#between himself and the Inspector

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

It’s rather a common theme in science fiction that when an old enemy wants to get the protagonist’s attention, he or she simply threatens all of humanity.

The Tinker did so, just to ramp up the stakes between himself and the Inspector, knowing all too well that the Inspector’s Associate would involve herself in the matter, for as long as she was necessary.

[hephaestuscrew]

Thinking about the protective way Clara tells Fleet not to go into DeVries' dangerous-looking training set-up, and about how when Septimus mentions Fleet's friend Fleet's immediate assumption is that he must mean Clara, and about "This is Miss Clara Entwhistle, my partner - in business, my business partner." / "I'm also his friend, but he doesn't like to say it.", and about how Fleet rarely smiles but he smiles to himself at Clara having a good idea (and Clara notices the change in his expression), and about how Clara is trying to work out Fleet's birthday through a process of elimination, and about how Fleet tries twice to shut down the conversation with Frances Byrne that's making Clara uncomfortable, and about how panicked and angry he sounds after realising she's been poisoned...

[aquamarineglow]

[sillysiluriforme]

okay but the implications that while paris is basically under lock and key quarantine they’re STILL pumping out fashion shows and magazines is extremely funny. like the GG are still doing their thing and being photographed in ads and tv while there’s a literal terrorist/satan/paris is literally cut off from the rest of the world/literal global crisis/europe’s freaking out. capitalism doesn’t stop for nobody. it’s problematic but low-key iconic bc between “wtf??” and “WTFF??” it hits a 9 on the richter scale. we got the super secret EU italian inspector gadget, the secret underground scheme of artificial humans, satan himself cosplaying butterflies and meanwhile the school kids are like “oh cool there’s a ladybug inspired toy”. the biblical rapture is happening, eden is falling and everyone’s smoking weed. imagine being like any other government just watching this shit go down. imagine being an EU official and trying to figure out how to kick out lucifer so paris can switch to euros (because paris. is. in. the. eu. like god intended) and you spend 24/7 doing what you *think* is surveying paris and updating status when in reality you’re just watching 20 million fashion shows bc apparently paris is still operating?? early 2000s paris to europe is what a denny’s is to america in a hurricane. also logically there are sentikids elsewhere but the focus of LT is on paris so it just looks like in this hellfire of a city that resides the biblical devil with a butterfly fetish has a freakishly high number of sentihumans. “the average city has 19739 billion sentibeings” is actually just a statistical error. peacock georg, who lives in paris and loves The Horrors and jewelry is an outlier and should not have been counted

[kusanagihaku]

anyway 僕に大切にされてね came on shuffle the other day and I immediately got brain worms so here’s what I think the ghouls would do if you’re over at their dorm late but have something on early the next morning.

How would they ask you to stay? 

It’s 2am and you’re half-lying on his bed, wearing a spare set of his pajamas. His covers are pulled up to mid-thigh. The warmth of his body seeps through the bare inches of space between you. 

You’ve been talking about your pasts and your futures, quiet conversation slipping around everything but the present until you reluctantly pull back slightly, and say, “I have to get up early tomorrow.” 

He looks at you then, blinking like he hasn’t realised this moment would come to an end eventually. 

His fingers brush yours under the covers. 

Jin’s fingers curl loosely around your own. Don’t go, he says. There is no resonance of power behind his words, no ring of authority, just something soft, raw, open. He shifts himself closer, silk slipping on silk, so that he’s fully lying down next to you, and you feel the lightest of tickles as his bangs brush your forehead. His breath ghosts across your cheek. Stay. 

Tohma stills. Of course, he murmurs. You’re busy. But you feel him shift his body anyway, rotating himself so he’s resting on his elbows, looking down and over at you. It takes most of your self-control to stop imagining what he would look like looming over you instead. But stay, won’t you? It’s a lot closer if you leave from Frostheim instead. 

Kaito blinks again, then jerks his hand back. Ah, of course you’re busy! You’re the inspector, after all! You don’t miss the quick flash of disappointment before he beams at you again, all sunshine and bright in the cold of his room. He makes no move to get off the bed, though, and neither do you – you bite back a smile when he flashes a glance at you again, almost guilty. You sure you can’t stay? 

Luca pulls away slightly. He was already a gentlemanly distance away from you on the bed, of course, but the silent shift backwards almost feels like a permission to leave. Before you can swing your feet off the bed, however, his fingers curl around your wrist. I do wish you could stay. 

Alan sits up. His grey sleep shirt is wrinkled from where he was slouched against his pillows, half-turned towards you as you talked. He shifts his hand from where it is burning in gentle touch against yours, and runs it through his hair instead. I’ll walk you back, he says, gruffly, but neither of you move from under the warmth of his covers. Neither of you want to. 

Leo snorts. Cancel, he suggests, blithely. What can be so important that you’d have to leave this early? What can be so important that you’d have to leave his side? He hooks his pinky into yours. You’re already wearing my pajamas. You can use my bathtub if you need to shower later. You can borrow a uniform from me tomorrow if you need to. What for go back to your crappy old dorm? 

Sho frowns. He takes your hand in his own, thumb brushing over the top of your knuckles. What do you have on? When you tell him, he tugs you closer to him, making you roll onto your side so your faces are barely inches away from each other’s. That sounds stupid, he murmurs. His eyes flicker away from your lips. Tell you what, if you stay, I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow. Deal? 

Haru groans and throws his head back. Don’t remind me, he mumbles to the ceiling. You see his mental to-do list slowly getting longer as he comes back down to reality, cataloguing all the tasks around Jabberwock yet to be finished, but he suddenly looks over at you. His hand brushes yours again, almost shy in the way it lingers. I can wake you up at sunrise. Stay the night? 

Towa pouts immediately, and rolls over so quickly he almost flattens you underneath him. His arms snake around you as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. He smells like earth, like rain, like the way flowers kiss the ground as they wilt. Don’t leave, Dandelion. His arms tighten around you. Don’t go. 

Ren frowns, and suddenly the warmth of his hand milimetres away from yours disappears. He crosses his arms tightly, looking out the window. Is it that Vagastrom mission? he says. There is something in his voice you can’t place, but his face is turned too far from you for you to figure it out. Just leave early tomorrow, what’s the big deal? 

Taiga blinks, and there is a dip on his side of the bed before you feel his head resting on your shoulder. My, my, kitty-cat, he drawls. He intertwines his fingers with yours, turning your hand this way and that. Trying to escape me early? He knows you’d never, but he turns to press his nose to your shoulder. Bet they’ll text you tomorrow morning to cancel, anyway. 

Romeo huffs. What for? then, That’s stupid, when you tell him. You can’t read his facial expression from under the pale white clay mask he has on, but the warning look that flashes in his eyes is full of affectionate disdain. Go late, he tells you, then waves off your protest. We still have sheet masks to do after this, or your skin is going to crack and you’re going to waste all my effort– 

Ritsu nods, and you see him blink away the dredges of drowsiness from the corner of his eyes before he turns to you. It’s late, he agrees, voice soft, raw. His hand does not move from where it is frozen against yours, touch melting against your fingers in hope that you will not notice. Perhaps… perhaps next time we can schedule this for when we have nothing on the next day. 

Subaru starts. Of course, he says, and bows his head. I’m sorry to have kept you so late– The warmth of dim lamp light frames the smooth of his cheek, the curve of his fringe, but does nothing to hide the way his eyes soften when you assure him that no, you did want to stay for as long as you did, you want to stay longer, in fact– Stay, then, he murmurs, sudden and fierce. Please. 

Haku laughs, warm and low. What for? When you tell him he just hums. I’ll walk you there tomorrow. His fingers brush against yours again, then curl around your own, steady, sure. When you look over at him his eyes glow gold in the gentle leftover of moonlight that has diffused through the rain and spilled in through his screen door. It wraps you in starlight, in muted resin, in the irresistible want to have this moment with him last forever. It’s late, princess, he says, softly. His lips brush your ear as he leans in. Stay with me. 

Zenji makes a noise of surprise, eyes flickering out the window of the cathedral to look at the moon. Oh, of course, my dear, he exclaims, and hovers slightly above your bed. I completely lost track of time, it was so entrancing just talking to you… He worries noisily after you and your schedule for a moment before he pauses, wringing the doll between his hands. If you don’t mind… can I… can I stay? 

Ed yawns and stretches. You humans and your schedules. You’re always so busy with things so insignificant… He leans over, gazing at you through half-lidded eyes. His pale face is lit only by the cold white of his iPad screen, now left forgotten in the space between you. He searches your face for a moment, before saying, Wouldn’t you rather stay with me? 

Rui jerks back, then forces a chuckle. Sorry I lost track of time, you know I don’t really sleep… You bite your lip. The warmth of his hand, even if it was through the blanket and his glove, felt so real, so– Rui extracts himself from under the blanket. The laugh he gives you as he shifts away is pained, almost, but hopeful. It’s a long walk back from Obscuary to your dorm, though. We’ve got so many guests rooms… Stay, won’t you? 

Lyca scrunches his nose. Fine– he starts to say, but stops. He glances at you, almost shy, before his eyes dart back to the soft of his covers. You watch him twist the blanket between his fingers for a moment before he grumbles, still not looking at you, What do you have so early, anyway? Just ask that blonde gigolo to do it for you. 

Yuri sniffs. He sneaks a glance at you, almost as if he is calculating how much you mean it, how probable it is that you’d leave his side. Walking back to the health hazard you call a cathedral will take far too long and take too much of your precious sleep time, he decides, then shifts so the flush climbing up his ears is nearly completely submerged under his own covers. Stay, he huffs, and shuts his eyes tight. Goodnight. 

Jiro glances over at you. And? He watches impassively as you try to explain that you have to leave now so you’d get enough sleep, before a small smile creeps up his lips. His pinky brushes yours again, a little less accidental, a little more warm. You can just stay in Mortkranken, he says. We’ll just wake up earlier tomorrow to make up for it. 

first time trying this hc format 0: kinda like the prose this time ngl lmk what u think!

you can find english lyrics to the song here!

[eggiesins]

Sandrock Bachelors Being Drunk

Mild NSFW so Minors DNI

My first head canon post, enjoy!

Arvio

Arvio already has no idea what inhibition is so expect his personality to intensify by 200% while his ability to actually come up with schemes drops by 200%.  He’s gonna have so many half-baked terrible ideas that he will immediately try to act upon, so be ready to keep him on a kid leash to avoid some really dumb incidents.  “Builder!  I just had the best idea for how to get more investors for By the Stairs, but we have to act fast!  I’m hopping on the next train to Atara right n- what do you mean it can wait til morning??”  Arvio already slurs his words, so drunk Arvio I could see being almost unintelligible.  Once he’s drunk enough, he’ll constantly flip back and forth between beaming over how much he loves the builder and sobbing over Fang’s most recent rejection.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE rizz

Amirah helps at first, but clocks out of babysitting after the first hour of shenanigans.  Good luck Builder.  He’s your responsibility now.

Burgess

Sweet, sweet summer child Burgess.  He’s not much of a drinker, but would easily be peer pressured into drinking games, especially if the Builder wants him to play.  Others offer to drink for him if he wants, but Burgess insists that, as the Chief Water Inspector, his high hydration levels and position of bureaucratic authority give him a high enough tolerance to make it through the whole game.  They do not.  Sweet baby boy’s never been drunk before and has no idea how to handle it, so be ready to babysit this one too.  He’s gonna cry over how beautiful the cactus flowers are in full bloom, how Banjo jumped in his lap and started purring, and how you’re an angel from the Light sent to save Sandrock.  Keeping him hydrated is easy, but if he does throw up, he’ll never forgive himself for the wasted water.

He’s very good at listening to the Builder’s instructions and advice on sobering up, though.  Of all the drunks on this list, he’s the easiest to comfort and get to bed by far.

Drunk Burgess is a “sinner” (by his perspective) & 100% gives Pen the “you’re a bully but I forgive you” speech instead of turning the other cheek or forgiving immediately.

Ernest

It’s been a while for him.  Did he drink and party with Luna back in Atara?  100%, but since arriving at Sandrock, he’s been so busy with hyper fixating on Logan and trying to survive droughts and sandstorms, there hasn’t been much of an opportunity for him to just let loose and party.  Once he finally does, though?  Mans is writing sonnets on sonnets on sonnets.  None of them rhyme, or even make sense, but he gives them his all anyway.  “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”  “Ernest, you said that one already.”  “Did I?  I guess every time I see you, I seem to just forget everything else.”

Ernest is pretty open about flirting with the Builder normally, so when he’s drunk, expect to hear it way way more.  He’s gonna rizz up that Builder as well as his drunk brain can ‘cause he absolutely LOVES seeing them blush because of him.  He’s all talk though, well aware that when he’s drunk, neither he nor anyone else should take him seriously.  He’s just having fun!

Fang

I could see Fang going one of two ways when drunk: either he realizes he’s drunk and immediately goes to sleep regardless of location OR his walls come down and you get to see an almost completely unfiltered Fang.  When his walls come down, oh man, Arvio better watch out.  If Arvio were to try any shenanigans, Fang is definitely telling him to shut up and sit down.  He’s grumpy normally, so drunk Fang would be much more likely to express that grumpiness.  It’s not that he’s a mean drunk so much as he is just more comfortable expressing himself under the effects of liquid courage.

If he’s with the Builder, he becomes soooooo clingy and jealous.  “The feel of your touch, unforgettable.”  Yeah he’s not giving up the feel of your touch while he feels confident enough to truly demand it.  If the builder is standing, he’s right behind them with arms around their waist.  If the builder is sitting, his head is on their shoulder, hand on their thigh, glaring down other townies who get too close.  

X lowkey loves when Fang gets drunk because it means he doesn’t have to filter what he says either, not that he does it too much normally.  He definitely eggs Fang on if the kind doctor happens to be roasting someone (Arvio) like a squawking mini-hypebeast.  At the same time, X helps the builder out a lot with getting Fang to drink water and go to sleep.

He has a very low tolerance, 4 drinks max

Justice

Our favorite Sheriff and tiredest dad of all the bachelors, Justice definitely knows how to drink.  One of his best friends is the local saloon owner, so yes, Justice has a pretty high tolerance.  With that, Justice tends to be pretty mellow when he drinks, but if he’s with the builder, he’s getting flirty too.  He’s gonna lean hard into the cowboy aesthetic, with a fake tip of the hat before asking the builder to dance.  During the dance Justice is pulling the builder close enough to stand on his feet (so he doesn’t drunkenly stumble on them) & going all the way with the spins and twirls.  He’s not elegant by any means, but he is fun!  He’s giggly and having a good time (probably annoying Logan).

If the builder is a friend, he’d insist on walking them home to see them off safely before stumbling back to his house.  If the builder is more than a friend, Justice is definitely laying on the rizz  and trying to get laid down at the workshop.

[insert “hmm society” question about life here] (seriously though, why do all the civil corps members wax philosophical so often?)

Logan

We all know the yakboy only dances when he drinks, but what else will he do when drunk?  Logan has a temper, yes, but he’s also a soft gooey ball of affection with the people he cares about, and that dichotomy is on full display when he drinks.  He avoids drinking games (they’re dumb & childish & he’s a grown man, damnit), but if the Builder wants to get up to drunken shenanigans?  Oh he’s in.  

“Darlin’, are you seriously tellin’ me ya wanna go build a scarecrow that looks like death to set up outside Cooper’s house ‘n scare him when he wakes up at 4am?”  “Ye”  “What do ya need me to do?”

Surprisingly, not a horny drunk at all (fanfic writers sue me).  BUT, he is an affectionate drunk with the builder.  Kinda like Fang, he’s all about the physical affection, especially in public.  The builder is his, and he’s gonna make sure it stays that way.  When they get home, he just wants to lay in bed with the builder in a cuddly vice grip til they both fall asleep.

He definitely relies on Rambo knowing the way home, just hops up, tells the goat where to go, and halfway passes out in the saddle.  He’s definitely getting roasted for being a lightweight by Andy when he gets home.

Miguel

How else would a religious fanatic obsessed with discipline act when drunk?  Off the rails ranting & outright simping for the builder.  Full stop.  I’m not even a Miguel fan and I know this man is so down bad for the builder.  He wouldn’t even want to drink initially, until the builder challenges him to a game.  “Very well, Builder.  For the person who has done the most to promote telesis in this barren land, I can surely raise a glass or two in celebration.”

Once he’s drunk, expect a strange combination of sermon and praise for the builder (he will definitely be mortified in the morning).  But if the builder even touches him by accident, he’s already hiding a sneaky semi tenting his pants.  

“Miguel…are you hard right now?”  “Builder, it would be a sin for me to deny the truth of this situation.  *proceeds to dramatically throw his jacket off*  Take me now, body and soul.”  “I mean, sure, but…can that wait til we can get home?”  “OH…………………..yes”

The next morning, while nursing a hell of a hangover and the raw, unfiltered embarrassment of drunken mistakes, he vows to never drink again.  At least, as long as the builder doesn’t ask him to.

Owen

Honestly?  I don’t see Owen acting too differently when drunk, just a lot less anxious when interacting with the builder.  Seemingly out of nowhere, his stuttering and nervous way of speaking with the builder is gone, replaced with a more confident barkeep.

He’s wicked good at drinking games, having spent his entire life inside of a saloon.  If you think you’re winning beer pong or rage cage against Owen’s 6 foot something ass, you’re wrong.  There’s a reason Justice and Logan outright refuse to play drinking games with him, and it’s cause it always ended with someone throwing up.  Never Owen, though.  He’s got a finely tuned tolerance for alcohol and knows exactly where his sweet spot is.  

He won’t really try to initiate any sexy times with the builder, but if they start dropping hints for him?  “Justice, can you watch the bar while I step out with the builder real quick?  They need some help..um…perfecting a new recipe.”  Cue Justice’s shit-eating grin.  “Sure pardner, take as long as y’all need” with a quick wink at the couple

Pablo

Is he drunk, or has he just been pretending to drink that much?  Who knows?  Pablo’s been around, especially in Walnut Groove.  He knows how to drink and even more so, he knows how to look how to drink especially.  He’s watching the town get absolutely smashed with glee, taking stock of everything that happens, especially anything embarrassing.

He’s the one who calls at 8am the next morning when you’re hungover to hell and back and tell you, in excruciating detail, every embarrassing thing you said and did, just in case you forgot.  All in all, I think he likes to drink a little, socially of course, but he’s far more interested in getting others drunk instead of himself.

Pen

Assuming that Pen can get drunk (he is sensitive to Duvos peppers), he’s gonna be glued to whatever the nearest reflective surface is.  But what actually surprises the builder is how genuinely affectionate he becomes with them, especially if they’re not officially a thing yet.  He wants them sitting in his lap so he can wrap their skinny arms in his big arms the entire time.

When he’s not being affectionate, he’s definitely trying to spar with them, though.  For Pen, fighting is very much foreplay, and this is even more true when he’s drunk.  He would already be turned on just by the builder existing, so a drunken brawl at 2am?  He’s the hardest he's ever been the entire time, full stop.  Bro is so hard from fighting the builder he has to take care not to fall flat on his face or he might break Pen jr.  

Pen avoids getting drunk because it also makes him feel guilty, at least some part of him.  He doesn’t necessarily like deceiving the builder (Sandrock he could take or leave tbh), but he has to so he can protect the life he wants for himself.  The builder changed a lot of that for him, so he feels a lot of guilt about keeping secrets.  Don’t be surprised if drunk Pen says he needs to confess something, only to go silent for 5 straight minutes before telling them he’s just hungry.

Qi

You know that meme about the guy’s roommate who blacks out and designs an entire airplane?  That’s Qi when he drinks, but with spaceships.  How did you get him to the saloon to start drinking in the first place?  Three words: Saloon Trivia Night.  Qi is competitive, and assumes that he’s usually at the top of his respective totem pole, so when Owen starts including trivia questions about archaeology, building, agriculture, etc, Qi can get frustrated relying on his team to answer for him.  And for every round lost, that’s another drink finished.  Soon enough, he’s ranting about the uselessness of “soft sciences” and the possibilities of interstellar space travel (someone please just make out with him and shut this nerd up)  The drunker he gets, the more he only excuses the builder’s mistakes and no one else’s.

This man definitely gets hot and bothered when drunk, but has no idea what he’s feeling or what to do about it, so he usually just goes to bed.  If the builder is romancing him, though?  The builder will definitely need to initiate things, but from there a now-uninhibited Qi goes off, following any and every instinct he can that the builder will allow.  He wants to try everything with them, for science of course.  

Unsuur

Regular Unsuur is honest, if a bit stoic.  Drunk Unsuur is too honest, and still kinda stoic.  As soon as he has a thought, he’s saying it, no filter.  It doesn't matter who he is talking to or what he is saying, he’s gonna let loose with whatever he’s thinking.  “Hey Cooper, why do you talk so much?  Like, you talk a lot.  Going on and on, kind of like I am now.  Why do you do that?”

“Unsuur, are you drunk?”

“Yeah.  Oh.  Builder, can I make love to you until you’re breathless and destroyed and the only word you know is my name?  I think you’d be really beautiful like that”

“Unsuur, we’re in public! Everyone can hear you right now.”

“Oh, yeah.  We should probably go home before doing that.  Pretty sure having sex in public is a crime.”

Aside from shamelessly flirting with the builder, Unsuur would also just wax philosophical to all the town pets in some corner of the saloon.  None of the other drunks there could keep up with his train of thought, but he doesn’t let that stop him.  Now Macchiato’s third eye is open, and he’s considering joining the civil corps under Captain.

I hope you guys enjoyed the headcanons! Let me know if you want to see the bachelorettes too! Yan has dialogue in the game about "mixing yakmel milk and catnip" so if y'all want any other headcanon posts, intoxicated or otherwise, let me know!

[secretmellowblog]

Les Mis Hidden Name Meanings: Jean Valjean

Every Les Mis character’s name is either a pun or has some deep symbolic meaning– or both at once! Jean Valjean’s name has a ton of layers so let’s dive in.

When we’re first introduced to him, Hugo tells us that his name is quote “a contraction of voilà Jean, or “here is Jean.”” We’re told that he was named after his father, and that his family name probably began as a nickname.

The word “Jean” in french sounds like the word “gens,” which means “people.” So his last name is a pun meant to make you think “viola les gens”/ “here are people.”

The most obvious layer to his name is that Jean Valjean is basically John Doe. He is the anonymous Everyman. His sister’s name is Jeanne, so she’s basically Jane Doe. They aren’t special or exceptional or unusual; they’re just behold! The regular people.

In fact his name is so common-sounding that it's a plot point. Champmathieu, the man who is mistaken for Jean Valjean, has a name that the police connect with his. Javert theorizes that "Champ" is a version of "Jean" in a specific accent, while Mathieu was actually Jean Valjean's sister's maiden name. ("Champ" is also the French word for "field.") The fact that Jean Valjean is a peasant everyman makes it easy for others in his position to be conflated with him.

But the other layer is that this is all an elaborate pun biblical reference!

When Pontius Pilate presents a bound Jesus Christ to the crowd before his crucifixion, he says the words “ecce homo” or “Here is the man!”/”behold the man!”

“Voila Jean” or “here is Jean!”/”behold Jean!” is meant to be a reference to that.

During his death scene Jean Voila-Jean even references the “Ecce homo” line explicitly, gesturing at a crucifix and saying:

“Voilà le grand martyr.”

Which Isabel Hapgood translates as “behold the great martyr.”

At another point in the same scene Marius says to Cosette:

“He has sacrificed himself. Viola l’Homme. Behold the man.”

But more references to that biblical moment appear throughout the novel; Jean Valjean is associated with it constantly, all the time. It’s one of his defining biblical allusions. He’ll be trying to live anonymously, or under an alias– and then suddenly his true name and criminal past will be revealed, he’ll be revealed to be ‘the man,’ and some great horrible act of martyrdom will follow.

Sometimes Jean Valjean is the one revealing his own identity, but sometimes Inspector Javert is put into the role of Pontius Pilate. Javert himself explicitly makes that comparison– Jean Valjean as Jesus, Javert as Pontius Pilate– when he’s contemplating suicide.

And this ties into one of the largest differences between the book and the stage musical.

In the musical, “prisoner 24601” is the name that represents Jean Valjean’s dehumanization–while “Jean Valjean” is the name he uses while standing up for his own humanity. He will be called 24601, and proudly declare that “my name is Jean Valjean” to assert he’s still a person.

And while this is a great storytelling choice, it’s almost the opposite of how the name “Jean Valjean” is handled in the book.

Because in the book…. Jean Valjean IS the name that dehumanizes him. Jean Valjean is the name that he’s running from. The name that Javert uses when he’s insulting him, the name that bigots use when they’re threatening him, the name that ignorant people use when they’re mocking him – it’s not 24601, it’s Jean Valjean.

And there’s a special kind of agony to that.

The name that is being used to torture, humiliate, and dehumanize him isn’t 24601– it’s his name.

He thinks of it as a “fatal name,” as a punishment. Living under that name is living in hell. When Jean Valjean is living under one of his aliases, concealing his identity, he thinks:

That which he had always feared most of all in his hours of self-communion, during his sleepless nights, was to ever hear that name {jean Valjean] pronounced; he had said to himself, that that would be the end of all things for him; that on the day when that name made its reappearance it would cause his new life to vanish from about him, and—who knows?—perhaps even his new soul from within him.

It’s no wonder that he ends up internalizing the way society views him, and developing so much fear and hatred of himself. He’s grown to see his name as just….well, ecce homo, behold the man. His name is just the two words people say before they violently punish him.

Names and namelessness are a major theme in Les Mis, and he’s the character who has the most complex relationship with his own names. He has a legal name, but it’s used to torture him, and he has a series of false names he uses to escape torture.

If I were to describe Jean Valjean– one of the most complex characters in all of literature, in one word, that word would be “grief.”

The criminal justice system takes everything from him, including things he wasn’t aware he was able to lose. His name, the last connection he had to his family and his old identity, gets warped into this thing needs to view with fear and horror. The thing society despises isn’t 24601, isn’t a number they’ve placed on him – the thing they despise is Jean Valjean, some intrinsic inherent part of himself. He isn’t hated for what he did, he’s hated for what he is, and that is something he can never escape.

{But speaking of complexity we’ve actually barely scratched the surface of how Jean Valjean reacts to names, because he spends most of the novel living under a series of nicknames aliases. And guess what! Each of these names also has some elaborate symbolic meaning! If you’re interested in more posts covering his different aliases, feel free to leave a comment in the replies!}

[thanks for reading! For more in-depth analysis, check out the @lesmisletters readalong or join our discord server!]

[keferon]

Getting lost (part 2/?)!!

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

The humans were really weird today, they had treated him to a meal in addition to the frozen fish he got every day, and he had done nothing! His pool was closed to the public, which only happened when he had a medical appointment and he hated them. The feeling of apprehension clouded his thoughts, it steamed in his belly, resonated in his heart before intruding into his flesh and bones, filling his being with a tugging, a curious desire to search, to understand. With this thick cloud blocking his little world of thoughts and the many staff members circling around his waters, he only wanted one thing: answers.

He would have asked, he COULD have asked, but humans didn't like that. He often tried to talk to them, but the more words came out of his mouth, when his language went beyond simple things like "eat" and "hello", their gaze withered, in the same way that an overwatered flower would have done. The truth brushed the veil of their thoughts before being quickly rejected for coos of joy and excitement at the new words that the orca had learned. And they couldn't really hear him anyway, people he recognized as veterinarians thanks to their green outfits were standing behind the glass of his indoor aquarium and not on the platform they normally used above the water. It felt more like a check-up than a real intervention and he thanked all the deities he knew for that! But no verbal interaction for him.

That still didn't explain why his part of the aquarium was closed. The keepers liked to do their check-ups in public, and honestly it, reassured him not to be alone during them. Being alone made him feel empty, there was nothing to do, nothing to say....just him and himself. He loathed when his body became numb from inactivity, when even his emotions mixed in the melancholy of his thoughts to become nothing but noise without purpose or words. He knew that the more the days passed, the more the little world he tried to keep in a corner of his head crumbled and that one day it would end up collapsing. That day, he will have gotten lost deep enough to never get out again, and there are days when he wonders if he would do better to swim faster to the bottom, to stop the internal bomb that was sleeping inside him, to let the ticking of the clock stop for good and to finally be at peace.

Little taps on the surface brought him out of thoughts he didn't want to have, that he tried as best he could to hide. It was his signal, maybe everything wasn't completely different today? Without hesitation he gave a simple tail swipe that propelled him without any real force towards the air. It was much too hot for his taste, one of the big disadvantages of summer, which made him think that they hadn't provided him with any enrichment with ice recently, maybe they didn't have enough for the whole park? His gaze fell on his regular keeper, Brice, who gave him a gentle pat on the top of his head between his ears.

"Hi buddy"

He cooed before throwing him a fish from a basin placed next to him. Jazz caught it on the fly, creating waves under his weight that soaked the keeper from head to toe, making him laugh. He liked to make people laugh, he was good at it, and he knew that the more he did it, the more humans would come and the less alone he would be. While eating his meal (they were really generous today), he saw Brice talking to the veterinarians who had been behind the window a few moments earlier but also to other people he didn't recognize, inspectors perhaps? In any case, their conversation was clear, even if the humans, as usual, didn't suspect that he was listening.

"Are we sure that the procedure is possible?

- One hundred percent, Jazz is completely docile and has no wounds that could be infected by a mystery disease from the other.

- The new mer is clearly not docile, he has been trying to escape since he woke up. I recommend a gentle approach, a quick first contact so that they assimilate each other."

The orca's ears perked up and his food froze in his throat. A new mer? Here?? He seemed to pause in his rapid descent into the heart of his mind, a pause in the chaos as the numbers of the bomb stopped decreasing, all to listen, to confirm the growing feeling in his chest. Hope? Fear? Stress or just pure denial that something like this could happen? In his head, a new melody began to write itself.

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

-🦇🐧

Part 2 is less poetic, I didn't have the strenght for it🥲 hope you still like it!

OOOOOOOOOAAAHHHHH I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH DKLDNFKELNDHFKF

[exquisink]

pussydrunk geto who can’t ever, EVER get enough of yours

your perfect pussy is all he thinks about, to the point where it distracts him from his typical duties because the only thing motivating him to get all of this extra shit out of the way is getting to come back to you and to bury himself between your legs until he makes a whole ass lake of your arousal before he does it again while you’re squirting endlessly on his cock. crying and begging for him to keep going even if you’re completely spent because you just fucking loooooove his attention and he’s so happy to give it to you.

even while he’s in the middle of exorcising dumb monkey clients or some shit he’s thinking about you on his shoulders while you’re grinding on his tongue and he’s making that perfect pussy rain all over the fucking floor and he doesn’t care because his monkey goons can just clean the shit up (or he can too, he’ll happily do that, you have no idea how happy he is to be your dirty nasty dog). or he’s thinking about spreading your pussy and displaying it to his monkey fucker goons and making them all wish they can have what they can’t, fucking you stupid on his fingers while they worship him

or he just wants to play pussy inspector and punish you a little for pleasuring yourself if he believes you have while he’s away and you play along of course, because of course all he wants is an excuse to lose himself in his favorite pussy until all of his face, his hands and his cock is all drenched in your juices

[lovelytsunoda]

indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

[neuvilette-tea-party]

Hi, I'm so in love with your last Steb writing and and the knotting was so 😩🙏 I would love to see him having his mini him and happy family life if you ever write it ❤️

Can't wait to read more from you 💖

Hihihihi, thank you ❤️ I love him so much and the knoooooot 😩 I'm feral! Now he gets to be a daddy!

⋆⁺₊⋆━━━━⊱༒︎ • Steb x F!reader • ༒︎⊰━━━━⋆⁺₊⋆

Tags: fluff, happiness, non-descriptive birth, domestic, Steb becomes a doting dad

request open for best boy Steb

Steb runs 

With large strides, he crosses Piltover from his station to the hospital. He just had time to warn Caytlin and Vi and burst off the Police station, not even taking the time to close his enforcer jacket. 

Birth! 

You are giving birth! 

It had to happen today! When they called him for reinforcement! He swore he would be here all the steps of the way!  

He sprints like he has never sprinted before, slaloming between other passersby, focused on his breathing to not slow down. He holds down the bouquet to not let it escape his grip while he crosses the busy roads and streets 

He is an aquatic Vastaya but right this instant he feels wings at his ankles propelling him forward in the streets. People jump out of his way, who would stand in front of an enforcer with such a grave expression? 

Nobody sane, that’s for sure. 

He jumps over train guardrails, making the inspectors scream but he is already so far away, his mind only focused on you and the trial you are going through right this instant. 

Trial he isn’t even here to support you with! He grits his teeth, disappointed in himself, and accelerates even more, cars honk when he crosses before them carelessly and people yelp when they almost collide. 

But he evades every obstacle with gracious ease, deadly focused like never before. Despite his haste he is actually extremely careful to not collect dirt on his clothes to not dirty the delivery room. 

When he arrives at the hospital he is panting and sweaty, his cheek fins waving under tension and stress. He allows himself only 15 seconds to take his breath back and enters the lobby, heading directly to the nurse behind the counter. 

She doesn’t know sign language, but he came prepared with questions and general information in his notebook and she escorts him to the room in question.  

He standsl before the double door. 

Still 

Unmoving 

Paralyzed 

Terrified... 

He almost jolts hearing a scream inside. 

Your scream. 

He takes a deep breath 

You are waiting for your husband, his love and support! 

He takes a big breath and enters. 

Immediately, the screams get clearer and he discovers you on a bed in a blue tunic, surrounded by nurses and surgeons, looking exhausted and at the end of your rope. 

“Who are you?” A nurse intercepts him before he can take a step inside. 

He is frantically searching his anticipated response in his notebook when 

“Steb...?” You call out weakly, “Steb!” 

You extend your hand to him, desperate for him to hold it tight and help you in this moment. The nurse lets him pass and he immediately grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers together. 

He reverently kisses your hand and circles your shoulders, kissing your face all over, his cheek fins shaking terribly between fear and bliss. 

A baby 

Your baby to your both 

Your family  

Your little one! 

He cannot wait. 

He squeezes your shoulders and lets you dig your nails in his skin as deep as you need, letting you draw blood while you push hard, losing your sanity in the pain, screaming everything you have out. 

He tenderly presses his forehead to your temple. 

“You can do it...” He manages to speak despite the pain of talking, “I am here for you...” 

You weakly nod and resume pushing. He lets the bouquet on some chairs and pats your head with a towel, hugging you tight, purring to soothe you. 

The entire room smells like blood and amniotic fluid and you are absolutely crushing his hand in your grip, but it is so soft to him. 

He kisses your temple and cheek reverently, his ears twitching with emotion when 

A baby’s scream resonates 

Everything seems to come to a halt, even his heart, when he hears that sound for the very first time. 

Your Baby’s first scream ! 

He looks at you excited like a puppy, unable to refrain from an excited chuckle, kissing your hand endlessly 

‘’One last push and the baby will be here.’’ The surgeon indicates, perfectly calm. 

You grit your teeth and push one last time, trembling terribly, disheveled, sweaty, exhausted 

But you are absolutely radiant in his eyes right now, shining like a star... 

‘’And… there we go.’’ The nurse exclaims joyfully, raising your baby for you both to see. 

Steb feels about to faint suddenly. 

‘’Sir? Sir?’’ She calls for him, ‘’This is your baby.’’ She smiles with her eyes, her mouth hidden behind a mask 

Steb gulps and takes a step forward, feeling his legs weak. He approaches so slowly and softly, like he is affraid to scare his baby 

He lets out an incredulous chuckle when she puts them in his arms. 

They are green with stripes like him, and so warm… 

He looks at the nurse, not believing it, and giggles again as she nods to him 

Your baby… 

He suddenly feel like falling and three nurses hold him back 

‘’Careful Sir. Maybe you should sit down.’’ She said with a smile taking the baby from his arms to allow him to sit and not lose consciousness 

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

Everything is over. 

You are peacefully napping in your bed, finally resting after the birth in your hospital room, the flowers in a vase.  

Steb stands still before the crib, his heart so full of love he feels like it will explode at any moment now. 

A babygirl 

A daughter. 

He wants to cry 

A daughter to brighten his days. 

She is so small and cute. The most adorable baby he had ever seen in his totally unbiased opinion.  

He managed to gather enough strength to cut the umbilical cord and show her to you for 30 seconds before she was taken for medical examination, but it is done and now calm and peace came back. 

This is a healthy baby that was in a rush to come into the world. She was quite energetic in your womb and Steb had great hopes that she would come out fine. 

He leans forward to tenderly caress her cheek. Her sensitive little fins wave in reaction to that strange new sensation, but she does not wake up. 

His throat contracts as he feels tears starting to roll down his cheeks. 

Finally, a baby. 

His very own family, the one thing war did not take from him! 

He bites his lower lips to not let his sobs wake up his darling baby, she needs to sleep and eat a lot for now. 

His gaze travels to you, sleeping soundly. You are visibly exhausted but happiness is unmistakable on your features. Steb smiles through the tears. He could not have dreamed of a better mother than you. 

You are his blessing. 

The both of you. 

His gaze returns to his jewel when he hears her yawn, stretching the best she can with her small baby body. 

So, so adorable... He will choke on love 

He takes off his jacket and shirt, remaining bare chest as he leans over the crib to take his baby, his daughter in his arms for the second time, his heart beating painfully in his chest. 

What... What if he hurts her in some way? What if his clumsy and wound her at some point? 

He shakes his head to silence the dark thoughts and sits down on a chair, pressing his baby against his naked chest, initiating skin-to-skin contact, so needed for babies, holding her fragile little head so carefully like she is made of glass. 

He refrains from audibly gasping. 

He can feel her little heart beating against his chest 

A little drum 

Small but strong and steady 

Right in the palms his hands. 

This time, he doesn’t try to refrain from anything and starts chuckling and crying freely, pressing his cheek against her small head like the most precious of treasures, his fins gently grazing her bald little head like a caress. 

He feels alive 

And like Good is still of this world 

He holds the very proof in his trembling hands 

At last 

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

Steb gently holds your hair back while you puke, curled over the toilet seat. 

You cough and spit while he tenderly caresses your back, soothing you in the little ways he can, only a helpless witness to your discomfort. 

You sigh and sit down on your ankle to breathe while he flushes the toilet and kneels next to you, letting you fall in his embrace. 

Your former pregnancy was not especially restful but this one is manhandling you so much more. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear fondly as he purrs, comforting you with the steady sound and vibration of his chest. 

“I’m sorry...” You grumble. 

He brushes his forehead against your temple as if to say it was nothing he could not handle, especially for you, his beloved wife. 

You both look up when you hear crying start on the second floor. 

“She must be hungry...” You sigh, exhausted. “I’ll go and-” 

He immediately seizes your chin to make you turn to him and express his disapproval. He explains with signs his true thoughts while you look at him, tired. 

“But... You woke up in the night to feed her, it’s my turn to take care of-” 

He shakes his head, categorical.  

Before you could add anything else he helps you stand up and captures your legs to lift you up bridal style, carrying you up the stairs. You let your head rest against your husband’s chest, too tired to argue. 

He leaves you in the bathroom to let you brush your teeth and enters the small nursery where his daughter is crying all the tears of her small body. He gently takes her and bops her up and down. 

Indeed, this was her hungry cry, he recognized it instantly. 

He pats her back gently as he exits the nursery. He takes a glance inside the bedroom to see you getting to bed with your round belly and a deep sigh. He nods to himself and heads downstairs as he cradles his darling baby.  

He puts her in her baby chair and opens a baby can you both cooked. Steb isn’t especially trusting of the baby food in the market and prefers to cook his daughter’s food himself. He comes near her and cannot refrain from smiling as he sees her whining and extending her two hands toward him, knowing he has yummy food for her. 

He gives her spoonfuls, mimicking a plane or a boat to distract and amuse her and she eats her food without making a fuss. 

She is always making a fuss with you to your dismay but Steb magically calms her down just by taking her in his warm embrace. You are deeply jealous of him for that, but you both know it is just a baby passing fancy. He likes to tell you she will grow out of it and be terrible to both of you once she grows up, never failing to make you giggle and ease your mood.  

He smiles as she takes such a huge gulp some food escapes her baby mouth, he gently wipes it off with a towel, purring loudly, simply happy. 

He contemplates his daughter with eyes full of wonders. 

She is green with stripes like him but she has your hair and nose, she inherited her eyes from his mother. 

He plays, making the spoon wave in the air like a plane before reaching her wide-open mouth as she slaps her little hands on the chair with excitement. 

She giggles a lot and eats her fills to his relief.  

Steb keeps track of her weight and height and all other medical marks that he meticulously notes down in her health record booklet. 

She takes the final spoonful and almost spits it out laughing. Steb tidies up the can and spoon and gives her a small bowl of biscuits you baked that she absolutely loves. 

While she nibbles on the biscuits he pours some hot tea into a large mug and cuts some brioche slices with some mandarines, puts everything on a tray, and frees his baby of her chair, holding her with one arm, the tray with the other. 

He kisses his daughter’s forehead as he walp up the stairs and enter the bedroom. He silently skirts the bed to reach your side where you are laying down and leaves the tray on your bedside table, prompting you to open your eyes. 

‘’Oh Steb… you shouldn’t have.’’ You yawn, thankful. 

He boops your nose playfully and goes to lay on his side, your daughter between the two of you 

You turn toward them with a tired sigh and pull your baby to you with a relieved breathe.  

Steb silently smiles. 

He circles your shoulders with his arm, caressing your hair. 

When you will be sleeping he will leave to take care of the dishes and laundry. 

But for now, he will hug you both, reveling in your warmth and scents, hugging you tight like his treasures. 

Ses deux petits cœurs 

☆☆Taglist☆☆

@dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @brandy-and-bane @sp-the-fae-queen @aeeliy @sanktastuff @telephoneonawire @daichisito @sofiyathelast-blog 

[meadowfics]

inside of the mint

money heist berlin x f!reader referred to as 'barcelona'

berlin 'as your boyfriend' headcannons

warnings: canon violence, canon heist

berlin isn’t a man of sweet words or dramatic confessions, but he takes care of you in his own way.

he watches over you with an unyielding and almost obsessive protectiveness, though he masks it under the guise of efficiency.

if anything inside the mint threatens you...hostages, external forces, even reckless decisions from your own crew...he is the first to step in.

he is cold and decisive just to make sure nothing touches you.

when food is rationed and supplies run thin, berlin ensures you’re taken care of first.

he never makes it obvious, though.

he delegates the distribution, but somehow, you always end up with the best portions.

you get the strongest coffee, the first pick of anything that comes through the mint’s storage.

berlin’s touch is always deliberate.

he isn’t a man of casual affection, but with you, he breaks his own rules.

the north korean's hand lingers on the small of your back when he walks past you, fingers brushing just enough to remind you he’s there.

when the situation inside the mint becomes overwhelming, he pulls you aside, his hands settling firm on your shoulders, grounding you without needing to say a word.

sometimes the situation becomes too overstimulating for you,

"breathe, barcelona. i am here for you. nothing can happen to you under my watch."

he adjusts your bulletproof vest himself before any dangerous encounter, his hands always slow and steady.

berlin's fingers trace along the straps, adjusting them with careful precision, his eyes dark with an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

“tighten this,”

he mutters, his voice low

“i won’t have you being careless.”

when tokyo takes charge over berlin, you respect her, but when she orders berlin to be tied up, you protest.

you stand your ground, tension crackling in the air between you and tokyo as you demand he not be restrained like an animal.

berlin watches the entire thing unfold, smirking slightly, not because he enjoys being bound but because it’s you...defending him.

despite his pride, berlin’s sickness does catches up to him inside the mint.

when it gets bad he tries to hide it and to power through as if nothing is wrong.

you see it.

you always do.

you bring him water and feed him his medicine yourself, forcing him to rest when no one else dares to tell him what to do.

when his body betrays him, trembling with fever, you’re the one sitting at your shared bedside, pressing a cool cloth against his burning skin, whispering,

“rest, and let me take care of you for once.”

after the night when the inspector came in to check for hostages, the mint is quiet except for the distant hum of tokyo and rio talking near the stairwell while on watch.

the anxiety and tension has been suffocating all day, but here, in the dimly lit office, it’s only you and berlin.

berlin leans against the wall, watching you with that sharp, unreadable gaze, his arms crossed.

“you should be sleeping,”

he murmurs, voice lower than usual.

“so should you,”

you counter, stepping closer.

the space between you is minimal now, charged with something that has been left untouched for too long.

he exhales slowly, and then his hand moves...fingertips ghosting over your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough.

berlin's touch is precise like he’s committing the shape of you to memory.

when he finally kisses you, it’s slow but deep, lips pressing firmly against yours, unraveling you in a way only he can.

berlin's other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

you sigh against his mouth, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

he drinks it in, deepening the kiss, his body heat seeping into yours as he backs you against the wall, his grip tightening.

the kiss is deliberate, controlled at first, but it doesn’t stay that way.

the moment you part for air, berlin goes back in, hungrier, as if he’s making up for all the time he’s spent resisting this due to prioritizing the heist.

berlin's hands roam.

one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your grey shirt.

you can feel the restraint in him, the way he’s holding himself back from losing complete control.

eventually, when you do pull away, both of you breathless, berlin stays close, his forehead resting against yours.

your man's thumb brushes over your lips, swollen from his kisses, before he whispers,

“go back to bed before someone sees.”

you smirk, still catching your breath, and press one last, fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth before slipping away.

one thing about your man??

he never says i love you out loud.

however, berlin says it in the way he shields you from gunfire without a second thought.

he says it in the way his fingers ghost over your pulse when he knows you’re nervous.

berlin says it in the way he positions himself between you and any possible threat.

you say it, though.

"i love you, berlin."

you do not say it in front of the others, never where the weight of those words could be used against you.

in the dark of the night, when you’re curled into his chest inside of the office room, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you say those three words.

you know about the professor and berlin being brothers.

the way you found out was on accident.

berlin wasn't upset when you found out, knowing you would never tell the others without his word.

“don’t tell the others,”

he had murmured, his hand tracing patterns along your arm.

you had only nodded, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“your secret is safe with me.”

after everything aka after the heist...you and berlin make it out.

the both of you escape to cyprus, taking the train through ukraine along with everyone before breaking off, leaving behind everything.

in cyprus, life is different and quieter.

you wake up to the sun warming your skin instead of the sterile lights of the mint.

berlin’s touch is softer now, less urgent, no longer laced with the fear of losing you.

he cooks breakfast for you, though he insists he’s terrible at it.

berlin reads on the balcony, his presence no longer shadowed by the weight of survival.

sometimes the man will play childhood games with you, games that he never got to experience in his childhood.

for the first time in years, berlin is simply living.. just with you.

masterlist

[nsfandomdump]

The contrast between Kaito's dynamics with Shinichi and Hakuba respectively is so important to me you don't understand

Shinichi/Conan doesn't know who KID is under the mask. I doubt he even knows who Kaito Kuroba is outside of him being Toichi Kuroba's son and maybe some childhood interactions. To him, KID is just a criminal, more honor-bound and considerably less deadly compared to the ones he usually catches, but still a criminal at the end of the day. But maybe the thought that Shinichi doesn't know Kaito Kuroba (that even if he drops the KID act, if he starts to act more like his civilian persona around him, he wouldn't know any better), gives him a false sense of security. Maybe it makes him feel more free to be careless around him.

(Deep down, however, he knows he's given out enough that if Shinichi ever does meet Kaito Kuroba, his secret identity would disintegrate almost immediately.

Sometimes he thinks that might not be so bad.)

Hakuba, meanwhile, does know who KID is under the mask. He sees his civilian self almost everyday in class. He's seen him as the prankster magician who annoys the rest of the class with his antics. He knows he's childhood friends with the daughter of the inspector in charge of putting him behind bars. Hakuba knows him as Kaito Kuroba. But he also knows him as KID. Hakuba, while he doesn't have evidence, already knows his secret identity. And that is exactly what makes him a threat. Which is why he can't let his guard down around him. The least he can give himself is plausible deniability and if he slips up in his act, either as KID or as Kaito, that plausible deniability would be gone.

(Deep down, though, he recognizes how Hakuba is still so civil with him despite it all, that, even with his determination to capture him, Hakuba still cares about him as a fellow classmate (as a friend).

And if that makes him slip up sometimes, well, who could say?)

[xi4oyan]

Ah... I missed the war

Above the thick veil of golden clouds, in gardens where flowers were born already singing and fish soared in schools of impossible colors, you existed — or rather, you survived — between naps too long and sighs even longer.

Your temple, lost in the forgotten fringes of the Celestial Court, was a chaotic sea of scattered cushions, abandoned scrolls, and half-eaten bowls of eternally fresh fruit.

Your robe? A spectacle of glorious negligence: ancient blue fabric embroidered with tiny stars, the silver threads frayed at the edges. The sleeves, far too wide, dragged across the marble floors as if trying to clean them for you. There were even rumors that tiny fairies had built a nest in your cloak folds, but you never had the courage (or energy) to check.

You had once been an important deity, yes. Guardian of the tides, or perhaps of that faint gleam before dawn? Something like that.

But time had the nasty habit of smudging memories... and even faster, of making others forget.

So when the Jade Emperor — in the middle of a loud meeting filled with shouting and alarming reports about "that infernal monkey" — pointed his gleaming scepter at you and commanded:

"Go. Calm that monkey."

You nearly fell off your cushion from sheer surprise.

"Me?" you blinked. "Are you sure?"

Maybe he wasn't.

Maybe he had simply pointed to the first person (or deity) awake enough to react.

But orders were orders.

And so you descended from the Celestial Heights, floating on a misty platform, yawning so hard you scared golden crows from a distant temple.

༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈

The mortal world was warm and dusty, filled with the scent of burnt grass and tired flowers clinging to the lazy breeze. The sky looked like a vast golden lake, and beneath it, atop a wind-swept hill, a lone group stood against the horizon.

Tripitaka, dressed in light robes and wearing an expression that shifted between patience and existential exhaustion, gazed into the distance.

Zhu Bajie fanned himself dramatically with a banana leaf large enough to be used as a ship's sail.

Sha Wujing remained as still as part of the rocks.

Yulong, in his horse form, snorted as if rethinking every decision that had brought him here.

And there, a little apart from the group, burning like a private sun, was him.

Sun Wukong.

He looked carved from ember and storm: golden armor cracked and dented by countless battles, the red headband flowing like the tail of a stubborn comet. His golden eyes sliced the air — too alive, too dangerous, too free for Heaven’s tastes.

You adjusted your crown — an absurdly oversized thing that sank on your head as if meant for a giant king — and walked toward him, your sandals crackling over the dry ground.

"So you're the famous... furry inconvenience," you said, hands tucked behind your back, tilting your head like inspecting a suspicious fruit at the market.

Wukong raised a furry eyebrow, a crooked smile carving across his face.

"Sent another babysitter for me, huh?"

You chuckled. "Not exactly. I prefer to think of myself as... a stubbornness inspector."

And so it began.

Instead of spears and thunder, your duel with Wukong was made of sharp words, ridiculous faces, and side-long taunts. You lounged on a sunbaked rock while he balanced lazily on tree branches above, both tossing barbs like they were sweets.

You quoted ancient celestial regulations.

He answered by mimicking your voice in falsetto.

You pointed at divine conduct treaties.

He threw ripe mangoes at you, with the perfect aim of someone who once knocked down generals with pebbles.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, something strange happened.

The group... started getting used to your presence.

Tripitaka offered small, patient smiles.

Sha Wujing, ever courteous, brought you fruits or found you shady spots to nap in.

Zhu Bajie stole your snacks but laughed as he did so, which was almost a form of affection.

Yulong huffed and grumbled but no longer flinched whenever you approached.

And Wukong?

He laughed at you, mocked you, but sometimes — sometimes — his gaze would find yours with something dangerously close to tenderness.

༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈

Meanwhile, high in the heavens, the Jade Emperor observed, increasingly alarmed.

"Erlang Shen!", he barked, summoning his ever-reliable warrior, "go fetch them! That deity is getting distracted!"

Thus, Erlang Shen descended like a polished thunderstorm: gleaming armor, crimson cloak slicing the air, Third Eye already burning with barely-restrained exasperation.

When he found you, you were sprawled on the grass, arguing lazily with Wukong about which celestial fruit tasted better. (Wukong argued for the Peaches of Immortality. You, just to provoke him, defended nectarines he had never managed to steal.)

Erlang almost choked at the sight.

"You were supposed to control the monkey!"

"I am!", you replied, stretching like a cat basking in the sun. "Look: nobody exploded. That's a win."

In the end, Erlang returned alone.

His report was dry and clipped:

"She chose to stay. To... 'observe closely.'"

༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈

But the truth was far simpler, and far more beautiful.

You stayed because, for the first time in eons, someone laughed at your terrible jokes.

You stayed because there was dust in the air, wind in your hair, and stories being written — not by gods, but by imperfect, wonderful people.

You stayed because, in Monkey's wild grin, there was a silent invitation: "Stay. Let's be free together."

Oh, and of course —

You also stayed because, during the great Havoc in Heaven, when armies clashed and towers fell, you had been... peacefully napping.

Curled up on a cloud like a celestial cat, snoring gently while chaos unfolded all around.

Wukong never let you live that down.

At night, under quiet stars, he'd nudge you and murmur:

"Sleepyhead... you missed the best part."

And you, with a slow, genuine smile, would think:

Maybe I missed the war... but I found something better.

༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈༶•┈┈┈┈

That night, the world was made of silver and whispers.

The stars stretched lazily over the velvet sky, some twinkling with the mischief of drunk fireflies, others blinking slowly as if about to doze off themselves.

The campfire crackled low, painting everything in tired orange — Tripitaka slept upright like a collapsed tent, Bajie snored like a small army, and Wujing was keeping a silent, gentle watch nearby.

You lay sprawled on your back over a patch of soft moss, your cloak tangled around you like an oversized nest, hair glittering faintly with stardust. The cool air smelled of wet leaves and river stones. Somewhere, an owl hooted, probably offended by your very existence.

Then you heard it —

the unmistakable light footfalls of someone who never learned how to properly walk without looking like a mischief about to happen.

Wukong plopped down beside you, elbows propped up on his knees, tail flicking lazily.

"You’re gonna catch a cold, lying like that," he muttered, tossing a stray twig at your face.

You barely flinched.

"You sound like an old uncle," you yawned.

"Old? *Old?*" He clutched his chest dramatically. "I'm a blooming youth, thank you very much."

You smiled, lazily cracking one eye open to look at him. His armor was thrown half off, golden plates scattered around like sun-drenched leaves, and his hair was an untamed halo around his head.

He looked — for once — not like a force of nature.

He looked... young. Mortal. Free.

"You missed the best part," he said, softer now, gaze tilting skyward. "Back then... when I fought Heaven. The whole sky was fire. Clouds broke apart like torn silk. Screaming, running... It was ugly. It was *beautiful.*"

You hummed sleepily.

"Sounds exhausting."

He chuckled, low and hoarse, a sound you felt more than heard.

"Yeah. Was. And you —" he poked your forehead lightly, like tapping a drum, "— were probably drooling on some cloud while I risked my pretty tail."

"Was dreaming important dreams," you murmured. "Very critical... strategic... dreams."

"Of what?"

He tilted closer, curious.

You opened your other eye, catching his face — that mischievous, stubborn, impossible face — illuminated by starlight, and said, utterly serious:

"Of sleeping more."

For a second, Wukong just stared.

Then he burst out laughing — real, helpless laughter, the kind that cracked open the night and scattered all the ancient worries from your chests like autumn leaves in a storm.

He fell back onto the moss beside you, still snickering, his tail flicking against your ankle.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

You just lay there, two small, chaotic specks against an infinite, careless sky.

After a long while, Wukong's voice came, almost a whisper:

"...If you ever get tired of Heaven... or tired of pretending you're not lonely..."

He shifted, folding his arms behind his head.

"...You can stay with us."

You turned your head, finding him already looking at you.

Not mocking. Not challenging. Just... offering.

The stars spun lazily above.

The river sang somewhere out of sight.

And you — deity of forgotten tides, sleeper of crucial dreams, wearer of wrinkled robes and crooked crowns — smiled a small, real smile.

"Maybe," you said, voice barely brushing the night, "I already have."

Tag: @pastelle-bears

[runnning-outof-time]

Hiiii, thank you so much for all of these they are so wonderful.

I would love something with Tommy and maybe 30? "You're not hurt are you?"

Was thinking maybe Tommy comes home after a particularly trying day and just flops onto the couch. Y/N comes home from food shopping shortly after and finds him and is concerned for him. They can be either married or whatever you see fit.

Uhmm I'd love it to be nice and fluffy, and I know you said you're not into writing shut sooo just go as heavy as you feel comfortable with and coat it with fluff and I'll be happy. >w< thank you so much I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to be part of this celebration with you! 💜

Thanks so much for sending this in, @chumon ! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write! I absolutely love this idea (thanks for adding some more detail to it…it made it easy to follow). I hope you like what I did with it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Never Tired For You

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: a slightly suggestive conversation/situation

Word Count: 1153

Summary: (Y/N) finds Tommy laying on the couch and immediately thinks the worst…he couldn’t just be laying down, right?

Tommy was tired. It had only been two days into his two week stay in London, and he already felt exhausted by the numerous meetings he had to carry out. There was so much to keep track of: the on-going deal with Alfie Solomons and all of the turns that took, making sure Arthur continued to keep things in line at the Eden Club, and keeping tabs of whatever Inspector Campbell was going to have him do next.

Somehow he managed to carve out an afternoon to himself. He was hoping to spend it with his wife, (Y/N), who had joined him on this trip — against his own volition — but upon returning to his sister’s home, he found that she wasn’t in.

So he decided to lay down on the couch. Yes, Tommy Shelby actually took a moment for himself so that he could rest. No, the world didn’t come to an end. But he actually managed to find a position comfortable enough that made him want to stay on the couch.

(Y/N) had been out grocery shopping. She realized that Ada needed a few things, and so with nothing better to do she set out and ran some errands.

The surprise that was waiting for her back at the house just about made her drop the basket she was carrying. Never had she seen her husband laid out on the couch — especially in the middle of the day. The sight of it alone was enough to get her mind running in overdrive.

“Tommy? What’s happened?” she got right to the point as she hurried over to the couch he was laying on.

“Huh?” he asked in confusion, beginning to move from his laying position so that he could sit once more.

“No, don’t move,” she rushed to stop him, her one hand extended in his direction, “you’re not hurt, are you?” Asking the question made her heart drop. She’d did a quick scan of his frame and found nothing glaring at her, but she couldn’t be too sure.

“No, love, I’m not,” he shook his head, continuing with his motions of sitting up, looking up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “I was just laying down,” he told her then, fishing the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket so that he could slide one between his lips.

The second half of his statement made (Y/N) audibly gasp. There’s no way that Tommy Shelby would willingly lay down, she thought to herself incredulously. “Ok now I’m worried, Tom. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he chuckled at her worry, “there’s not a scratch on me. I’ve just had a long day is all,” he made another attempt to quell her concerns. The look on her face told him that she didn’t quite buy it. “Would you like to check for yourself?” he asked then, his one eyebrow quirking upwards as a grin teetered on his lips.

She could tell by his facial expression that his question was leaning on the suggestive side of things. Just the thought of what he was hinting at made heat rush to her cheeks. His cheekiness was one of the things she loved about him.

“Hmm?” Tommy cut into her thoughts, looking up at her through his eyelashes as he waited for her response.

“No…” she trailed off, biting her bottom lip to conceal her grin when she saw a tinge of disappointment fill his features, “I think I’ll believe you. And besides…you said you had a long day,” she called back to his previous statement.

“I had a long day…doesn’t mean I’m too tired for me wife,” he reminded her, the previous glint returning to his eyes.

“Maybe later,” she decided, her grin growing to match his.

“C’mere then,” he beckoned, leaning back against the couch as he placed the cigarette between his lips again.

“Let me put these away first,” she answered him, lifting the basket she was still holding. He nodded in response and she went to the kitchen to put the groceries away. Moments later, she was back in the front room curled up into Tommy’s side. “So you’ve really only had a long day?” she couldn’t help but bring their previous conversation up again.

“Yes,” he answered, his fingertips absentmindedly dancing over the skin of her arm. “Arthur’s losing it at the club again…I’m not sure what I’m going to do with him.”

“Give him another chance,” (Y/N) suggested, lifting her head from his shoulder when she felt his eyes on her. “I mean it,” she doubled down on her stance, her eyes locked with his.

Tommy pursed his lips and thought about her comments for a moment before he let out a breath and looked to the windows.

“I’ll drop it,” she broke the silence, realizing that his mind was going again. She didn’t want to ruin this moment. “Let’s go back to just sitting here.”

After speaking, she turned on the couch so that she was able to straddle his lap. His hands quickly found their home on her hips, and his eyes were immediately back on hers as the mischievous glint returned.

“Just sitting here, eh?” he questioned her with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sitting,” she grinned, her hands finding his cheeks before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Tommy’s hands moved to press flat against her back as their kiss deepened, bringing her body flush against his.

“If this is what it’d be like…” he breathed as they pulled away just slightly, “I’ll have to start coming home early more often.”

“If you hold up your end of the bargain, I’ll hold up mine, Mr. Shelby,” (Y/N) pulled further away from him so that he could see the smile present on her face.

Their lips met again, teeth clashing and tounges pressing together as they became lost in their embrace. Tommy tried to be sneaky with it, but (Y/N) pulled away when she felt him start to unbutton the top of her dress.

“Not so tired anymore, hmm?” she questioned, a suggestive glint in her eye as she sat up straight, her hands running down his cheeks so that she could settle them on his shoulders.

“Never tired for you, love,” he husked, his eyes blown with lust as he managed to continue with his mission despite her breaking further away from him.

“Let’s go to our room then. I don’t think Ada’d want us to do this on her couch.”

That was all Tommy needed to stop what he was doing and drop his hands from her frame. “Go on, then,” he nodded his head to her, “lead the way.”

(Y/N) wasted no time in standing from his lap. She waited for him to stand also before she gingerly took hold of his hand and led him to the steps and up to their room.

*tags in the reblogs so they’ll hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

[smokingasters]

Some thoughts on Gino.

I’ve been reading PP Novel and I have been thinking about his character. I noticed that it is quite easy to forget that he’s even there, because S1 Gino’s struggles are internal. We see characters like Kou, Akane, Pops etc because their struggles are external. We see them taking action or behaving for/against the system.

Gino is a complex character bc he doesn’t want to doubt the system. He believes that the system is perfect, and he has issues with his father for going against the system. I notice that he puts pressure on himself to be the ideal citizen, who hides all their stress and keeps their PP clear while serving a demanding job of an Inspector.

Gino excludes anything that ‘doesn’t fit in his system, or in Sibyl’. It includes behaving harshly with Ko, Pops and Akane. His internal emotions of betrayal and the feeling that everyone is leaving his side surface as lashing out and criticism of those around him.

In the novel I find out that he was bullied as a child due to his father’s job, all the way to high school where Kogami defended him from his bullies. Kogami was the only one to reach out and accept him despite him being a child of a latent criminal. Gino thought Kogami was his best friend and it was Gino’s dream to become an Inspector and Kogami ends becoming an Inspector on a whim. There’s also a point in the novel where he thinks their friendship was one sided and that Kogami did not care about him. Gino often deals with feelings of jealousy against Kogami (PP Zero) as Sasayama observes and is often working under Kogami’s shadow, since Kogami is popular for his intelligence and proactive approach. Due to which I think most viewers/readers underestimate Gino’s true intellect.

I cannot really talk about Gino without involving Kogami, Akane and Pops. His relationship to them is fundamental to how he sees the world. I noticed that Gino was trying very hard not to become like his father. His outward rejection of Pops, was like a rejection of a part of himself. He wanted to deny the side that would eventually suspect the system, and he was self critical to the point of it being detrimental to his mental health.

He often judges Kogami for his close ties with other Enforcers (Sasayama becomes a huge bone of contention between the two in PP Zero). Gino repeatedly warns Kogami not to get too close to the Enforcers and eventually ends up feeling betrayed and alone after Kogami becomes an Enforcer. I wonder was Gino’s warning wrong? It’s easy to dismiss him because of character bias, but was his precaution and his careful approach towards Enforcers wrong?

I must highlight that even Akane ends up letting him down. I believe that when Akane joined the PSB, Gino thought he would have a partner that would help him manage the Division with his vision in mind. Akane however ends up going against Ginoza when she gets too close to the Enforcers and this is something that Gino disapproves of because he doesn’t want Akane to become like Kogami or his father. He worries a lot about Akane and we notice that even she disregards him and is not concerned about the impact her actions would have on him.

Gino worries about everyone, but no one worries about him. Pops tries but Gino doesn’t want to acknowledge him. Kogami is too wrapped up in chasing Makishima. Akane is too focused on her values and ideals of the Law. And Gino’s Psycho Pass keeping going up dangerously but no one notices the impact that their actions have on Gino. As a senior Inspector Gino fails to command the respect of his Enforcers or even his peers. It’s not a nice situation to be in.

Inside him there is still that child that felt neglected when his father became an Enforcer, and he had to take care of his mother who was sick due to Eustress Deficiency.

Gino wants to be an Inspector and he has the ability to solve crimes and enforce the law. He is a brilliant detective like his father. He wants to advance in the Ministry of Welfare. But after 8 years of his term, Kogami leaves the PSB. Gino’s PP rises and after his father’s death it is irrecoverable. He becomes an Enforcer. It’s not a bad ending because he’s still working with Akane but Gino’s life makes you think that if the Sibyl System owes an apology to one person it would be Gino. I definitely classify him as an innocent victim of the system, where he really did nothing wrong. He didn’t rebel. He didn’t argue or question the system. He was the citizen that the System failed.

And if a system keeps failing its law abiding innocent citizens should such a system be protected?

Honestly my heart aches for Gino, I think he deserves a happy ending.