitting on the edge of her bed beside him. He suddenly was aware of how often they sat on her bed together. Why did that make him feel nervous?

“Yeah, I’m totally fine!” he said, very much aware of how much he was sweating. “I’m great! I’m totally not thinking about kissing you! Ya know, if you want I can run downstairs and let your dads know they don’t have to worry about the door because of how much I don’t think about it!”

“Um…”

“I mean, you and me? Us? Kissing? Pssh!” Hunter continued, unaware of how to stop talking. “Who even thinks about that sometimes? That’s, uh, woah that’s a good one!”

Willow’s fathers must have read his mind or his diary somehow because Hunter had definitely thought about it. Never on purpose, it’s just one of those random scenarios that your mind makes up every few days, right? He couldn’t help that one day he realized that Willow was the perfect height to kiss on the forehead. Like, it would take very little effort just to lean forward and gently press her lips below her hairline. It had been in the human realm, the first time he had helped her in the garden and had ended up being chased by a swarm of bees. When Clover stepped in to explain things, she pulled him into an embrace to ensure he hadn’t been hurt and to let him know how happy she was that he had come out with her. When he looked down to assure her that he was fine, the thought devoured every corner of his mind. The action would certainly convey his feelings, would summarize words he wasn’t sure had been invented yet. It would just be really nice actually.

Over time, that thought evolved. His daydreams wandered to fetch visions of some nicer timeline where they had met under different circumstances and he was the kind of bold who kissed her hand when they met or kissed her cheek when they parted ways. The first time his unconscious mind leapt to insert them in place of O’Bailey and Ivy in the famous scene under the endless moon of Jupiter 7 where they sealed their love for each other with a kiss, Hunter awoke in a cold sweat feeling like he had reached a point of no return. But it must not be okay because Willow’s dads were clearly taking actions to prevent it and Hunter felt he needed to deny these claims, lest the front door to the Park house be closed to him forever.

“I mean, w-why would I try to kiss you? That just seems so-.”

“I got it, Hunter,” said Willow sternly as she rose to move the supplies to her desk. She kept her back to him as she organized the needles and threads. Her voice lacked its usual spunk, it was a tone he was unfamiliar with. “Message received, you don’t wanna kiss me. I’ll let my dads know they have nothing to worry about.”

---

“Dude…” was all Gus could say as Hunter finished his retelling.

“I know, I know!” Hunter groaned as he covered his face with his hands. “It’s bad, right?”

“It’s…not great,” Gus couldn’t lie. “But hey, it didn’t stop her from saying yes! That’s good, right?”

“But her dads think there’s a possibility that I would want to kiss her so much that they keep the door open to prevent it,” Hunter was letting all his pent up worries spiral out of him while Willow was out of earshot, but luckily Gus had become a pro at reeling him back in.

“They probably just remember what it's like to be young and have a crush on someone.”

“How do her dads know I have a crush on her?”

Gus couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. “I mean, did you ever consider that you weren’t the one they were worried about?”

“What do you mean? I was the only one there.”

“I just mean, they know Willow better than they know you…”

“I’m not following.”

Gus sighed, knowing that the sharing of Willow’s feelings was not his responsibility but he couldn’t help relating to her frustration with Hunter’s inability to pick up hints no matter how obvious.

“Hunter, you got this far, just be honest.” he said sincerely. “We both know you want to tell her you like her.”

“I mean is that too much for one night?” Hunter asked in a panicked whisper. “Should I tell her I like her first and then reschedule the ki- or, hold on it’s probably weird to schedule that, huh? I mean what if she doesn’t feel that way about me and then boom! I’ve ruined her night because she’ll always remember this Grom as the night she couldn’t enjoy herself because I don’t know how to tell her I think about kissing her without being weird. Titan, and she just looks so… gah, is it hot in here?”

“Hunter, I promise nothing could ruin this night for Willow,” Gus chuckled. “Do you remember how excited she was when you asked her? You barely finished the question before she tackled you, you guys nearly fell to your death because she was so happy. It’s all she’s been talking about all week, I promise that you telling her you think she’s awesome will not ruin her night.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Gus said confidently. “Just don’t get too in your head, you know? Willow cares about you, she wants you to have a good time too. She’s not gonna care if you’re a bad kisser.”

“Thanks Gus, you know I really-,” Hunter cut himself off and offered his friend a glare as his voice became low and menacing. “I didn’t say I was worried I’d be a bad kisser.”

As Gus continued to attempt giving his friend a pep talk, across the room Willow could not take her eyes off Hunter.

“Doesn’t he look so cute?” sighed Willow dreamily as she stood beside Luz at the punch bowl.

“Darius and I may have to disagree with you on that,” Amity laughed as she poured Luz some punch. “After all the hours we spent suit shopping and at the tailor, he comes down the stairs in another ensemble from 2008.”

“Well you said he couldn’t wear the Cosmic Frontier cosplay,” Luz reminded her girlfriend. “So he had to make an impression somehow , and you know how much he wants to impress Willow.”

“Did he really say that?” Willow took a break from her string to gleefully ask. She felt like she was going to leap out of her skin as she looked back at him knowing he had gone out of his way to put in so much effort for her sake yet again. “Well you can tell him it’s working.”

“Ew, tell him yourself,” Amity groaned playfully.

“Oof, believe me I’m trying,” Willow chuckled softly.

“Are you guys having fun on your daaaaate?” Luz asked with a raised eyebrow.

She waved at him from across the room and he bashfully waved back, straightening his spine when he saw he had her attention. Willow giggled, finding it charming and endearing. She had been looking forward to this moment for weeks, preparing to ask him before he had beaten her to it. She knew he wanted tonight to be special, he was going all out at every turn to make sure she was comfortable and having fun.

She couldn’t help but hope it was all leading to something more.

Two weeks ago:

They were walking down the sidewalk in the human realm, revisiting an ice cream shop they had grown fond of when they had been trapped in the human realm. They had made sure to get a pint of their newest flavor of the month for Gus who had stayed at the Noceda’s to help Camila set up her old projector for a special viewing of the Cosmic Frontier holiday special that had only aired once that she had recently found her old recording of on a device even Luz considered historic.

Willow had recently caught up with the reading required to understand the special, but Camila had informed her that it was not canon and rather controversial in the fandom. This excited Willow and so she was spending their walk back trying to guess the wildest thing that could happen as though composing a bingo list to enhance the experience.

“...I also think they’ll reveal Ivy has a twin and O’Bailey will go to confess his feelings and then you find out it’s her twin and so it won’t count,” Willow continued. “And I know no one knows O’Bailey’s secret and it feels like they definitely don’t find out until closer to the end but I feel like memory loss is gonna be a big part of-.”

“I would wanna kiss you!” he blurted, unable to hold it in anymore. It had been weighing on him all week and hearing her talk about his favorite thing while looking so stunning sent him over the edge.

“What?”

“Er not right now!” He said, realizing the volume of his admission made it seem like he intended to follow though at that very moment. “I mean well yes right now as in I still feel that way but I’m not saying it because that’s what I… I just, I mean last week when I said that I wouldn’t kiss you I wasn’t saying that because I thought it would be unlikeable or unpleasant.”

“Oh,” Willow said, shaking herself out of her daze as she made the connection. “Wait, is that why you’ve been acting so weird?”

“I’ve been acting weird?”

“No, well yes but no I mean,” Willow smiled as she swung the bag of treats, feeling giddy at his timing. “I could tell you’ve been worried about something, but have you been making yourself crazy just to tell me that kissing me wouldn’t be so bad?”

That was definitely part of the reason but a larger percentage was what he had planned for tomorrow after practice: a gromposal that had been in the works since he had learned the term. But he couldn't give that way, not just yet.

“I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t offended you.” Hunter said softly. “I didn't want you to think I didn't want to because it didn't sound appealing, I’m sure it would be… nice.”

“So then what's the real reason you don't wanna kiss me?” Willow asked with a sly smile that faltered when she saw the color leave Hunter’s face. “Oh no Hunter, I was only teasing! It’s fine, really! I know you didn’t mean anything by it! It’s okay, really!”

“I just meant that your dads wouldn’t need to worry because I would never kiss you unless you wanted me to,” Hunter clarified with a deep breath. There, perfect. Now they could continue their way back to the house in peace and there would be nothing more to worry about or-

“Okay what if I said I wanted you to,” she began, her voice dancing and spinning like a vine twisting its way to the top of a fence, eager to see the other side. “What if I said I wanted you to and you had no doubt that I was totally okay with it? Would you… do it then?

“Is that… what's happening right now?”

Willow bit her lip as she took in the sight of the tall, nervous boy in front of her. He cared about her so much, so much it made him nervous. She knew everything he cared about he cared about intensely and with unbreakable loyalty. But she had suspected for awhile that the way he cared about her was different. That was what made it so familiar to her.

“What would you say if it was?” She said, giving a non answer. Because it was one thing to say ‘I want to kiss you’ but somehow even harder to ask ‘Do you want to kiss me?’ because didn’t other conversations have to happen first? Surely he was holding back because of the feeling that needed to be attached. Willow was nearly positive they shared these feelings, she was so so certain that a mind reader would know they were on the same page but neither wanted to risk losing what they had built by adding something heavier on.

But actions were louder than words, and a little harder to misinterpret.

“I uh, well I guess I-I would say…” Hunter stuttered to try and give a response without giving too much away. He had no way to support his theory with experience, but he knew that kissing Willow would be pleasant, it would be warm and soft and safe. But he couldn’t speak to the experience she would have.

But Willow once again shared his thoughts.

When Willow had woken up that morning, she had not intended to kiss Hunter in the middle of the sidewalk forgetting the urgency of getting their icy treats home before they melted, but at this moment she couldn’t imagine continuing the day without doing so. So many times they had been on the brink and being more, of something slipping that platonic friends did not harbor for one another. It was small and dramatic and silly and confusing and always there like a snowball rolling down a hill growing faster and bigger with every inch. She had always been a fan of directness, of being open and honest but she didn’t know how to say she felt this way plainly. It could be done in three words, nothing crazy complicated about that, right?

But something always held her back.

As she tried to summon a response both clever and truthful to try and help him find his own, the sound of church bells reminded them they were on a timed limit. More specifically, they were supposed to be back at the house before four o clock, which the bells indicated it now was.

“Well, anyway, we should probably be getting back,” he said, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I know Gus is probably jumping off the walls waiting for us and I really wanna hear more of your theories.”

“Yeah, right of course,” said Willow softly, as she tried to shake away the haze she had wandered into. “Besides, they won’t stay cold forever but also my fingers are starting to freeze.”

“Oh well here let me take it,” said Hunter, his nerves letting up when he saw an opportunity to help her. Before she could say anything, he maneuvered the bag from her grip. “The cold doesn’t bother me anyway, it’s a grimwalker thing.”

She knew even if it did he would endure it for her sake. It was an action so simple and small but it made her heart spin every time he leapt to her aide. It wasn’t because he thought she needed his help but because he enjoyed helping her, because maybe he was looking for any reason to be closer to her, even for a moment.

“Well aren’t you sweet,” she said. As Hunter readjusted his grip on the bags, she went onto her tip toes and placed a quick but purposeful kiss to his cheek and continued to walk as though it was no big deal. “Thanks Hunter.”

Hunter froze, trying to process and replay and stay conscious. It had been so swift and soft but it was as though the brush of her lips inspired the world to stop and adopt new colors. It was like something finally clicked in his mind, that he had thought it so impossible because he did not know how to take that step but he should have known he would once again follow Willow’s lead.

Willow smiled to herself, knowing in an instant that her risk had paid off. He quickly caught up her as she continued with her Cosmic Frontier theories, secretly delighted by the way his face was red the rest of the way home.

The ball was in his court.

-

“Do you guys think he asked me because he likes me or because he knows how much I’ve always wanted a gromposal?” Willow asked.

“Um… both?” said Amity as she and Luz shared a confused and slightly concerned look.

“Willow, are you seriously doubting that Hunter is crazy about you?” Luz asked sternly.

“Well, I mean he could still like me and still have asked me just as a friend,” said Willow. “He’s been doing a lot to try and be a normal teenager, what if he just thought that Gromposals were a part of that because of how much I was talking about them when I thought I was dropping hints?”

“Well in my experience, friends don’t normally practice in their bedroom mirror how they’re going to ask just friends to dance with them,” said Luz.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Willow said with a smile, Hunter actually had managed that. He could spin and shuffle with the best of them, but every time the music started to slow down he made an excuse to leave for the duration of the song. He would dance beside her, and she could tell he had practiced a few moves to impress her, but they weren’t dancing together . But she had a feeling with how much he built up the gromposal that he wanted his dance ask to be equally special.

“I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for the right song,” said Amity. “There’s this one he found in the human realm that Darius said he’s been playing nonstop because it reminds him of you.”

“Really?”

Amity’s eyes widened. “And I’m just now realizing that that was supposed to be a secret,” she grimaced. “Please forget I said anything.”

Across the room, Gus and Hunter were also discussing the song.

“Hunter, being the Grom host I have an obligation to keep the evening to a certain flow,” said Gus. “I can’t keep pushing back your song, the music has to flow, bro.”

“I know, I know,” he said nervously swirling his punch. “It’s just… every time I know it’s coming up I get in my head.”

The first few notes would start to play and Hunter would instinctively run past the joining couples with envy in the pit of his stomach to tell Gus to wait a little longer. The crowd would quickly recover, as Gus always knew the perfect transition out, and Hunter would walk back to her no closer to his goal than he was before.

“Well I have it queued up to play after we take our photo, so its time to figure it out,” said Gus sternly. “The worst thing that could happen is she says no.”

But that wasn’t true. Because she could say yes, thinking him asking meant he knew what he was supposed to do, but he knew if he was meant to take Willow by the waist and pull her close to him he would be paralyzed. And even if he wasn’t, what if after all the extreme movement he smelled or was sweaty and Willow would regret being so close to him? What if he tripped and fell? What if he stepped on her toes?

What if he thought about kissing her again?

In his mind he thought about using the idea of asking her to dance to delay the higher issue but Gus was right; it was time to figure it it

He didn’t ask Willow to Grom so he could sit in the corner hyperventilating about how much he liked her, no he wanted her to have a good time, and that was the perfect goal to distract him.

“Gus, do you have the song Willow likes? The one from the shoe commercial?”

“I might have had Luz help me get it, why do you ask?” Gus asked with a smirk that said he already knew.

“Can you play it?”

Hunter knew it would get Willow back on the dance floor in an instant, and he intended to be there when she rushed on in excitement. The iconic notes echoed, and Hunter saw Willow’s ears perk up as she turned her head to see it was true. In the human realm, Willow had been obsessed with the cheesy shoe commercial that played nonstop. And thusly, Hunter had been obsessed with how obsessed with it she was. It was improbable, everyone dancing in the street uninterrupted by traffic just because of how comfortable their shoes were.

Hunter stood in the center of the floor, his eyes locked confidentiality on her as they both knew what they had to do. Hunter got a running start and slid on his knees to her and quickly leapt up and gave her a wink, just as the actors did. Willow nearly squealed in delight, recognizing the reference instantly. She quickly grabbed his hand to lead him onto the floor and he happily followed behind her, feeling as though they traveled in slow motion. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, spinning and singing along just as they often did in the Noceda living room. It was too silly to be scary as Hunter found himself seeing her under the reflection of the mirror ball, her eyes shining as everything else around her melted away.

“You’re a really good dancer,” Willow said, catching her breath as the song started to fade out.

“Thanks,” he said, equally breathless. “Y-you too. Not that I’m surprised! You’re good at everything.”

She bit her lip as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, it helps to have a great partner,” she said shyly.

Hunter laughed nervously, becoming hyper aware of how close they were, how close they had been during the song. He saw her hand hovered beside his and he gently swung his own to knock into hers as though by accident. She inched closer.

“Well, just to be clear, you’re the great partner here,” Hunter said modestly, and Willow couldn’t help but blush, a string of small yellow flowers blooming in her hair. Something compelled him to take her hand, and he rubbed his fingers over her knuckle. He cleared his throat. “Willow, do you think-.”

“Willow! Hunter! C’mon! We’re next in line for the photo booth!” Gus called.

“We’ll be right there!” Willow called before turning back to him, giving his hand a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, what were you gonna say?”

He gulped, having the perfect chance to chicken out but knowing he didn’t want to. He pressed on right where he left off. “You think you might wanna dance some more after we take a photo? Like, just you and me? To like… a slower song?”

“Like a slower… romantic song?” Willow asked, testing the waters.

“Yeah, yeah t-the song could be romantic,” he gulped. “I-I-I’d prefer it to be romantic. With you.”

“Okay cool,” Willow said with a wide smile, sliding closer to him and lacing their fingers together. “Me too.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah,” she said brightly, absolutely smitten by the utterly adorable and shocked look he wore. “I’m having a really nice time with you, Hunter,”

He hadn’t messed it up. She was having a nice time, she was having a nice time with him. He took a deep breath and the words just started to pour out of him.

“Willow I just wanted to say that I’m having a great time with you too and that I always have a good time with you and when I asked you to Grom I didn’t ask you as a friend even though I really like being your friend but I asked you because I like you romantically and if you would prefer staying just friends I’m okay with that but I just wanted to thank you for agreeing to accompany me and express my admiration for you because I think you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met and also you look so pretty tonight it makes me feel dizzy.”

He leaned down and removed his hand from hers to cup her cheek as he quickly pressed a kiss to the other side before rushing to meet the others. His face was completely red and he fought through the lightheadedness to keep walking, stuffing his hands in his pockets to try and seem casual. He was too overwhelmed to wait to see her reaction.

He didn’t see that she was utterly enchanted as she watched him hurry with wide eyes as she touched the spot where he had kissed. A delighted smile overtook her face as she fluffed her dress and proceeded to float in the booth after him, her eyes fixated and determined. She was deaf to the chaos around her as the boy became surrounded by a vibrant, rosy frame. She had no doubt they were on the same page now, and the ball had returned to her court.

“Took you guys long enough! Tell Luz you vote for my pose first!” said Vee as Hunter was the first of the two to enter the booth, the rest of their friends in the middle of trying to agree on how to take the photo.

“Can we all even fit?” Amity asked as they tried to arrange themselves in frame.

“Yeah we just have to squeeze!” announced Luz. from beside her. “Gus, move over!”

“I will if Hunter does!” He replied as he turned to face his friend. “Hunter, dude, why-.”

Gus was greeted by Hunter wearing a face that he could only describe as seasick. His face was contorted like he wasn’t sure what to feel and as Willow entered his view just behind him wearing a soft, calm expression Gus knew why.

“You did it, didn’t you?” He whispered with a gasp and Hunter merely nodded, still feeling as though he could combust. Gus jumped up and gave his best friend a celebratory noogie.

“Willow, do you wanna stand by us or-.” Amity began to ask before catching sight of the dizzy expression her friend wore, an expression she knew all too well. She instantly knew the cause as she went to stand beside Hunter who was attempting to fix his hair. “No way,” she gasped as Willow wordlessly confirmed her thought by looking her focus on Hunter, shaking away the small flowers that had bloomed atop her head once again.

“Told you Amity!” Gus called victoriously before leaning down to whisper to Vee what had happened.

“Hunter, your bow tie is crooked,” called Luz as she pulled Vee back into the frame, too focused on preserving the memory to realize what was enfolding behind her.

“I’ll fix it,” said Willow with a dreamy smile as she reached out to adjust his tie. “I need to make sure my date looks his best for the photo, right?”

Hunter let out a high-pitched chuckle as Willow pulled him closer, and he didn’t really care that she technically wasn’t fixing his bow tie as her words echoed in his ears.

Date… date… date.

My date. She said he was her date. They were on a date, and they both knew it. She was his date and having a good time and it was all just so much that all he could do was give her a small nod of agreement.

“Hunter, put your arm around Willow.” Luz instructed as she looked at the positioning to try and get everyone in the shot.

“Yeah, Hunter put your arms around me,” Willow said dreamily as she used her hold on his bow tie to pull him even closer. Hunter felt transported, as though just being in her gaze made everything else around them melt. He had thought after his impulsive action she might look at him differently, but this was beyond his wildest dreams. Could it be that his impulsiveness was contagious? His hand cautiously hovered over her waist as he debated if he was indeed bold enough to put his arm around her. He felt like he was in a sauna as the sounds around them became muffled as he was overly aware of the sound of his heart beating. Or was it the sound of hers? He wasn’t sure if he technically had a heartbeat but whatever the case was as long as his eyes were on her everything was in slow motion again.

His eyes tried to spend equal time between her and the camera but there was a clear victor for his attention. “Have I told you how cute you look tonight?” Willow said with an airy giggle, deaf to the orders to smile and pay attention around her.

“Um hehe I-I don’t think so,” Hunter chuckled, his mouth dry.

“Well you do,” she giggled again, like it was some inside joke as she used her hold on his bowtie to keep him close. “Hunter, I wanted to tell you-.”

As Hunter turned his head to hear her better, he underestimated just how close they were and the movement caused their lips to touch unintentionally. Normally, that would be when Hunter melted into the floor or tried to vanish from existence, but even the small contact was enough to cause fireworks. That was when everything really stopped. It was nothing more than a peck, catching them both off guard, but there had never been a more happy accident.

She went down off her tiptoes slowly, both of them holding back any sign of a reaction until the other did. But there was no apology, nothing to be sorry for, nothing to regret, and once they both realized that they donned matching grins. They reentered reality together as the flash of the camera reminded them why they were here, and as their friends shouted their approval they also shouted out the themes of the poses they were supposed to be doing. Willow and Hunter got their bearings back and offered the camera a smile, which was not hard to do as they both couldn’t help but smile after what had just occurred. Another photo was taken and as the rest of the group moved and adjusted to do another pose, Hunter noticed his hand was still on Willow’s waist. Willow seemed to notice at the same time, and as her eyes found him again she was surprised to see he was already focused on her, or maybe he had never stopped.

Wordlessly they moved closer to each other until they realized they each possessed half of a magnet that was desperate to be kept together and found themselves in another kiss. This one was undoubtedly purposeful and not as sudden or quick as the first one. Willow’s arms went from holding his bow tie to drape around his shoulders taking a moment to plant lipstick marks all along his face. He saw the opportunity to use his hold on her waist to eagerly loft her off the ground, making a point to kiss her back. He wasn’t sure how he knew how, but he did and he felt like he could fly away as he felt her lips form a smile against his.

“Okay love birds, other people are waiting for the Photo Booth!”

It was like a record scratch as they stopped to remember where they were, eyes opening to come off whatever cloud they had been on as they faded back into reality once more. Willow leaned back to break the kiss, and Hunter couldn’t help but follow as though to savor the moment just a few moments more. She adjusted her glasses to better see the lipstick smudges she had left on his mouth and the side of his face paired with the goofy, awestruck look of disbelief.

“Sorry!” Willow giggled, as she looked around and realized the rest of their friends had left. “I guess we got carried away, huh?”

“Mhmhmhahaha,” Hunter squeaked in response, still trying to process that he was real and this was something that really happened to him in real life.

“Hunter, unless you wanna carry me out you’re gonna have to put me down,” Willow whispered.

“Oh yeah sorry yeah I can do that heh,” he said gently, setting her down. "We should uh, we should probably go.” He turned to leave but Willow caught his arm and pulled him out, so he left the correct way and didn’t re-enter the long line of other students waiting to take a photo.

“Well that’ll certainly be a photo for the scrapbook,” Willow laughed as she rested her head against his arm. They both felt that if they did not hold onto each other, they would float away. They knew the rest of the group was waiting for them by the bleachers ready to tease them, knowing from a distance they were at the ready with smirks of ‘About time’s and ‘I-told-you-so’s.

But Hunter was still lost in this impossible daydream beyond anything he thought possible. He couldn’t help but feel it had ended too soon, and now he truly had nothing standing in his way.

“Willow,” he began delicately as he cleared his throat, trying to seem calm and casual. “Would you want to uh, I-I mean if you could come with me, if you wanted to of course, outside where we could be alone, if you were okay with that, and I thought we could-.”

“Hunter and I are gonna go kiss in the hallway!” Willow announced giddily to the group as she redirected him to the door. His gaze darted between his friends and the wonderful girl who somehow read his mind, knowing thoughts he struggled to vocalize.

“Haha, whaaat? No, I mean that’s not.. I mean it’s not…” he realized it was pointless to try and hide his glee and as he allowed the dopey grin to overtake him as he embraced the moment and picked up the pace to follow her yet again and forever to no one’s surprise. “Heh, I’m Hunter.”

As they ran out the gym together, Hunter made sure to keep the door open behind them.

[gamerism]

Kiryu Kazumi is an interesting exercise in fandom, in my opinion. And I wanna talk about that.

[Kazumi is the fan created drag persona for Kiryu. Often Kiryu is genderfluid or exploring identity through her.]

Kazumi places a few tiers down the "non-canon fandom iceberg". She exists in response to Goromi who is already a very minor thing in canon, and was written as a Bit/with the intent to make an offensive joke about drag/ect, the fandom were the ones who made Goromi mean more than that. So Kazumi is a layer down from all of that already.

Despite her existence being entirely fanmade, she's not a vehicle for the fandom to cannibalise the source material into something unrecognisable purely for fanworks' sake. Though she might look it on the surface.

If the fandom decided to make Goromi mean something because she's the most blatant moment of queercoding for Majima in a long history of queercoding for him, then her theme is ultimately masculinity in canon.

Which is absolutely what Kazumi is about. Kiryu sits at the very beating heart of Like A Dragon's themes about masculinity. Be it toxic, be it ideals, be it the kind of appearances you're expected to maintain in the yakuza. Kiryu shoulders the heavy burden of them all.

We see him exhibit both positive and toxic masculinity throughout the series. But what the games have rarely brought up for him, is the rejection of masculinity in any context, or at least, femininity in equal amounts.

This isn't really surprising, if they're unwilling to make Majima say he's gay with his own mouth after using queerness as a means to Other him and make him seem dangerous, untrustworthy and even scary...they're certainly not going to have their shining beacon of Honour, Kiryu, do that. (Majima's queerness and coding has changed role somewhat over time and is generally more neutral or positive in positioning now. But even as recently as Yakuza Kiwami, it was being used in a negative way.)

So Kazumi serves the purpose for fans who wish to delve more deeply into that thorny complex relationship to masculinity.

[Kazumi In Kiwami 2 On NexusMods] By kiryussideburns.

Personally I find the idea of Kiryu exploring Kazumi as a means of escape, as a means of fully free self expression (something Kiryu has never had), really really interesting. I also find the time frame she's generally written in interesting. Most people place her post-2005. Kazama is dead. This is a hugely important factor in Kiryu's willingness to take the risk to explore gender expression. Kazama is not the kind of man who approves of any (perceived) weakness in men. In Kiryu and Nishiki's lives he's who instills a lot of toxic aspects of masculinity in them. I'd also hazard a strong guess that he's homophobic, though we don't actually know that.

The next largest factor is that December 2005 is the point where Kiryu leaves the Tojo Clan permanently. Kiryu definitely still cares a great deal deep down about his image and public perception within the underworld after leaving, but his day-to-day is no longer dictated by the rules of that life.

(Some people, me included, also dabble in Kazumi in 1988. But the same things essentially apply there. Kazama is in prison & as far away as he can functionally be while alive. And Kiryu is out of the Tojo Clan temporarily.)

As someone so enamoured with this exploration of gender expression for the character, I was floored when LAD Gaiden allowed Kiryu to wear makeup. Seriously, I had to go lay down to calm down about it when playing Gaiden day of release.

(Gaiden's lighting is very contrasted, I did my best to find a screenshot where you can actually see the makeup.)

The makeup, nail polish and pearl earrings in the Boutique was kind of unbelievable to me. I know RGG didn't really mean anything by it, that they didn't make those customisation options because they were going to touch on these themes. But even the hint of that in canon, it was so much more than I ever expected....even if it did go nowhere, as I knew it would.

It kind of gives me hope that Goromi might mean something more than just an offensive joke (in canon anyway) in the future. Or if not Goromi than something else, in LAD9 or such. Either way Kazumi will continue to be fandom legacy for gender expression, presentation and what the expectations Kiryu & other characters have resting on them mean.

[chaifootsteps]

(Patreon anon) Here's the last of what I have of my QnA archive, I don't plan to repledge so cheers to whoever uses their money to snitch like me.

-HB season 1 takes place within one year

-Wally Wackford won't appear much in season 2 but will be important in the future.

-Vivzie would love more Wally merch but her merch lead doesn't feel confident in it selling well.

-Vivzie hasn't consider making pride merch because "It's the kind of thing that big corporations to try to appeal to a generation they're not normally involved in."

-Vivzie claims the whole show is a celebration of pride and doesn't feel the need to make pride merch but would be down to making if there's a demand for it. (With the amount of fan merch I've seen, there is)

-She claims to do general research for the HH character time period but doesn't integrate the history into their backstories as of now.

-Viv's open to oversea convention appearances and has been trying to get a booking agent to travel more for European conventions.

-Paimon's a big shapeshifter and is only an owl because that's what he needs to be.

-There was a time where Vivzie hated Zoophobia, saying if something doesn't work out, keep trying new projects that excite you.

-One hell year equals a lot of Earth years, so stolas existed well before 1985.

-Vivzie actually loves Mammon's design, she conceptualized it and had someone else finalize it. Sort of like how Oz was designed by someone on the team with Vivzie finalizing it.

-Vivzie wanted to show men can be abused too with Stolas

-Jeremy Jordan might join be cast by Vivzie since she knows him

-Stella may not want Stolas dead right away anymore, just at a later time. (This was asked pre-Western Energy)

-It's currently unclear when we'll get HH merch with their full series designs since they're owned by A24. (This was months before the recall of that Sir Pentious keychain that used the full series design)

-At the time, they were aiming for a three month wait period between HB episodes for season 2.

-Unlike HH, HB isn't considered a musical to Vivzie but will have elements to it in season 2.

-Vivzie doesn't remember what the golden feathers in epsiode 6 meant. Adam saids the artist come up with a bunch of ideas.

-Sinners technically don't need food and water to live, it's mostly out of habit and indulgence. Electronic sinners like Vox find a way through cartoon logic.

-Because of how long episode 8 was taking, Vivzie and Adam have started making HB comics of what happens between the episodes. They're still figuring it out with HH.

-If Oz ever met Valentino, he would hate him. The team jokes that Val would be very "notice me senpai" with him.

-Stolas is confirmed to be 8ft tall with Blitz at 5ft.

-Fights between an overlord and a goetia would barely happen so Vivzie wouldn't know which one would win.

-Tilla was removed as a sibling because Blitz's family was still in the early works, she's going to be renamed.

-Vivzie doesn't have a specific favorite villain archetypes, she enjoys ruthless mean girls and dramatic, and theatrical messed up villains like The Joker.

-Episode 6's collaboration was fun for Vivzie but complicated because she had to manage an entire second team, There were file issues and they had to go back and forth to make sure they were correct.

-Vivzie's interested in making more Zoophobia merch but doesn't wish to for other older projects. She mentions it'd be hard to convince her merch lead that anyone would want to buy anything from her older works.

-Stolas does have guilt with his affair and he has a lot of turmoil related to it.

-Leviathan will have a cameo in season 2

-Vivzie can't give specifics but Stolas doesn't have many friends who we might see them in the future. Stella has two friends who at the moment of that QnA don't have names.

-White marks on Imps are scars, and can be added for aesthetics (Unsure if she means design wise or in-universe cosmetics, possibly both with how Barbie looks)

-Stolas's job is to look into the skies of Earth and find prophecies in them and inform Hell of what's to come in the future, he doesn't do much other than that.

-Oz has a broad range of powers, there were too many to list in the timespan of the QnA.

-Octavia takes after Stolas in that she's socially unaware, Vivzie claims she also unaware of her parents's relationship because of Stolas trying hard to make it seem things are fine and does that to a "good extent".

-we'll see what Octavia and Stella's relationship is like later.

-Vivzie would like to release an artbook bigger than their con-exclusive one for HB after season 2 and when the team is free to organize the production art, she's unable to do one for HH at the moment.

-DHORK will return

-She's still figuring out the sins but don't want them to be fallen angels since it doesn't matter in HB, but it will for HH. So she wants to wait until HH to decide. (Possible they figured it out with HH season 1 done)

-She finds people saying the childhood friends trope with Stolitz being fanservice frustrating. (As seen with her recent rant of the overall story)

-Vivzie adopted Pixel a year and a half after she graduated SVA. She didn't explain how she got Honeybee and Nugget.

-full quote "There would be demons from the ring of Lust who would be asexual, and they will get to that in the future. But she generally imagines that lust demons wouldn't think it'd that much of a taboo. Lust demons would generally be confused by the concept, but they wouldn't have any hate.

Asmodeus would be an example of someone who wouldn't understand asexuality"

-She would like region-free dvds of HB but it would require re-negotiations with everyone who was involved with the show, if they do release it, it'll be difficult to make it region-free.

-Stolitz didn't interact at all between the 25 years apart.

-She put a lot of her life into Loo Loo Land, and yes...Viv's dad was openly horny in front of her and her sisters growing up, Viv found it funny but like I told Lemon...There was no mention of how her sisters felt about it.

-Viv put aspects of herself into Octavia but claims to not be a self-insert. Fizz has an aspect that is directly from Viv that we'll see in season 2 that she feels needs to be shown.

-HB was spun off because IMP was originally for HH, with Vivzie thinking they were better off as their own thing. HB's also about exploring Vivzie's hell like the demons that possess people.

-HB/HH was inspired by Batman and various musicals with the idea that she wanted a worlds with nothing but villains.

-The fan interpretations of Andrealphus were pretty close to what she's written for him.

-Vivzie's interpretation of Stolas's "I used to think that I was bold, I used to think that love was for fun" is meant that he's never gotten the chance to experience true love with him being gay and he had an arranged marriage.

-She wants Stolas and Stella's relationship to be something that's debated.

-The Von Eldritches will not appear in HH season 1

-question "How did Viv get to where she was? How did she get Hazbin and Helluva produced?"

answer: "She has reps who set her up with people very interested in her show. It was the producers who pitched their interest in her. This is what happened with Hazbin in that production companies showed what they would do for that show. When A24 showed interest in Hazbin, that's when she started pitching it to others (No mention of that those others are)"

-The certificate on Loona's adoption paper was signed by Beelzebub.

-HH will have the same level of NSFW and dark as HB is at the time of season 2's beginning, (I'm not sure why people are thinking it'll be even more if she has to obey S&P with a TV show) she admits to not having a good gauge of what's too extreme as she just does what she wants to do to tell her story. HH is new territory since it's more story based than HB.

-YT doesn't allow the use of the word "cunt" so Mammon will be heavily censored with the amount of time he saids it. There's also a scene in HB that a storyboard artist went too extreme on and Vivzie was afraid it would be rejected but turned out to be okay. (This ask was in September 2022, she didn't mention which scene but if I had to guess it might have been the dildo room)

-Oz is aware of Fizz being an imp, but Vivzie doesn't know if it's an open fact and she might use it as a story element someday.

-Rosie is an overlord, that's all Vivzie can say when asked what kind of demon she is.

-At the time Vivzie was still figuring out how time works in hell, Sinners are stuck at the age they died as while Hellborns do age.

-Stolas would have thought of Blitz a lot after their day together and has a problem separating fantasy from reality, Blitz would have never thought of him.

-Blitz's horse obsession started as an inside joke among the team

-Vivzie can't say if season 2 will have a Stolitz kiss

-Episode 6's collab started 4-5 months before the episode came out, There's no plans for season 2 to have one but Vivzie would love to do it again.

-When asked if any new characters will join IMP in season 2 Vivzie said "Not this season!"

-Stolas can transform into other things, but Vivzie is still deciding if it's something he can do on his own or needs the grimoire for it.

-Vivzie uses Google sheets to write and takes the complete draft to something called Final Draft to finish it

-That white cyclops guy that shows up in Cherri Bomb's segment of Addict is likely to change but that's all Vivzie can say.

-Striker was confirmed to be a hybrid hellborn.

-The client giving birth button in episode 1 was an oversight on Vivzie's part but did say that IMP had hellborn clients before

-Any remaining reveals of HH characters will be minor characters from the pilot, the final reveal will be a brand new character. (This was before the Adam reveal, so he could have been the final one)

-The thing about the sins being a pseudo-family with "nice and asshole" ones were accurate to what's been told to you, same with them technically being goetias, they're just in a different category.

-We'll see Oz and Mammon's relationship in the middle of season 2.

-A lot of material things have been made in the greed ring, it's very industrial, full of banks, smoggy and crime ridden like that was seen in the Chaz episode.

-HH and HB are planned out but said that there's "wiggle room' in that they figure out as the show goes by how they get to the events.

-Vivzie's still deciding what special powers Striker would have as a hybrid.

-If Vivzie had unlimited funds, she would love to make a movie for HH and HB and to speed up her production pipeline. she had issues in 2022 with her working more on HH.

-Claims that HH will definitely come out in 2023, but she also mentioned season 2 of HB will have a more consistent release schedule at the same time.

-Vivzie would like to make a height chart for the HB characters but claims the team doesn't need one because they know the size of them already.

> Vivzie hasn't consider making pride merch because "It's the kind of thing that big corporations to try to appeal to a generation they're not normally involved in."

Says Vivzie as she can't put out Sallie Mae merchandise fast enough, despite her having one speaking line and about five seconds of screen time.

> -HH and HB are planned out but said that there's "wiggle room' in that they figure out as the show goes by how they get to the events.

She's flip-flopped on how planned out the show is so many times it's not even funny anymore.

> Stolas does have guilt with his affair and he has a lot of turmoil related to it.

Figures this was before both scenes where he says he has zero guilt and would feel bad if he thought he did something wrong but doesn't.

> -Stolas would have thought of Blitz a lot after their day together and has a problem separating fantasy from reality, Blitz would have never thought of him.

What a fascinating character trait that we were all looking forward to seeing more of after Blitzo told him off in Ozzie's and popped his delusional bubble! What a shame it was downgraded to "Stolas, as always, did nothing wrong."

> -She wants Stolas and Stella's relationship to be something that's debated.

Liar.

> -She put a lot of her life into Loo Loo Land, and yes...Viv's dad was openly horny in front of her and her sisters growing up, Viv found it funny but like I told Lemon...There was no mention of how her sisters felt about it.

> -Vivzie doesn't remember what the golden feathers in epsiode 6 meant. Adam saids the artist come up with a bunch of ideas.

Remember when we all thought that was important? Oh Vivzie, you fucking hack.

Thank you so much for all of these, Patreon Anon. Hopefully someone else will step into your shoes but for now know that you're braver than any Marine.

[autumnoficarus]

a brief analysis of Lokius and what their characters have to do with numbers, π, and mathematical constants

i really live for meta analysis on cinematography used in shows and movies, so i especially enjoy reading about analyzations of the loki series right now. one of the theories i've seen and immensely enjoy is the visual repetition of numbers throughout the show, and how they symbolize certain elements of the narrative. the fact that pie is significant - the mathematical ratio of π has a constant (3.14159 or 22/7) - and we watched characters being almost drawn there multiple times before the finale is just so neat to me. That being said, I'm not sure if I've missed anyone pointing this out yet - but I think THIS is a very interesting choice, even more so in how it's framed:

The way the scene above ends with Mobius positioned right next to that HUGE '2' is, I think, very telling. He's also standing so that the smaller '5' is almost completely obscured, letting the '2' be displayed more prominently (I'm not sure yet if there's more reason here behind '5' being used, other than that it's to further clarify where we're at in the timeline of the show (the location being where mobius' and loki's initial introduction took place) but I plan to re-watch the series from the beginning solely to find possible points of analysis that may have been missed soon. I will have to see if and how much certain numbers pop up in scenes). Putting the constant of pi and numbers theory aside for a moment, just having the '2' stand nearly as tall as Mobius and Loki while they shake hands and part for the last time...it's a pretty clear nod towards their partnership. I am convinced this was a set design choice to really hone in on the fact that these two characters when paired together are what was needed for a successful solution to the multiverse's instability. Here's my reasonings for that:

Firstly, I think this could have multiple meanings or house numerous symbolizations, but I'm gonna really try to stay on focus and as close to how I interpret the significance of π as I can. Straight away, we could say the '2' is a throwback to the theory of fundamental constants as it is a variable of π's equation. However, I want to break down why I believe the variable's even factor can correspond with what we know about these characters.

1) Mobius represents order in its purest form, which embraces the importance of chaos (which is then mirrored by Ravonna's own representation, order that oppresses chaos and why that inherently cannot WORK). If we think about physics for a moment, or even basic mathematics, integers exist to be combined, divided, and shared - right? And without divisions of integers that create remainders or function improperly, we wouldn't have constants (such as π). Without equations that use both even and odd qualities, there wouldn't be the natural continuum of real numbers that we rely on in order to understand our universe. Mobius' character constitutes as one side of an equation - the side of order and, more specifically, an integer that can further divide into equal distribution - where the sum is a functional constant.

2) I personally like to further interpret how Mobius's character could overall stand for the '2' in π's constant through the fact that two being equally divisible means he has an equivalent amount of 'order' to his mindset as he does 'chaos'. Both components make Mobius who he is and that's ultimately the reason he's 'order at its purest'. And I know I'm silly and crazy, but I'll dive even deeper here. It can also be argued to be just as meaningful that '2' is able to divide and share the same amount of something because of how we see in the show that Mobius' patience, empathy, and other positive qualities start to reflect - and be matched - in Loki's growth as a character.

3) Another thing I want to point out is that there would be no 'change' without sums that end irrationally or are absent of means to be expressed. In other words, if mathematics lacked equations that ended in remaining values and instead only functioned via numbers that divide until nothing is left then there would never be any outcome that can undergo change. Everything would always zero out, and - of course - we saw what happened if the sum is always 0; Timely's invention fails, the Loom still overloads, and no one survives the outcome. Mobius is a necessary factor because of his divisible qualities and sense of order, but so is Loki because without them changes wouldn't be possible. As a duo, they are both equal parts transformed and combined to produce the right outcome of events.

4) Of course, Mobius alone does not finish the equation. It is in the combined efforts of Mobius and Loki that we see a successful end in the finale. Loki does not accept their burden and ascend the throne to become the God of Stories until their last conversation with Mobius where they are reasonably lost on how to solve the problem of the multiverse ending. Mobius' influence, both the entirety of his presence within the series and in the last bit of advice he gives to Loki, is what provides the final results of Loki's arc. Likewise, Mobius doesn't leave the TVA and avoids knowing about his life on the timeline until Loki sacrifices themselves so he can still have that choice to look. And then when he does look, it's heavily implied that Mobius was encouraged by Loki's words during their discussion over pie ('never look, never know'). The sum of their journeys are only achieved after knowing and changing the other. Their arcs and the multiverse status are left uncompleted until they come together as the two variables of an irrational fraction that creates a circle (a loop with a beginning and an end).

5) Returning to my first point and the significance of Mobius + order, we are meant to regard Loki as his opposite. Loki is 'chaos in its purest form', and during Loki's arc they learn to accept the consequences, and viability, of life devoid of any structure (again having a mirrored version in Sylvie who is seen to function under similar chaos, but refuses any semblance of order; this only creates problems that then divide into even more problems. We get confirmation that Sylvie's mentality - like Renslayer - does not WORK, which is seen in Loki's numerous attempts to fix the domino effect that Sylvie starts by killing HWR). Order and chaos being meaningful and having their own separate potentials to be good and bad has been a running theme in this show. Entropy is needed - just like irrationalities and remaining values in mathematics - for life to thrive, but there needs to be a balance in place. Disorder and the regulation of disorder is a necessary constant, and Loki becomes that constant from the sum of their and Mobius' relationship.

6) Hear me out: Loki being at the heart of Yggdrasil is a lot like how the automat was the center of the TVA. The automat had an endless source of pie; Loki fueling the 'tree of life' with their magic creates continual growth and rejuvenation of the multiverse's branches. The finale showed us that the sum of Mobius' and Loki's partnership results in the perfect equilibrium of chaos and order, which becomes the solution to what had been an unsolvable equation - even for HWR. The culmination of their shared bond provides a foundation for the multiverse going forward, and Loki's ability to maintain it stems from the purpose and love that they found from that bond. Notably, the constant of π - 22/7 - is an irrational number. When expressed, its decimal is known to be non-repeating and non-terminating. The multiverse is now a non-repetitive, non-terminating constant that - I say, once again, with feeling - is established only by Mobius and Loki growing and changing because of each other.

I'm not sure if anyone will find this small observation in the goodbye scene and my subsequent insane ramblings interesting, but uhhh. This is just one of the many things I haven't been able to get out of my head since the finale, and I desperately needed to write out at least some of these thoughts or lose the last of my marbles (now asking for donations of any unused marbles towards my mental state, thank you).

[animehouse-moe]

Hello again.....Do you mind if I ask your top 7 favorite anime (can be series or movies) ever? And why do you love them? Also, what are your top 5 (or top 7) favorite moments from any anime (can be series or movies)?

Sorry if I ask too much, feel free if you want to answer both of my questions or just pick either one......Thanks....

I'd answered the first question in that other post I just linked, but the idea of top moments in anime is a really interesting one. People love this sort of question, and I find it an impossible one to really answer truly.

Because, in my eyes, how much does a moment amount to in the eyes of someone that doesn't understand? The number of chapters and episodes that you've gone through to experience these things is part of why they're so incredible and favored. Regardless, I'll give it a shot of giving my favorite 5 moments, but in my own sort of way. These are the 5 that appear in my head first when I think of them. Though, is that maybe how favorites work? I'm not sure, I'll just get to them.

See You Space Cowboy - Cowboy Bebop

I don't really know if there's words to explain this one, but it's one of the best finales you could have out there. An incredible culmination of an equally incredible story. The lifetime of this moment in the minds of viewers and fans is a testament to how deserving it is of being on this list.

A Meeting Under The Bird's Nest - Sonny Boy

Sonny boy is one of those series that remains in my mind constantly. As a guy, this is my Roman Empire. All of the meaning and value placed in this passing meeting in regards to the idea of the cycle of life, rebirth, and growth as an individual and what that means in the context of society and your past self is just so strong that I still can't find a way to properly convey it to this day.

Gion Shoja Bells - The Heike Story

This one is a lot. I think while the other two so far remain impactful and insightful experiences, this one feels much more raw and open. Knowing the struggles and experiences of Naoka Yamada and KyoAni following the arson attack, the meaning behind this story, and consequently its ending, really hit home.

(Wo)Man on The Moon - Cyberpunk: Edgerunners

I live for Night City, I love Mike Pondsmith and CD Projekt Red's vision a great deal. I watched this show on all nighter during university when I had a midterm the next day, that's how important Cyberpunk is to me. This ending broke me, and still does to this day. It makes me feel like that gif of Pedro Pascal where his laugh turns into a cry. It's just that sort of beautiful thing that you can't help but love even if it hurts.

It's The Way I Show My Love - The Tatami Galaxy

I've written about the Tatami Galaxy at great lengths on here before, and I'm still in love with it and Morimi's messages. Watashi's final words here and how he morphs into Ozu's style is just perfect. The acceptance, the happiness that stems from experiencing the present and being grateful for what exists in front of you. It's such a wonderful piece that it continues to make me feel warm to this very day.

Something I've realized when writing this is that a lot of my favorite moments come from the ends of series, and I feel like that just echoes my earlier statement. The more context, the more weight and emotion you can put behind something, the greater that product is in my eyes. And so, by natural process, my favorite moments tend to be endings. Whether that's story or character arcs, volume or episode finales, or even the end of a series itself- I think that the best moments are built upon the rest.

[imaginarianisms]

alias / name : angel ( singletsona / core / host; only if we're close ) / arcana ( singletsona / core / host ) / ansale'wit ( my name translated into mi'kmawi'simk ) / ᐋᓐᔐᓃ ( my name translated into anishinaabemowin, literally spelled aanzhenii ) ; the imaginarians galaxy ( system name; please refer to us& as this when you're not sure who's fronting & please don't refer to us& as one person, everyone in the system deserves to & should have the equal amount of respect, love, dignity, honor, care & undivided attention & it's disrespectful to only ever refer to me& especially if i've& known you for years at this point; that's my& firm boundary. ). birthday : july 13th. zodiac sign : cancer sun, sagittarius moon, libra rising & leo venus. height : 5'2. hobbies : it depends on who you ask because we're& a system but we& collectively like gaming, writing/rping, worldbuilding, learning our& indigenous languages, true crime, psychology, criminology, sociology, philosophy, intersectionality, history (especially during the medieval period but certainly not exclusive), eastern history/civilization, indigenous history/civilization, ancient history, loveletters, queer shit, fashion, acting, transhumanism, alterhumanity, plurality, the occult & magick & witchcraft, the concept of apotheosis, enlightenment, fate, folklore, godhood, hope, humanity, & monstrosity, virtual reality, traveling, asmr, being a boujee native & being an educated heaux.

favorite book : a song of ice and fire series & gangsta. last song : dust bowl by ethel cain. last film / show : the love witch / gangsta. recent reads : arianne martell & sansa stark / alayne stone; the winds of winter.

inspiration : honestly for the longest time i didn't want to return to the tumblr rpc bc it made me feel bittersweet bc a lot of my old friends were moving elsewhere or inactive & on top of that it reminded me of someone i used to know & i have. a lot of bittersweet feelings around this person so. but some of us& wanted to get back into it again. tthe vast majority of our& interpretations on our& muses are heavily based in both headcanons & our& fictives' ( 4 singlets: a fictional introject ) exomemories which honestly most of the time they tend to overlap, the latter meaning that this actually happened to them & isn't something that just happened in a book or a movie or a tv series or a videogame, they're living, breathing people & for that individual, it all happened & it was all very real !! additionally, a lot of my& own personal life was used as major inspiration. being a survivor of multiple traumas that most people can't even fathom ( to the point where my doctor told me most would've kermited if they'd experienced the things i went through ) & that did unspeakable things to my brain chemistry ig so. i use writing to cope. so. yall have to deal w/ that ig. at least i aint boring. /lh furthermore ethel cain & nicole dollanganger are major inspo. & as much as i& write / rp for fun, i& also write & rp to educate others especially on topics like indigenous peoples, disabilities, neurodivergencies & mental health, especially around stigmatized disorders like did bc honestly i'm so very tired & demoralized bc of the constant stigma around did & other stuff like npd, bpd, etc. & both the media & people treating us like we're some kinda fucking soulless monsters when we're literally people who were hurt & failed in childhood & had traumatic upbringings only to be demonized, trauma & other shit so it's v important to us&. representation matters & so does keeping the light of humanity alive & well. story behind url : our& system name the imaginarians galaxy + isms! fun fact about me : my great aunt & technically a cousin of mine was a witch in the family; she passed her knowledge onto her granddaughter, my cousin, & she passed her knowledge down to me so i'm a hereditary witch. my mom dated a serial killer years ago when she was 19 & she had no idea so that was fucking wild bc i was 8 when she told me about it, thanks mom. lmao. i was also born 24 weeks premature & i quite literally died before the doctors resurrected me. basically i made death my bitch. i'm all the letters in 2lgbtqia+ at once & ppl can die mad about it lmao. i'm clusters a ( schizotypal personality disorder / schizospec / psychotic / stpd ) b ( {mild} antisocial personality disorder / aspd, {mild} narcissistic personality disorder / npd, histrionic personality disorder / hpd,, borderline personality disorder / bpd ) & c ( avoidant personality disorder / avpd ) as well as autism & adhd; i also have cptsd & h.c-did bc yknow. trauma did shit to my brain, this shit fucks with me on such a deep level & uh. the comorbidities have me fucking insane up in the club. on the physical disabilities side of things i have cfs / chronic fatigue & pots (so like. don't take it personally if i dont respond quickly) & am hoh. so i'm hoping to get a multipurpose psychiatric service dog & eventually get a wheelchair as an ambulatory wheelchair user. my paternal grandfather fought in wwii & killed nazis. my& clans are mouse / apukji'j ( mi'kmaq ) & wolf / yanariskwa' ( huron-wendat ), it basically represents a family & it has nothing to do with a spirit animal, & in the huron-wendat's case a clan is like an ancestor, who you're descended from in the huron-wendat creation story & they shared a longhouse & traced their lineage from the female line from a female ancestor bc the wendat were matriarchal so wolves are my ancestors.

tagged by : stole it from @noctuafought ( hi aphy lmaoooo ) ! tagging : @velcryons / @brokcncrowns @loyalpromise @helbroth @gutsing @sevynhells @inmydrcams @dethdvncer & anyone who breathes !!

[fancy-rock-dove]

Ten Books To Know Me

Rules: 10 (non-ancient) books for people to get to know you better, or that you just really like.

Tagged by the lovely @landwriter whose list I am absolutely taking notes from to add to my own to-read list. Thank you for my evening of reminiscing about some of my favorite stories! I'm about to digress... a lot. I'm wordy. This is known. I'm taking the spirit of "non-ancient" to mean things-people-may-not-have-read-before to recommend, and also trying to stick to the last century or two. I will, however, immediately break the first of those rules because it is impossible to make a list of works to read to know me without including:

The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien

I know, everyone and their grandma has heard of LOTR, this is probably not a shock to anyone, but it holds such a large and ever-recurring place in my life that I would be remiss to leave it out. Please excuse me as I digress into story time on this one and feel free to skip to the next one.

The very first time I read LOTR it felt almost like a rite of passage of sorts; I'm the oldest sibling by several years, and staying up at the age of nine an hour or two after my siblings went to bed to partake in silent reading time in the living room with my dad has a whole host of feelings and memories associated with it. We had this large, red-leather-bound, slipcase-contained, single-volume edition that really felt to nine-year-old me that I was reading something Special. It was I think one of the first things I read and discussed in real time in such serious depth purely for the love and fun of it. We stopped when I'd finished The Bridge of Khazad-dum for my dad to put on the Moria scenes of the movies (which I'd never seen before) because we wanted to chat about adaptation choices. And what's more these books as a whole reward thinking about. I could talk at length about love of the concept and impact of translation and language, a love for song and poetry as important and natural forms of human expression, the reframing of the angst and forces of modernized warfare within the context of epics in the style of the ways people have always talked about and contextualized war, about the ideas that everyone has something to contribute and no contribution made in good faith is worthless, the examination of the fact that evil can arise from fear and good intentions. The first time I studied Beowulf (and many other classic ballads and epics besides) the connection, the sense that I had also grown up hearing stories like this (by design because this is what happens when scholars write about their specialties, even obliquely) was distinct and rewarding. But equally important I think is that the amount it rewards revisiting has let it be a bit of a constant in my life; the first thing my sisters and I all did read together when we started doing out-loud bedtime storytime all together a few years later; one of the first things I talked with my best friend about; the thing that one of my longest-lasting groups of friends first created our "book club" around in undergrad by reading it aloud (again) together (a "club" which keeps us close years later even though our majors and career paths are all wildly different from each others'). And every time I find I have more to see or say or think about and different aspects I find capturing my attention. And of course, the story itself is one I love dearly, and which probably shaped my lifelong love of a good epic narrative.

The Hawk of May - Gillian Bradshaw

Y'all, picking one of Bradshaw's books/series to recommend was a real struggle for me I have to say. I remember loving all the ones I've read. They're historical fiction with a knack for both thoroughness of detail and immediacy of drama. I can't actually pinpoint when I started calling historical fiction one of my favorite genres but I think Gillian may be the one who did it. Most of her works are set in ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, etc. (I also highly recommend The Beacon at Alexandria [cross-dressing undercover female doctor] which was nearly my pick for this spot on the list) but Hawk of May has the double-notability of being her first book (which she wrote while in undergrad???) and the beginning of a trilogy which holds the dubious honor of containing the first book to ever make me physically throw it across the room in character-related grief. This has only happened two or three times in my life. Given that the trilogy is a historically-inspired retelling of the tales of King Arthur's knights, and Sir Gawain in particular, please take this as a compliment given how well it made me feel the emotions you'd expect to about *waves hand* all of the end of that story.

Dealing With Dragons - Patricia C. Wrede

And all of the Enchanted Forest Chronicles, basically. I LOVED dragons when I was younger (and to be fair haven't exactly grown out of it yet either though it's less all-consuming these days :) ) and read a lot of dragon-related books. I could absolutely make a top ten list just within that category (shout out to the mention I saw in one of these lists of Dragon's Milk, I thought that book was great at the time, and the mental image of prophetic visions shaped in clay on a potter's wheel is one of those ones that stuck in my brain over the years) but Wrede's series stands out also for the humor and the treatment of fairy tale tropes that I think probably actually had a formative impact on my sense of humor. I lost track of how many times I reread this series when I was young. There's a preference for the practical in all our main characters that makes for some very funny loving satire of fairy tale tropes, and also generates some unapologetically hilarious situations. If you want a princess fighting/talking down her own knights because she'd rather they not bother her dragon with their "rescues", or a king who uses his magic sword to do plumbing, this is an excellent series for you. The worldbuilding is quite fun too.

The Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle

Breaking my "there's any chance at all you haven't heard of this" rule yet again, but it's another important installation on my bookshelf and one of the earliest collections of mysteries that got me reading mystery as a genre. Think I read my way through a large chunk of these works between the ages of 10 and 12 and, in addition to being the excellent mysteries people know them for, I think it may also be one of the first collected series of works I'd read that I was aware and could see was published serially. There are a lot of cool things to be said about the interest of the eccentric main character and the presentation of the stories from the point of view of his resigned but invested flatmate, not to mention the way we are far less interested in the law than Putting Things Right. For me though I also really enjoyed reading and thinking about what it would have been like to read a story like this actually published serially when you just had to wonder about the answer and discuss with friends. Baby's early serious metatextual thoughts about collective experience of stories.

A Morbid Taste for Bones - Edith Mary Parteger / Mistress of the Art of Death - Diana Norman

Probably cheating to group two entirely distinct books/series here but I can't mention my historical fiction and my mysteries and then not mention my historical fiction murder mysteries! I associate them very closely because they're both set in 12th century England and feature badass protagonists that people tend to underestimate. A Morbid Taste for Bones is part of the Cadfael Chronicles, featuring Brother Cadfael the mystery-solving former-crusader monk who is absolutely not above breaking some rules or some bones to do right by people. Mistress of the Art of Death features Adelia the Sicilian-trained forensic pathologist who's kindly come out to the far-less-renaissance-influenced 12th cenutry England to help them with their murder mysteries and has a Time navigating actually doing her job while Not being accused of witchcraft in the process. The latter is generally a bit darker in tone than the former, and the former is a bit more episodic book-to-book in general, but I'd recommend them both, they're good fun (as much as a murder mystery can be). BBC also did an adaptation of the Cadfael Chronicles which I watched a couple episodes of once... maybe I should watch some again sometime. :)

Ancillary Justice - Ann Leckie

I am a huge fan of a story that's tightly written around its very premise, and this book absolutely delivers. I've been a sci-fi nerd for much of my life, so the premise of the interface between a biological and computer mind/thought process is something that comes up a lot. And even so, I distinctly remember getting into this book and feeling like the way we were using the very nature of our protagonist was innovative. This book has it all: anti-imperialism, meditations on the nature of memory and identity and personal responsibility (as they arise in our protagonist's unique situation and actually apply to all people), worldbuilding that marks the relationship between language and values and environment and beliefs and culture, thematically relevant music/poetry, a fantastically badass main character, an exquisitely wet and pathetic sidekick she does not want (said lovingly), suspense, action, intrigue, and of course, retribution. Just an excellent read with fantastic worldbuilding and a very tightly-woven narrative structure in the first book in particular. Not to mention a complete disregard for the concept of gender. :)

Story of Your Life - Ted Chiang

And honestly all of Ted Chiang's short stories. Excellent concise yet rich and fascinating worldbuilding in each one. The epitome of stories that delight in breaking down any illusion of the separateness of language and history and math and science as complimentary human pursuits in the larger search for understanding (sometimes explicitly in the mechanics of the stories). This one in particular though may by my favorite short story. It is the story the movie Arrival is based on, but while I like both, I personally found after watching the movie that I still think the two are doing somewhat different things. This story means a lot to me not least because I read it in the midst of getting degrees in both French and in Physics, was just really getting into some of the upper-level approaches like Lagrangian mechanics, relativity, gauge switching, all that good stuff, and was spending a not-inconsiderable amount of time thinking and talking about the ways my degrees were actually similar, how it was all about learning the languages to look at problems from different frames of reference. And so naturally this story made me feel that a lot of my thoughts were Seen. And of course I'm also a sucker for anything approaching time-travel and things that poke at the nature of free will and self-determination, so the meditations of this story in particular on the relationship between our understanding of physics and our understanding of ourselves were hitting real hard at the time.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

So this is technically a play, but you CAN read it if you want to. The movie is also good and actually directed by the playwright though! I think this was one of my earlier experiences with both existentialism and absurdism in theater. They simply do not let you out with any kind of French degree without consuming a fair amount of angsty, thoughtful, existential and absurdist midcentury books, films, and plays in my experience, but I think it was actually this that was one of my earliest notable reads/views in a couple of those genres, particularly because it was one of my earlier experiences with the concept of tragicomedy. And it actually is also fun! Especially, in my opinion, if you enjoy Hamlet and are in the habit of taking it seriously. It's behind-the-scenes Hamlet, again with thoughts on free will and probability and destiny and the concept of being doomed by the narrative, but with the added bonus of Hamlet occasionally showing up and sounding particularly unhinged from an outside perspective. If The Lion King is furry Hamlet, then Lion King 1 1/2 is furry Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. This may be a trend with me, but I really enjoy the use of Hamlet in particular (already a deeply thematically adaptable play) to parallel uniquely 20th century flavors of angst and questions about the objectivity of reality. I'm a sucker for narratives that acknowledge through their very premise or form that these new-feeling questions or problems are new iterations of human questions we've been grappling with for centuries/always.

The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde

A very fun reality-hopping story (and series) with a lot of love for language and wordplay and, of course, Jane Eyre. The worldbuilding in this one is a delight, from the dodo home-cloning-kit-derived pet to the time-traveling dad who may or may not have caused bananas. Fforde is here to have fun at the expense of (or perhaps in kahoots with) language and the fabric of well-known stories and narrative structures. Characters trying and failing to fit the genre they think they're living in is a somewhat recurring phenomenon. @moorishflower's mention of this one in Radio Silence had me screaming about it because the Thursday Next series is indeed excellently fun.

Babel - R.F. Kuang

Confession time: I'm actually reading this one right now, so this is less books-that-shaped-me and more books-I'm-into-right-this-second. So I can't speak for how it ends, but I'm loving how it's going so far. Once again the anti-imperial messaging is strong in this one and it does a fantastic job of making me angry in the ways it should. Very cool premise founded on a magic system that gets its power directly from the nuances of meaning that do not carry over in translation from one language to the other. I would recommend and also love to talk about it with people.

Alright! Think I'm a little late to the tagging game, so forgive me if you've already done it, but I don't think I've seen lists (but would love to if you'd like) from @goodbye-blue, @hopecomesbacktolife, @historyandqueershenanigans, @wordsinhaled (hi!), @chiron-crow, @merytsetesh, @ashes-of-chironides, and anyone else who wants to join in should consider themselves tagged! <3

[myneverendingemophase]

Hey, you.

You know what?

First thing first. Husk didn’t say SHIT about SA that Angel Dust lived through. If you listened with your EARS not with your ASS you would have known that.

Bella and I fucking discussed said series, so I know that she also sees Husk’s song as him trying to realistically support Angel Dust through relating to Angel’s own ADDICTIONS and them both SELLING THEIR SOULS TO FREAKS, they literally SING that part where they VOICE those addictions. If you listened closely, you would have known that.

He’s not saying that it’s Angel’s fault, he’s not blaming him. I really don’t fucking understand where do haters like you see that. And I’ve seen shit tons of some asshats victimblaming people, because apparently humanity rather do that than believe a victim(I fckng HATE that fact), but that’s not what we’re talking about right now. Even if the topic is very important.

Husk can’t help Angel right now. He can’t fight Valentino and he doesn’t know how to break the contract, so he’s offering support. Realistic. Without sugarcoating, because Angel doesn’t need someone to say that ‘things ain’t so bad’ or ‘things will get better’. Also Husk literally said in the beginning that Angel is right, the situation he’s in is clustershit. Fuck’s sake, sometimes it feels like we and haters are watching different shows.

Second thing. FUCK YOU. You don’t fucking know her and make a post under a MEME she draw that she supports ACTUAL PEOPLE ACTUALLY DYING?? What’s your fucking problem?! Oh! Let me guess! You just made some shit up because APPARENTLY you don’t know that people usually don’t watch creator’s every step like some creepy stalkers.

I’ve made a post long time ago when some people like you started harassing THSC artists because it’s creator did some shit and I think I need to repeat that.

LIKING SOMETHING DOES NOT EQUALS SUPPORTING EVERY SHITTY STATEMENT ITS CREATOR SAID OR SHITTY THING ITS CREATOR DID. I’m surprised that I SHOULD SAY THAT AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.

I’ve seen SA survivors supporting the show and saying that they feel seen. I’ve seen POC people supporting the show and someone even explaining different types of Voodoo and why it’s possible for Alastor to practice Louisiana Voodoo. I don’t know, try asking the actual people from the groups of people who are offended by it as you claim(I’m not saying that every single one liked it, but the ones who didn’t like the parts made actual criticism, pointing out what was wrong in their opinion and why, not bitching under someone’s art like you do :) ). Otherwise it looks like you know better what’s offending them that they do. That’s fucking condescending. I guess you just outed yourself to a lot of people :)

Is Vivienne perfect? Eh, no obviously?? Is HH perfect? No?? It’s not?? It has lots of flaws of course and I hope it’s gonna improve. Does that mean that Vivienne deserves THAT amount of hate(and almost every thing that I’ve seen is HATE not CRITICISM) for every thing that she did/people assumed that she did and her fans are horrible people? The fuck? Also no??

So what do we have here? Some asshole who seemingly decided to make an account just to harass people. You make up SHIT about Bella and say that she’s a horrible person for a SHOW THAT YOU DONT LIKE. YOU DONT EVEN FUCKING KNOW HER. And you still said horrible things about your ASSUMPTIONS of what she sUpPoRtS. You know what? YOUR FUCKING TAXES FUND THE GENOCIDE YOU MENTIONED BECAUSE YOUR GOVERNMENT SUPPORTS IT NEWS FLASH. Does that mean that you support it? NO IT DOESNT! YOU CANT CONTROL OTHER PEOPLE OBVIOUSLY!

You attacked Bella, who is an amazing and very kind person and made up some shit about her. And I know that she doesn’t support any horrible thing you mentioned because I ACTUALLY FUCKING KNOW HER.

In conclusion, FUCK YOU GO LICK A TREE YOU LYING DICKHEADED—

◾ This expression looks so freaking hilarious, I had to draw it—

◾Inspiration XD (@mintaikcorpse):

[reservoirreputation]

My Journey to Brain-rot, or It Took Me Three Views to “Get” Reservoir Dogs.

Similar to my main blog, where I described my tale as a Supernatural fan, first casual then wanting something more, something a lot gayer, only to be delighted that the answer’s been under my nose the whole time. Very similar story.

I’m going to recap from memory my first three viewings of the 1992 classic. So:

1st viewing: I was probably 12. Pretty sure I’d rented it from Blockbuster. Yes, this was in the 2000’s, no, I don’t expect you to believe me. Not the watching violent movies at twelve part, but the whole “you know what a Blockbuster is?” Point being, I really liked Kill Bill, and figured this would be no different. Problem is, I’m terrible with names. Like, can’t name a relative of mine if we’re not that close, even if Mom’s told me five minutes ago. How do you think I fared with a movie of white guys dressed the same way with similar dialogue? Not well, and I wasn’t impressed. Promptly forgot about the movie, its plot, its characters, its twist, all of it.

In the years that followed, and having enjoyed the likes of Pulp Fiction and Inglorious Bastards, I decide, at about 17? I wanna say? to give Reservoir Dogs another shot. 

2nd viewing: It’s like my mind’s been wiped, have no recollection of this fucking film. Had zero expectations, but there was one important difference at this time, and where it crosses over with my experience with Supernatural: I’d been craving some gay shit. That good ol’ MLM. Only at this point, I had zero tools in my media literacy belt, and had to go by gut feeling. You know, when you watch or read something, and you get that funny feeling in your gut that it’s really quite queer, and you’re not instantly sure if you’re into it. That was me when I saw Tim Roth screaming his head off and the older guy holding his hand, comforting him. Literally nothing else in the movie held my interest the way these two’s bullshit did. Every moment they weren’t on screen being the definition of hurt/comfort was like losing the heart of the story.

Too long later, to March of this year, at 25 years old. I see someone who’s movie reactions I like has also reacted to this film, and I instantly think ‘oh yeah, the one where those two characters are really homoerotic’. Watch this 40 minute reaction, and am stunned at how it’s not only still really fucking gay, but queerer than I remembered. Late at night, done with the video, and I’m like “I need to rewatch this movie now.”

3rd viewing: glued to my seat, absolutely enthralled with this fucking movie. The brain-rot has properly set in. This is my life now. I wonder how more people don’t talk about this movie as the queer masterpiece that it is. I’m cursed with the sight, and cannot express what haunts me. A week later, I realize, to both my delight and horror, that Supernatural has done an episode of this in season 12. I mean, straight up, a Tarantino tribute to specifically Reservoir Dogs, that’s also known as one of the best Destiel episodes of the series, and blatantly foreshadows characters betraying their love interest in the season finale. Listen, I didn’t start writing SPN meta until season 13, I never even considered that the source material was equally as gay. Just, this revelation both fascinated and confounded me, but provided me with another comfort; I’m not alone in recognizing how ridiculously queer this movie is, and that professional writers got paid to make what amounts to crossover fanfiction.

So, to go from being unimpressed at 12 to obsessed at 25. God, I love movies.

Reservoir Dogs is truly one of those movies that is more rewarding the more you watch it. Makes me wish there were more videos of people online rewatching movies with a twist, or to be able to take a deeper dive into a story and not be lost from trying to absorb all the details and characters and plot-points for the first time.

That's it. Now I'm stuck here with maybe a dozen fanfic plots in my noggin. I shall never know peace.

[tiffanylamps]

Beyond Evil: the Romantic Rain trope

Hello! Guess who's back on their shit again... Me!

When I first finished watching Beyond Evil/ 괴물 on 5/02/22 (yes, I know, it surprised me too during the last episode), I immediately started writing an essay about the show's queer subtext/queer coding. The essay is an analysis of episodes 1-8... and it's ridiculously long and unfinished (and probably never will be finished). This post includes the opening parts. I like them, so I have decided to share them. These opening thoughts surround the rain scene in episode two and how it is romantic in tone.

[I do have another bit analysing Dong Sik's queer coding, which I might post one day.] So, yeah, this is a part of a larger piece. So, that's why it feels a bit incomplete.

A disclaimer: ~ I use the word ‘queer’, a lot. But this is not meant as a derogatory/offensive term. But instead, is used by its reclaimed meaning: a generalised term to refer to someone who isn’t heterosexual.Also, all spellings of characters’ names are taken from AsianWiki.

(my very gloomy-looking screenshots)

Enjoy!

“Why are you doing this to me? Why?” Han Joo Won talking to Lee Dong Sik (episode 5).

Have you ever asked someone a question that they refuse to answer? Instead of giving you the information you want, they dance around it, jump to conclusions, and add the right amount of distraction; until you can’t even remember what you asked in the first place. This is a recurrence of Beyond Evil’s main characters Lee Dong Sik and Han Joo Won. Their conversations and arguments often spark one of them to ask a question that the other does not answer. 

This happens numerous times throughout the first half of the series. Typically, these questions are of the following nature:

“Just what about me interests you so much?” Lee Dong Sik, episode 2

“It’s a dangerous thing to become attached to someone. Don’t you think?”  Lee Dong Sik, episode 4

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Lee Dong Sik, episode 5

(English translations taken from Netflix)

Oftentimes these questions are more for the audience to ponder on, rather than for the characters to outright answer. This is why they aren’t answered with verbal confirmation but instead, with the character’s actions. 

In the thriller, crime, and mystery genres, it is usual to have a protagonist investigate and chase our anti-hero/sympathetic villain. Beyond Evil (otherwise known as Monster/ 괴물) uses this narrative trope as the basis of its storytelling: one hotshot young guy comes from the big city to investigate an older seemingly unhinged man of a crime he may or may not have committed. But over time, as the protagonist learns more, we get to see the shades of ambiguity that are bursting at the seams.  Furthermore, both characters will be forever changed because of their relationship and the events that follow.

One element that makes Beyond Evil stand out from others within the same genre is that this story isn’t really about a small hometown murder. It uses the murders within this rural area as a canvas in which to tell the real story: love. One way this is proven is that the story focuses on the victims and their friends and families, and the overall community, instead of the killer(s). 

Beyond Evil explores and showcases the Ancient Greeks’ philosophy of the seven kinds of love:

Eros: romantic love; passionate, lustful, the want for sexual intimacy  Philia: friendship; affectionate, platonic, sweet and equal Storge: familial; strong bonds, kin-ship, unconditional Agape: altruism; empathy, selflessness, love for worldly experiences Ludus: new love; non-committal, flirtatious, playful Pragma: committed love; long-term relationships, companionship, maturity Philautia: self-love; self-esteem, self-worth, a necessity

(information source: https://www.wellandgood.com/greek-words-for-love/)

It is a story highlighting the importance of love: all the different kinds of love we encounter in our lives; how we are affected by them; what it looks like to live without love; including, when it's time to accept love and when it's time to let it go. But most importantly, sometimes, you can find love in the most unexpected place. 

[But before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s sprinkle some background information and analyse the first half (the first act, if you will) of Beyond Evil (episodes 1-8) and look at how Joo Won ended up broken-hearted in Dong Sik’s front garden.] Redacted for this post.

ii

On the first watch-through of this show, the audience is told the story predominantly through Joo Won’s gaze; which is biassed and trifled with unreliable narration. Through his perspective, we are toyed with and encouraged to constantly doubt the other characters. The show expertly uses Alfred Hitchcock’s film theory Pure Cinematics for instilling doubt, harnessing the power of the editing process to define the visual narrative. In other words, the show creators displayed a key understanding of how the narrative changes with context. 

The best example of this is the butcher shop sequence on the night of Kang Min Jeong's disappearance. We are first introduced to the sequence from Joo Won’s perspective: all of Dong Sik’s actions are awkward and suspicious, and we over-analyse his movements and actions/inactions to come to the conclusion that he’s done something. Then later on in the show, we revisit this sequence from Dong Sik’s perspective and yes, he has done something but not what we were led to believe. All of his awkward and suspicious behaviour becomes a painful and morally grey experience, where the audience feels great sympathy for him. 

The context defines the narrative. Without the full context, we do not get the full story. 

And only with the full context, can we look past the structure of the piece and unveil the answers to the questions that are asked... we reveal the truth.

Whilst rewatching the show, the viewing experience is completely different. All the pieces are already fitted into place, so I spent less time trying to decipher and instead, leisurely trying to digest. The experience is nowhere near as suspenseful but far more gut-wrenching. This is because the viewer already has the full story - the full context - everyone’s actions and inactions are accounted for: we know why x was acting sketchy in episode y because of what they did 20 years ago, and so on. 

When everyone’s actions are accounted for it is a lot easier to follow the story from Dong Sik’s perspective. We see the injustices that innocent people go through more harshly, we also see the cruelty of the guilty from the get-go. We are able to focus on the smaller details of people’s relationships, instead of thinking about the big picture. We are also able to take the time to truly understand the visual language the creators are showing us and how that shapes the narrative.

There is one sequence that comes to mind that is told purely from Joo Won’s perspective. There is no dialogue during this particular sequence of shots, so the audience is completely reliant on the visual language to understand what is being conveyed. This scene is greatly important for the show as a whole, as it gives us an uncensored look into Joo Won’s thoughts.  Without it, the narrative of the story would be different, as it adds context to Joo Won’s actions later on in the series. That scene is from episode two. 

iii

Joo Won and Dong Sik are on patrol, still getting used to each other as partners. One) because their personalities clash and two) because Joo Won is actively investigating Dong Sik for murder, which is just hanging there between them. They stop their patrol to help a disabled young adult who is lost in the rain. Dong Sik takes charge of the situation because he is better equipped at interacting with disabled people and the people of Manyang (and the wider Munju area) as a whole. This scene is one of the most important as it is an untainted humanisation of Dong Sik’s character, giving the audience (and Joo Won) a first glimpse into who Dong Sik really is.

Up until this point, Joo Won has only seen Dong Sik as a character: the killer; “the suspect” as Dong Sik later describes it. He vehemently dislikes him but still has a misguided interest in Dong Sik’s life. But this suddenly is challenged. Standing there in the rain, with no shoes on, smiling at the young man who is dancing, we get to see what Joo Won sees for the first time: kindness, humility, and beauty. 

It’s a glitch in the system.

This scene is slightly baffling. It poses the question of what the creators are truly trying to tell its audience. Is it that these two characters work best when they are unified and Joo Won’s assumptions of Dong Sik are wrong?... Well, yes ... but also, of course, hiding in plain sight is the subtext that Joo Won is gay/queer.

Which point takes paramount importance? It would seem that in this scene it’s the subtext. We see why this is so through the sequence of shots:

After the situation has been assessed by the pair and they have come to an agreement. Joo Won goes to the shop to get supplies to help with the young man and when he returns, we, the audience, are faced with a sequence of ever-closing in close-up shots. With each cut, the camera is showing us what Joo Won is choosing to focus on; where his eyes are gravitating. What is odd about the sequence is the information that is chosen to be shared: Dong Sik's feet, the umbrella, the smile: kindness, humility, beauty. 

 Joo Won returns to the pair and falters, he seems shocked into stillness. Which almost seems frivolous, as Joo Won is already privy to two-thirds of the information being presented. 

Joo Won already knew that Dong Sik had given his shoes to the young man. 

He knew about the umbrella because he is the one who gave it to Dong Sik to use. 

Then… they cut to a slow-motion close-up of Dong Sik’s smiling face, rain behind him and sunshine kissing his face. This last shot is the only piece of information we didn’t have before Joo Won went to the shop because it’s Joo Won’s thoughts at that moment. It’s no longer information that can be detailed in a police report but a deeply human moment. He has digested the information in front of him and this is his conclusion: beauty. 

This screams romantic undertones- especially with the knowledge that rain is often used as a romantic trope in visual media.  “​​Rain seems to go along with pivotal moments in characters' lives. It's implied that if you can ignore bad weather and brave the elements, then your big moment is even more real and intense and genuine. If you want to be deserving of your love, you won't care if it's raining, you will rush out into the rain to be with her or him-” tvtopes.org, Romantic Rain.

This trope is used often within Korean media, especially within the romance genres. So, it is a visual language that is common knowledge with Korean audiences. It is less likely to be seen within the crime and mystery genres, so it speaks volumes that the creators decided to include it.

Here are three examples of Korean dramas that use the Romantic Rain trope to show the protagonists have romantic feelings for one another:

Legend of the Blue Sea: offering an umbrella as protection/taking someone into your care Flower of Evil: Hee Sung allows himself to become soaked because of his feelings Goblin: slow motion shot of the characters passing one another in the rain

How Beyond Evil uses the same visuals within this scene:

Protection: Joo Won gives Dong Sik an umbrella and forensic shoe covers Soaked: Joo Won stops mid-run to stare at Dong Sik in the rain, seemingly awestruck/concerned Slow-motion: Joo Won’s perspective in the following sequence of close-ups is in slow motion

This scene is not the moment that Joo Won realises the extent of his feelings for Dong Sik. It is used as supporting evidence for the later conversations Joo Won has with Park Jung Je and Nam Sang Bae. In which he is asked by both of them why he cares so much about the cold case (in which Dong Sik is his suspect). To which, Joo Won replies the first time he’s asked:

“This is Lee Dong Sik’s–” 

He shouts this and has to stop himself, calming down to answer that he’s determined to solve the cold case because one of the victims is Lee Dong Sik’s sister. The key person in that answer is Lee Dong Sik. He is the reason Han Joo Won cares so deeply [and because of his own personal involvement] about a case that no police officer would try to solve: “-there isn’t a single cop in the country that would prioritise such a case.” [Park Jung-Je.]

Han Joo Won is a determined person. When he sets his mind to something, he will achieve it, even if it upsets other people or hurts himself. He’s a person who cares deeply about things and can become easily fixated. If the creators wanted us to see Joo Won’s actions deriving from a place of spite or a self-righteous need for the truth, they would never have used the Romantic Rain trope.

Following the scene in the rain, Joo Won chooses to not act upon what he felt then and instead, suppresses his feelings.  It makes sense. He’s experiencing attraction (eros) for his murder suspect; the man that he has been obsessing over; the man who only now is more than just a character to him. He is becoming a human and a very attractive one, at that. 

Joo Won doesn’t know what to do with that newfound knowledge. So… he starts to lose his cool. This is obviously aided by other factors…  

Without this scene, and those particular shots, Joo Won’s intense interest in Dong Sik and his mental decline over the next two episodes wouldn’t make as much sense. When we take the queer subtext into consideration, it makes the puzzle pieces fit all that bit more snuggly. It gives us the knowledge that Joo Won has humanised Dong Sik in his mind, he likes what he sees and he doesn’t know how that fits around his rigid moral compass… and what Joo Won knows about himself because really this scene is more about Joo Won discovering himself than it is about Joo Won discovering Dong Sik.

---

Look how devastated he is. This man has literally stalked the very handsome man he's staring at, has taken pictures of him, has said pictures on his tablet/printed out, spends his days staring at these pictures whilst biting his lip- then gets all bent out of shape because he realises he's attracted to him?? Baffling.

That is it for that scene's analysis, I remember writing more but I must have deleted it at some point. Anyway, hope that was entertaining and easy to read (I have the tendency to ramble on/make grammatical errors haha).

See ya!

[angievores]

A Theory on how these two could Start or have Already Started or can call it as random rambling on vegas pete

They said they toned down Vegaspete story a lot. That means with problematic parts they may also have changed their starting point. So here's my thoughts on how their story may progress keeping novel aside.

"They say their relationship is painful but beautiful.its all consensual.Be ready when it happens. It's equally fun as the main cp. They are two puzzle pieces which fits together." Everything is said by cast or showmakers.

For me to be painful means at any cost they would want to be together but can't because of their external goals. They both has some deep pain inside which they will embrace in each other's presence. It's beautiful that means their love is going to be pure and very deep. Achieving all of this in a room from starting seems difficult in 6 episode.

For their first time to be consensual after getting captured,both should have at least certain amount of attraction for it to be impactful. The attraction from pete ( even if it's very slight,just physical nothing romantic)at least should exist before confinement for people to not call it stockholm Syndrome. Vegas we know could get it in a split second. Even if pete initiates just to buy some time, it would still be dubious and without any attraction, it's difficult to make it beautiful.

So what if they had a history ,not anything sexual but some important interaction, maybe something emotional where they saw an interesting side of each other. It's not impossible as they know each other for a long time. But that very very little spark is hushed down by them as it was impossible. For pete it was his boss and his boss enemy. For Vegas he is very much obsessed with kinn to focus on anything else and pete isn't of any strategic importance towards his goal.

Vegas keeps tabs on everything around kinn. He sent that lady assassin to check porshe even before his dad told him so. So he must have done similar on his all bodyguards. He may have found someone cute or handsome (you know whom) but not of very much importance to kinn. They changed kinn's type so why can't vegas type also. In the series every bodyguard belongs to kinn, just arm, pol, pete are assigned to khun. There doesn't seem to be any head bodyguard for khun. In fact pete, arm, big and porshe are his most trusted and of highest ranks. Vegas must keep all of them on check from time to time.

Vegas did found porshe handsome but it's not until kinn chocking porshe, he realized porshe importance. Then after his dad's order he has to focus on him. For whole second family and bodyguards to participate in friendly facade in ep 7 , it must be kan's order (getting porshe on there side is that important to them).

Now talk about vegas pete,This interaction is very odd in ep 4. (Very unlikely but what if he came for pete but got kinn and porshe luckily).The gesture of Vegas touching Pete's shoulder seems to be signify their relationship. It's same when pete played Vegas in special episode. In evry poster, trailer Vegas hands are on pete shoulder or chest or face. We all can see pete is very nervous or scared in his presence compared to others even when he wasn't spying. But why?? and what for??

He could sense Vegas evilness but he was unhinged in ep 7 when Vegas mutilated a body and was comfortable in working with him. So it's not just fear of authority.

He is scared Vegas would do something to him. Why? Did Vegas tried something on him in past? Like making some advances as in ep 6.

He is interested in him or is aware of Vegas intentions towards him (if they have such). But it's not anything deep and very little physical attraction or amusement that is insignificant to Vegas compared to his goal kinn.

Was he this excited bcz of porshe headbutt (a challenge) Or bcz that reminded him of something similar in the past. Or bcz this time porshe (a challenge)is kinn's weakness too? I wondered that bcz this still was present in a romantic mv and hand gestures represent him and pete. Why giving porshe related still when his romantic pairing is pete? (If there's such a twist as Vegas liked porshe bcz of pete, I'll die). Because Except this still, there's no solid proof that he follows porshe bcz he is personally interested in him. In fact it's all ambiguous , he is trying so hard bcz of dad, bcz of kinn Or both. He himself never said anything when porshe isn't around. They can easily change this ambiguous love triangle situation into vegas never liked porshe Or was interested in pete from beginning. This way it serves both the purposes in first half (vegas being second lead) and second half (vegas being crazy for pete)of series.

But pete is always blurred or not shown in porshe presence to Vegas. Maybe bcz even if pete somewhat interested him at some point,he chooses to completely ignore him as his main focus is kinn and pete would be a waste of time. (Novel spoiler-he is driven by revenge) or because they don't want to show us pete reaction now(because it's insignificant or because it'll be a huge spoiler).

This time, pete himself walked into Vegas vicinity. Was Vegas showing his intentions or caught on pete's feelings (if he has some). That "take care" was a warning that if you come more closer , you have no idea what I'll do to you. How would he know a condom will get such a reaction from pete? (Has he observed pete before). Pete was totally creeped out. He got the message very clear.Or has he seen or sensed this vegas before too?

pete has successfully caught his attention till this point. Vegas no longer wants to ignore him. Was Vegas thinking "you are very daring, even after so many warnings came this close". Vegas is in full mood to play with him. This interaction was very different from any novel interaction (although more creepy) Vegas didn't gave him any warning but played according to pete's lame excuse. Dropping him quietly to his room doesn't seem like Vegas (maybe gave him indirect warning or gave him food to confuse him more).

One more thing vegas doesn't leave a single opportunity to touch pete. While pete doesn't like or feels uncomfortable with any unfamiliar closeness or touches, especially from vegas. I did another post on this. He has a very strong sense of personal space.

Another reason is in their consume you trailer,vegas approaches pete first before observing him and instantly got obsessed at first touch while both were already bathing in red chrysanthemum (passionate love) and red wine (transformation). He plays with his chest (heart), before hurting him. While Pete's body reacts, his face observes. I don't know how to interpret it. Either after capturing he'll first play with him and then hurt him more Or if he hurts him just after capturing, now he's playing with him (in background of course)

If that's true then when he'll found this boy in his wardrobe one day,he won't let him go that easily. He would be presented with a golden opportunity where he can play with pete however he wants. vegas capture pete because he interests him (as his prey) rather than to just vent his emotions on him. That submerged spark will came floating and will turn into fire when they get unmasked in the room.

There's a single still hinted at Vegas torturing pete (electric taser one) &so far many stills are misleading, like kinn chocking porshe.(Have you any idea what could be misleading about it if it is) . If not for consume you trailer, there isn't single frame of them being together but they can't start their story abruptly, there needs to be significant hints dropped in background which will later show that their story was progressing and will make us coming back to these episodes.

Puzzle pieces that fit together.Those who are love starved can give tonnes of love upon receiving a drop. Vegas wants someone to see him and pete wants someone to take care of him, the guy is always tired taking care of others. Of course they'll later share deep emotional bonding .

Before you accuse me of being delusional,I myself also don't believe fully in it. I don't expect anything at this point. @secondtime20 it's because of your post that I got these thoughts in my mind. Anyway It's just a theory or possibility,and may seem like a ff but if they go by such a path, it'll somewhat solve their problematic start. Also explain their late start as being in same room will be just catalyst for their relationship. And it won't be totally out of context . There are ambiguous hints here and there. (Man if he needs to be obsessed with pete, do it from the very first episode). Also explain why they can't show much interaction between them in first half.

Another way is pete turns out as fcked up as Vegas. Will directly look into his eyes when unmasked. Will be the one initiating everything.

On a side note, very unlikely but what if he was serious here.

I know he was joking and it was foreshadowing future. But so far I have noticed they sometimes hide serious plot behind comedy. For example, khun smacking vegas for jealousy but was actually protecting his brother, actually khun's whole existence, pete having guts to plan search his boss room but was actually ordered by kinn(maybe), him acting oblivious to kinnporshe relationship, him acting idiot in hallway but founding vegas room. But it's still very unlikely of above pic being true.

[neteluvr-library]

NOOOOOOOO I CANT BELIEVE THE END IS HERE IM SO SAD 😭 andra bby i love MiM!!!! i remember you saying you were nervous because this was different from anything else you've written, but you did such an amazing job throughout the series. i loved the dynamic between neteyam and vi and it was really fun to watch their super mean, but also humorous relationship? as always, you do such an amazing job at characterizing neteyam and giving all of your characters depth!! and trauma. i feel like MiM was really angsty, but at the same time, it wasn't heartbreakingly angsty? like it was the right amount of angst but i think it really balanced well with the sharpness of neteyam and vi? like yes the situation was sad but you couldn't dwell on it too long because here comes neteyam/vi in another insult match and trying to compete HAHAHA and as much as i want to take sides, vi, i completely understand and see the gray area between neteyam and vi and i love how you continued to emphasize that through the series. this was a TRUE enemies to lovers, hella emphasis on the ENEMIES, and i love that so much because its such a good trope especially when its as dark as this one.

OKAY NOW ENOUGH OF THAT LET ME ACTUALLY GO READ ... chefs kiss to the coney island title 🤲 #coneyislandsupremacy

Mo’at’s beautiful, sagacious eyes that always felt like they could see through you, through deception and conceit, and get to the soul of problem, the inner core of your amalgamation of conflicting, earth-shattering emotions, covered by a crust of barely-there composure, ready to erupt with any slight friction of the tectonic plates of your heart.

BESTIEEEE!!!!! okay wow you are starting off so strong already. how the hell did you even come up with this sentence? this is literally amazing and i need to know how long it took you to write this. mo'at literally sees all 😭😭

You thought about his actions, about what drove them, about how, at the end of the day, they were the same driving forces that you acted on. 

Ohh, I really like that Vi realized this because I think in order for Neteyam and her to EVER get to a good place, then they have to both acknowledge and realize how they equally played a role in what happened. Like it's so much easier to point fingers, but pointing fingers does nothing but absolve people of their accountability?

...it had less to do with the boy and more to do with you, with how his dad reminded you of your own...

Hot girls have daddy issues 😍😍

No, the thought of one day being one with the boy who shone light through the broken cracks of your soul every day

THE VISUAL IMAGERY!!!

You thought that, by saying no, you could make your dad proud, you could make Jake proud… make him proud.

GODDAMIT!!!!! I have to say that Vi's reasoning is very noble and considerate of Neteyam. It would be such a waste for Vi to become tsakarem!!!! But like...did she at least explain her answer to Jake 😒 HAHAHAH I'm assuming no. Neteyam and Vi are the biggest and most lethal miscomunation trope ever 😭

O’i’en was right,

Moment of silence for O'i'en.

...luscious clearing he felt like he was reclaiming, like it could slowly be his… both of yours again. 

Neteyam ya'll have way too many unresolved issues to let one sex session make you feel hopeful 😤 But also, poor Neteyam HAHAAHAH (not really, I think he needs to grovel)

Edit: at least he knows this in the next paragraph AHAHAHAH

Angry and seething, as he was, he picked himself up from the floor...

OH LORD WHAT ARE WE ABOUT TO GET INTO FELSFEKJNGKBGKRD

....the need to hide your pain deep inside yourself, no matter how hard life was grinding you down, it was intrinsic to you in a way you would never be able to shake. 

NO because its always easier to mask your pain by doing things that are the complete opposite of how you feel.

You knew you shouldn’t be here. There were better, more important things for you to do. 

I'm gonna hire a therapist for Vi 😭 Why do I feel like Neteyam is going to come barging in and they're gonna have either a screaming match or a decent, honest conversation. Maybe both?

You had to say goodbye. You owed her a proper funeral. You owed her a goodbye.

RIP OARE😭❤️

“Sempu…”

“Shh, kid. It’s ok. You’re ok… we’re gonna be ok.”

AWWW OKAY I WAS WRONG!!! But this was really sweet ): I feel like Vi needs all the love she can get right now because she's literally suffering? I always love when your write sweet moments with Jake because it feels so healing.

After everything, everything that has happened, everything you’ve both done...

WHAT DOES HE EXPECT OMGGGGG

He thought about how broken you both were now that the the fall did come to its unsightly end, and how it left you both in pieces, in sharp shards that found each other’s flesh to dig into and lacerate, unable to stop yourself from falling apart around each other even at the bitter final act.

OKAY MIM IS LITERALLY YOUR BEST WRITING YET like i think all of your series have a lot of insight and interesting lessons and views on life and the world, right? and there's always been a very dreamy and romantic aspect to your writing and the way you describe feelings and thoughts. but it's like every other sentence in MiM sounds like something that came out of a poetry book or every other sentence has a really amazing synonym, simile, metaphor, etc. like the level of writing is unreal.

He deserved more than this.

I agree with Neteyam on this but also he needs to understand that Vi is grieving right now. Like yes, Neteyam is also grappling with the loss of the battle and everything else, but Vi is now processing everything that happened with Oare and the battle and Neteyam and herself

“I thought I was doing the right thing. A father protects. But I failed to recognise how that would affect you, how much the pressure I put on your shoulders, on Neteyam’s shoulders, would come to hurt you, to push you to this point. My words and my actions were what drove you both to the dark place you find yourselves in right now, and I’m sorry.”

WHO ELSE CLAPPPED?????? i will NEVER get over Jake owning up to his mistakes and holding himself accountable. its so sexy

We all make mistakes, and sometimes the mistakes hurt and they cut and they fester, sometimes they are big enough to take over your whole world and eclipse any light shining through. But… people deserve a second chance. 

I always love the lessons you write ❤️ Because even though they're being said in the context of fanfiction, everything you say is so applicable to real life.

Is this how you felt? This whole time… this is how you felt? So insignificant and small, so used… abandoned, angry and heartbroken… just how he felt. 

LMFAO DO YOU KNOW THAT MEME WHERE ITS LIKE "boys will take drugs and learn the same stuff that girls do at 12 years old (in regard to life, feelings, empathy" THAT JUST REMINDED ME OF NETEYAM RIGHT NOW LMFAO but also I'm glad BOTH of them are realizing things and being empathetic toward's each others respective feelings. like yeah Neteyam this is how Vi felt, NOW WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT

The not knowing, the self-doubt and guilt, the feeling like you were nothing more than a toy, ready to be outgrown, knowing you were disposable to someone you thought loved you… it was worse.

no bc this is so scary i hope i never go through this bc i wont survive

This he could do, and would, because he needed to, and he knew, deep down, you did, too.

AWWWWWWWWW what a sweetie pie ): <3 (i say as I have been mentally cursing at Neteyam this entire chapter)

he’s had than the reality he had to live through, ones in which you came to him, and let your guard down, one in which he got to comfort you instead of bring you pain, ones in which you were his and he was yours, one in which things were good, and pure, like you were. 

*VIOLENT SCREAMING* yeah i have this same fucking dream too LMFOOAAOAO except i have no one to run to

“Guess he knows I can take it.” 

VI IS EVERYTHING. HES JUST NETEYAM!!! he is so in love with her ): he looks at her and think's shes a literal goddess no one will ever compare to vi in his heart ): i LOVE A STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER YASSS!!!!! especially when they're a young female character like yes baby you strut into the world and you fucking own it and take it by the hands before anyone else can take it from underneath you

“I’m alone, too. I’m all alone. And I’m scared… of being alone. Of ending up alone. And I think you are, too. So maybe… maybe we can be alone together.”

IM GONNA FUCKING CRY STOP RIGHT NOW ANDRA

When you left, it broke something in me. 

ATAN 🤝 VI

being abandoned by neteyam

It was necessary, this moment that was long overdue, and although you were sorrowful of the fact it took losing so much for you to realise it, you were grateful that did come in the end. 

IM SO FUCKING HAPPY THEY FINALLY APOLOGIZED TO EACH OTHER!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR AGES they were such beautiful apologies. now KISS!!!!!! just kidding but i am so happy for them, it was a long time coming, but now they can stop reveling in the hurt and move onto a brighter, happier future filled with communication and healing

“Ah, that’s too bad… maybe one day. One day, you’ll beat me at this, and on that day, Vi, I will fall to my knees in eternal servitude.” 

THE BANTER BETWEEN THEM ):

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

AHHHHHH IM GONNA CRY FR I CANT BELEIVE ITS OKAY

honestly, i was really shocked that were was no smut included and this isn't how i thought the ending would go. like yeah you posted that they would end up together, but i thought they would like ACTUALLY ACTUALLY be together. you're always surprising me andra!!!! we have to expect the unexpected with you 🤪

With that being said, I am in no way disappointed with the ending. In fact, I really love it and how it deviated from a straightforward happy ending because like yeah, Neteyam and Vi have such a complex relationship with years of hurt, that I think it would have been unrealistic for them to be mated by the end of this chapter. The ending fits them a lot and acknowledges that Vi needed her own time to heal, which I love, because she really did need her own time to heal and they both needed to take things at a slow pace so they could eventually transition into a full relationship. They needed time to get to know each other again and learn who they've fully become as adults. And I feel like that is such an accurate portrayal of how relationships are in real life? Nothing is ever that simple, or black and white, and both people need to put in the time and effort to make things work. Love is a product of effort and understanding and Neteyam and Vi needed to work on those things to move forward.

I was so curious when you said there would be only two chapters left because i felt like there was still so many things unresolved and when you said that they would end up together, I WAS LIKE WTF HOW IS SHE GONNA ACCOMPLISH THIS????? technically, they did end up together, just not in the way that i imagined. but for story and writing purposes, you made a really smart choice by ending it the way you did. Iike logically it makes the most sense and i feel like it also speaks to how well you know your own characters.

I loved the ending scene, it was so fucking adorable and I love how you left it on a humourous, but hopeful note for the both of them. I can't wait to see where their relationship goes in their one shot. ❤️ I FEEL SO ATTACHED TO NETEYAM AND VI NOW ): I DONT WANT THEM TO GO 😭😭 okay ily andra you are so talented and thank you always for all you do for the fandom xxx

edit: i MEAN TO REBLOG THIS ON MY MAIN AHHHHHHHHH

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕄𝕪 ℂ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕

pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!reader

synopsis: In the wake of your separation, your mind is made as to the future of your rocky relationship with your once best friend, now best enemy, Neteyam.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death, confrontation, admission of feelings), strong language.

wc: 6.7k words

a/n: besties, it brings me sorrow to say that monster in me has come to an end, and i can only hope you enjoy and have enjoyed this story, that turned from a silly little fic about two people who hate/crave each other into so much more than i ever envisioned. i really struggled writing this chapter, and i hope i don't disappoint with the ending, and i hope you like it. what i can say, is that this is not the end for Neteyam and Vi, as I have at least one more oneshot in mind to showcase their ... progress (hehe). having smut in this chapter didn't feel right to me, but it doesn't mean it's not coming ;) pun intended.

as always, thank you so much for reading and engaging with my stories and with me, it means more than I could ever express into words. I love you besties, and i hope you stick around for a long time, because i will x

na'vi compendium: txepvi  - spark, oare - moon, nawm - great, tsakarem - tsa'hik in training, atokirina - seed of the tree of souls, sa'nok - mother, senpu - affectionate term for dad

lightly proof read, if you see something wrong, no you don't

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

Break my soul in two looking for you But you're right here

“Are you sure, ma ‘ite? You know we wouldn’t force you into anything, but… please think it through. Eywa’s vision was clear, and it showed you two together. Eywa is never wrong, you know this.”

You thought about it, barely able to look into Mo’at's beautiful, sagacious eyes that always felt like they could see through you, through deception and conceit, and get to the soul of problem, the inner core of your amalgamation of conflicting, earth-shattering emotions, covered by a crust of barely-there composure, ready to erupt with any slight friction of the tectonic plates of your heart. You thought about last night, about his words, that still rang in your ears in a muffled cacophony of sounds you were trying your hardest to drown out, that you were scared would end up drowning you, instead. 

“I loved you, Vi.I fucking loved you. You were everything to me. And you broke me.” 

“Even the smallest similarity killed me, reminded me how much I hate you, how much I want to, how much I don't. I've wanted to hate you so much, I tried so hard, but you were in every dream, in every fantasy, you haunted me my whole life."

You thought about his actions, about what drove them, about how, at the end of the day, they were the same driving forces that you acted on. Hurt. Betrayal. Jealousy. Fear. You thought about your actions. How poison crept beneath your skin and pooled in your heart and pumped it through your whole bloodstream, until it was all there was, until it blinded you, and how he started this, but you continued it. 

How his fault was indifference, and yours was madness that only he had the power to force out of you. You thought about his parents, and how his dad was now your dad, and how hard you fought for hearing the magic words: “we couldn’t have done it without you, kid”. Those words, and the “you’re welcome” that followed, became as necessary to you as the air you breathe. It may have started, this need to gain Jake’s approval, as a way to get a rise out of Neteyam, your best attempt at getting him to lash out at you, scream and yell, anything but the horrible silence he ordained you with, but in time, it had less to do with the boy and more to do with you, with how his dad reminded you of your own, how the words of praise and admiration made the ones you were used to, that you’d never hear again, echo through the your tent and through the forest, hidden in between the whistles and sonorous trills of birds, but never forgotten, not to you. 

You thought about his specious assumptions, and your words, and how, despite what you spat at him last night, they weren’t the whole truth. You did tell Jake that you didn’t want to mate with him, but not out of a lack of love or desire. No, the thought of one day being one with the boy who shone light through the broken cracks of your soul every day after your parents died, the boy who himself shone brighter than any star or sun or galaxy out there in the vast unknown, the boy who challenged you, and annoyed you, and loved you, and got you… it made you happy. It made butterflies flutter in your stomach and tingle, it made a fuzzy feeling gather in your brain and haze your mind until it was full of nothing but misty reveries, of a life beyond your wildest dreams and fantasies, of night flights and battles won together, of family found and family kept. 

You told Jake what you did because your dreams couldn’t happen while you were pushed to the side and made to undertake the duties of a Tsakarem, they couldn’t happen if you had to forsake your talents and an integral part of yourself. You thought that, by saying no, you could make your dad proud, you could make Jake proud… make him proud. You thought that by becoming the warrior you knew you could one day be, you could help him… take away some of the burden that you knew he was shouldering all by himself, that of the eldest son, the responsible child, the prodigy of the clan. More than anything, you wanted to be worthy of him and of his love. That’s why you said no. 

If I can't relate to you anymore Then who am I related to?

But now, it was all wrong. Your love, your hate, your history and your future, everything you’ve done, everything you should have done. It was all wrong. O’i’en was right, you realised. You held onto this broken relationship, this hopeless promise of a mateship, not because you wanted revenge, but because you wanted him… in any way you could get him. Your undefeated stubbornness, and the war that left too many collateral victims for you to ever be able to sleep at night again, led to scars in your soul no one could ever fix, that you’d have to mend yourself in time, that you never could while in an arrangement you should have declined to begin with. It was finally time… 

“I’m sure, ma Tsa’hik.”

…time to say goodbye to the child you knew - the one you were, the one he was, and the love that took too much of both of you, the one that turned to ashes in your mouth. 

And if this is the long haul How'd we get here so soon?

Neteyam’s confusion was normal for the dazed, quiet astir he found himself in after just waking up. What wasn’t normal, however, is how the confusion didn’t evaporate once the blurry haze disappeared, but only deepened with the sight, or lack thereof, awaiting him in the green, luscious clearing he felt like he was reclaiming, like it could slowly be his… both of yours again. He didn’t feel this way now, in this place that all of a sudden felt barren and cold, like an endless tundra, like his soul felt. You were gone. 

In a way, it was to be expected. In some way, Neteyam knew last night was a just a fluke, a heady combination of overflowing of intense emotions that were too intense to be contained, that had to be released in the only way you both knew how, in the only way that would push the hurt aside and leave only a mess of denial and pleasure in its wake, because an orgasm is always easier to deal with than the pain that came with the cathartic act of confession, of owning up to your mistakes, of talking through years of hurt pent up in your already broken soul. You both did what you did best, so Neteyam shouldn’t be surprised. And yet he was. 

He wasn’t only surprised, he realises. No, he would be happy if that was all he was. Neteyam was angry. Angry and seething, as he was, he picked himself up from the floor, the smell of you still imbedded in his nostrils, your cum still on him as he took in his naked form, before tightening his loincloth over his hips, a task easier said than done with the furious slashing of his tail whose movements he couldn’t control, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t know why such intense, overpowering anger was washing over him in tidal waves that were crushing his spirit under their monstrous weight, removing any reason from his mind, any sane reasoning or critical thinking. Why would he expect you to stay? You didn’t owe him anything, and this changed nothing. Nothing’s different. Neither of you admitted to anything, neither were able to admit to the fault either of you had in the unraveling of your relationship, in the actions that lead to death and hurt, to pain and loss. So why did it matter?

"The first step in solving any problem is recognising there is one, brother. The sooner you admit your feelings, the sooner you can work towards fixing your broken relationship."

Did I close my fist around something delicate? Did I shatter you?

With a sigh, Neteyam made his way back to the village, hoping that once he saw you, all the answers would come rushing back to him, would make it perfectly clear as to the path he was supposed to take, the words that he was supposed to utter, which puerile confessions were better said and which better left gathering dust in the back of the rooms of his heart. When he saw you, he'd finally know...

The day was in full swing in the clan, as people were making the final preparations for the funeral processions that would take place once eclipse settled in. Neteyam winced at the mourning families, at the bodies laid on the floor, covered in leaves and flowers, in the way they'd remain, until their flesh would return to Eywa, return to the nature from which they were born, allowing for growth that would keep the community going. One life ends, another begins. That saying was as much part of him as any organ, any physical aspect of him was. That saying was the dogma of the Omaticaya, of the Na'vi as a whole. He knew it by heart, its meaning coursed through his veins, and yet, it didn't lessen the blow. It didn't stop the hurt and the pain of having to watch it, having to know to some extent, he was at fault for it.

He expected to see you by now, lending a hand, despite the fact you should be taking it easy - you were never one for rule following, and although you got better in time, especially after your blooming relationship with O’i’en, who, despite it killing Neteyam to admit, was a positive influence in your life, some things about you would never change. The need to help, to be of use, to prove your worth, the need to feel like you’re making an effort, the need to hide your pain deep inside yourself, no matter how hard life was grinding you down, it was intrinsic to you in a way you would never be able to shake. And so Neteyam was sure he'd see you here. But he didn't. Instead, he saw his mother, spotting him from across the patch of forest they called home, eyeing him intently, with a blend of emotions Neteyam couldn't quite place. There was a heaviness to her, which he couldn't say he felt surprised about, but the twinge of fear and pity in her eyes, clearly directed at her eldest son, was something he didn't expect to see, and it scared him. Without any thought, he tracked towards his family's tent, unable to break his gaze from her, whose own fell to the floor, before turning away and entering the home, the flaps swinging closed behind her, the sudden chasm between them putting a knot in Neteyam's throat. Something was wrong. What else could be wrong?

And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island Wondering, "Where did my baby go?"

"Sa'nok, nawm sa'nok, Oel Ngati Kameie."

His grandmother's permanent serious expression was somehow even more pronounced now, and Neteyam noticed the signs of weariness and exhaustion clear on her beautiful face. Still, with her most arduous attempt at a smile, she brought her curled fingers to her forehead and extended them in her grandson's direction, before giving her daughter a pointed look.

"What's going on?"

"Ma 'itan..."

The knot in his throat descended until it hit his stomach with a heavy splash, the feeling of dread nearly knocking him over.

"Mother, just tell me. Just please... tell me."

"She... she broke the engagement, Neteyam. What happened between you?"

The fast times, the bright lights, the merry-go Sorry for not making you my centrefold

The river that the Omaticaya used as a source of water, and nourishment, and entertainment, and hygiene, the one that was normally bustling with life and energy, was barren and deserted as you settled on its bank, leg mindlessly swinging back and forth in the cold, clear water. You focused on the way it felt, the flawless flow, as it touched your skin and how every once in a while, fish would nibble at your feet, and you were almost relieved that at least some creatures still looked at you like you were still alive. You didn’t feel like it, not anymore.

You didn’t feel like a Na’vi, like a person, more like a mix of pure grief and guilt that managed to swallow you whole, leaving just a cloud of misery in its wake. You knew you shouldn’t be here. There were better, more important things for you to do. Help was needed in the village, you needed to prepare for the ceremony, you needed to claim your ikran, wash her, cover her in the leafy shroud she would spend the rest of time in. You had to say goodbye. You owed her a proper funeral. You owed her a goodbye. And yet, your body was paralysed on the edge of this river, staring into nothingness, trying to find a way to make your mind, which was simultaneously empty and full of thoughts, each one more horrifying then the next, work and move your muscles, do the thing it always does where adrenaline takes over and makes you focus, makes you try, makes you brave. There was nothing now, not anymore.

Your ears twitched as the shrubbery rustled with movement behind you, and your scrunched nose relaxed as it picked up Jake's scent. Your coiled, immobile tail found its place nestled next to your thighs, and when you turned your head, you noticed your surrogate father, the mighty Olo'eyktan, dressed in ceremonial garbs, the red, feathery vest contrasting nicely against his dark, azure skin. You couldn’t look in his inquisitive, shocked eyes, that knew you to your core, the eyes that always looked at you with love and care, with pride and encouragement, that now you assumed would be filled with sorrow and disappointment, so you settled on looking at his headpiece, the imposing, oval stone a much more manageable sight right now.

"Kid..."

His feet picked up pace, the same way your heart did in your chest, and you let out a shocked, pained gasp as he kneeled by your side and took your body into his, his hand finding the back of your head and you melted in his embrace, listening to his erratic heartbeat that mirrored yours, that you focused on like a hymn, that pulled you out of stupor, and you watched as your tears stained his chest, before your hands found his back, tightening your grip on him.

"Sempu..."

"Shh, kid. It's ok. You're ok... we're gonna be ok."

Over and over, lost again with no surprises Disappointments close your eyes And it gets colder and colder When the sun goes down

Neteyam was trying to calm himself as he was pacing the floor of his grandmother's tent, so much so the rugs were now matted and torn. He couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe you. After everything, everything that has happened, everything you've both done... after losing O'i'en and Oare, after destroying his relationship and all his plans for the future, after promising him you would never undo this arrangement, after threatening him you'd both get to burn together... after everything... how could you do this?

The anger was all-consuming as it was lighting his every nerve on fire, as it was playing back, in his mind, over and over, your relationship, your rise and fall, the fall that never seemed to end, no matter how hard he wished for it to end, no matter how hard he didn't. He thought about how broken you both were now that the the fall did come to its unsightly end, and how it left you both in pieces, in sharp shards that found each other's flesh to dig into and lacerate, unable to stop yourself from falling apart around each other even at the bitter final act. He thought about how he should be relieved. It was all he wanted, right? You out of his life. He could go back to the girl, the girl he didn't love, no matter how hard he tried, to the life he was once envisioning for himself. If you truly gave up on him, on your quest for revenge, he should be happy. All he's wanted for the past seven years was you out of his life, right? If all you had and all you were was over... if the nightmare was over, that meant a new dawn would be breaking soon. He should want it... right?

And maybe he would want it, maybe he would be happy about it, if only there wasn't this intense hatred blinding him to the truth of the matter, to the potential this new revelation opened up in his life. Because fuck, things changed. Things changed when Oare died, when his sister talked to him, things changed when you woke up, when he found you in the clearing... things changed when you slept together. He told you things, things he didn't even know he felt, but he did feel, as you came around him, as he saw your face writhing in pleasure when you left scratches down his back. He saw your eyes as they locked with his, and in your eyes, for just a moment, there were confessions that maybe you didn't speak out loud, but maybe you didn't have to.

And then... you just... left. You left him, abandoned him without a word, or an explanation, without as much as a disdained "good riddance, asshole". How could you have done this, after everything that's happened? After everything, Neteyam felt like he deserved at least that... or anything, but not this. Not the silence, not to be told about it by his mother. He deserved more than this.

His legs stilled in place and his stomach dropped as your words, the words you shouted at him yesterday kept rushing back to him like the river after a storm, unrelenting and powerful, ready to knock out everything in their wake.

“You keeping your mouth shut and going about your life as if your life wasn’t impermeably connected to mine was what fucking hurt me, Neteyam!"

"You saying nothing, doing nothing, acting like I didn’t exist, like I was just a toy you outgrew, that was worse than anything I could have ever fucking done to you, don’t you understand that?"

"Do you understand that you abandoned me? I was everything to you, and you just acted like that meant nothing at all."

Fuck.

Do you miss the rogue Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Jake." you tried to contain the cries, you did, but as he held you tightly to his chest, caressing your almost-dry braids and cooing patiently in your ear, it was harder than you could manage in the moment. The sobs were loud and coming out in broken hiccups, but you couldn't find it in you to care anymore, and he didn't seem to mind.

"I did this, we did this... Neteyam and I, this stupid war, all the fights, and the battles, and the never-ending need to make the other pay... and all for nothing! All for something he heard, something I said, that I-... If he just asked, I could have told him, I could have explained, I -... fuck!"

"Shh... hey, look at me, kid." His fingers found your chin, that he raised, despite your silent protests, and you were taken aback by his own tears falling down his face, by the unending depth of emotion behind his beautiful, yellow irises, that reminded you a little too much of his eldest son.

"This wasn't your fault, baby girl. It was mine."

"I love you, you know? So much. I look at you, and I see Neytiri, and I see myself. I see your parents, I see this clan, that I chose to be a part of, that I'm grateful for every day of my life. This clan, this family I have, that includes you, this planet... it saved me from myself, from a broken path. And the thought of losing you, losing any of it... it haunted my every dream, it turned into a recurring nightmare that kept me up at night. So I did the only thing I knew how - I tried to mould you into the soldiers I knew you needed to be in order to survive the humans and their poisoned reach, their need to hurt and kill."

You were in awe of his monologue, that you didn't want to - you couldn't - interrupt. You needed to hear this, and he needed to speak it, and so you waited, and listened, and he spoke and cried.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. A father protects. But I failed to recognise how that would affect you, how much the pressure I put on your shoulders, on Neteyam's shoulders, would come to hurt you, to push you to this point. My words and my actions were what drove you both to the dark place you find yourselves in right now, and I'm sorry."

You tightened your grip on him yet again, and let his words sink in you, pass through you. You let them succumb you, like the water in the lake as it took over your body, until you were submerged in it, until you were a different person as you emerged back into the world.

"I'm still learning, kid. We all are... We all make mistakes, and sometimes the mistakes hurt and they cut and they fester, sometimes they are big enough to take over your whole world and eclipse any light shining through. But... people deserve a second chance. People deserve to be able to make amends, to fight to show you they can do better. And I hope I'm one of those people. And I hope Neteyam is, too. I think you two were meant for each other - I saw it every day of your lives, from when you were best friends to best enemies, you completed each other, complemented each other. You made each other better... and worse. But maybe that shows that one of you can't exist without the other. That maybe the connection you have is more than anything life can throw at you, or that you can throw at each other. Maybe it's time for both of you to get a second chance."

Will you forgive my soul When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

Neteyam felt dizzy and nauseous, a sudden need to anchor himself onto the ground more necessary than he could ever remember feeling. Seven years worth of mistakes came rushing over him, ready to swallow him whole. Is this how you felt? This whole time... this is how you felt? So insignificant and small, so used... abandoned, angry and heartbroken... just how he felt. He made you feel this way, he made 12 year old Vi, the person he loved most in the world, feel this way. You left him, just as he left you, and now Neteyam finally could see, finally understood, that you were right. It was worse. The not knowing, the self-doubt and guilt, the feeling like you were nothing more than a toy, ready to be outgrown, knowing you were disposable to someone you thought loved you... it was worse.

He knew he had to find you, he had to, he had to talk to you, he had to tell you all the words his heart was begging him to shout of the top of his lungs, begging him to stop holding inside of it, for it was done keeping his secrets, for all it wanted was to feel again, to dream again... to love again. But it would have to wait. Just a little bit more, it would have to wait, because right now, Oare needed him. Oare would be put to her eternal rest today, and before the ceremony, she still needed to be cleaned and prepared, and while you might not feel capable of facing such a challenge right now, he could do this for you. This he could do, and would, because he needed to, and he knew, deep down, you did, too.

It took a long time, but near eclipse, the ikran was ready, and Neteyam felt a pang of hurt taking in her beauty, so ethereal and extraordinary, so much like the person who came to call her a sister. The person whose voice stopped Neteyam dead in his tracks and sent shivers down his spine.

“Neteyam…?” 

When he turned, and saw you, eyes puffy and red, filled with tears that weren’t the first you were shedding, based on the deep stains on your beautiful face, your chest heaving in panted, uneven breaths, released in soft, sorrowful sobs, he couldn’t help in himself, and with a few steps, he closed the distance between you and enveloped you in a tight, rib-cracking hug, one that, to his unending relief, you reciprocated immediately. 

“She’s dead, Neteyam… she’s really dead. I wasn’t there for her and now she’s dead.” You were sobbing in his chest, and he tried not to let the moment overwhelm him, this moment that felt more like dreams he’s had than the reality he had to live through, ones in which you came to him, and let your guard down, one in which he got to comfort you instead of bring you pain, ones in which you were his and he was yours, one in which things were good, and pure, like you were. 

Were you waiting at our old spot In the tree line, by the gold clock? Did I leave you hanging every single day?

“I’m surprised you’re still alive after today’s training. Dad’s not going easy on you, is he?” Neteyam looked at the little girl, laying on the ground, chest heaving, with eyes of steely determination he doesn’t think are like anything he’s ever see before, and how the tears that pooled in your eyes refused to drop, no matter how oversaturated they got. The tears just didn’t drop. He watched intently, determined to see the first one fall, determined to prove to himself that a girl who’s never trained before, a girl who just lost her parents, a girl who was not from a family of warriors, like his was, wouldn’t be able to withstand the pressure that his father never failed to put on him, and he now seemed intent on putting on you.

But much to his surprise, the tears never did fall. Instead, you got up, canines sunk in so deeply, the blood was pouring out of your lower lip - anything to stop the sob of pain he knew you wanted to let out. When you were on your feet again, you ran your hands over your bloodied knees, where the gashes were still spilling red liquid from when you fell off a cliff and scraped them, before shaking them dry. Neteyam watched in awe as the blood dripped from your fingers and into the ground, and all of a sudden, he was left behind, your footsteps echoing through the forest as you made your way back to the practice arena.

“Guess he knows I can take it.” 

Were you standing in the hallway with a big cake? Happy birthday Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray? A universe away

"Have you ever considered, Neteyam, that I'm not your enemy? I see you, waiting for me to fail, praying that your dad... and my dad, were wrong about me. Have you ever considered I could help? That if I do this, you don't have to be alone anymore?"

Neteyam's eyes went as wide as his mouth as you turned to face him once more, a soft smile on your face and crinkles around your eyes, that almost hid the soft tears that dropped down your cheeks and mingled with the blood as they reached your lips, and he felt his heart skip a beat, and then two, then three... What was happening to him?

"I'm alone, too. I'm all alone. And I'm scared... of being alone. Of ending up alone. And I think you are, too. So maybe... maybe we can be alone together."

Almost as if controlled by a disembodied presence, Neteyam's body started moving on its own accord until it reached you, until his hand was in your extended one, a peace symbol you both learnt from the once-human Olo'eyktan.

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

And when I got into the accident The sight that flashed before me was your face But when I walked up to the podium I think that I forgot to say your name

“I know… I’m so sorry, Vi.” His hands found your face, that he angled upwards to look into your eyes, holding you tightly, as if letting go meant letting go forever, and he couldn’t, not anymore, not until he told you what he needed to say. Your warm breath brought life into him as he inhaled it, and the courage given by the revelations that loomed over him his entire life, but were only manifested today, it was enough to speak the words nestled in his chest. 

“I’m so sorry… not just about Oare, but about everything. Vi, you were right. I did this, I started this. I should have… I should have trusted you, and confided in you. I should have given you the respect you deserved, the consideration of telling you what hurt me. You deserved the chance to explain your point of view, and I took that from you. What you said hurt me… what my dad said hurt me, but… you were my best friend, and I should have come to you. I should never have let you go, Vi. I’m so sorry.”

The words you've waited for what seemed like your whole life opened the dam of your soul, so carefully put together over so many years, now broken as it flooded your whole being with the full force of the sorrow and relief you've buried so deep, you didn't even know if you'd be able to ever make it surface again. But there it was, and his words brought your own forth, and with Jake's words in mind, with lessons of forgiveness and second chances learnt, you spoke, hoping he'd listen, hoping these words could undo at least some of the hurt you put the other through.

“I’m sorry, too. Teyam, I’m so sorry. After losing my parents, you, this family, were all I had. You were everything to me, and I came to rely on you so much, I couldn’t envision life without you. When you left, it broke something in me. It brought back feelings I was yet to deal with, ghosts that haunted me in the middle of the night, insecurities that continue to plague me to this day, fears of being unlovable, of being too much, of not being enough. I have always been too harsh, too guarded, I have always answered every problem with my fists first and my mind second. I’ve never known how to deal with grief, and so I did it in the only way I knew how - by turning it to anger. By making you the enemy. Every time your absence hurt, I needed my presence to hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being cruel, I’m sorry for taking it too far. I’m so sorry.” 

It was necessary, this moment that was long overdue, and although you were sorrowful of the fact it took losing so much for you to realise it, you were grateful that did come in the end. You were happy that, as you moved your head slightly to rest your ear against his chest, listening to his slowly-calming heartbeat, you felt safe again in his embrace while you finally took in your sister’s body, that he spent more time that you could even conceive getting her ready for the ceremony, when you didn't. You were grateful that you didn’t have to go through it by yourself, but with the one person who’s known Oare just as long as you, who’s loved her just as much as you loved Seze, the person who despite it all, knew you to your core - your biggest dreams, your biggest worries, your biggest fantasies, your biggest fears. And here it was, the biggest fear, manifested in front of you like a sleep-paralysis demon, that you had no choice but to brave through, but at least, right in this moment, you didn’t have to brave it alone. 

"Thank you. For taking care of her while I couldn't."

"You don't have to thank me. So many things might have changed between us, but this... this never will."

The ceremony was as hard on you as you expected, and by the end, you were so spent, both physically and emotionally, you knew you were in dire need of a nap, one that didn't end in the morning, and maybe not for a few good days. You looked over at Neteyam, who kept his distance, allowing you to be caged in between Lo'ak and Kiri's bodies while you mourned, but who helped you lower Oare into the tree nook where she would lay forever, shedding silent tears as he placed an atokirina on her, his hand finding your lower back as you both said your final goodbyes.

One day, you'd find another ikran. One day, you'll be able to fly again, and think of flying as the beautiful, freeing experience you have come to rely on for your sanity and happiness for the last 7 years. One day. But not today. And not for a long time. Oare made your life special, and worth living. Flying meant what it did to you in no small part because of her. Her thoughts, peaceful and serene, a nice balance to your own, kept you steady and focused in battled, mid flight. Not being able to return the favour would be something you'll have to deal with in time, but as you felt your entire family's presence surrounding you, enveloping you in love and care, as you felt Neteyam's lips make contact with the side of your head in a gesture you've known him capable of, just not with you, you knew, one day, you'll be okay again.

'Cause we were like the mall before the internet It was the one place to be The mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams

It was hot and humid in the forest as you trained - something about the deforestation brought about by the humans made the weather feel hotter, or so the human scientists told you. Either way, you felt as though you were inhaling water instead of air as you tried to catch your breath, the last drill always the hardest in the routine, always the one that broke most Na’vi who were unfortunate enough to be considered good enough to be trained directly by Toruk Makto himself… but not you. You did it, feeling fire in your lungs and sweat mingling with the blood spilling from various cuts from across your body and exacerbating the sting you felt prickling like needles throughout your whole being. Each muscle felt like it was being split in half, but you couldn’t care less. Not now, not when you were so close to beating Neteyam, not when victory would feel so sweet, not when you would be able to collapse in the dirt and pass out the moment it was over. 

In the few months since the ceremony, life was more about healing for you than it had ever been. It was a nice change of pace, the peace, one you haven’t known since your parents were still alive, and for the first time in your life, you felt… almost whole. There were still things missing of course - your parents, who you kept in thoughts and prayers every day, and your sister, who you swore Eywa reincarnated in your new ikran, whose thoughts reminded you too much of hers for it to be mere coincidence. 

“Vi, you better focus if you want to have any chance at beating me.”

You scoffed, and watched as he flew past you, not before sending a small wink your way, that made you lose your footing for a second, before quickly composing yourself and continuing.

“Don’t get cocky, mighty warrior.”

As far as your relationship with Neteyam went, it took a long while, but in time, you managed to mend what once seemed unmendable and earn each other’s trust once more. It was an uphill battle, most days, but you were grateful to have your best friend back, and to be able to finally meet the Neteyam everyone knew and loved, the one that was kind and considerate, funny and charming, helpful and loving to everyone around him. You were grateful that now, that included you, too. Your mateship was never brought up again, not to the family, that knew you needed this time, and was happy to let you have it. The possibility of it was no longer looming over you like a threat, but more like a golden aura of inevitability that you wouldn’t mind giving into, once the pieces were soldered back together through the mutual effort you were both willing to put into to rebuild both your broken hearts. One day he'd be yours and you'll be his… 

But not today, as he beat you, with just barely a split second to spare.

“Ah, that’s too bad… maybe one day. One day, you’ll beat me at this, and on that day, Vi, I will fall to my knees in eternal servitude.” 

When you kicked him in the shin, with all your might, and watched as he fell on his knees in front of you, you smirked, the grin wild and unwavering as you circled him, lifting his chin with your index finger and willing him to look in your eyes, mischievous and filled with amusement. 

“Hmm, look! You’re already on your knees, Teyam. Now… about the eternal servitude…”

You had no time to react as he grabbed your wrist in his hand and pulled you towards him, until you both fell on the ground, and when he kissed you, you melted, like you normally did in the few times it has happened since that first time, in your clearing. You promised you’d take it slow, but in your defence, you were only Na’vi, and this was, in fact, a lot slower than how you wanted to take it. 

You let his fingers roam your body and rejoiced at the way his lips were warm and skilled as they moved on yours, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before you parted them, allowing yourself the pleasure of this kiss, that meant so much to you, that you will never ever take for granted again. 

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.” 

You both laughed in the kiss, and with a mental note to yourself to apologise and behave tonight, you knew you were ready to take the next step in this new life, one which neither you or Neteyam would ever have to brave alone ever again. When your lips parted, and he got up from the ground with a soft groan, images of your childhood flashed before your eyes, warm and beautiful, once more, as he stretched out a hand for you. You took it gratefully, allowing him to help you rise, making a silent promise to yourself to commit to more risings than falls, for as long as you could help it.

"Friends?"

"Friends."

The sight that flashed before me was your face Over and over, when the sound goes down

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[captnjacksparrow]

So Naruto have so many rival dynamic. Those who stand out the most imo is Naruto vs Sasuke (of course), Kakashi vs Gai, Kakashi vs Obito, and Sakura vs Ino (this one is the silliest one but still rivalry nonetheless). What do you think the difference between them and why Naruto vs Sasuke is such a special "rivalry"?

Firstly, Are they (N and S) really Rivals????

Kakashi Vs Gai is the only Rivalry Bond that was written to be very realistic in this series. Gai challenges him to a duel and Kakashi obliges to it. They even have a count. Like 49-50.... Which means they almost had 100 encounters, which is hilarious. And it was all about their skills but nothing personal. Even in real life, Rivalry just works this way.

Naruto Vs Konohamaru... LOL,... Cute little bubbles, both of them. This is another similar dynamics to Kakashi Vs Gai. Where Konohamaru regularly challenges Naruto time to time and they have competition between them.

Kakashi Vs Obito's rivalry was unexplored and abandoned due to circumstances.

Sakura Vs Ino -- It was all for a Boy. I just don't consider them at all.

However, When it comes to Naruto and Sasuke... It really did gave me the vibe of Rivals in Part 1. Until it's not.

"They were always waiting for their Rivalry Battle!!"

Even we as an audience, were waiting for this contest because Sasuke has never seen the Battle between Naruto & Kiba, Naruto & Neji. And at this point, Naruto learned to do Rasengan as well.

So, it's quite interesting to see what happens to their Rivalry. But it was stopped by Kakashi, Fortunately.

And then Sasuke taunts Naruto again in VoTE about that Fight, that was interrupted.

To which Naruto was clearly regretful about it. "That wasn't the fight I wanted... Even Now"

Naruto, a boy who considers Sasuke as his Rival.... Never invited him for any duel unlike Lee, Gaara... But invited by Sasuke for a duel and he was clearly happy about it (well, Naruto didn't know that Sasuke was fuming inside).... Only to later say that, that was not the Fight I ever wanted.

Like what????

Well, if this wasn't the kind of fight he want to have with Sasuke, then what kind of fight he want anyway???

And the truth is...

Ignore Sakura and Kakashi's name from here. Because he agreed to go with Jiraiya only after Jiraiya taunted him that he will take Sasuke instead and teach him a better Jutsu than Chidori. And also, Sakura liking him means 'Giving him the same amount of attention as she gives for Sasuke'... Not in a Romantic sense.

LOL....

Naruto’s entire journey to become Stronger was solely fueled by Sasuke’s Existence. 

That's because,

And this important person to Naruto was VAGUELY MENTIONED IN BOLD TEXT AS TO WHO IT IS.

In Part 1, When Naruto was fighting Gaara because he took Sakura as his hostage,

"I don't know how far I can go or how much I can do, But.... I'm gonna give it everything I've Got!!'

He actually gave his everything and could make 4 Kage Bunshins.

However,

When Sasuke acknowledged that he is also his Precious Comrade and he can save Sakura and he was willing to act as a decoy even if it means death.... 

[[Click on the picture to see the outlined words]]

“To Protect someone Important.... Naruto becomes even Stronger”

And that someone is Sasuke without a doubt. And he could make 1000 Kage Bunshins just like that as  compared to just 4 Kage Bunshins he made earlier to save Sakura. This is very similar to the War Arc, where Sasuke motivated Naruto and N got all fired up.

Naruto wants to impress Sasuke by proving him that he is an Equal and also he is capable of protecting and saving Sasuke, the Princess... Oops... the Heroine.... Sorry..... His Friend from any Danger. This is not called Rivalry, not in any planet. This is simply called Love.