#this is a real thing that happened don’t try and convince me otherwise

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Welcome to Part 1! You guys have really warmed by heart with all the anticipation for this series, so thank you so much. I think it's going to be a fun ride. 😉

Song Inspo: “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John. And check out the full “Lost on You Playlist” here. There’s going to be lots of ‘80s music in this series!

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: SB being an entitled asshole (strap in for a lot of that), misogyny, bullying, and a “meet cute” of sorts…

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Siren Song

April 3, 1983

“Why the fuck wasn’t I consulted about this?” Soldier Boy groused.

Arthur Cohen, otherwise known as “The Legend,” released a heavy puff of his cigar within the relative privacy of his office. Vought afforded him a great deal of luxuries, at the cost of days like this.

So, he’d offered the supe one of his most coveted Cubans to pacify him. Because true to form, he was edging closer to a temper tantrum by the minute.

“This decision came from on high, my friend,” Arthur said, with a smile that hid his inner anxiousness. He tapped some ash off his cigar with a finger adorned by a gaudy gold ring. “Stan Edgar, Stillwell, even the entire board of directors signed off on this one.”

“I don’t give a fuck who bought into this PR bullshit,” Soldier Boy postured, crossing his arms across his dark green supe suit as he leaned into the plush seat adjacent to Arthur’s desk. He raised a solid boot on the edge of the newly polished mahogany, and then another, crossing them at the ankles. His cigar was balanced between his teeth in the corner of his mouth.

“The last thing we need,” he said, pausing to inhale. Then he took the cigar from his lips to blow out smoke in hot annoyance. “Is another broad on the team.”

Arthur inclined his head. “I understand your concerns.”

“Do you?” Soldier Boy snorted. “Countess is bitch enough to deal with, believe you me.”

Arthur sympathized. He knew Crimson Countess’s attitude well, but he supposed Soldier Boy had license to say so more than anyone else, considering she was his girlfriend.  

“Look, I could give you the numbers: expected profit margins, demographics, etcetera, but you don’t get paid to hear that from me,” Arthur said, with a magnanimous hand gesture and a fair bit of old Jewish charm. “I’m askin’ you to trust me. This girl’s good, okay? Not just a wig and a pair a’ tits. Nah, she’s got talent. Got a set of pipes on her too, my God.”

Soldier Boy gave him a sly look. 

“Not like that,” Arthur said. He shook his head in amusement, but not with the face of a man who hadn’t already thought about the girl’s pretty mouth. He stroked his chin.

“She’s…interesting. Well, you’ll see. If she brings up the ratings the way we hope, we’ll be able to relocate Swatto. Hopefully to Siberia. He’s a fucking PR nightmare waiting to happen.”

“All right, the guy’s a moron, but he’s fucking hilarious,” Soldier Boy said, smirking. “Like one of the three Stooges.”

Yeah. Arthur wondered if that homeless man Swatto almost split open in Central Park after a sneeze thought he was funny. 

“And her powers. Really?” Soldier Boy went on. His brows drew together then, as he frowned. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.

But he could see that Soldier Boy wasn’t convinced. The supe rolled his eyes and released another puff.

“Anyway. I’m fucking bored. What’s the next project?” he said. Arthur took an unfiltered breath and peeked at the files strewn across his desk.

“Well, Red Thunder is coming out this fall. We’re pretty sure it’s gonna be the blockbuster of the year,” he replied. “After that, we’ll see about writing a sequel.”

If it makes back the millions we spent in production going over budget, thanks to this asshole’s weekly benders, he mentally added.

“I don’t care about a bullshit sequel,” Soldier Boy said dismissively. “I want to do something new.”

“Something new,” Arthur intoned.

The supe raised a brow. Again, the cigar was balanced between his teeth.

“Yeah.”

He really must be bored, Arthur thought, if he actually wants to work.

“All right, let me brainstorm on that for ya,” Arthur said. “Matter of fact, tell you what. Give me ‘til the end of the week. In the meantime, we’ve got the security team monitoring the police scanner for potential saves.”

The supe didn’t look impressed. His brows furrowed, as if he was irritated that he didn’t get an immediate answer, but his slight nod signaled his agreement before he finally got up from his chair. His boots dragged off Arthur’s desk, knocking over a framed picture of his kids with it, and thudded heavily on the ground. He left the office thereafter.

Arthur heaved a breath of exasperation. He didn’t get paid enough for this shit. 

Fucking supes.

But he didn’t dare utter that thought out loud.

It was days before Ben finally crossed paths with the new girl. Not that he’d been giving the idea much thought.

After that day in Arthur’s office, Ben became engrossed in his own devices—namely one of the assistants, Joanna, his stylist, Angela, and Rachel, his maid, after Donna blew him off for dinner for the third night in a row. This time for some tree-hugging conservationist gala of some kind. 

Frigid bitch, he thought, shaking his head. 

On his way to the gym, he passed the T&T Twins gossiping. Just the sight of them irritated him. Tommy was a kiss-ass, and Tessa shared a brain cell with her brother, so she wasn’t saying much for her gender either. 

“Would you pick your tongue off the floor already! You’re so disgusting,” Tessa said, shoving her brother.

“What? She’s fucking hot,” Tommy snapped in defense. When they finally saw Ben coming, Tessa piped down with her attempt at a “demure” greeting.

Tommy came in hot with a too bright voice and a, “Hey, boss!”

Ben gave them a stoic nod, fully intending to blow past them.

“Have you met the new girl yet?” Tommy asked, with an unmistakable pop of his brows and indecent smile.

Ben nearly rolled his eyes. “No.”

And don’t fucking care, his tone conveyed. He continued on his way to the gym. Behind him, the twins gave each other a look, and a shrug.

When he got to the gym, Journey was playing overhead. Ben frowned as he saw Black Noir working out by himself. The young man wasn’t wearing his suit. Instead, he was bare-chested and running on a treadmill with a nearly 90-degree incline, sweat glistening on his skin. 

Fucking show off, Ben thought. 

Then there was Gunpowder, his young sidekick, practicing his archery. Ben went to him and slapped a hand on his back in greeting, none too gently. The teen stumbled, his arrow landing into the wall instead of the target. 

“Spot me at the bench, ey kid,” said Ben. “And grab me a towel while you’re at it.”

“Uh, sure,” Gunpowder replied, ducking his head as he went. Ben got settled at his usual bench press machine, sliding his back down the thin leather cushion. He waited for the kid to add on his fifty-pound weights on either side, until it reached two hundred pounds. That was just the warm-up. 

“You met the new girl yet?” Ben asked, after he began lifting his first rep. Gunpowder stood behind his head.  

“No, sir,” he said. “Haven’t seen her yet.”

“I haven’t either,” said Noir. He’d come over on his way to the showers, regaining his breath all the while. Ben gave him a sharp side-eye.

“Did I fucking ask you?” he said. 

Noir paused. He hid his frown behind a stoic front, since he didn’t have his mask to do it for him. He toweled off his face and chest as he left the gym. 

Ben shook his head, but he never broke stride on the bench press. 

You seemed to be mysterious. 

Barely anyone had seen you, and you hadn’t gone out of your way to ingratiate yourself with every member of the team, like Ben would’ve expected. Donna had set him in her sights on her very first day.

With fake demure in her hazel eyes, a flick of her long red hair over her shoulder, and a sultry smile, she’d let him take her hand and bring it up to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss. 

That same night, she’d accepted his invitation up to his suite and let him do some very ungentlemanly things. Ben smirked at the memory as he made his way down Vought Tower’s infinite hallways. She sure knew her way around some kinky shit.  

And she still did, the little minx. She’d just been putting the freeze on his balls lately, for whatever her reasons were this time. He didn’t pretend to care or keep track at this point. 

If people only knew what a royal pain Crimson Countess was.

Ben was only taken out of his thoughts when he heard someone singing in the breakroom, gently, but beautifully. He couldn’t make out the words though. He stopped and leaned inside the doorway, just to see who it was. It was early enough in the morning that he was surprised anyone but him was awake.

You were standing there at the counter, making some coffee from the percolator. Soft and dulcet notes fell from your lips in some kind of lullaby. Quirking a brow, the oddness of it managed to draw Ben’s steps into the kitchen. You were wearing a leather supe suit that molded to your every curve, not unlike Donna’s, except yours was black with violet trim lines.

You eventually noticed him with a smile.

“Good morning, sir.”

Ben gave you a charming grin, blatantly eying you from breast to toe before he noted that the coffee had finished percolating. 

"Hey there, sweetheart,” he said. “Pour me a cup, would ya?" 

You did so, and he admired the graceful movements of your hands, and the sweet sound of your voice as you continue to hum to yourself. 

"You're a little crooner, aren't you?" he asked, taking the plain white coffee mug from you. 

When your hand brushed his, he felt it.

Your power.

It threatened to overtake him, drawing you into him like the crash and current of a tidal wave, where he couldn’t help but be pulled undertow. There in that darkness, he craved your warmth as well as your body. The thought, the need gripped him at his core… 

He wanted you to devour him, body and soul.

And he finally registered that your eyes were glowing violet, along with your knowing smile. 

Then you blinked. The violet haze was gone, along with your hold on his mind. 

You went back to sipping your coffee as if nothing had just happened. Ben faltered, mentally and physically as he was forced to grip the counter. He even had to catch his breath as his mind reeled from the loss of connection. 

He covered his unbalance with a steely, angry frown. What the fuck just fucking happened?

He looked at you harder than before, drawing himself to his full height and towering over you. Still, you didn’t seem all that intimidated.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled.

Your knowing, easy smile remained. 

“Nothing,” you replied. “Just a little smoke.”

Ben’s eyes widened.

“Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

How the hell had you heard about that?

He quirked a brow, but you just sipped your coffee with a gentle slurp. Your gaze moved away from him as you went to the fridge to take out a carton of eggs.

“Want some breakfast? I’m thinking of making some eggs, sunny side up,” you said.

Ben’s hand clenched at his side, but then, he forced himself to relax. Or at least, to look relaxed. You had some fucking audacity to try toying with him…but he had to admit, you were something new.

Interesting.

“What’s your name?” he asked, in a tone that demanded.

“Sirena,” you answered. Your superhero name, which he’d already known when Stan Edgar told him about you a week ago.

Ben’s frown deepened, but he reminded himself to retain some charm. He took your chin between his fingers. His grip was light, but his green eyes were intense, and focused on you. 

“No. Your real name, sweetheart,” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

You blinked, but you obliged him with your name, and a smile that edged at flirtation.

“What’s yours?” you returned.

He had to smirk. He knew you knew full well who he was.

“Call me Ben,” he said.

Three Days Ago…

You tried not to be completely overwhelmed by the sight of this huge tower as you pulled your suitcase behind you. Vought-American was an institution of superhero production, and Payback was the face of it all. The absolute pinnacle.

I still can’t believe they chose me, you thought, but you tried not to let that show. You needed to make it seem like you knew what you were doing. You belonged here, and you were seizing this chance.

Madelyn Stillwell, the head of Superhero Public Relations, personally greeted you at the gate and showed you up to your room. However, you’d barely gotten a chance to step inside and look around before her pager went off. She wore a certain smile when she saw the number on the screen. She tossed a strand of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and glanced up at you.

“Sorry, sweetie. I have an appointment to get to, but the directory is there on your desk if you need anything. Feel free to get comfortable,” she said, gesturing at you with her pager in hand. “I’ll be back in an hour or so to give you a tour of the building.”

“Okay, thank you so—”

The door closed behind her before you could even finish your sentence. That deflated you a little, but you tried not to let that small exchange bring you down. Your apartment was huge. Or at least, it was much bigger than the shoebox you left in the Village, let alone the Brooklyn brownstone you grew up in, sharing with two other families on each floor.

You hefted your suitcase onto the bed and began to unpack your clothes, makeup, and toiletries. 

You also took out the only framed picture you had—one that housed your parents and your older brother Chris. You were both grown already, but in this picture, you were barely twelve years old. That little girl didn’t know that her entire world was about to change, when her powers manifested for the first time. 

That thought did succeed in dimming your mood for a moment, but you sighed and set the frame down on your new dresser. You’d have to remember to call Chris. His son was turning four years old in a few weeks. 

Though your attention shifted to a black shape in the corner of your eye. It was a garment bag hanging on the closet door. You went over and unzipped it, revealing your new super suit. It was all black leather and violet accent lines down the sides, along the collar, and down between the breasts in a V-shape. It was strategic to accentuate curves and bust. 

You whistled lowly. It was beautiful, but Jesus did it look tight. 

“Wow,” you remarked, trying out the zipper up and down. “They really like their leather, huh?”

Still, you itched to try it on. After a few minutes of struggling and wiggling, you managed to get into the suit. They’d taken exact measurements, so it did look good. You felt like a new person…a superhero.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. But then, you forced the smile off your face and shook your head, schooling your expression into something less doe-eyed and pathetic. More in control.

There you are, Sirena, you thought. You had long ago trained yourself with that enigmatic look. You knew how it felt on your face. The easiest way for you to get what you wanted in this world, the way you’d gotten this far, was with this exact face.

Only show them what you want them to see.   

Almost two hours later, you’d finished unpacking your belongings and explored every corner of your new beautiful apartment, but still, Miss Stillwell wasn’t back yet.

You checked your watch and hummed to yourself. Your curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to leave your apartment and explore the tower by yourself. You took off the suit as well, so you could make your way around more anonymously. You were sure no one really knew who you were yet. 

Your theory was proven true when you walked through the halls, passing Vought employees without even a blink in your direction. That was okay though. Soon enough, all these people would know your face, as well as your name. 

You reached one of the top floors, where you thought you remembered The Legend’s office was supposed to be (according to the directory). Maybe you could meet him and get a jump start on your schedule.

You stopped short, however, when an office door slid open. Out came a slightly disheveled Miss Stillwell. Her blouse was hastily tucked into her gray pencil skirt, and strands of her blonde hair were a bit frizzy as they brushed her shoulders, as if she’d combed them down with her fingers. You plastered yourself to a wall around the corner, only peeking around after she passed by.

Your brows popped up incredulously when you read the name plate beside the door she just came out of.

Stan Edgar…holy shit. His signature was on my contract!

Along with Arthur Cohen, or The Legend, as Stillwell had told you when she welcomed you in. He was the Senior Vice President of Hero Management, so who the hell was Stan?

Well, whoever he was, he was giving it to the head of PR.

Okay then. You shook your head and continued on your way. At the end of the hall, you finally found the right office. You were about to open the door, when you heard male voices coming from inside—one older and dry, and the other deep and strong.

You reached out with your awareness and allowed your powers to engage, likely making your eyes glow with a violet hue.

Sure enough, you sensed two men in the room. And as the voices raised, you recognized one of them. It was unmistakable; you’d been taking the time to binge all of his movies for the past month, ever since you auditioned to get into Payback.

Soldier Boy. 

A smile spread across your face. For a moment, you were incredibly excited…until you actually heard what he was saying.

“The last thing we need is another broad on the team.”

Your mouth fell open in shock as your brows drew together. You carefully pressed yourself to the door and kept listening.

“And her powers. Really?” he said. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”

“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.

You glared at the door furiously, as if you could burn lasers out of your eyes. You crossed your arms, but you breathed evenly as you strived to keep your emotions contained. 

Control, you reminded yourself. With another deep breath, you managed to let go of your ire, but the more you listened to the conversation, the more impossible that became. You turned away from the door and made clipped strides down the hall.

You knew you had to tread carefully here. You’d heard some of the real stories about Payback, because you’d taken the time to listen. You weren’t about to enter Vought Tower without having some idea of what you were getting into, and you knew you’d have to prove yourself as the rookie on the team. You just hadn’t expected their leader to be such a chauvinistic asshole. 

Though inwardly, you snorted. Well, the guy is from the ‘40s. Best generation, indeed.

You rolled your shoulders and shook it away, like water off your proverbial feathers. Your mouth set in a firm line as you held your head high.

The game begins, you thought.

For the next few days, you watched. You studied each member of your new “team” as you encountered them, and you quickly realized that this team wasn’t much of one. 

They looked out for themselves, and bickered amongst themselves, in the case of the TNT Twins. Crimson Countess had given you a lovely, polite face that still somehow mocked you when she walked away, along with the bounce of her red hair. 

Your powers didn’t allow you to sense or read women, but you recognized a diva when you saw one.

Clearly, she was used to being the woman on top, especially as Soldier Boy’s girlfriend. You wanted to roll your eyes at the thought. From what you’d heard (and the masculine cologne you smelled on Arthur’s assistant Joanna yesterday), Soldier Boy got around. His relationship with Countess was either very open, or it was well-crafted PR.

You had another growing, unsettling thought. The more information you gathered just by observing the team, the more you had a hard time believing that you were ever going to fit in around here. 

It was only your third day in the Tower though, you reminded yourself, as you got dressed for the day in your suit. That kind of negativity wouldn’t serve you here. 

So you left your apartment in search of coffee and breakfast at the breakroom and lounge area, exclusive to the team. You supposed these guys were either late sleepers, or they got their food brought to them. You were relieved to find the room empty, and you let out a deep breath.

Remember why you’re here, you thought. It’s not about you. 

It had never been about you. 

You rummaged through the cupboards in search of the one thing that would perk you up—good coffee. You found it near the top shelf and began to prep the coffee maker. You hummed to yourself while your hands moved on autopilot. The tune strengthened, deepening and then sweetening on higher trills. 

Suddenly, your spine prickled. Your mind buzzed faintly with awareness as you sensed a presence.

It was familiar and overwhelmingly male, with heavy, confident steps coming down the hall. You tilted your head and frowned. 

Soldier Boy, that asshole. 

But then, your lips curved upwards. This could be fun. 

When Soldier Boy walked into the breakroom, he noticed you. You pretended not to realize he was there, but you felt the heat of his gaze roaming over your body. You wanted to sigh. Predictable.

Right then, you made a quiet, firm decision. Today, this man was going to learn your name. And he wasn’t going to forget it. 

You turned to him with a smile when he approached—the most pleasant one you could manage.

“Good morning, sir.”

AN: Game, set, match. 😘💚 As many of you know, this story is expanding on this Soldier Boy imagine, which I wrote almost a year ago now. In the back of my mind though, I always thought this idea could be more someday.

So please let me know what you thought of Part 1! I'm so excited for you guys to see what's coming up next...

Next Time:

“Countess, I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”   

You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.

“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”

The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[prying-pandora666]

I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but I’ll do my best.

If other fans online have convinced you to see the gentle, optimistic, empathetic, fun loving, whimsical, forgiving, wise beyond his years genocide survivor, as a sexist, racist, xenophobic, abusive, pro-colonization, sexual assault perpetrator who doesn’t care about anyone else and doesn’t understand trauma…

You have been LIED TO.

Please just think for a moment!

ATLA was banned in China from the beginning for a reason. Because they didn’t want anyone empathizing with a character based on Tibetan monks. Why? Because they are an actual oppressed and persecuted minority IRL. Their religious leader lives in exile. Their second most important spiritual figure is the youngest political prisoner ever taken (and to this day no one knows if he’s alive or dead!). China has actual prison and labor camps. Tibetan people get sent there for “re-education”.

Can you please think about what these “fans” are saying when they stomp all over this allegory in TLA and try to frame Aang as the oppressor?

Do you really think it’s appropriate or these people who call Aang all these horrible (and inaccurate) things are being in anyway fair when they call Aang “white coded”???

Even without the real world context, Aang is explicitly the only survivor of a genocide. The last of his people. He has lost more than anyone else in the entire franchise. There’s a reason he clings so hard to Appa.

Do you think it’s fair to compare a 12 year old misreading signals and trying to kiss a girl who already consensually kissed him before, and immediately backing off and giving her space when she says no, to rape?

Tweens and teens miscommunicating and trying to comfort each other with kisses, only to realize that’s not what their friend needed and immediately backing off is the same as having your body violently violated against your will? The same as having your “no” ignored?

How do you think this makes survivors feel? To see people use their experiences as a shield and cudgel for ship discourse? It certainly upsets me as someone who experienced intimate partner violence, let me tell you! And I know I’m not the only one.

And how is it in anyway feminist or pro-Katara to ignore her own agency and deep love she shows for Aang? Yes, that includes her own crush on him! It IS reciprocated!

Lastly, you don’t need to demonize Aang to ship whatever you want to ship. Please understand that the majority of these takes are bad faith and born out of bitterness and insecurity over a friggin FANON SHIP.

And none of it is necessary! You can ship whatever you want! You don’t need permission or excuses. You can just ship them! You can make your case for why you like another pairing better without misrepresenting what happened in the show and what these characters are like, let alone what they represent.

There’s already plenty to work with in the show as it is! Otherwise why bother?

I’m imploring fans taken in by persuasive and manipulative metas to please just think about it. Get off social media and rewatch the show for yourself thoughtfully.

It doesn’t need to be like this.

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

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Bed Chem - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut

wordcount: +3k (got carried aways, ops)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

My mind’s been trying to talk me out of this for days.

It’s just another Thursday night. Nothing special about it except the fact that, yet again, I’ve found myself driving to Lewis’s place, the city lights blurring into streaks as I try to remember why I agreed to this.

Because it’s supposed to be a one-time thing.

Hell, it was supposed to be over after that first night. But here I am, again.

A weekly occurrence. I can’t even remember how it happened—how the "no strings attached" turned into this. This pull.

He texted me this morning, just like he does every week. A simple, “Pasta night at mine?” Like it’s a casual thing.

Like we didn’t have our clothes half off before the water even started boiling last time.

God, I’m such a fool.

I pull into his driveway, trying to convince myself to turn around, go home, and pretend I have some semblance of self-control.

But the second I see the soft glow of lights through his window, the thought evaporates. And I can almost feel his hands on me already.

The door swings open before I even knock, and there he is—Lewis, wearing that same damn smile that has me fighting against myself every time.

“You made it,” he says, like he ever doubted I would.

“Yeah, well, here I am.” I give him a look, my last-ditch attempt to act like I’ve got this under control.

He steps aside to let me in, the smell of tomatoes wafting through the air. He’s actually cooking tonight; I notice with a smirk. It’s endearing, really.

“You’re actually serious about the pasta?” I tease, shrugging out of my jacket.

His eyes flick down to my outfit—something casual, but I know he’s still taking it in, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

That’s how it starts. Always.

He smiles, raising an eyebrow. “I can multitask, you know.”

God, his voice. Smooth, effortless. Every word has this undercurrent to it, like he’s saying something else entirely.

And I know exactly what he’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing.

“We’ll see,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest, trying to act like I’m here for the food and not ... you know. “Where’s the wine?”

He chuckles, already moving towards the kitchen. I follow, keeping my distance, because proximity is dangerous with him.

Every time we’re close, my mind scrambles. I forget how to be rational, how to keep this detached and casual.

He hands me a glass, his fingers brushing mine for a second too long. I try not to react, but the heat between us is instant. Of course, it is.

I take a sip, trying to ground myself in the taste, trying to ignore how he’s leaning against the counter, looking at me like he’s already undressing me in his mind.

“So, how was your week?” he asks, voice casual, but there’s that hint of something—like he knows where this is headed.

“It was fine,” I say, shrugging, though the tension in the air says otherwise.

We make small talk while he finishes the pasta, but it’s like the words don’t even matter. There’s a rhythm between us, in the stupid attempt at making this a real date.

But it’s useless.

He plates the pasta, setting the dishes on the counter, and I can feel him beside me. Too close. Far too close.

“Hungry?” he asks, his voice low, too damn tempting.

“For food? Not really,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, my eyes darting to his lips for a split second.

I curse myself internally because I’ve lost the game. He saw it.

His smile widens, that knowing smirk creeping onto his face, and I know I’ve given him all the signal he needs.

He steps closer, and I’m trapped between him and the counter. My logical side is screaming at me to back off, but my body… well I’m already leaning into him, craving his touch.

“You know” he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm against my ear, “we could skip the pasta” His hand brushes my hip, and it’s all I can do to keep breathing.

I bite my lip, trying to play it cool, trying not to let him see how much I want this. Want him. “Skipping dinner, again? We’re really getting lazy, aren’t we?”

“Who needs pasta when we’ve got... other plans?” His hands slide up my waist, fingers tracing the outline of my shirt, and my resolve is already out the window.

Damn him.

I grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into me, our lips crashing together with the kind of urgency that says we’ve been holding back for too long. Except we did exactly that, a week ago.

His hands are everywhere—my waist, my back, pulling me closer, like he can’t get enough.

I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly we’re stumbling towards the living room, the sofa the inevitable destination.

It’s a blur of hands, lips, clothes hitting the floor in a mess of fabric and desire.

My mind is still protesting somewhere in the background, telling me this is a bad idea, that I’m setting myself up for failure.

But every time his hands skim across my skin, the voice gets quieter and quieter until all I can focus on is him. The way he knows exactly where to touch, how to pull me into him, how to make me forget anything else exists.

We collapse onto the sofa, him pinning me beneath him, and I gasp as his mouth finds the sensitive spot on my neck. It’s always like this with him—fast, intense, like we can’t get enough of each other.

There’s a chemistry here that neither of us can deny.

His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, and I arch into him, letting out a soft moan as his lips move lower, tracing the curve of my collarbone. My logical side is completely gone now, replaced by a hunger that only he can satisfy.

His fingers fumble with my bra, and I can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and amused “You’d think you’d be better at that.”

He grins against my skin, finally unclasping it. “Practice makes perfect.”

The bra hits the floor, and his hands are on me again, his touch firm but gentle, like he knows exactly what I need. And he does. He always does.

I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him, and he obliges, pulling it off in one swift motion. My hands roam his chest, tracing the lines of muscle, the tattoos that decorate his skin.

He’s beautiful, and for a moment, I allow myself to just... appreciate it.

But then his mouth is on mine again, and any coherent thought I had is gone. All that’s left is the feel of him, the way he presses into me, the heat between us building until it’s almost unbearable.

He pulls back for a second, his forehead resting against mine as we catch our breath. “You good?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Because if I do, I’ll say something I can’t take back. Something like, “I’m falling for you,” or “This isn’t just casual anymore,” or any number of other things I’ve been trying to deny since this whole thing started.

Instead, I pull him back to me, kissing him hard, my hands in his neck, pulling him down on top of me.

And I know I swore I’d keep it light, casual, like I didn’t feel this magnetic pull every time I was near him. But the second I see him, smell him, feel the warmth of his body against mine, every boundary I have shatters.

It’s maddening, really, how easily he unravels me.

I try to keep it together, to play it off like I’m here for the pasta, the wine, the company, like I’m not craving him with every fiber of my being.

But who am I kidding? I was gone the moment I step through his door.

The thought that this is supposed to be a “no strings attached” situation seems laughable. We’re fooling ourselves. This is anything but simple.

“Tell me to stop” he murmurs, his voice rough against my ear, but we both know I won’t. I can’t.

My body responds before my mind can catch up, my hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more of him. I press my hips against his, my breath catching as I feel how much he wants this, wants me.

“I can’t” I whisper, and it’s not just about the sex. It’s everything—the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel like I’m the only thing that matters in this moment.

Kind the problem, isn’t it? I know deep down this can’t stay casual, no matter how much we pretend. Each time I come back to him, each time we fall into this rhythm, it gets harder to keep my distance.

Harder to keep my heart out of it.

But I don’t say any of that. I just kiss him again, my lips moving against his with a desperation I can’t hide. Because I don’t want to think about what this all means. I just want to feel.

His hands find the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, and I let out a soft gasp, the sound slipping from my throat before I can stop it. God, he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Still thinking about the pasta?” he teases although I can tell he’s trying to bring me out of my own head, and I can’t help but laugh, the sound low and breathless.

“Screw the pasta,” I whisper, my hands tangling in neck, pulling him closer, deeper, until there’s nothing left between us but skin and heat and the overwhelming need to be as close as possible.

Because with him, there’s no room for logic. No room for second thoughts or regrets. There’s only this—the way his body feels against mine, the way his hands know exactly where to touch, the way we fit together like we were made for each other.

And then his hands move lower, firm but careful as they grip my hips. He pauses for a moment, his gaze dark and unreadable as he looks me over, then—swiftly—he buckles my hips upwards, hands sliding to hook into the waistband of my sweats.

I lift my hips, barely giving him any resistance, and in one smooth motion, he pulls the soft fabric down, taking my panties with them. His breath catches for a split second when he sees the matching set.

"Knew there was something under those sweats," he teases, a smug grin forming on his lips as he tosses the fabric to the floor.

His fingers trace the edge of my thighs, skimming over the sensitive skin, the warmth of his touch unraveling me.

"Shut up," I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady, but the way his hands move it does something to my resolve. He knows it.

"I will" he says, his voice lowering with an edge of promise.

And the bastard keeps his word as his fingers slip between my folds, not muttering a word as his eyes never leave mine. My breath hitches in response, and his grin widens, knowing exactly what he's doing to me.

His thumb grazes my clit in one teasing stroke, and my back arches involuntarily, the sound of my breathy gasp filling the space between us. I bite down on my lip, trying to stifle any sound, but when his mouth joins his fingers, blowing a soft breath over my swollen bud, all hope of control is lost.

"Oh... God."

It’s all I can manage as his mouth works me over. He knows exactly what he’s doing, alternating between gentle kisses and deep sucks that make my head spin.

My legs tremble, and I grab the cushion beneath me, trying to ground myself as my body responds to every precise move he makes.

His tongue flicks against me, skillful, intentional, and when he adds just enough pressure with his fingers, sliding two finger inside me with ease, my mind goes blank.

Every coherent thought evaporates, replaced by the building pressure, the pure pleasure that courses through me with each flick, each movement, each stroke.

My breath quickens, my thighs tense around his head, and I can’t help but let out a moan, the sound embarrassingly thick with need.

“Lewis...” I manage, barely, as his mouth and fingers push me to the edge, that overwhelming sense of release hovering just out of reach.

He hums in response, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through me that has me arching into him, desperate for more.

And then his fingers curl just right inside me and I’m done.

My body shudders, thighs clamping around him as the orgasm rips through me, every muscle tightening and releasing in waves. The sensation is overwhelming, like I’m seeing white, and all I can do is gasp for breath as he carries me through it, his mouth never stopping, not until I’m trembling in his arms.

When I can finally hear my surroundings, I collapse back into the sofa, chest heaving, limbs heavy. He pulls away slowly, his lips grazing the inside of my thigh as if to say, ‘I’m not done with you yet’ but for now, he gives me a moment to catch my breath.

His hands trail lazily up my body, stopping just below my ribs as he looks up at me, that damn smirk still playing on his lips.

“Menace” I say again, breathless, trying to regain some sense of control.

He chuckles, leaning in to kiss me, and I taste myself on his lips—soft, tender, and entirely too addicting.

"You seemed pretty pleased it with just seconds ago" he murmurs against my mouth, and even though I’m still recovering, I can’t help but smile.

Lewis pulls away, his weight shifting off me as he rises from the sofa. I can already see the glint in his eye, that familiar focus taking over as he fishes out a stack of condoms from the nearest drawer in the living room.

He’s quick, flipping it open and grabbing the condom like it’s second nature. And considering his stash he probably is.

Before he can tear it open, I sit up, my body still tingling. I reach out, taking the foil packet from his hand with a smirk and a teasing wink.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden boldness. "You sure about this?" he asks, though his voice betrays the concern that’s written all over his face.

I don’t bother answering. I slide down from the sofa just enough to grab the waistband of his shorts, my fingers hooking underneath and tugging them down along with his briefs.

His member springs free, not fully hard yet, but close. I meet his eyes and smirk, noticing how quickly his breathing has picked up.

"Someone seems eager," I tease, running my fingers lightly along his length, watching as he grows harder beneath my touch. His body responds instantly, his breath catching as I give him a few slow pumps, feeling him swell fully in my hand.

His head tilts back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a second as he lets out a low groan and I can tell he’s barely holding it together.

I tear the condom wrapper with my teeth, slowly rolling it down over him, my fingers moving with deliberate care. Once I’ve got him fully sheathed, I rise back up, straddling him on the sofa, my lips finding his in a deep kiss.

It’s heated, urgent, but I take my time, letting the tension build even more between us.

In the midst of our kiss, he pulls back just slightly, his voice low and rough, barely more than a whisper. "I mean it, tell me to stop" he says again, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

I shush him softly, pressing a finger to his lips, then replacing it with my mouth, kissing him again.

My hand slides down between us, wrapping around his length again, and I can feel how tense he is, how much he’s holding back.

"Shut up" I murmur, smiling against his lips, pushing him gently back so that his back rests against the couch. He leans back, his hands gripping my hips as I position myself over him.

I take my time, teasing him with the moment before I finally lower myself onto him.

 Slowly, so slowly, I ease down, feeling him stretch and fill me inch by inch until he’s buried completely inside me. We both let out a sharp gasp, the feeling overwhelming for a second, his grip on my hips tightening as I settle onto him.

I stay still for a moment, our eyes locked, the tension between us thick and electrifying. My hands rest on his chest, fingers splayed over the hard muscles, feeling his heartbeat under my palms. For a second, we’re completely in sync, breathing as one.

"God..." he breathes, his eyes dark with need as he looks up at me, his hands sliding up my sides, possessive and steady.

I smile, shifting just slightly, already feeling the pressure build again between us."I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” I tease, rolling my hips slowly to drive him even crazier.

His eyes darken further, his hands gripping me tighter as I start to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that has both of us teetering on the edge from the start.

There’s something primal in the way we fit together, and as I pick up the pace, our bodies collide in a seamless rhythm, like we’ve done this a hundred times before—because we have.

Lewis’s grip tightens on my hips as I move, his eyes never leaving mine. He starts to guide me, lifting his hips in time with my rhythm, his hands firm but steady, helping me set the pace.

I bite my lip, fighting to stay in control of my breathing as the sensation builds. It’s so intense, the way we move together—every thrust, every roll of my hips sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body.

But then, just as I find my rhythm, he takes over.

His hands tighten around my waist, pulling me down harder as he starts thrusting up into me with slow, deliberate movements. Each upward motion hits deeper, sending sparks of pleasure through me that make it impossible to hold back the soft moans escaping my lips.

I let him have his moment, feeling the way he takes control, the raw power behind each thrust.

But I narrow my eyes at him, already planning my next move. I let him keep the reins, let him revel in his control as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. His pace is maddening—just slow enough to tease, to keep me wanting more.

And he knows it.

But I can feel it when he starts to slow down, the strain in his muscles telling me he’s getting close. That’s when I take over again.

With a wicked grin, I shift my weight, changing the angle as I start to move again, but this time adding a slow, rocking motion as I go up and down on him. And he tenses beneath me, his breath catching as his hands move from my waist to my thighs, trying to slow me down.

"Babe..." he gasps, his voice strained, but I just chuckle softly, my pace quickening, refusing to give him any relief.

“What’s wrong?” I quip, my tone playful but laced with challenge. I can feel the tremor in his muscles, the way his body is straining to hold on, but I don’t let up, riding him faster now, the intensity building until it’s almost unbearable.

"Love... Y/n..." His words come out broken, barely a breath as his head falls back against the sofa, his hands tightening on my thighs as if that’ll slow me down.

But it doesn’t. I lean into him, pressing my chest against his, feeling the way his body shudders beneath mine.

And then he’s coming undone.

I feel it—the way his body jerks, the tension snapping as he lets out a guttural groan, his hands desperately gripping me as I continue to rock against him.

His eyes squeeze shut, and he tries to tell me to slow down, but the words never fully form. He’s lost, completely undone beneath me, and I savor every second of it.

I don’t stop until he hisses, his hands shooting up to still my hips, his breathing ragged and uneven. "Fuck..." he mutters, his voice hoarse, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at me, still catching his breath.

I smirk, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, savoring the way his body still trembles. His hands loosen their grip on my hips, and I feel him exhale deeply, the tension draining from him.

“It’s always so much better than in my head” he says, his voice low and raw, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes my heart skip a beat.

I bite back a laugh, pulling away just enough to look down at him, my fingers brushing at his beard.

Better, huh?

But there’s something more to it, something neither of us is ready to admit, not out loud anyway.

And for now, we don’t have to.

For now, we can pretend this is just about that type of chemistry.

______________________________________________________________

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[neptxn3]

Astrology observations I ☆*ೃ༄

♅ Earth Venus’ (+ degrees) have a traditional way of viewing relationships. Unless they have aspects stating otherwise, earth Venus wont complain about falling into traditional roles

Ex: Taurus Venus female will enjoy becoming a housewife (shopping/staying home).

Capricorn Venus male wont mind being the breadwinner.

♅ Virgo Venus underrated love language is words of affirmation. As much as they love doing small acts of service for you, a little bit of recognition for their hard work won’t hurt.

♅ Has anyone noticed Libra Suns like pretending to be a dumb blonde 🤨 I have 2 libra sun friends and they LOVE pretending like they don’t know stuff. I know their asses are lying when they look around to watch people laugh. Kim K is a good example of one, she acts like she’s ditzy but that woman is always plotting something behind the scenes like a mastermind.

♅ I hate the misconception around Sag Venus . Being ruled by the planet of luck, expansion, and foreign lands is accompanied by knowledge. When a Sag Venus enters a relationship they feel serious about they are willing to compromise certain aspects of their life to accommodate their partner, it’s only when their partners doesn’t wish the change when a Sag Venus will retreat. (They know they won’t be able to grow with you as a person).

♅ Mercury/Saturn challenging aspects will usually be slow in terms of communication (not intelligence) I find this placement has manifested itself as not being able to express your thoughts properly/poor memory/bad concentration, even speech impediments.

♅ Mars opposite Jupiter can be a mean girl aspect. How mean they can be depends on the mars sign, but this is an over abundance of anger when it comes to people being in their way to the point they can say some nasty stuff.

♅ Keep Pisces Venus/Mars partners on a leash! Underdeveloped signs (ruled by Neptune) will fantasize about things they used to do with their ex/romanticize people that they find ONE good quality in. These underdeveloped ones will have their heads up in the clouds 24/7🤒

♅ Scorpio Placements will try to convince you they’re mysterious and dark with some “hurt us and you’ll see real life hell”. I have met Scorpio STELLIUMS that are very chirpy. I’ll sit down and they will start telling me what happened in the 12 hours I didn’t encounter them. You’re not mysterious you just keep to yourself until you can find someone you trust.

♅ Libra moons are SO CHILL. I have a friend with an Aries stellium but her libra moon is pulling everything together. Libra moons could be so passionate (angry or happy) with a topic and they’ll never yell or raise their voice. Not the mention the ones I’ve met are SO pretty too 😭

[kipkoh]

I know it’s fairly popularized that Hunter liked being the Golden Guard but there was a line in Hunting Palisman that he says to Luz that has always captivated me: “At least you can figure out your own (future).”

This (not very subtle) statement of wishing to make his own decisions coupled with the fact that Hunter was studying wild magic even while he was still in the Coven is heavily indicative of the fact that he was dissatisfied with his role in life. I’m sure he was proud of being Golden Guard and really did want to help Belos in whatever way possible, but a big part of him did wish things could have been different for him. Those desires he announced in Thanks to Them were probably not spur of the moment ideas he wished he could have experienced before what he thought was going to be his death, but rather long term wants he’d been imagining himself taking part in even before he defected.

I’m bringing this idea up mostly because I keep thinking about Hunter’s life in the castle and the rare moments when he got to witness what normal kids lives were like. If the school tours of the castle were a common occurrence, I imagine he'd be curious enough to watch them when he could. At first he'd secretly trail them and observe how the kids interacted with each other, how they joked around with their friends, and overall how carefree they appeared. He'd watch the way they'd awe at the castle in a feeling of excitement he'd never gotten to share having grown up within those walls - the castle being all he’d ever known. Sometimes he'd imagine himself in one of their places - just a normal kid whose biggest worry was getting his homework finished before it was due instead of how he might be tossed aside and replaced by the one he called his family the second he was no longer of any use to him. At some point, maybe he would start avoiding the tours whenever they happened, not wanting to feel that painful yearning for a life that was never even within his grasp and instead choosing to try and forget about it completely in order to convince himself he was content being the person Belos wanted him to be.

Sometimes on his weekend missions he would encounter parents with their children just going about their everyday lives, smiling and happy and completely juxtaposed to his own experience with familial adults. He'd watch the ease of how a child's hand would slip into their parent's as if it was such a natural and common action, without even a hint of fear of negative consequence for the touch. Hunter would look down at his own hands mummified in leather and wonder why he'd never felt the gentle press of someone's loving palm against his own.

He'd watch two young children play fight with loose branches. He'd envy how their battle was pretend and the fact that neither of them were in any real danger. He'd silently scrutinize their battle form before offering to teach them proper tactics, only to be harshly turned away and reminded of the fact that normal kids didn't care, nor have a need, to know how to fight. He'd scoff at their lackluster ambitions and comment about how they would never join a decent Coven with attitudes like that, blatantly ignoring the fact that not everyone was forced to worry about proving their worth to everyone around them.

I don’t think Hunter going to Hexside to find new recruits in Any Sport In a Storm was just a random choice on his part. While there is some evidence that kids can choose to join the Covens early, it doesn’t seem like it’s something they’re forced to do before they at least finish school. Maybe they can be forced, which is what is implied when Hunter kidnapped the Emerald Entrails, but wouldn’t it be easier to seek out new recruits who would actually be willing to join of their own accord? Otherwise there would be no guarantee they would care enough to do their job well.

Hunter did try to recruit them naturally at first but when no one seemed interested, instead of moving on to a different group of people, he just chose to kidnap a group of kids and force them. He has this intense longing for a normal life but no way to reasonably go out and get it for himself, so instead he tries to bring that life to him instead. Maybe if there were other people his age around, it could be possible for him to experience even a taste of the camaraderie he’s seen the students on tours have towards one another. Of course a bunch of kidnapped kids might not want anything to do with him, but Hunter is probably desperate enough to where he didn’t really think it through that much. Either way, even if he can’t have that life for himself, maybe he’d feel less alone if he knew there were other kids experiencing the same struggles he was. Maybe he wouldn’t feel out of place if he wasn’t the only kid being forced to train for regular battles and missions. Maybe he wouldn’t feel as bad about not having the kind of parent-child relationships he sees in the streets if there were other kids around who never got to see their parents anyway. He wouldn’t be the only kid lost in a sea of adults at the castle who refused to respect him partly due to his age.

Of course we know it wouldn’t end up being the catharsis he’s seeking, but he’s willing to try. He’s spent over a decade in a life he wasn’t sure he wanted, constantly yearning for something more with other people always (though unwittingly) waving around their happy, normal lives in front of his face. He’s sad, he’s alone, he probably feels super guilty about it because he still wants to be what Belos wants and can’t… He’s probably spent his whole life in a constant internal struggle trying to either ignore his own desires or attempt to find a balance between his personal wants and his job that never truly existed.

[cuubism]

Physical Therapy, Part 8

--

A few days later, Hob goes to Dream’s old flat. He wanted to go immediately, but he needed time to calm himself. If he went to confront Dream’s ex immediately, he’d be too likely to do something inadvisable out of anger.

Truthfully, he’s still so angry.

He can control himself, though. So he knocks on the door, instead of taking it off its hinges.

Dream’s ex-boyfriend opens the door with an annoyed look on his face. But jumps back, startled, at the sight of Hob. He recognizes Hob, then. Good.

“I’m here for Dream’s things,” he says. No need to prolong this with pleasantries.

“His things?” says the ex, with disdain, like Dream’s possessions mean nothing to him. “Why? He’ll come back anyway. Eventually.”

“No, he won’t.”

Ex-boyfriend leans against the door frame, smirking. Maybe Hob should have just punched him. “You going to stop him?”

Hob takes a deep, long breath. No. He actually wouldn’t try to stop him. He’s not going to force Dream to do anything. He’d try to convince him otherwise, though. And if he can be a good enough boyfriend, then maybe Dream will never feel the need to go back to some horrible place, looking for love.

“I don’t try to make people stay in my house,” he snaps. “His things. Now. You think I won’t punch you again?”

So much for being calm.

For the first time, that smirking look slips. “It’s all worthless anyway,” he says.

Hob grits his teeth. The stupidest thing is, even for someone who doesn’t care about Dream himself, Dream’s art is objectively not worthless. Hob had looked it up once. Dream’s paintings sell for thousands of pounds. Sometimes tens of thousands. It’s not just Dream’s passion that he’s so jealous and disparaging about, but his livelihood, his basic ability to support himself.

“Are you going to let me take it?” he says. “Or are we going to have a problem?”

Ex-boyfriend looks annoyed—and uncomfortable?—but finally just gestures Hob in. “Fine. Whatever.”

Inside, the flat is… kind of cold. It’s not homey. He can’t imagine Dream living here; he can barely imagine Dream living in his own flat, which is likewise utterly empty of decoration. But there are spots on the wall, here, that are empty in a more conspicuous way. Like Dream’s art might once have hung there.

Hob doesn’t know the entirety of what he’s looking for, but he thinks he’ll be able to identify most of Dream’s things by sight. And indeed—with Dream’s ex trailing him like an irritable ghost—he finds some of what must be Dream’s clothes in the closet, and Dream’s sketchbooks and books and paperwork all stacked in boxes. Like they’d been on their way out.

So much for “he’s definitely coming back.”

Dream’s ex doesn’t stop him as he packs stuff up and gathers it by the door. But as Hob looks at what he’s managed to collect, there’s obviously something missing. Pieces that were still drying and pieces that were too large to carry, Dream had said, when speaking of what he'd left behind.

“Where’s the rest of his art?”

Now ex-boyfriend does look uncomfortable. A sinking feeling settles in Hob’s stomach. “Why would I keep that shit, anyway? I told you, it’s worthless."

“It’s not worthless,” Hob snaps, but this time his voice breaks. He scrubs a hand through his hair. Looks at the empty spaces on the wall.

He tries to imagine what happened. Did he just toss it all? Coldly? Methodically? No, Hob doesn’t think so. If he had he would have just gotten rid of the rest of Dream’s stuff, too.

What he can imagine is a fit of rage, with his real target, Dream, having fled, and only the supposed distraction, his life’s work, left behind.

Dream's ex-boyfriend is watching him warily. He seems nervous about what Hob might do, like Hob is an unpredictable animal. Good. Maybe he'll understand how Dream's felt. “You got what you came for,” he says. “Just go.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to decide if I'm going to kill you first.”

Dream’s ex takes a startled step back. And Hob really, really wants to just fucking bash this guy’s head in. But he has to restrain himself. Not just because he doesn’t want to get arrested for assault, though that’s also better avoided.

No. It’s really that he doesn’t want to be another violent man in Dream’s life.

As satisfying as it was to throw that first punch in Dream’s defense, making it physical now would be a different matter. If he shows that he’s capable of resorting to real violence to get what he wants, or to punish someone for something, Dream is always going to have that in the back of his head when he looks at him. There will always be a tiny corner of his brain harboring the fear that that impulse could turn on him.

He’s already kind of pushing boundaries by being here at all, and only getting away with it because Dream didn’t actually tell him not to go, just that he himself didn’t want to. God his blood is heated and this asshole definitely deserves to be taught a lesson but it’s not worth putting a crack in Dream’s trust in him.

“You’re lucky I care more about what he thinks of me,” he finally says. Then he gathers all of Dream’s stuff, and makes himself leave. Dream’s ex, wisely, doesn’t say anything else as he goes.

—

Dream is in the middle of trying to paint when Hob arrives. Or rather, in the middle of staring at a canvas, wishing he could paint. He’d bought a large canvas in the hopes that he might try to do something in his old style, something more detailed and precise. But he’s been too intimidated by the prospect to even begin mixing colors.

He keeps finding himself staring at all the empty space in his flat, at walls that should be hung with art. But he doesn’t have any of his large pieces left. They were all sold prior to… the incident… or left behind. He only has the smaller ones that were in his portfolio.

He’s been finding himself regretting selling those pieces. He had never been bothered by it before, but now he wants to track down the buyers and beg for them back. But he won't. Some of those paintings had sold for tidy sums, which is the reason he can afford this flat despite not having a steady job. And he has no guarantee of being able to sell something at that rate again.

He at least has photographs of everything he’s ever sold. The same can’t be said of what he’d kept for himself, or left unfinished.

He startles at the knock on the door, but remembers: Hob said he would come over today.

He still hasn’t been able to shake the need to block the door whenever he’s home, so he has to shove aside a bookcase before he can let Hob in. When he opens the door, Hob is carrying a box, and wearing a pained smile. “Here,” he says, giving it to Dream. “I have more in the car.”

He disappears back down the stairs before Dream can question him, and Dream sets the heavy box down on the kitchen island.

It’s full of his sketchbooks.

For several moments he just stares at them, not daring to touch. How did Hob— did he go to Dream’s flat?

Hob comes back with another two boxes, precariously balanced, while Dream is still staring at the first one. These, it seems, are full of documents, and personal effects, and some of his favorite books.

“How—?” he tries to ask, nearly struck dumb.

“I went to your house,” Hob says. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have. But you deserve to have your things.”

At first, he is only shocked to think that someone would go to such lengths for him. Then, Dream feels a surge of hope. Perhaps—

But. No. Of all things, Hob would have known to grab his artwork. He would have lead with that.

“…Oh,” Dream says quietly, looking down.

“Yeah,” Hob says, face falling. “I’m so sorry, Dream, that’s all that was there— I mean I still have some of your clothes in the car, but—”

“I love you,” Dream says, tearing up. Hob actually went back. To get his things. Even when Dream said it wasn’t worth doing.

When he looks up again, Hob looks stunned. And only then does Dream realize what he’s said. He swallows nervously, but he doesn’t want to take it back. It doesn’t matter if he truly meant that he’s in love with Hob. Because either way, he loves Hob. And no one has ever loved him like this, like it was easy. And without question.

“I—” Hob stammers. “I mean it’s really not—”

Dream takes his hands and squeezes them, and Hob stops talking. “It is,” Dream says. “It is a big deal. To me.”

“Well,” Hob finally manages, voice still tight. “I want you to be happy, Dream. You deserve that.”

It’s not a sentiment Dream is used to hearing directed towards him. But hearing it from Hob makes him feel like… maybe it can be. Maybe it should be.

Dream kisses him, still holding his hands. He feels himself smile into the kiss. Another thing he’s not used to doing, but it feels good.

Hob smiles too, as he cradles Dream’s face between his hands. And even though Hob wasn’t able to recover his art, even though his ex probably destroyed it—which is agonizing to think about—in this one moment, Dream is… happy.

It's so strange that it almost hurts. But he thinks he’s actually happy.

[venusvxen]

The 3D Cannot Create.. So Why Do You Create Fear?

I’ve been having a recent epiphany that has helped me understand the law better and helped me get rid of fear or at least self soothe when i feel fearful cus I don’t believe in stripping ourselves of our emotions…

I would say “the 3d cannot create” everyday for a YEAR but it wasn’t until a few days ago when i had a lightbulb moment… the 3D… really … cannot create.. it’s nothing more than a mirror… so why do I FEAR my shadow and expect it to show me something different.. why do i fool myself into believing i am the shadow and not the being that casts the shadow??

We fulfill ourselves within our imagination and get so stoked about our desire.. then we leave imagination and come down to the 3d world and bombarded with all the things the senses throw at you. now you start doubting.. you start counting down the time bc it’s been xyz long and you think it’ll never happen.. I literally always do this…

But then i thought to myself… the 3d cannot create any of those scenarios im envisioning… it’s my twin.. it is a shadow.. whatever I experience in the 4d is what i MUST experience in the 3d no matter what because self MUST be expressed

I’ll literally get so confident then expect the 3d to show me otherwise and be fearful and start asking myself what if it doesn’t happen and but if there is no separation between the 3d n 4d and all is imagination…. why would you NOT get it? … seriously… because the only way all those negative scenarios would happen is through persisting in them… it’s all imagination at the end of the day..

the relationship between the 3d and 4d is a simple input and output it’s just us who overcomplicate it because of all the baggage we’ve assigned to the law and all the things we’ve internalized about what we can or cannot do. if you assume something in imagination it MUST come to pass. just like if you go up you must come down. it’s a 1+1=2 situation and yet i complicate it so much…

but at the end of the day.. the materialization is guaranteed … because self must be expressed.. self is the only thing being expressed in this world bc the 3d cannot create..

after having this epiphany i’ve been able to self soothe and talk myself out of fear by reminding myself of this.. the 3d is my dutiful shadow. it follows in my footsteps.. whatever i experience in my real reality i must experience in the physical no matter what. I don’t care if it’s the day before an event and the pieces haven’t fell into place yet.. it MUST happen.. but only if you have confidence in this.. because I’ve noticed wavering is why we have wonky results..

but why do we waver?

We waver because deep down we think there is a separation between the imaginal and the physical. we think the physical is acting on its own outside of us and can create. which is why try as we might to maintain a state of confidence.. for the “big” things or the things that seem “out of reach”,, results may be spotty because we think our imaginal experiences aren’t enough and we convince ourselves that any of the things happening on the outside are out for our control

the truth is all that’s missing is confidence… a knowing.. an unshakeable conviction that what we say will happen MUST happen and WILL happen.. but the only way to do this is to truly understand that the 3d is your reflection and it can’t possibly show you anything you haven’t experienced…

I personally am now so so so excited for the end of the year and am looking forward to school (something i DREADED).. because i know a specific event MUST take place now which will change my life. why? because the real me experienced it in imagination and self must be expressed. why would my 3d show me something different unless i continuously waver and imagine something different.. if i experienced it why wouldn’t it push out? this realization has helped me be excited about things i was previously anxious about

i feel like the thing w the law is how “simple” it is but it’ll take you years to understand a simple concept. i hope you guys get what i’m saying here

[stillness-in-green]

Counting Cliffhangers: The Heroes Are Not the Underdogs in BNHA's War Arcs

(Being a project to tally up which side, if either, of Team Hero or Team Villain is "on top" at the end of each chapter in the war arcs, in consideration of the impact of the overall totals. This is one of those mega-long list posts; do not click the Expand/Read More unless you're prepared for a lot of reading and/or scrolling.)

One of the things that bothered me throughout both of the war arcs was the persistent sense that, for all that the manga was trying very hard to convince me that the Heroes were up against the wall and really having to give it everything they had, I never really felt that level of danger.  Of course, one always expects a degree of that—it’s not as though any sensible reader would really think this manga could end with the Villains winning!—but the problem went beyond that.  Expecting that the protagonist will win out in the end is the standard, after all, but good stories still find ways to keep readers engaged and believing in the stakes.

So why didn’t I?  I certainly believed in the stakes for the Villains—Twice’s death happens very early in the first war, and it sets the stakes quite clearly!  Was it just the difference between my own engagement with the Villains compared to the Heroes?  That didn’t seem quite right—even if I cared about one side for more than the other, it shouldn’t have been the case that that affection alone was skewing my suspension of disbelief about the dangers faced by the Heroes.  The threat posed to Midnight certainly seemed real enough, as was also the case for the Heroes left trampled in Gigantomachia’s wake, like Gang Orca and Fatgum.  As I’ve had to tell the occasional asker here before, just because I don’t particularly care about a character doesn’t mean I become incapable of evaluating their story beats!

What was the problem, then?  Why did the dangers to the Villains seem so desperately real, while the dangers to the Heroes, for the most part, just had me rolling my eyes and waiting for the next asspull that would save them?

I think there are two primary factors.  The first and biggest factor is simply baked into the worldbuilding and the decisions made in the writing: the sides are poorly matched.  I’m not going to go into all of that here, but as a thought exercise, go through the arcs of the story that contain active conflict and consider which side has the advantage in each of the following categories: individual combatant quality (stuff like raw power, endurance, and training/experience to improve upon their inherent capabilities), equipment quality, information about the opponent, ability to set the terms of engagement, and raw numbers of warm bodies to throw at a fight. 

By my measure, much of the early confrontations in BNHA work because these advantages are divided evenly between the Heroes and Villains.  Likewise, My Villain Academia is so gripping because the Meta Liberation Army has virtually every advantage over the League, making the League really and truly feel like the underdogs in the fight.  Conversely, the Heroes are the ones with virtually every advantage in the war arcs,[1] meaning they cannot convincingly be the underdogs the story so desperately wants us to believe they are.

1:  I swear I’m not going to go into all of it, at least not in this post, but to be very brief, I think the only advantages the Villains could even kind of claim during the war arcs are numbers and combatant quality.  The numbers advantage is mostly illusory; the PLF are leveled in the cursory mass arrest of the first war and, despite repeated insistence otherwise, the only place where the Villains’ numbers are a true threat in the second war is at the hospital attack, where said numbers consist chiefly of untrained and easily swayed civilians in a battle it’s desperately unclear why the Heroes allowed to take place at all.  The quality advantage, meanwhile, is heavily concentrated in only a handful of hard-hitting, A-to-S-rank threats on the Villains’ side, while the Heroes maintain clear quality supremacy in rank-and-file or side character battles.

The other factor, and the one this post concerns, is the structure of the chapters themselves, to wit, the way that they end.  In a serialized story being published and read week to week, each installment’s ending is a crucial factor in the story’s overall tone.  What happens on the last page is a major factor in the impact each chapter makes, the feeling the reader is left with while they wait for the next part.  If the intent, therefore, is for the Heroes to feel threatened, pushed to the very edge of their endurance, then a very basic thing needs to be observed: don’t end every fucking chapter with the Heroes having the fucking advantage.

I’m so serious here, guys.  It’s not that the Villains never have the advantage, never get twists or reveals or reinforcements that turn the tide of the battle in their favor.  It’s that, by and large, those advantages come in the middle of chapters, while the Heroes’ twists and reveals and reinforcements get the benefit of being at the end of chapters, so the dominant feeling—the side that’s left wildly cheering for their “team” at the end of the week—is usually the Heroes.  While it’s possible that the impression left is different when reading the story in volume form,[2] when reading week to week, that imbalance critically damages the story’s ability to portray the desperation and strain of the Heroes’ struggle.

2: Having not read the arcs in this fashion, I couldn't say. Obviously I don't know how a volume-only reader would experience this aspect of the story, but even reading (or rereading) a bunch of chapters all in one go online suffers from some impaired momentum between chapters by having to specifically navigate to the next chapter webpage and wait for it to load rather than just being able to turn pages freely.

That, in any case, was my thesis when I first started this count, listing which side has the upper hand at the end of each chapter of the two war arcs, as well as the total overall.  With the second war arc finally having ended, I figured I’d go ahead and post my results. 

Hit the jump!

For each arc, I started counting at the chapter where active conflict breaks out, including as a dramatic end cliffhanger.  Thus, for the first war, I didn’t start in Chapter 258, where the groups are still gathering, but rather in Chapter 259, when the forward momentum begins and the first Villain (Ujiko) is confronted.  Likewise, the second war count begins with Chapter 343, when the armies confront each other.  The counts end with the last chapter containing active Hero/Villain conflict rather than narrated montage.  Thus, the first war ends in 295, when AFO and the League flee the field, not in 296 with the looming threat of the long-awaited jailbreak.  The second war ends with Deku’s weather-clearing fist in 423.

My basic categories are Hero Advantage, Villain Advantage, and Neither.  Fake-outs are categorized as they are perceived in the moment of reading them, not as they read in retrospect.  Further, I do not categorize based on the overall tenor of the chapter, but only the impact of the final page.  This is by nature somewhat subjective, but I’ve done my best to call them as I think they’re meant to be read.

What is the feeling the reader takes with them into the next chapter?  Excitement for the heroes?  Dismay and fear?  A simmering tension?  Which side, if either, got the HELL YEAH HELL YEAH fist-pump?  If there's a relative clear answer, I'll call it for one side of the other; chapters that end with no particular new reveals, arrivals, power-ups, or other such shifts in the tides with be called as neither.

Finally, for ease of tracking and reading, my tallies and accompanying brief explanations are separated by volume. I'll provide totals for each category at the end of each volume, and full totals, as well as a total count for which category the volumes end in, at the end of the arcs. Final counts and commentary will close the post.

Let's get started.

FIRST WAR ARC

Volume 27: 259: Hero Advantage.  Endeavor and company confront (apparently) Ujiko, catching him completely flat-footed.

260: Hero.  Mirko crashes into Ujiko’s lab, to his horror, and kills John-chan in doing so.

261: Neither.  Mirko and the High Ends square up for their Round 2.

262: Hero.  The Villa gets cracked open like an egg, catching its inhabitants entirely off-guard.

263: Hero.  If they were on more level footing, I’d call this Neither, but given the positions Hawks and Twice end the chapter in, and the clear difference in emotional preparedness, this one goes to the Heroes.

264: Neither.  The Hawks/Twice fight continues inconclusively; Dabi is revealed to be on his way, but has not yet arrived on-scene to affect any changes.

265: Villain.  Dabi makes a strong and, for Hawks, unexpected entrance, pinning Hawks beneath his boot.

266: Neither.  Twice dies, which is a huge hit to the Villains, but the narrative sympathy is so clearly with Twice and Toga that it’s impossible to describe the chapter as ending on a fist-pumping note for anyone.

267: Hero.  Doubly so, as Endeavor and Tokoyami both show up to intervene in fights that were about to go to the villains, but we'll be fair and only count it as one anyway.

                   Heroes 5 | Villains 1 | Neither 3 | Total 9     

Volume 28: 268: Neither.  Basement action.  The tube gets cracked; Aizawa and Mic are told not to let Shigaraki wake up.  Nothing conclusive.

269: Hero Advantage.  Literally ends with Ujiko wailing that the Lord of Evil’s dream is over.

270: Villain.  It ends with Deku getting a warning about Shigaraki, which makes it a bit borderline, but Shigaraki being awake at all has to count for the Villains.

271: Villain.  Gigantomachia stands up.

272: Neither.  The kids start rallying against the Decay wave.  Deku gets a new move that doesn’t seem like it should have any effect but is played as being effective.  Shigaraki’s Decay wave is being monstrously effective, even apocalyptic, but the tone of the last page is ambiguous.

273: Neither.  Shigaraki faces off with Endeavor.  Both are known factors on this field of battle.

274: Neither.  Deku is on the move in hopes of leading Shigaraki to a more deserted area.

275: Hero.  Aizawa arrives at the Shigaraki fight, locking down his quirk use.

276: Hero.  Deku and Bakugou arrive in time to save Aizawa from what likely would have been the same kind of blow that will later cost him his eye.

                   Heroes 3 | Villains 2 | Neither 4 | Total 9     

Volume 29: 277: Neither.  Mount Lady attempts to stop Gigantomachia.  Results inconclusive; both known factors.

278: Neither.  Leans a bit Hero side because it’s Momo dramatically getting her head on straight, but it’s really just more preparations for a face-off.

279: Hero Advantage.  The League is getting swarmed and Mina is on the brink of delivering what’s framed as a knock-out blow to Machia.

280: Neither.  Shigaraki laboriously gathers himself, preparing to monologue.

281: Villain.  Shigaraki readies a quirk-destroying bullet with Aizawa’s name on it.

282: Villain.  Gigantomachia, who is very much not knocked out,  looms over an unsuspecting city.

283: Hero.  Deku negates the (immediate) danger of Decay by activating Float.

284: Hero.  Deku lands a full-power blow on Shigaraki, who’s been largely unable to fend him off in the air.

285: Villain.  It pains me to grant this because I knew good and well Bakugou would be completely fine.  But he is a major combatant and face for the Hero side and this is clearly intended to look like it will take him out, at least for the fight.

                   Heroes 3 | Villains 3 | Neither 3 | Total 9     

Volume 30: 286: Hero Advantage.  The action moves to the vestige realm.  Very borderline, but Nana’s words are definitive: “Let us handle this.”  The implication is very much that there’s no need to fear because the vestiges have got this.

287: Neither.  Chapter ends with Toga reflecting on heroes and the weight they give to the lives of Villains.  Could represent a major turning point for Toga, but it’s still soft-pedaled by making that turning point dependent on a Hero’s yet-unspoken words.

288: Neither.  Chapter ends mid-dialogue in the Toga/Ochaco fight.

289: Villain.  Machia and his passengers arrive.

290: Villain.  A little borderline because the actual very last panel is the plane containing Best Jeanist, but the audience doesn’t know that yet, and the bulk of the final page is dedicated the devastation of the Touya Reveal, so I have to give this one to them.

291: Hero.  Best Jeanist arrives.

292: Hero.  Mirio arrives with his quirk restored.

293: Hero.  Machia goes down because the sedative finally kicks in.

294: Villain.  Mr. Compress backstory reveal and big escape moment.

295: Neither.  The battle ends save for the wrap-up.  The villains are neither victorious nor defeated.

                   Heroes 4 | Villains 3 | Neither 3 | Total 10

FIRST WAR TOTAL: Heroes 15 | Villains 9 | Neither 13 | Total 37 Volume End Advantage Count: Heroes 2  |  Villains 1  |  Neither 1

                       

SECOND WAR ARC

Volume 35: 343: Hero Advantage.  The Heroes counter AFO’s army by “unexpectedly” whipping out their own via Warp Gate.

344: Hero.  The Heroes take the offensive and split up the villains’ army.

345: Villain.  Toga lassos Deku through a gate, separating him from the field he’s supposed to be on.

346: Villain.  The beginning of Fingervetr.

347: Neither.  Borderline because it’s a big dramatic page of Toga, but it’s more conversational then confrontational to me, and isn’t revealing anything particularly new.

348: Neither.  Deku flees the island, leaving Toga to Ochaco.

349: Neither.  Dabi gears up to provide the answers Shouto has specifically asked for.

350: Neither.  Dabi’s coming on strong, but Shouto remains undaunted.  I’d give it to the Villains if the last page were Dabi liquidating the All Might statue, though.

                   Heroes 2 | Villains 2 | Neither 4 | Total 8                    

Volume 36: 351: Hero Advantage.  Shouto unleashes Phosphor.

352: Hero.  Shouto appears to beat Dabi.

353: Neither.  AFO is talking a lot, but not about anything groundbreaking.

354: Neither.  AFO and Jirou exchange smacktalk.

355: Hero.  Hawks and Jirou combine efforts to break AFO’s mask.

356: Neither.  Endeavor has a big moment, but AFO gets his hands up in time to block and is still shown intact at the end of the chapter.  Borderline, but I’d say not quite definitive enough to qualify it for the hero side.

357: Villain.  AFO regenerates.  A little borderline because it actually ends with Deku, and the approach of what I guessed at the time were the American jets, but I think it’s a similar enough scenario as the end of Chapter 270 to call it for the Villains as well.

358: Neither.  No impact from the Hero attack leaves it a little unclear how much effect it will have, and a new attack is not a big enough game changer for me to really count it even unproven.  It’d be easy to call it for the Heroes, though.

359: Hero.  Return of the Big Three.

360: Hero.  Bakugou’s in rough shape, but there’s a hint that he’s noticed something important, which could foreshadow a change in the tides of the battle.

361: Hero.  Suneater’s Chimera Cannon, which certainly looks incredibly hype and impressive in the moment.

362: Villain.  Bakugou’s “death.”

                   Heroes 6 | Villains 2 | Neither 4 | Total 12                    

Volume 37: 363: Villain Advantage.  AFO finishes regenerating; full face reveal.

364: Hero.  The impossibly moronic Edgeshot-as-Bakugou’s-heart business.  Not conclusive, but it steals one of the Villains’ victories out from under from them.

365: Villain.  A shift in Inner Tenko’s emotional state heralds Shigaraki’s next form.

366: Hero.  Deku arrives at the Sky Coffin.

367: Neither.  Deku attempts conversation to ask about Shigaraki’s status.

368: Hero.  Deku lands a full-power hit on ShigAFO while Yoichi talks to his big brother about letting this being the day that their battle ends.

369: Villain.  A scene change to Spinner that’s timed in such a way that it could really only foreshadow Spinner’s victory.

370: Neither.  It’s very close to a Hero call, but mostly what Shouji’s doing is shaking off mundane attackers and making a dramatic proclamation.  Not quite enough direct impact for an end-of-chapter Hero Advantage.

371: Neither.  Even closer than the last one, but neither blow the kids are gearing up for actually connect on-page.  I wouldn’t fault anyone who called it for the Heroes, though.

372: Neither.  An extremely effective cliffhanger, for once, as Spinner and Mic call out to Kurogiri simultaneously.

373: Villain.  Kurogiri gets up, calling himself the protector of Shigaraki Tomura.

374: Villain.  Toga deploys Sad Man’s Death Parade; Hawks proves he hasn’t learned jack shit from the last time he faced this question.

                   Heroes 3 | Villains 5 | Neither 4 | Total 12                    

Volume 38: 375: Hero Advantage.  Toga’s narrative-destined rival manages to follow her off the island and to the Villa ruins.  Close to a Neither call.

376: Neither.  Setting up a Dabi/Endeavor clash with Endeavor not caught on the back foot.

377: Hero.  Return of La Brava.

378: Hero.  Return of Lady Nagant.

379: Neither.  Sets up a reengaged clash between Shigaraki and Deku.

380: Hero.  Arrival of Shiketsu.

381: Hero.  Tokoyami lands a blow that AFO is explicitly afraid to get hit with.

382: Hero.  Shinsou and Kirishima arrive with a brainwashed Gigantomachia.

383: Neither.  Reiterates that AFO is in trouble, but it’s not new information, and the choppers coming in at the very end are an unpredictable element.

384: Hero.  The choppers are full of Hero-supporting journalists here to tell the world how incredibly hard-working and earnest and admirable Heroes are.  Gag.

385: Neither.  AFO’s belated but impressive show of force gets dampened somewhat by the Heroes refusing to give in, and even getting one of their number back.  It’s back and forth, but Stain really tips it for good over to a neutral chapter ending.  While he’s obviously not aligned with the Villains, he’s far too murderous to chalk him up as a Hero yet, either, especially on-scene watching two kids he tried to kill last time he saw them.

386: Hero.  All Might gets a cool robot suit and the last-page chapter title drop references his iconic catchphrase.

                   Heroes 8 | Villains 0 | Neither 4 | Total 12                    

Volume 39: 387: Hero Advantage.  Rei is, of course, a civilian, not a hero, but she’s clearly aligned on the Team Good Guy, so I have to give it to them.  It’s not a hill I’d die on, however, particularly with the very last panel being the flashback to Touya emphasizing Rei’s culpability.

388: Neither.  What a nice vision of hell as everyone burns to death, including Dabi.  If I gave it to anyone, I’d lean Villain, because it’s certainly more in line with what Dabi wants—what he’s always wanted.  But in terms of impact on the reader, it certainly isn’t going to get anyone whooping and cheering for the Villains.

389: Neither.  It’s a good last few pages of Shouto and Iida, but the reader already knows they’re on their way, so it’s not a pleasant surprise to see them enroute.  The fact that they are still enroute rather than dramatically arriving to save the day keeps this from being a full Hero moment ending.

390: Neither.  Teasing more of the fight between Toga and Uraraka, but no sudden turns, new elements, or grand statements on either side.

391: Neither.  Ongoing fight; while Ochaco gets the stirring line, the actual last page is Toga lashing out.

392: Villain.  While I’m loathe to give it to them on the basis of an injury I was not for one second actually worried about, the chapter does end with Toga putting a knife into Uraraka’s gut and a flashback to Twice asking Toga about a Villain name.  A clear Villain-upper-hand ending.

393: Hero.  Ochaco comes through with flying colors, getting a quirk awakening and making Toga an offer she’s dreamed of her whole life.

394: BOTH.  For literally the first time in this whole count, I can’t count this against either side.  If pressed, I’d call it a Hero win, but it’s a win because it validates both sides.

395: Neither.  Sorry, gang.  I’m utterly incapable of calling this one in an unbiased way.  It’s an all-too-real death scare for Toga and, regardless of how happy she is in the moment, I can’t call her potential death a victory.  But since Ochaco obviously feels the same, it’s not a Hero win, either.

396: Hero.  And get ready, ‘cause there're about to be a whole lot of them.  Good god, but I hate this All Mech sequence.

397: Neither.  Ongoing battle, no major tides turning in the final page.

398: Neither.  As above.

                   Heroes 3 | Villains 1 | Neither 7 | Both 1 | Total 12                    

Volume 40: 399: Hero Advantage.  The big turn-around with Aoyama, with All Might dropping the Aoyama-themed laser of AFO.

400: Hero.  Stain’s return.  Stain’s a Villain himself, but far too aligned with Hero orthodoxy for me to count him returning to help All Might as anything but a Hero-side victory.

401: Neither.  All Might’s still kicking, AFO is within range of Shigaraki, but nothing decisive deployed on the final page.

402: Neither.  To all appearances, All Might continues to shovel more battle damage onto AFO.  There’s a death threat in the explosion, one I don’t think I took very seriously at the time, though plenty of others did.  Left to my own devices, I’d call it for Team Hero, but I’ll err on the side of restraint and call it a hero equivalent of Toga’s death threat.

403: Hero.  Unequivocal Hero victory—Bakugou’s back up.

404: Hero.  Saving All Might with the literal power of prayer.

405: Hero.  If I wanted to be snide, I’d point out that Final Boss is definitionally a Villain role, so Bakugou enthusiastically claiming it for himself implicates Heroes as having been the Villains all along, while the Villains are the clear heroic underdogs struggling against a corrupt, violent system.  But that’s just my bitterness making me perverse; this is a clear Hero victory.

406: Neither.  Exchanging of smack talk, Bakugou gets a good but not definitive hit in.

407: Neither.  AFO’s flashback ends with one of the most crushing emotional defeats of his life, but you can hardly call AFO slice-and-dicing Yoichi a Hero win, either.

408: Neither.  AFO’s going all-out, but Bakugou remains undaunted.

409: Hero.  AFO’s effective defeat at Bakugou’s hands.  Yoichi’s regretful glance is not enough to shift the needle.

410: Villain.  Shigaraki does what the narrative has long been warning that he can and steals a portion of One For All, grabbing Danger Sense for himself and stealing Shinomori from the OFA collective.

                   Heroes 6 | Villains 1 | Neither 5 | Total 12                    

Volume 41: 411: Neither.  Deku’s readying an offensive that gives Shigaraki lots of Danger Sense tinglies, but nothing definitive.

412: Neither.  The temptation is strong to call this for the Hero side, as it’s the moment Kudou formulates the plan that will soon be leading to Shigaraki’s ultimate defeat, but the caveat that the plan requires losing One For All kiboshes that feeling very triumphant.

413: Hero.  There’s some nominal sadness for Deku gearing up to lose OFA, but the tone here is much more about how great and awesome Deku is for being willing to do it, on top of how incredibly fucking rad the art plainly wants us to think that he looks.

414: Hero.  I’d normally call it Neither for lacking new elements or definitive actions, but I have to acknowledge the sheer disparity between, on the one hand, the vestiges telling Deku that it’s working and to keep going as Deku gears up to unleash another punch while, on the other hand, all Shigaraki can manage is huddling in on himself and choking out a few pained grunts.

415: Neither.  Borderline in that Eri is a clear Hero-side ally with an absolutely game-changing power, but the truth is that she’s at U.A. with no immediately clear way to make it to the battle even if anyone were to let her go, so it’s not too different from any other chapter that ended with a major player en route but not yet arriving.

416: Hero.  Deku finally breaks into Shigaraki’s inner mind, over Shigaraki’s protestations.

417: Neither.  Deku and Nana make a major breakthrough, but Shigaraki’s backstory yet has terrible bombs to drop.  I can’t call it a Villain advantage, though, because it’s still stuff Shigaraki very much does not want Deku meddling with.

418: Villain.  AFO returns yet again, spoiling Deku’s hard-won moment of equilibrium and understanding with Shigaraki.

419: Hero.  We can’t even get a week to savor/freak out over Deku losing his arms because the actual last beat of the chapter is Aizawa bringing in a pair of classmates via Kurogiri’s warp gate, suggesting (albeit inaccurately) that Kurogiri has settled as a Hero ally.

420: Hero.  More of the above and Deku gets his arms back after a world-shakingly relevant and momentous chapter and a half.

421: Hero.  All around Hero support, now including from civilians too.

422: Hero.  More of the above and now Deku’s punching Shigaraki at the end of it under a chapter title of Midoriya Izuku Rising.

423: Hero.  Deku’s triumphantly raised fist clears storm clouds, changes the weather, and kills the man he was trying to save.  This is framed as a victory anyway.

                   Heroes 8 | Villains 1 | Neither 4 | Total 13

SECOND WAR TOTAL: Heroes 36 | Villains 12 | Neither 32 | BOTH 1 | Total 81 Volume Count Total: Heroes 2 | Villains 3 | Neither 2

                   

TOTAL CHAPTER COUNT FOR BOTH WAR ARCS: 118 CHAPTERS Final Page Hero Advantage: 51 Final Page Villain Advantage: 21 Final Page Neither: 45 Final Page Both: 1

Total Volume Count: 11 Volumes Last Page Hero Advantage: 4 Last Page Villain Advantage: 4 Last Page Neither: 3

---------------------

Now, you could (and I might) write a whole different post about the unbalanced strategic advantages that I discussed at the beginning of the post, but I think this breakdown also serves to illustrate the scope of the problem with raw numbers (percentages rounded off a bit such that they total to neat 100s).

In the first war, 40.5% of the chapters end with the Heroes on the upswing, 35% have no clear advantage, and only 24.5% end with the Villains waxing triumphant. Despite Hawks reflecting at the end of My Villain Academia about how the Paranormal Liberation Front was a power on par with, or possibly even greater than, that of Hero Society, the numbers don't really back that up. Instead, Heroes have the advantage over half again as often as Villains do, and even the uncertain chapters are still more numerous.

The second war is worse—much worse. Hero Advantage chapters account for nearly half of the arc at 44.5%, while chapters where Neither side clears account for the bulk of the remaining chapters at 39.5%. Only 15% of the chapters, well under a quarter, are Villain Advantage. For an endgame that wants to be about "saving Villains," only one single chapter (1%) ends with something you could credibly call both sides winning.

Now, of course, the second war is the climax of the whole series, so of you might say that of course the Heroes are going to ultimately do better. They have to win in the end, after all, so of course the arc will eventually feature mostly Hero victories.

I would counter that, while that is true, the story repeatedly tries to convince us that the Heroes are really struggling, that they've lost so many people, that they're at this huge disadvantage that neccessitates the extreme measures they use. And the numbers simply don't back that up, even less than they did in the first war!

If you look at the totals for each volume, Heroes have a wild advantage in two of the first four volumes (the arc is seven volumes in total), numbers the Villains never come close to meeting. There's one volume (the third, Volume 37) where they have the majority of the chapter-ending advantages, and even there, it's a narrow margin. Volume 38 is then a blow-out with not a single Villain Advantage chapter cliffhanger in the whole book, and in the final three volumes of the arc, the Villains get exactly one Advantage chapter per volume.

Not very convincing numbers, if the aim is to convince the reader of how much Plus Extra effort the Heroes are going to have to exert, if you ask me!

Between them, Hero Advantage and Neither chapters make up a shocking 81% of the two war arcs, with merely 18%, less than fifth, of the chapters ending on Villain Advantage beats that could serve to freshly drum up, "Our heroes are really in trouble now!" anxiety.

Looking back to what I said about the Heroes having the bulk of the strategic advantages for both arcs, that surely can't be all that surprising. You can't expect a set-up that slanted to leave much room at all for Villains to get time to shine; they simply don't have the room in the story for that when, for everything they try, the Heroes already have some countermeasure.

As a final comparison, remember I praised MVA back at the start for being gripping in large part because the "Heroes" of that arc, the League of Villains, were at such a disadvantage?

I briefly ran the numbers there, and I'd say, of nineteen chapters that contain active confrontation of some sort between the League and an antagonistic force (Gigantomachia, Ujiko, and the MLA), the League have the chapter-ending advantage beat in four of those chapters: Toga's victory in 226, Twice overcoming his mental block and starting to replicate himself in 229, and the two chapters covering Shigaraki's ultimate victory over Re-Destro, 238 and 239. That's a grand total of 20% "Hero" Advantage chapters for them, and half of those are the arc climax chapters.

The "Villains" for the arc likewise have the ending advantage in 20% of the arc, four chapters: Machia having comprehensively whipped the League at the end of 419, RD making the League an offer they can't refuse in 223, Skeptic pushing all of Twice's buttons in 228, and RD plucking off Shigaraki's fingers in 233.

The remaining eleven chapters—60%—go to the Neither category. Compare that back to the percentages for the war arcs, and you can see that, while the Villain Advantage percentage is similar (~5% higher in the first war and likewise lower in the second), the Hero Advantage is twice the percentage (40+%) in both arcs, while the Neither chapters are accordingly lower (the war arcs are 35% and ~40% Neither respectively).

In other words, the Heroes in the war arcs just straight-up have more chapter-ending awesome moments and reveals, and spend less time facing chapter-ending uncertainty, compared to not just the Villains they're fighting in those arcs, but also compared to what those same Villains got when they were being Heroes for an arc.

And to think, Horikoshi wants me to think his Heroes are being challenged. Pull the other one, Sensei; it's got bells on.

(I welcome anyone else to run similar numbers with e.g. the trainng camp attack or the Hassaikai base raid. For myself, I'm too sleepy to figure out a better ending for this post, so I'm just turning out the lights and hitting the sack. Sorry if there's any formatting wigginess or the closing analysis is lacking; I will clean it up later if need be.)

[delusinaldreamer19]

After receiving some interaction with this post I made about my feelings on the Undertaker, I wanted to clarify some of the things I said. And give, you know, actual points + evidence for why I don’t like him.

I’ll start by rephrasing that very point. It’s not that I don’t like him as a character, it’s that I think he’s evil. Maybe one of the most evil characters in the series.

@abybweisse left a comment on my post saying how Yana had specified that UT wasn’t the main villain of the story. I agree. But whether or not he’s the main villain of the story doesn’t take away from how evil his actions are.

I’m just going to go ahead and get the main point across, or my main reason for “hating him” ig.

He needed r!Ciel’s body in order to revive him. In order to retrieve his corpse from the sight of the sacrifice, he needed to have known where it was. In order to retrieve r!Ciel’s body before the place fully burned down after being set ablaze by Ciel & Seb, he would have needed to be there when it was happening.

Remember this panel?

There are numourus theory’s abt it, but I personally believe it’s UT.

Case and point, he must have known that the twins where being held captive by the cult. Whether or not he knew about all the ways they were being abused is kind of irrelevant—I feel that seeing them in the cage would be enough to know they were being harmed.

This biggest thing about him that I just can’t get past is why didn’t he intervene?

Your telling me that the same person who said “I can’t bare to lose another Phantomhive” just sat by and watched as one of these Phantomhives he supposedly cares so much about was murdered right before his eyes? It’s just doesn’t sit right with me.

I’m halfway to believing that he specifically waited for r!ciel (and prob o!ciel) to die so that he could do the whole reanimated corpse thing. But I’m not convinced that will be the main payoff of his actions within the series.

Speaking of his actions…yeah I’m not done.

What is the point of him essentially ruining o!Ciel’s life? Seriously. Framing him for the sapphire music hall incidents, kicking him out of his own home, stripping him of everything he has aside from Seb and his servants. Like- why? What does that do to further his goals (whatever they may be)?

I feel like he could have kept the whole reviving r!ciel thing more…idk personal? Privet? Like revealing to only o!ciel that he’d done that.

And why revive Doll if not to specifically torment o!ciel with a ghost of his past? Or at least to have some sort of negative effect on him?

There are so many questions about the UT, and while we don’t have the answers for them yet, the questions themselves paint him in a very bad light.

Yes, he had some sort of relationship to Claudia. Yes, he cried over the picture of Vincent. He may care about the Phantomhives in some manner, but I can’t help but feel that he doesn’t care about o!ciel. He may have had a few lines that suggest otherwise, but is actions have spoken very loudly through this series.

If I had to put it into a theory, I’d say I think his main reason for doing all of this is that he just want to pit a real human (o!ciel) against one of his reanimated creations (r!ciel) to see which will come out on top. His whole thing has always been laughter and entertainment.

But that’s just the impression I’ve gotten from thinking about the Undertaker and trying to piece his actions together. Do I think this is the real motivation that Yana has in store for him? No. But I just can’t seem to get past it.

[rebelrebelwrites]

My messy thoughts on season 2 (all three episodes) so far below the cut

- LOVE the way Sauron formed his body. Absolutely horrifying.

- Charlie Vickers is terrifying; other Sauron actor was good but his baby face didn’t help matters. I wish they’d just put a different wig on CV because DAMN; he unsettles masterfully. Could not keep my eyes off of him in episode 1. He was riveting.

- I do read Sauron’s intro in episode 1 as he was both genuinely considering or striving for repentance, but also the ultimate opportunist — stealing the king of the southlands mark, then all he does with Galadriel. Truly I think Sauron is better as the ultimate opportunist capable of great planning and machinations, but it’s not believable unless he’s handy at a pivot

- I realized that BOTH Sauron and Galadriel were mutinied against (which like, I don’t know how I didn’t think of that until seeing it because it’s not like we didn’t know generally what happened); more reason to believe that their connection was real and not deception. He meant the things he said in the forge scene on some level, and you cannot convince me otherwise

- Again, CV absolutely kills every scene/moment with Adar. The hatred and desire for revenge and scheming; it’s all palpable. Him and Sam H. also have electric chemistry. I greatly enjoyed all his scenes in Mordor in Ep 1

- I’m absolutely living for all of the angst even though it hurts. Elrond, Galadriel, GAL MISSING HER BOYFRIEND… (and being equally terrified of what she’s done/having let him in)

- THE FLASH TO THEIR MOMENT IN THE FOREST FROM UDUN WHEN GAL IS TRYING TO CONVINCE ELROND TO COME WITH HER! I died

- The lead-up to Annatar’s reveal was so good. Sauron is way too good at what he does.

- Okay the vision with celebrimbor plus whispers of Galadriel was great but I need more mind palace shenanigans ASAP

- This show is really gonna make me root for Isildur isn’t it (not like I wasn’t but I am enjoying seeing more of him, especially saving Berek. Horse girl at heart, just like his dad and descendant)

- Earien is making me mad but Valandil gave me LIFE

- poor Miriel. And Elendil. And Theo and Arondir 😭

- Charles Edwards is also doing wonderfully. I especially appreciated his subtlety in episode 3

- Disa and Durin are again faves. Love how Durin was immediately sus of Annatar

- I am very worried for Nori and Poppy but also I know they’re fine. It’s almost weird hearing The Stranger/Gandalf talk but I feel like they’re building to a confirmation with all the name stuff.

- Loving it so far but I want more Sauron and Galadriel and specifically them both SOON, pleeeeease (idk if we’re getting it but I can hope!)

There’s more but this is all I can coherently muster rn. Biggest disappointment? That we have to wait for the rest! 😆🫠🫠🫠

[fxoye2]

as much as I think Spock and jim have really good times in bed, they’ve definitely laughed during sex, you know, for some reason or a reason? I think they’re comfortable enough with each other to do that; to have that joy with each other without it being awkward

ANON!!! YESSSS. OKAY, I am 1000% with you on this. People tend to forget that like… Spock and Kirk? Despite all their angst and galaxy-ending problems? They’re also dorks. And when they’re together, they’re SO comfortable with each other that laughter during sex is practically a given. It’s not always this intense, poetic, "Vulcan-telepathic-supernova-soul-bonding" thing (though don’t get me wrong, that ABSOLUTELY happens). But there’s also room for… JOY! Giggling! Silly, completely human, heart-warming moments of just being with each other.

And like, Kirk? He’s 100% the type to try and make Spock laugh during the most inappropriate moments. Because, you know, he gets a kick out of breaking Spock’s Vulcan stoicism—especially in private moments where Spock is a little more… vulnerable? You can’t tell me Jim doesn’t crack a joke or tease Spock right when things are heating up, like "Come on, Spock, is this logically the best position?" or some cheeky comment about Vulcan anatomy. Maybe he makes some dumb comment about Spock's ears in the middle of things (you KNOW Kirk loves those ears).

And Spock? Ohhh, you know he finds Jim’s nonsense exasperating but also endearing because how can he NOT? He’s probably trying to focus and maintain control (because Vulcan, obviously), but Jim will get him to smile or laugh, and that’s when Spock just… gives in. And when he does? It’s the sweetest thing ever, like this deep, rumbling chuckle from his chest. God, imagine it. Imagine Spock’s laugh when he finally lets go of that restraint a little. Jim would be OBSESSED with making it happen again.

Maybe there’s a moment where they’re in a tangled mess of limbs, trying to switch positions or something, and they just… get stuck, all awkward angles and elbows, and they just LOSE it. Spock’s trying to be all dignified, but Kirk is snickering so much that Spock just gives up and lets himself laugh too. It’s the kind of laughter that relaxes them both—like a reminder that even in the most intimate moments, they’re still them, you know? Partners in every sense of the word.

AND ANON, YOU'RE SO RIGHT—it’s because they’re comfortable with each other that this works. There’s no awkwardness, no shame. They know each other so well by this point that they can go from super intense, passionate moments to just… laughing together without skipping a beat. It’s that balance that makes their relationship so beautiful and REAL. They’re allowed to be goofy and vulnerable because there’s SO much love and trust there.

I’m convinced they’d be the type to crack jokes after, too. Like, they’re lying there, catching their breath, and Jim says something dumb like, “Well, that was one for the ship log,” and Spock gives him this deadpan look but can’t help the slight smile creeping up. (Or maybe something about how Vulcans are apparently very efficient even in bed, to which Spock would raise an eyebrow and say, “You seemed to enjoy my efficiency, Captain.”)

So yeah, I wholeheartedly believe they laugh during sex. It’s not always serious. It’s fun, it’s tender, and it’s THEM. Because sex isn’t just about the physical connection for them—it’s about their bond, their joy, and the fact that they feel safe enough with each other to be vulnerable in every way, including laughing their asses off mid-way through a steamy session.

AHHHH, I love them so much. Thank you for this. It’s canon in my heart now, no one can convince me otherwise!

[thlee18]

NSFW, aged up to adults

Part 2

Megumi feels stuck to the bed unable to move. He replays it over and over in his head; Itadori on top of him and how good it felt, how ashamed he was when he realized Itadori could feel him getting hard, how confused he now is by his nonchalance before he left the room. Megumi knows they should probably talk it out, but that isn’t exactly his style. And knowing Itadori, he will probably brush it under the rug and do his best to make sure Megumi doesn’t feel bad about it. Always doing the most for the people around him, especially the ones he loves. Megumi shakes his head, trying to think about anything else.

He can’t be sure how much time has passed, but the room is dark now. He slowly blinks open his eyes and feels Itadori’s warm body pressed into his side. His thick leg is wrapped around Megumi’s hips, arm slung across his chest, face nestled into his shoulder. He listens for a moment, Itadori’s breathing steady and soft. He turns his head toward him, studies the sharp lines of his face. Before he thinks too hard about it he leans forward and presses a kiss on Itadori’s forehead. His lips linger for a moment as he imagines really kissing him, not noticing that Itadori’s breathing has changed.

When Megumi pulls back he meets his heavy lidded gaze.

Before he can say anything, Itadori tells him, “You can do more, Megumi.”

“Do-do more what?” Megumi’s voice is a whisper, stuttering uncharacteristically, afraid of what might happen next.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” Itadori wears a sleepy but serious face, so unlike his usual demeanor.

“I-” Megumi can’t finish his sentence, not sure whether to agree or try to convince him otherwise.

“It’s okay, Megumi. Go ahead.”

Megumi looks at Itadori’s lips, but he can’t bring himself to do it. To his embarrassment, he feels hot tears begin to well.

Itadori brings a hand up to cup his cheek, his palm warm and comforting. He leans in, their noses brushing, and then they are kissing, softly, a small peck that turns into another, and another. Itadori moves his hand from Megumi’s face to his waist, turns him so that they are facing each other fully, bodies pressed tightly together. His grip on Megumi’s waist is hard enough to hurt and Megumi wonders if Itadori has been feeling the same kinds of things he has. Itadori prods at Megumi with his tongue, and he opens his mouth in surprise, tasting Itadori for the first time. His tongue is sweet and Megumi sucks on it, entranced by things he only dreamed about coming true. He closes his teeth on the tip, biting it softly.

Itadori grunts and pulls back.

It suddenly feels so real, being in bed with him, kissing him, sucking on him.

“Is this okay, Itadori?”

“Yuji.” Itadori frowns at him.

“What?”

“Call me Yuji. I need you to call me Yuji.”

“Alright. Is this okay, Yuji?”

Instead of answering Yuji leans in again, tongue hot and insistent in Megumi’s mouth, hand moving from his waist, to his neck, to his hair. When he grabs his hair at the roots Megumi let’s put a small moan. Yuji grins against his mouth.

“So you like this?”

Megumi nods, face feeling flushed, his body humming with pleasure.

“What about this?”

Hand still rooted in his hair, Yuji moves from Megumi’s lips to his neck, mouth finding sweet spots beneath his ear, near his shoulder, along his collarbone. Megumi is embarrassed at the soft sounds coming from him, but he can’t help it and it only fuels Yuji more.

“Is this how you pictured it, Megumi?” Yuji’s voice is thick and low and the sound of Megumi’s name in his mouth lights a fire inside him.

Megumi shakes his head. “I thought,” he gulps, starts again. “I thought it would be me doing this to you. I thought we would have to be drunk or that you would reject me. I-ahh!” Yuji bites him and sucks, the flesh of Megumi’s neck bruising under his mouth. Megumi, unable to stop himself, grinds against Yuji. They’re both hard and knowing that Yuji is turned on by this, by him, washes over Megumi. Suddenly Yuji is on top of him again, just like yesterday, only this time he’s doing exactly what Megumi wants.

“I wanted you in my bed every night. I wanted to hold you and touch you. When you got hard yesterday,” he emphasizes this by reaching a hand down between them and rubbing Megumi over his pants, “I wanted to be sure it was for me.”

They are kissing again, Yuji’s hand reaching for Megumi’s waistband, sliding in to touch him where he is hard and sticky with precum.

“I knew you would be big, Megumi,” Yuji mumbles and it takes everything in him not to cum right then. Yuji kisses a trail down Megumi’s body, all lips and tongue and teeth and Megumi writhes beneath him, moaning and whimpering when Yuji finally reaches his destination. His eyes flit up and they look at each other, quiet, Megumi a panting, blushing mess, Yuji unreasonably hot when he nuzzles his face into Megumi’s crotch, breathing him in, kissing him over his pants. Megumi is gripping the sheets, focusing on how good it feels while trying to make sure he can last for whatever Yuji is about to do. Yuji looks up to him again as he slides Megumi’s pants down just low enough to release his cock. Yuji reaches out, grabs it by the base and kisses his head lightly. Megumi can see where his precum smears onto Yuji’s lips and it’s so erotic he starts leaking some more, already twitching in Yuji’s hand.

“I’ve wondered what it tasted like,” he tells Megumi. With that he licks from the base to the tip. He flicks his tongue over the tip. Then he puts his mouth on him, sucking and licking as he slowly makes his way down. Megumi watches, hands still fisted in the sheets, giving in to the moans he can’t help let out, as Yuji works to take him down whole.

“Yuji, you don’t have to-” Yuji swallows him, Megumi lodged in his throat, Yuji’s nose brushing against his stomach.

“Fuuuck, Yuji, you took the whole thing.” Megumi brings a hand to Yuji’s hair, not pushing him, just needing to hold him. Yuji starts moving then, up and down, gagging a bit but managing to take it all over and over. His mouth is soft and hot and wet and Megumi can feels the pressure building, feel the need to cum. He starts meeting Yuji halfway, humping up into his mouth and he manages to get out, “Unh, Yuji, fuck, I’m gunna cum soon. You need to pull off, Jesus, or I’m going to finish in your mouth. Yuji, Yuji please, oh God, it feels so good I’m going to-” Yuji doesn’t stop even when he feels Megumi’s cock twitch and tastes the first spirt of his load. He sucks until Megumi pushes him off, swallowing it all. He wipes at his mouth, slick with cum and saliva, a shit eating grin splitting his face.

“Suck,” he commands, bringing his soiled fingers to Megumi’s mouth. Megumi, still overwhelmed with the aftershock of his orgasm, opens his mouth and does what he’s told, Yuji watching intently, his other hand rubbing himself over his clothes.

When Yuji pulls his fingers away he crawls up to plant a kiss on Megumi’s lips. It’s a slow, lazy, wet kiss that tastes like cum.

When they break away the only thing Megumi can manage is, “Holy shit.”

Yuji can’t stop smiling, a sucker for praise and appreciation.

“I was good then?” He asks. Megumi nods.

“You ever done that before?”

“No, but I’ve had lots of time to imagine what I wanted to do to you.”

“Shit,” Megumi swears. “And I thought I was the horny one.”

Yuji laughs and Megumi manages a tired smile.

[lfghughes]

Half My Fault

a/n: hahaha why am i such a simp for these kind of storylines. Also thank you to the anon who requested this. Peep that John ft though, i had to

You had met Nico years ago through a mutual friend and by that you meant you had dated one of his friends. You were all in the same friend group and over the years you had become close to Nico, he had been someone you had come to trust and he genuinely became one of your friends. When you and your boyfriend ended up splitting it rocked the friend group, many of them choosing him in the break up but Nico didn’t play that game. He continued being friends with him but also you.

Your friendship with each other had only grown after that, now you two were spending a lot of time on your own versus being in a group. Then one night things had escalated slightly to a point where you realized there were shared feelings. What you didn’t want was for Nico to lose his friendship with his friend because of this and he also was conflicted about the whole situation so you both decided it was better to remain as friends.

Even though this was decided everyone still thought there was something more there with the way you two acted. You never crossed the line with one another but you were both affectionate. His hand usually finding your lower back when he was walking through crowds with you. Snuggling on your couch or his while watching a movie. But there were never any more kisses or anything past just that.

It worked but slowly over the past few weeks you had noticed Nico distancing himself a little bit and before one of his games you came to learn why. He had stopped by your place after his practice and invited you to his game later. “By the way, I’ve been seeing someone. She’s going to be there tonight too. It’s her first time but I figured you could kind of hang out and show her around so she doesn’t get too overwhelmed.” You smiled and nodded your head at him but there was a dull pain in your heart from his words.

Nico had gotten you both seats close to the tunnel they came out of and you were trying your best in talking to the girl he had been seeing but it was hard. You knew you had no right to be upset or jealous but you were. The game came and went and you were proud of your best friend for playing a good, so much so that he won first star of the night but you saw the way he looked up at her. The way he winked at her as he walked out to the ice and you were sick to your stomach.

Yet you still held yourself together as you showed her where he would be after the game. You felt like you were out of your body, just wanting to be home so you could cry about all of it but you needed to act normal. When Nico came out, he hugged you and then moved on to her before you all walked outside to the parking lot. His arm remained around her as you watched all the little things he did so naturally. The way he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the way he smiled down at her.

“Hey, we’re all going out for some drinks, want to come? You can ride with us.” Nico told you, turning around to look at you but you shook your head. “It’s kind of late, I’m tired so I’m going to go home.” Before he could try to convince you otherwise you started walking the opposite way back to your car. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even see Marino until you crashed into him. “Oh sorry..” You started and he shook off your apology. “It’s okay.” John told you and then his eyebrows furrowed a little. “Are you not going with Nico? We’re all going out.” 

“I don’t feel good, I just need to get home.” A look of concern passed his face as he pointed back at his car. “I can drive you home real quick if you want.” You shook your head at his offer “I have my car it’s fine.” But he was clearly worried about you and wouldn’t drop it. “I can pick you up tomorrow and come get it with you but I don’t think you should drive home if you’re not feeling good. Trust me, I’ll hate if I let you go and something happens.” 

You ended up agreeing with him because you were barely thinking already and so maybe this was the safest option. He dropped you off at your place and you immediately curled up on the couch in the comfort of all your blankets. A hour had probably passed since John had dropped you off when you heard the doorbell ring. Checking your camera because it was late you saw that it was just Nico so you went and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” You asked and he looked at you like it was a ridiculous question.

“You told me you were tired but John told me at the bar he drove you home because you weren’t feeling good. He said he was really worried about you. What happened?” Of course John had expressed his concern, why wouldn’t he? “It’s nothing. I just didn’t drink a lot of water.” Nico knew these were all excuses and he showed it clearly on his face. “This is because I’m seeing someone, isn’t?” Silence was all he got from you.

“That’s not fair, you decided we shouldn’t be something more and you can’t get upset when I find someone.” You held up your hand, stopping him from going on. “We decided not me.” Last you had checked this was something he had agreed to. “I agreed with you because it’s what you wanted but I could care less about what he thinks of me because I’m in love with you.” Silence filled the air between you again, shock at his words.

You closed the space off between the two of you and pressed your lips to his, his hands going to the sides of your face and holding you there. The kiss proving everything he just said and so much more. This felt right, more right than you could have imagined. You pulled away slightly, looking at him. “What about the girl from tonight?” You asked and he scratched the back of his head. “The minute John said something was wrong I went back to her and broke things off. She’s not you.”

[cody-paranatural]

do you have any pnat headcanons? :3

YES I DO.

I have!!!! A lot of them!!!!!

I will try to keep this relatively short but we’ll see how this goes lol.

Okay! So in no particular order:

- I need to get this one off of my chest. I don’t care about the wifi-spider from the twitter thing Spender is GAY. He got confused when a woman assumed he was asking her out 😭 The closest he’s ever been to ‘dating’ a woman was when he desperately asked Mina if she would pretend to be his date to one of his dad’s galas bc he was DESPERATE to keep them from realizing he was gay. But she really didn’t want to go there and so it ended up being the first gala he ditched completely and had a way better time because of it. It was the start of him actually being able to admit that he HATES living like this. I will die on this hill I cannot see this man as bisexual. Jean IS bi though.

- In my mind Mina is 100% the person Ms Baxter was referring to when she said she ditched her goth phase after a bad breakup in junior year. They’re exes. To ME. I want this to be true so bad.

- I don’t know why I started with the adults but I’m sticking by it for now. Anyway you literally can’t convince me that June and Shrike weren’t briefly a Thing in the past. It’s so real to me. I don’t think Shrike would’ve told June about her evil vampire fling turned boyfriend turned husband. But for comedic purposes if June DID know she would be so “I’m so happy for you and your ugly boyfriend” about it.

- Peter and June are so t4t and bi4bi. So are Shrike and Davy actually but I don’t know if the world is ready for that one. Listen I’m just saying that the Shrike timeline would get much simpler if you assume she wasn’t the one with the baby.

- Cody was a REALLY ugly baby. I needed a jumping point to get to the kids and this is one I feel strongly about. Because listen. He’s a cute little guy NOW. But this is a “butterfly was a caterpillar first” kinda situation. He needed to exorcise all the ugly genes he got from Davy as soon as possible. He suffered enough he deserves to look like his mother okay.

- I love the school store gang they’re all literally my best friends so here’s how I think the group came to be. To me Jeff and Violet live in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends so they’ve been hanging out for a while. Very shortly before they started first grade they run into Ed, who got distracted by a spirit or something like that and ended up getting split up from Izzy and also maybe Dimitri. They had one fun day together and then saw each other at school and boom. They’re besties now :] And later on they ended up befriending my beloved weird girl herself Lisa Paranatural. I think she just like, sat next to them one day and became part of the group. No one can really tell when or how it happened it just did. It’s like she’s always been there. And Cody was the last one to join them. Until proven otherwise I just think that he most likely went to the rich kid elementary school, and didn’t meet any of them until the start of 6th grade. You CAN become that close with someone in a little over a year. It happened to me. And Max got attached to the activity club in a week so anything’s possible. The world is my oyster.

- I think Jeff has an older sister :] He just gives me that vibe, like he’s a younger brother FOR SURE. Also literally everyone is his family as a silly name, it’s a tradition. One of his mom is named Jedextraordinary Flavors or something equally as silly.

- Speaking of Jeff, he writes poetry. This is mostly inspired by him talking about the symbolism of his pencil and his desk in chapter 1. He’s 12 so it’s of very questionable quality, but he has a lot of fun with it.

- Isaac is a trans girl. And Violet is a non binary trans guy. These two are very important because I will be using my headcanon pronouns for them here ^-^

- Isaac and Cody don’t really know each other in real life but they DO know each other on like a Twilight forum. And they fight all the time. I think Cody really likes reading vampire novels. I think he finds the inaccuracies very funny. And Isaac genuinely really loves Twilight but would sooner Die than admit it bc she is terrified of being seen as cringe. They are interested in completely different aspects of the Twilight universe and also Cody clearly loves drama, just look at how he talks about the student council stuff. I just think it would be very funny okay.

- In a similar vein Cody listens to The Fever sometimes (DJ Mothman and Professor Bigfoot’s radio station) On page 49 he found what they had to say about Shrike funny so I think he’d enjoy hearing what else they have to say, though only to laugh at it. Where as Stephen takes it very seriously. I think any supernatural related conversation between Stephen and Cody would be Very Funny, but I also like to think that if they ever actually became friends it would start with them talking about the Fever.

- Sege’s full name has GOT to make up the word sergeant somehow. Either his middle name is Anthony or his last name is straight up the word ant or something that contains it. Serge is my special funny guy i needed to include him.

- Since Isaac’s parents are just irish Goku and irish Sailor moon I think her aunt should be irish Miku. I think her whole extended family just looks Like That. They’re all EXTREMELY normal though. They’r personalities don’t match their designs AT ALL. Isaac absolutely does not see the resemblance between his family members and the characters they look like and she’s the only one and it drives everyone else CRAZY

- This is more of a general headcanon but I think that at some point a spectral uploaded a photo they took where the spirits are doing something really stupid, but the action is treating it SO seriously. And it breaches contentment and spawns two different memes. The spectral version where people are hyping up the lamest spirits they’ve seen and the non-spectral interpretation of it where people think the joke is that there’s NOTHING in the photo.

- I think at some point in high school Isabel and Max get to be buzzcut brothers. Isabel fucked up her bangs so bad after impulsively cutting them that she decided that she’s just gonna go bald for a bit. Ed helped. It’s a good look on her but I don’t think she would stick by it all that long.

- This one is mostly a joke. But I think that at some point while saying his very questionable conspiracy theories Stephen somehow got everything spectral and spirit related 100% right, and then immediately decided that this theory is kinda stupid actually and decided that bigfoot makes way more sense

- Also. In my beautiful mind Cash Reward is gonna have puppies at some point. Because I want to see Stephen being WAYYY too invested in being a dog uncle (Cash Reward is like a sibling to them, you see)

- I think Isabel will really get into miniature crafting in high school. I don’t really have a good reasoning for this one, I think it’s something she started because it didn’t really seem like her thing, but it just ended up being something she really ended up enjoying after a while. This one might be me projecting a little though because I kinda want to get into it :P

- Dimitri learns how to code in his free time. It started because Suzy REALLY wanted the journalism club to have its own website, but was too impatient to learn it herself. So she decided that their editor guy should do it. And Dimitri ended up really enjoying himself. I think he and Ed tried to make a little game together at some point but had WILDLY different ideas for what they wanted it to be so it didn’t really end up going anywhere

- Ed learns how to play several instruments just because they can. This one is so true to real to me and I don’t even know why. They can play kazoo and the ukulele for SURE. They get an otamatone when they’re older. A harmonica too, perhaps.

[connoisseursdecomfort]

A mini character analysis on Twilight/Loid/[redacted]

As much as I am a tiny bit sad that Loid is still not having that reflection I want him to have after the last arc, I think I will have to remind myself something I posted somewhere else:

“The problem is, Twilight is inching towards his hidden self, [redacted], instead of running towards being ‘Loid’. As much as we want to believe that [redacted] is closer to ‘Loid’ in nature, and that he could have become ‘Loid’ if war didn’t happen, ‘Loid’ is still a work persona created by Twilight to complete Operation Strix. This persona allowed Twilight to ‘love’, but it is also a constant reminder that it is a facade. ‘Loid’ was a middle ground for Twilight to get back in touch with [redacted]. But now it has become a battleground where Twilight and [redacted] are having a standoff.”

I’ll be as patient as I can be.

(Manga spoilers ahead: and an analysis of ch.77)

I see people on twitter saying that everything we love about Loid has gone downhill since ch.62. I don’t necessarily think so because we have ch.68, but it is kinda true he doesn’t seem to get much development on the dad/husband department since the end of the cruise arc. To a point that people started to be angry at him and Endo since ch.75.

Loid has been in this utter confusion since the cruise arc. Before that, he doesn’t realise he has this confusion - he has been able to use the excuse, you know, Loid “for the mission” Forger, to justify everything. The cruise arc is really the first time he’s not on the mission. Basically it takes 50 chapters for Endo to finally ask Loid this important question, “What if it’s not for the mission?”

This poor man has been confused ever since, like in ch.76:

This is, of course, just this stupid man’s way of asking if he’s a good enough father for Anya for the mission. But it doesn’t go away easily. He has been a spy for more than a decade. And before that he was alone for years. Being a Forger for only three months is not going to reverse that many years of trauma.

But his true self is winning. Has been winning since ch.62. He still tries to rationalise everything using his spy radar, and somehow he ends up being absolutely genuine.

In ch. 62, right after this scene where he deliberately reminded himself that this is “Loid’s” house:

He somehow chose to be a real dad instead of being a good spy:

And the same thing happened again in ch.66:

Sandwiched between all the spy-talks he had in his head, there is this transparent bubble. This is also the bubble that convinces me that he knows she is keeping secrets, but somehow he doesn’t care. But this is for another day.

His head says spy, but his actions always speak otherwise.

Endo loves to play with the idea of misinformation. He blatantly said in the fanbook that the info Franky has on the Garden is an exaggerated version of it, and is not accurate. The more obvious example would be the Handler’s arc in Ch.63. This is a story about secrets and lies, but there is a grain of truth in all the lies these characters tell us. Especially Loid “for the mission” Forger. From day 1 we knew Twilight’s a liar and a very cool one. But somehow Endo also makes him to be this genuine and sincere man. And he also needs therapy.

So Endo shows us how much he really needs therapy, just look at all these similarities, like this:

Ch.77

Ch.62.3

Or this: Ch.77

Ch.22

Ch.67.1

But the real fear is always this: am I worthy for the family? Does she feel that I am worthy enough?

Ch. 77

For Loid “for the mission” Forger, this basically translates to, my wife and daughter are upset my mission is failing because I’m not good enough I’m a bad spy. He has hit himself with this “bad spy! bad spy!” mentality so many times, it’s basically a running gag now.

Ch.10

Ch.17.5

Ch.29

Okay I give up finding every single panel of him panicking because it’s too much. But I think you get it.

Mr. Austin is so obviously a foil for Loid. As the therapy unfolds, we were trying to figure Loid out just as Loid tried hard to figure Mr. Austin out.

Loid even asked the same question we want to ask him:

Isn’t that exactly why people are mad at him now? Is he lying to himself when he says for the mission, or is he just lying to us the whole damn time? 

I think the problem is that we are all expecting Loid to be his actual persona. And it could be. But Ch.62 is also reminding all of us that “Loid” is something invented by Twilight. Even Twilight is something invented. By [redacted]. We love Loid. We kinda like Twilight, mostly because he’s hot af. But do we like [redacted], the man with all the flaws and merits Loid and Twilight have?

You see, like father, like daughter. Anya and [redacted] really don’t know what normality is. In Ch. 76:

And in Ch. 77:

They really don’t know what it is like to be a normal family, although they are already in one, and they sure feel very loved.

Remember back in Ch.10/Ep.7, when he said this: “I wonder what it’d feel like to have a real family.” This really is Endo asking [redacted] the same question, “What if this is not for the mission? What if you are in a real family?”

And [redacted] still doesn’t know the answer, although the answer is really there right from the start. He is this stupid, stupid man, who’s also absolutely traumatised and utterly confused. But you know what? If this is a story about recovery and rediscovery, then: