#I chose to be a coward and not to look at references and made them jut out far too much don't worry about it I already know :Y

[mewkwota]

It's such a basic thing, but I still find a lot of fun in the Operate Shooting Star side-scenario. If it means I could draw Geo looking ~Mysterious Cool~ with his visor some more, then what more can I say? All while messing up his shoulder pads every single time.

[secondsonaym]

“You look so… Different.” She mumbled, glancing over her sibling. Gone was the pale purple wool they had been known for, instead replaced by a deep black. It surely had to have been dyed, right? “You were… Able to escape the culling?”

“Ha-ha! Those I could not outrun, I merely convinced with a flick of the wrist!” 

In a fluid motion, a dagger suddenly appeared in their hand, and they rocked it idly between their fingers. 

“I’ve heard all about what you’ve been up to, though, dear sister.” They then laughed.

“Azazel, you--”

“Ah-ah-ah! That is not my name anymore. Deckard.”

“... Deckard, then. Are you… Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Us lambs are free, no longer having to fear the blade of the cowardly bishops!”

Star bit her lip, not exactly liking this response. Her sibling had gone missing long before the culling started, and she was worried about their mind. Somebody who refers to rows of dead bodies as an ‘audience’, as they had when initially talking, clearly wasn’t actually okay…

“You did a good job with that, you know.” They then added, looking to her. It was quite an odd sight, considering their face was still covered by their mask, but Star did her best to not shy away. “I enjoyed seeing the results of your handiwork! Quite glad you prefer to use a hammer, it did well to tenderize the meat.”

“Er… What?”

“The flesh, the remains! It’s an eat or be eaten world, sister, so rather than lay down to be eaten, I chose to bite back, and eat!”

They grabbed her chin, pulling her closer to their face.

“Perhaps I’m still a coward, only picking off your dirtied plate like a buzzard, but it was still quite beneficial! Roughage from Leshy, bones from Heket--I’ll admit, Kallamar didn’t agree with me, but I pushed through. Oh, and the lovely sounds that Shamura’s exoskeleton made, they were--”

“You’re not making any sense!” She snapped, flailing to finally push Deckard away, stepping to keep a good distance between the pair of them. “Something happened to you before you left, and now--Now you’re worse! P-Please, come back to the compound with me, and we can--”

“No.” Deckard said, in a steady and cold tone quite different from everything else they had said before. They looked down at the dagger in their hand.

“I never finished my meal, you know.” They continued, slowly turning so they were completely facing Star.

Try as she might, Star couldn’t move. She couldn’t get herself to pick up her feet and run. She knew things were getting dangerous, and fast, but she just couldn’t--

“But you. You made lovely meals of those hearts, I’m sure. So I wonder… If I eat you, would that be the equivalent of me eating the rest?”

They took a step toward her.

On instinct, the crown on Star’s head shifted, her hammer forming in her hands and ready to strike. However, Deckard was faster.

They darted towards her, grazing her hands with the blade of their dagger and forcing her to drop it in a yelp of pain. They then swept a leg under her own, and she fell to the floor. 

With a knee to her gut, Deckard knelt over her, dagger still in hand.

“I realized something, as I was thinking on what you were doing with the hearts of the bishops.” They murmured, spinning the blade in their hand. By now, their grin was wide, visible past the edges of their mask and just barely hinting at the sharp fangs just past their lips. “As ageless as the bishops were, and immortal as they claimed to be, they still had hearts. They still died. So I wonder… Are you any different, even after conquering them all?”

“D-Deckard…” Star choked out, the pressure of her sibling’s knee not allowing her to draw in any air.

“I wonder what the flesh of a new god tastes like.”

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

Pain. Blinding hot pain. 

She didn’t know how she was alive, or how she could register anything past the pain in her chest. All she knew is that time had passed, and her sibling was gone.

She rolled over, grimacing as she could see and feel her own blood on the ground. It was a disgusting mix of red and black, not quite pure ichor, but clearly no longer just mortal. 

A few feet away was her crown. If she could just get to it, get a hold of it, then she could teleport back to the compound. She just had to…

[voidnoidoid]

weak hero antagonist writing appreciation

One thing I really enjoy about Weak Hero is the way it bothers to flesh out and develop the antagonists. No, I'm not talking about the throwaway random thugs, I'm referring to the main bad guys like Jimmy, Wolf, Forrest, Donald, Teddy, Jake and hell even Helmet and Philip.

When I say development I mean both character growth and regression, and also general fleshing out of their personalities and backstory, as well as what they do in the story outside of battling the heroes.

During story arcs where characters other than the main Eunjang crew get the focus, there's always a group of people complaining about wanting to see the main characters and how they don't want to see the "evil bad guys". I get it, people want to see their favourite characters instead of ones they dislike. However, what these people don't understand is that it is NECESSARY to flesh out the antagonists, almost as much as the protagonists in order for a story to go from simply good to fantastic.

Giving antagonists attention in the story, such as writing little moments for them here and there to all out story arcs and mini-backstories aids in broadening our understanding of who they are as people. If done well, it builds intrigue and interest in the characters. Sometimes this can make an antagonist more likeable, for example with Jimmy's backstory. He is presented as an arrogant jerkwad, but over time we get to see more sides to him aside from his huge ego.

He is insecure about his place in the Union and is desperate to show Donald what he's made of. He cares about those he's close to, most notably Jack. He is tenacious and determined, as shown when he got back up after being knocked out by one of the Cheongang executives. He's not just some one-dimensional punching bag for the good guys to beat, he's a person with strengths, flaws, and emotions. He may not be a good person, but he's not completely bad.

Even Dongha, who is shown to be downright crazy and ruthless in battle, is given a sympathetic background. He really values and cares for Seongmok as a friend, and remembers the kindness others show him, like when a kind woman gave him a scarf when he was cold. Dongha's behaviour can be explained by his desire to not let anyone look down on him. When he was a child, he was poor and other kids made fun of him for it. The one way he thought of to show dominance was violence, which carried through to his teens. This also explains why he loves money so much, and adds depth to his interaction with richboy Philip.

On the other hand, Helmet's development showcases how much of a horrible ass he is. He doesn't grow as a person, but we see how he gets worse after he is kicked out of the Union. Firstly, we see him as a coward, a loudmouthed bully who picks on those weaker than him for no other reason than so he seems stronger. He has no ambition to grow stronger, because he has such an inflated and downright delusional view of himself. After getting kicked out, his social media description is "Lone Wolf"... as if he chose to be alone on his own will. Sad. He lurks outside the cram schools to pick on kids for money, instead of getting a part time job like Teddy or Gerard.

At least he has the common sense to be utterly terrified of Gray when they met again. But after that, he tried to make a name for himself again by joining "Jailbreak" a group of dropouts who take pride in acting like petty thugs and not having a proper education (despite having the opportunity. so many kids would love to go to school!!) Helmet got rejected of course. This shows how desperate Helmet is to be powerful, and how he refuses to change himself or realise that he is wrong. Finally, he comes running back to Jimmy, his tail between his legs, begging to be let back into the crew. He even brought a gift! An entire plastic bag full of boiled eggs. What the hell kind of peace offering is that? Helmet is so focused on himself and honestly pretty stupid to think that Jimmy would accept him because he begged and also because of boiled eggs. Helmet didn't have the thoughtfulness to bring drinks, causing Jimmy to choke. He is chased away again and I guess that's where his story ends!

Therefore developing the antagonists adds to their character and enriches the story. It also serves as great worldbuilding because we get to see more of how the setting works. The Union is involved with shady business deals, slowly expanding their control of their region. We get to see what other organised crime groups are like with the Cheongang arc, and what happened with Manwol.

I have a lot to say but im just gonna end to post here it's 3am im tired. Thanks for reading this far :D

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I genuinely apologize in advance for this post. Sometimes Andrew Lawrence comes up in my YouTube recommendations, often as a canary in the coal mine to let me know I need to stop hate reading and/or watching stuff. My internet already knows I want to see British comedy - if I do enough hate watching to make it think I want to see right-wig bullshit too, that’s when the Andrew Lawrence videos start appearing, and then I know I need to stop that shit.

I really don’t do it often; it just annoyingly takes very little for him to start turning up. One wrong click on his stupid fucking face and then he’s everywhere for a few days, a virus that multiples if you give it attention.

...I couldn’t resist the one he did today, about some comedy awards that are happening this weekend. It’s just really funny when Andrew Lawrence rants about comedy, because you can see him looking at the life he willingly chose to give up, of being a comedian. This pushes it from being the “hate watching type of funny, which you’re only slightly laughing at in a bleak way and it’s mainly just frustrating and rage inducing”, to straight-up, laugh out loud funny. I clicked on it. I’m sorry. I know we’re not supposed to give these things views and we’re definitely not supposed to give them attention, which is why I won’t even link to it though obviously anyone could find it. I mean, you shouldn’t. No one should. But holy fuck it’s really funny.

(I’ll be honest: I don’t often watch his videos, but also, I don’t never watch his videos. I do click on them once in a while. I’m admitting that because I want credit for the fact that this is only the second time I’ve made a post about one of his videos, the first time being the absolutely hilarious one he did after it was announced that Mock the Week was cancelled, where he pronounced it “Dara O’Bri-en” and called out Frankie Boyle even though he hasn’t been on since 2009. Other than that I’ve refrained from mentioning them, even when I’ve watched them, which I normally don’t, I know a hate watch is the same as anything else on his view count. But this one is so funny.)

Anyway, here are some of the funniest things about this video:

- The title of Lawrence’s video calls them “C4 Anti-Comedy Awards”, which implies they’re just going to put medals on Richard Ayoade.

- He takes so much pleasure in dropping into the middle of it the fact that he doesn’t pay his license fee. Even though he’s listing that as the reason he can’t watch these awards, and – okay I’m not British so I may well be getting a fact wrong while trying to correct someone else, which is always embarrassing, but isn’t the license fee a BBC thing? These are the Channel 4 Awards.

- Many of the comments (look, I’ve already admitted to hate watching an Andrew Lawrence video, there’s no point in pretending I didn’t also hate read the comments) are complaining about Nish Kumar and/or The Last Leg, saying of course those terrible things will win everything. Neither Nish Kumar nor The Last Leg are nominated for any of those awards.

- At some point he refers to someone else having a “substitute for a personality”, and hearing those words said in that distinctive deadpan voice is really funny.

- I want to know which comedians he thinks Netflix is censoring.

- “Cowards pushing a poisonous identity-obsessed agenda that they don’t actually believe in.” Okay. I realize that’s what people like him say about comedy all the time, that if you don’t make a sufficiently racist joke every four minutes on average it’s just toxic wokeness or whatever. But this comment is a lot funnier if you look at the actual list of nominees. I mean… I’ve seen some comedy with sharp enough leftie credentials to terrifying the likes of Andrew Lawrence. But this shit? BBC Ghosts, and 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown, and Taskmaster, and Josh Widdicombe and Rob Beckett’s parenting podcast? There is nothing in here that should offend even the most easily upset of the Andrew Lawrence-type. What part of that list is he managing to look at and see poison?

Derry Girls criticized colonialism, which is pretty close to the evils of critical race theory, even if everyone involved is white. I guess if you assume anyone who’s not a straight white cis man ever appearing on screen is identity politics, you’d take issue with Starstruck and The Graham Norton Show. But come on. The Graham Norton Show. It’s not exactly revolutionary Marxism, is it? The Russell Howard Hour looks like radical left-wing propaganda compared to every show that’s nominated for these awards (except, again, Derry Girls - even for a hyperbolic joke I can’t suggest that Russell Howard has better left-wing credentials than Derry Girls).

(I’m feeling the need to clarify that I don’t even mean this as a bad thing, Taskmaster and BBC Ghosts are two of the least “edgy” shows I can think of, and they’re both absolutely fantastic. Not all comedy has to be sharply cutting radical satire. I’m just saying, this rant is extra funny when you look at the fact that the stuff that’s upset him so much is very much not sharply cutting radical satire.)

- Fucking love the conspiracy theory about the Edinburgh Fringe selling badly not because of skyrocketing prices, but because patrons of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival don’t want to see left-wing comedy. When I think of people who attend the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, I think of people who can’t stand that woke shit.

- Near the end, he suggests that Britain hasn’t got podcasts. Just throws that one in there. Comedy in Britain would be fine if only they were allowed to have podcasts. It’s that anti-podcast law passed by the British government that’s holding them all back. Why are no British people disseminating misinformation and toxic rhetoric via the medium of podcasts like the Americans are? I don’t know what he thinks Russell Brand does for a living.

- It is so funny when he goes straight from an absolutely unhinged rant, all these opinions just totally divorced from reality and delivered straightforwardly while staring directly into the camera, and then straight into “please do like and subscribe”.

Okay I’m done now. I will go back to pretending Andrew Lawrence doesn’t exist - or trying to, because now that I’ve watched that one he’ll be popping up everywhere again. That’ll be my cue to stop doing that.

[froggo-tea]

OK OK IM THINKING- (Big ramble coming ahead, also there might be some grammar mistakes lol, you've been warned)

I’m analyzing PK’s relationship with Hornet cuz they aren’t talked about that much-

In my mind there are like two main ways on how Pk could’ve been towards Hornet:

Either he was a good father that cared or he was a piece of shit

If he was indeed a good father then he probably loved her a lot. Hornet was like a big priority for him and he cared for her, he worried for her safety, because of that Hornet probably saw him as like the hero of the story. She exaggerated her thoughts on how good PK actually was and justified every decision he took because “he’s the good guy he wouldn’t hurt anyone” and cuz “everything he does is for her sake and the sake of the kingdom”, this big love she had for him made him seem like the greatest guy she has ever met and she was putting him in a pedestal. It wasn’t until she met PV that some doubt on her innocent like 4 year old mind started to crawl inside (personally I think PK created the dreamers before the hollow knight was elected, so hornet was born before PV). 

PV looked just like her, a little kid who didn’t know anything, but that wasn’t true, PV was a vessel to be used against the infection, someone who was doomed ever since they were born, that is why Hornet probably started to doubt her father yet she chose to ignore those thoughts assuring that her father was doing this for the best. So she treated PV as a sibling, she hated how everyone else referred to them as an object because for her they were more than that, Hornet loved her sibling and it hurt her a lot to loose them and her mother.

When PV was sealed, no body told her what was actually happening, her mother lied to protect her so she wouldn’t suffer. Of course she did suffer but a little bit of hope still lingered in her mind, hope that her mother and her sibling would come back and give her the biggest hug she has ever had. I like to think that the failure of the vessel plan took some years to happen, when hornet was a pre-teen maybe, so when she turned 11 her father told her everything as the infection started to rise again. Aghh I imagine Hornet’s heart shattering in pieces as she knew that every single person who she loved lied to her, she ran from the palace and hid in deepnest. That is were all her trust issues came in, Hornet adored her father yet she slowly started to realize that he wasn’t the man she thought he was, she thought he was kind and brave but when she went back to the white palace to see nothing, she understood. No, her father wasn’t the hero in the story, there are no heroes in real life, her father was just a king who did the most horrible things he could to protect a kingdom that was doomed from the start. He lied to her, he used her sibling in the most disgusting way possible, destroying them and making them play the role of an empty vessel without any thought, he killed millions of his own children, millions of her own siblings, he took her mother away from her for a plan that was never meant to work. Hr was a coward, specially since he went to hide in his palace in the dream realm, not falling by the side of his kingdom. That is when the cruel reality struck her, she was stupid and naive to trust in such man, to love him and justify his actions with lies.

Now I don’t want to make PK the bad guy here cuz I’m a little bit of a PK apologist so I will say that he did all of this cuz he ain’t got the best mental health and his sanity was long gone, but he did care for Hornet, he loved her and wanted what was best for her. When hornet ran away his heart also broke, Hornet was not the only one to loose every person she loved, Pk also lost the people he cared for her (his children, his wife, Lurie- cough*), so he hid cuz he was ashamed of himself. 

But if we do take a look on the other way I said, well he was more selfish and had a bigger ego- still without sanity tho lol-

Gonna analyze that on another day tho I’m tired of thinking

Also the songs "Rät" by Penelope Scott and "Would've, Could've, Should've" by Taylor Swift inspired this :)

[booksareboring-blog]

One Piece: East Blue Saga

One Piece: East Blue Saga by Eiichiro Oda (尾田 栄一郎) Okay so this one is really going to reveal the big nerd side of me. I started reading One Piece shortly after the live action Netflix series came out. My social media was suddenly flooded with live action, anime, and manga references that I did not understand but which hooked me in and made me want to find out what was going on. I also tossed up if I would write this review, admittedly I thought it might be better to restrict this blog to the reading I do that might make me look cooler. But what’s the point? It’s a blog about books, I am already clearly not a jock, and screw what you think, so what if I started reading One Piece? I chose to break up my reviews into each Saga as apposed to each chapter release or volume release, as this makes the most sense to me for convenience and also having complete arcs to review. The East Blue Saga is an introduction to the world and the various characters you are about to embark on a long journey with throughout the Manga. It builds the world and it’s sense of character well through short arcs introducing each new member of the Straw Hat crew The first story arc you of the series sets up the main character Monkey D. Luffy and why he sets out to be a pirate. It also introduces Luffy’s first crew member Roronoa Zoro, who at first joins reluctantly but reveals himself to be a immensely loyal friend. This introductory arc show Luffy’s great sense of duty and commitment to what he believes is good, even in the face of an opposing authority. This also introduces the power system within the universe. Devil Fruit, when eaten, grant the consumer a unique power that only they hold, at the cost of their ability to swim. The next story arc takes the two friends to a new island where a new crew member is introduced. Nami, a headstrong woman who is, for the time being, interested only in what benefits her as an individual, and has no interest in joining a team. This arc also introduces an enjoyable villain that sets up the interesting devil fruit vs devil fruit fights to come, and also a taste of the weird and wacky characters this world is full of. This arc also introduces the readers to a heart wrenching story from a side character. Something I know will continue throughout the manga. The following arc takes the now three member strong crew to a new island that introduces them to coward and serial liar Usopp. This story gives a great sense of the themes around overcoming great odds. It was overall a slower arc for me than the previous arcs but was fun nonetheless. This arc also introduces them finally, to their ship, the Going Merry. The next arc introduces the fifth crew member, the Straw Hats cook, a cool and stoic man with a penchant for becoming a blubbering fool around pretty women. This arc also comes with an emotional storyline, and introduces the reader to the massive threats to come when the crew finally enters the Grand Line. The next arc is the one that really hooked me into the series. It is heart breaking and emotional. The five main characters are put to their greatest test as a crew. The individual personalities and drives of each crew member puts them in a situation in which they must each overcome an internal obstacle and work together as a cohesive unit to overcome their enemy. The themes of oppression and control, standing up for what you believe in, and standing up for the people you care about are put on beautiful display laying clear what the rest of the series will embody. The final arc is short and mostly serves to finish off the saga and set up the next one, the crew are headed to the Grandline. This saga hooked me into the series. It is as fun and as exciting as I expected it to be, but what really kept my attention was the emotion it wasn’t afraid to play with and the themes it was willing to touch. This saga was still clearly just an introduction to the world and it has left me eager for what is to come. Happy reading folks. Don’t think too hard about the book you’re on right now, just enjoy it.

[ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole]

Hot Showers

This gets a little more risqué (nudity mentioned but that's it really) toward the end of the fic than I typically (or ever tbh) have written (from my point of view) so you've been warned. Probably "teen plus" as a result. (I'm not great at warnings/tags so sorry).

Masterlist

....................................................

Marinette giggled as she and Roy tinkered with the shower head and box. Their plan was fool proof, no flaws what's so ever. Jason would run out the scalding hot shower straight into Roy’s safe arms and they’d fall in love, then kiss and live happily ever after. That’s how it goes right?

As much as it pained her, to yet again fall for someone who wasn't interested in her, she wouldn't let herself get in the way of his happiness. Roy was her best friend. He deserved happiness. Even if his happiness was with Jason and not her. She got why he loved Jay. Jay was perfect for Roy with his leather, ruggedness, and wicked dark humour. Roy would always be her best buddy with Jay a close second.

It was inevitable that she’d fall for Roy. How could she not fall for the goofball of a roommate. He was charming, caring, chaotic and smart. His humour matched hers as well as he also adored Jagged. He dealt with the admin mistake amazingly as she ended up being placed in the male dorms. She doesn't really regret using Marin instead of Nettie on the forms to shrink her name to fit as she'd never have met the crazy man next to her.

Ok, that might be a slight stretch of the truth given they both had taken the same university course. But she'd never have guaranteed that they'd have worked together.

Also, his looks were nothing to be scoffed at… she's never forgotten bumping (literally) into his toned chest, damp hair and piercing green eyes as he walked out of the bathroom in first year.

She really was a sucker for green eyed Adonises who put her as 'just a good friend'.

"Wha'd'ja think? The mechanism seems ok? It's a little sticky though."

Roy's voice broke through Marinette's musings, giggles and reminiscing of topless moments, knowing he will never be hers. Stealing Roy's hat Marinette to place it on her own head to keep her overgrown fringe out her eyes (she really needed to cut it) she stuck her tongue out to focus on the mechanism Roy referred to.

"Can you grab me a nail file and tweezers Roy? I have an idea on getting it to move smoothly."

Handing Marinette the tools requested, Roy wrapped himself around his roommate, resting his head over her shoulder to watch her tinker with the contraption.

Marinette groaned inside her mind. It was times like this that made it so much harder adoring Roy and not acting on it with his sweet oblivious behaviour.

"It'll work right? This plan is fool proof, right?"

"Yeah yeah, the contraption is perfect. Look, I got it to work without sticking now."

"Nets!! That's not what I meant." Roy hugged her closer, "Course the fucking thing will work. It has us working on it. This stuff is a breeze. I meant, like, Jay will come running into my arms and I can declare my feelings."

"Roy… I love you…" Marinette grimaced internally stating that. Roy will never take her seriously or the true depth it meant with how often she said it, but at least she got to say how she felt even if it was never returned. "I'm $h1t at knowing whether it will work. My dating history and setting up is appalling. I never told the guy in lycée that I liked him. The girls set up loads of ridiculous situations for me to fail at. The only major success I had was setting Al's up with Nino by trapping them in a cage. This fits in with the crazy plans perfectly and it's you. You're not a coward plus how could Jay hate you?"

"Love ya too Nets. Thanks for the prep talk. I can do this. Jay will love it… afterwards."

"As this part is finished, do you want to assemble it together?"

"Yeah yeah, I get ya hint. Get the giant to put the shower together. I got this you little Pixie."

Marinette flipped him off as he let go of her allowing her to stand up and move away from him.

"I'm going to the gym. That way at least I can have a shower without issues. When's Jay over? I can grab take out on the way home."

"In an hour, I think. Have I told you I love ya Nets? Pizza and beer night!!"

"Not enough Roy, not enough… and for that I'm grabbing Chinese"

She stuck her tongue out at Roy and dashed into her room to grab her gym kit.

°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°

As Jason lounged on the sofa, Roy attempted to watch the trash film he selected nursing the beer he was drinking. There was a reason he let Marinette chose films. She seemed to have an endless knowledge of them and about the directors. Though she said she was just reciting information she’s heard over the years from an obsessed friend and would be in the same boat as him otherwise.

Roy was struggling to keep his cool without Marinette around. He was so close to Jason, he could smell Jason's aftershave and something distractedly Jason. It was sending his mind into over drive. The plan was all set up ready and he just needed to wait. He didn’t like the waiting and now his nerves were all over the place like his mind with how Jason kept looking over at him.

“So what madness were you and Nets working on today?"

Jason’s deep voice caused Roy to jump and his attention to scatter.

"What?! No madness. We've had a quiet day. Nothing dangerous at all."

"Bullshit Roy. Nets tools are still in the living room. They'd be in her room if she wasn't working on something and *you* would have joined in. You're practically joined at the hip."

‘$h1t!’ ran through Roy’s head at Jason’s observation, very little escaped the 'not a bat' attention. "Errr….", Roy eloquently replied. He could hear Marinette’s scolding in the back of his head at his lack of words and distraction technique.

Jason threw a pillow at him, which Roy manages to catch. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the pillow, to look at Jason. Roy felt his ears start to heat up under Jason’s all knowing stare.

"Harper, you're a $h1t liar. I really haven't a clue how Nets hasn't figured you out yet."

Before Jason could continue grilling Roy about his latest project, a loud thumping of what sounded like someone kicking the door.

“Foood!! Nets is home!!” Roy cried jumping over the sofa to let his saviour in, ignoring Jason shaking his head at his behaviour. He finally got what she meant with the nerves she felt before each of her friends' crazy plans. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell his friend about how he fantasised about his thighs. His arms. How he loved and hated the showers at JL post mission. How when they sparred, that one shifted move and it could turn into something... something more.

Roy dragged Nets into the building and manoeuvred her to the kitchen neglecting to help by taking some the tower of food out her hand focusing complete to the panic ringing in his head. “Help me... he’s so fucking cute today.” Roy whispers into her ear.

His roommate and best Wing Girl looked at him with a sigh. “Chill Roy, just chill! The more you work yourself up the worse it’ll be. Forget the future. Focus on food so we can put phase one into action yeah!?”

Roy smiled. He could do this. This was why he adored his Pixie companion. She really was perfect friend. He dragged her into a hug with relief that she was here rushing through him, chuckling at her antics to escape his grasp.

“Grab the plates and make yourself useful instead of smothering me Roy. Jay! You gonna help too?!”

As the three navigated the small kitchen dishing up food. Every time Jason’s hand brushed his, Roy felt his heart flutter. Heat rushed through his body. His nerves were fried by the time they all were seated, from Jason’s heated touch and the desire for more contrasted with Marinette’s soothing balm calming his soul.

°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°

Jason tried to focus on the food in front of him, but fu©k, it was hard especially with having a few drinks with Roy before Marinette turned up. He might have been harbouring a minor, not so big, little (HUGE) crush on Roy’s roommate and keeping it in check was hard, especially with alcohol. She was hot! Especially with the loose crop top and joggers she was wearing from her post workout. The hint of her abs and wet hair dampening the white top gave him all the wrong ideas. Her morbid humour match is his dark one and her love for rock music sold it for him. Roy was a strong man to be able to resist her, that is if he was resisting… with how Roy draped and snuggled close to her it was hard to tell.

Jason’s issue was he wasn’t sure if Roy was overprotective and physical close of Nets due to seeing her as a little sister or there was something more was under lying. He’d seen the pair try to hide their blushes. Their cosiness and whispered conversations. The fact Roy was often tactile with him made it harder to work out as maybe that was just Roy with his best friend's. With his attempts to find out Roy’s affections, it felt like getting a straight answer from B was easier. Roy always responded with lots vague responses and misdirection.

It was driving him insane, Jason desperately wanted to know where Roy stood so he knew whether it was green to maybe… possibly… make a move on Nets… without violence form Roy.

Lost in his own musings as Nets and Roy chatted animatedly about a potential 'illegal' modification to their bikes Jason didn't notice the downpour of beer which flew his way.

"WHAT THE FU¢K NETS?!?!!"

Jason jumped out of his seat as beer drained down his top onto his jeans. Roy rushed to pat him dry with napkins he'd grabbed, red faced to match his hair as he pat down the beer from Jason's head. Nets looked at him with her soulful doe eyes that peered out partially hidden by her lashes and overgrown fringe.

"$h1t!! Mon dieu!! I'm *so so* sorry Jay!"

With a pout and sorryful expression she looked up at him, melting his anger with her innocent look.

"It was an accident. I really didn't mean for that to happen. Are you ok? Did ya want a shower?? I'm *sure* Roy has some spare clothes he can loan you?"

She spoke with such a saccharine voice that shivers went down Jason's spine and whatever anger that remained disappeared.

"Errr, Yeah! Look, I'll, I'll go grab some spare clothes and towel for ya Jay."

Roy gulped as he exited the room to get the items leaving Jason suddenly feeling flustered, standing in wet clothes that clang to his body, with only Marinette left in the room.

"I'll just, I'll go be in the bathroom if Roy asks."

Marinette sent him a beguiling smile as he wanders out the room.

°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°

Screams echo the apartment as Jason dashes out the bathroom flames licking behind him as he runs towards Roy who had grabbed a fire extinguisher and covers him in the water before panicking as saw the shower curtain was still alight.

"Arghhhhhhhhhhh!!! Nets! NETS!!! THE BATHROOM IS ON FIRE!!"

Marinette quickly comes into the hallway to find Jason naked, Roy hopping foot to foot holding the fire extinguisher and not doing anything. Grabbing the item off the flapping man and ignoring the nakedness of the other, Marinette tackled the flames and quickly put them out. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as she thought and easy to get under control. Before turning to Roy and Jason raising her eyebrow at the pair while chucking a towel at Jason.

"You b@$t@rd!! What in hell?! what you thinking Roy?!?! What was that?!"

"I'd call it a hot shower … "

Marinette gave Roy a pointed look at that comment.

"A hot shower Roy?! Where was the shower bit!"

"I might have forgotten to reattach the water element…"

"Might?!?! Might?!?!"

Jason felt the green fire in him growing as he stepped closer and closer to Roy. His friend was a madman. He was bonkers. He was going to kill him. Whether the him being Roy or himself he wasn't sure.

Roy suddenly grabbed Jason's shoulders, dragging him closer and kissed him. Roy poured all his affections into a heated kiss, hoping Jason would understand what he was trying to say. Jason paused in shock. That… that wasn't what he was expecting. His eyes blew wide as he processed what was happening. He saw Marinette give a bittersweet smile at the pair before she turned and left them to it as she re-entered the living room. His attention snapped back to Roy as he quickly let go to step back.

"Ummm, I like you… a lot… this was an attempt to ummm well… kick start telling you maybe…"

Roy's face was flushed vibrant red. Partly due to finally kissing his crush, partly from admitting his feelings and a lot due to remembering Jason before the kiss was angry and likely to kill him for the flamethrower shower and that he had kissed him unasked plus on top of that Jason was still in the hallway in only a towel.

"You like me?!?! Me?!?! What about Nets?!?! I thought you liked her … how can you not like her. She's a walking goddess?"

"Yeah I like you, like really like you…why wouldn't I? and Nets well, I love her too, but you're you Jay. I've liked you since forever."

Jason stared at his friend semi gormlessly, blinking slowly, as he tried to understand what was happening. His friend. His best friend. Who had just tried to kill him via fire. Had just said he liked him. Liked him more than a best friend. Roy had just kissed him. Given it was mostly one side, it still managed to be a decent kiss. Roy said he loved Nets, but from what he said it implied he loved him, HIM, more.

Did he like Roy like that? Jason knew he liked Nets but Roy was something he never considered...

"I err.. $h1t I fu¢ked this up. Forget it. I made this awkward. We can stay mates Jay….this never happened 'i can't believe I let Nets talk me into this'"

Jason grabbed Roy face in both hands and kissed him back heatedly, surprising Roy causing an ‘eeeps’ to escape his mouth. Especially as Jason now had his towel in his hand at Roy's face, not around his waist and his tongue requested to entry to his mouth. A second later Roy melted into Jason’s grasp, memorising the feeling he’d longed for. Moments later came too soon for Roy’s liking, as they slowly broke away to breathe again, Jason stared deeply into Roy’s eyes.

"Do you like like Nets? Be honest with me Roy!"

"I guess…"

"Not guess. Yes or no?"

"Yea…"

"Awesome. Ditto. I never considered you in the equation before. Always Nets but maybe… maybe do you think… did you want…?"

It was Roy's turn to look at Jason like he was the madman. Maybe he was mad, he was standing in his hallway, after almost being burnt, naked. He contemplated what Jason was trying to say and his eyes glimmered in understanding finally. God damn bats being as clear as mud with their emotions.

"Yeah," Roy whispered out, "yeah that sounds good. Shall we go ask her?"

Grabbing Jason's hand, the pair walked back into the living space to find Marinette tidying the mess they had made earlier. She looked up and squawked at the sight of Jason still wearing nothing as she threw a cushion at him.

"Clothes, Jason, clothes!!! Oh kwami's help me!"

Her face was brilliant red as she gazed up at the ceiling to avoid looking at the muscular men before her.

"Cack! One mo, Roy!"

Jason ran out of the room to put something on… anything… other than the towel which was lying on the floor in the hallway.

"So it went well then Roy?"

"Yeah Nets it went good."

"I'm so happy for you. I knew he couldn't resist you. So proud you did it. However unconventionally."

"About that…"

Marinette paused and finally looked at Roy standing awkward in their home. She tilted her head in confusion as to what Roy was worried about as he nervously fiddles with his cap. She walked up to him and brought him to the sofa to sit down.

"Talk to me Roy. What's wrong? I'd thought you'd be happy. This is what you wanted right? I didn't push you into something you weren't ready for, did I? Oh god I did, didn't I! I'm so sorry Roy. I'll take the blame. Don't worry we can fix this."

"What no!!! That's not it Nets. Promise."

Jason finally rejoined them, wearing a pair of Roy's shorts and a t-shirt that was a size too tight. Which left nothing to the imagination causing a flustered look dance across Roy's face.

"Nets," Jason sat beside her, and not Roy, adding to her confusion. "Can you answer this honestly this question? Please..." Marinette slowly nodded hesitantly, shifting to look at Jason, unsure what was happening with her friends. Jason gently took her hand and asked, "Do you like like Roy?"

The new blush that rushed to her face answered the question really, but Jason waited for the woman to regain her senses and answer him. Ducking behind her hair Marinette nodded at Jason. Roy hand darted up, before his mind had caught up, too tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

"Oh Nets… I'm an idiot. A major idiot."

Roy pulled her close to rest his forehead against hers, leaving Jason stroking the back of her hand.

"Nets, I adore you too." He kissed the tip of her nose, "Can you answer my question now. Do you feel the same way about Jay?"

"Wha…" she pulled away from Roy to look at the men before her, glancing between them like they were insane.

"I like you, Nets. God's know I like you, since I met you and your sadistic humour at Roy's misfortune. But I think l like Roy too. Roy well, the dense tool says he likes me, but I've seen the looks he's given you too. I'm pretty sure the feelings were mutual, just he never entertained it."

"Thanks Jay!" Roy grumbled before grabbing Marinette's other hand and kissed her fingers. "Did you wanna try with us?"

Roy looked at her earnestly. Hoping. Wishing she said yes. Her large, pretty eyes gazed into his, then to Jays. Slowly she licked her lips before opening her mouth.

"Just so I'm clear. You both want to date each other. But you also want to date me??"

Roy beamed at her, "Yes!" He leant forward and gently kissed her lips, savouring the taste compared to his heated, frantic outpouring with Jason.

"Dude! She didn't say yes. She just clarified what you were saying!" Jason exclaimed facepalming at his ?boyfriends? enthusiasm.

Roy quickly pulled back, "Oh, ooops!", only to witness Marinette looking up at Jason with wide eyes as if asking a silent question from him to nod in response. Carefully, as if uncertain of what will happen, Marinette kisses Jason slowly, easing into it before retreating. Shyly, as if she hadn't just kissed the pair, she smiles coyly at them.

"This wasn't the outcome I was expecting from this evening, but, I'd quite like to give it a go."

[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

[cizzisblog]

some things about bnha 302:

-endeavor literally just fucked off like “I have work I can’t watch Touya” and left Rei to deal with it herself for five years lmfao??? 1. what a fucking coward and 2. Rei showing again that even if she can’t necessarily do anything to fix it, she’s still more in tune with her children’s emotions than he is, she knows Touya wants Enji’s acknowledgment! I don’t know why people are acting like she just ignored Touya’s existence in favor of Shouto???

-when Touya looked up at Endeavor and Shouto on the balcony he just looked sad?? maybe vaguely annoyed? what is up with the “he gave an evil look to Shouto” shit? Are people just looking to demonize everything this 13 year old did? He’s a kid goddamn

-Also in the same chapter he says he was wrong for going after Shouto??? He didn’t even say anything that was incorrect he is not “manipulating” Natsuo for his evil purposes jesus christ he’s THIRTEEN and Natsuo was his ONLY confidante he’s looking for comfort and crying he’s THIRTEEN JESUS

-On that note Touya isn’t really..being necessarily misogynist by saying “the girls can’t understand”. Like from his perspective they don’t understand why he needs so desperately to gain Enji’s approval and of course he’s going to react negatively to “find something else other than being a hero” no matter what good intentions they have. This isn’t their fault and it’s not his either. (cough it’s endeavor’s cough)

-Rei says “you’re going to the hill again” which leads me to think going to the hill to train is something Touya does often. And he’s very resistant to her asking him to not go, being fairly disrespectful to her (again, not his fault he’s that way) and talking back. Again, Rei is more in tune with what he’s actually feeling, she can see he’s in pain because of his obsession, and I can only imagine what she felt if she talked to him before the LAST time he went to the hill and never came home. (But also Endeavor literally just didn’t fucking go??? He couldn’t get off his ass for five minutes to go see what Touya was up to??? How is he escaping blame for the incident? Rei is shown trying to convince him to acknowledge Touya, so it’s not at all out of character to say she probably begged him to just go. But Enji chose not to.) But still, it kind of blows my mind that people think it’s Rei’s fault that he went. Like, what do you expect her to do? Use physical force to stop him and potentially make things even worse? Instead of taking any responsibility for 1. causing the obsession in the first place, 2. ignoring Touya when he has no use to him, and 3. failing to use any of his actual professional ability to help Touya control his Quirk and prevent disaster, Endeavor just comes home and blames it all on Rei, in true abuser fashion. (He literally just abandoned Touya’s training cold turkey, he didn’t even keep up with trying to at least make sure he could control it? You can’t tell me specialized training or counseling for self destructive Quirks doesn’t exist??) Which is also what the fandom’s doing lmao. She really was out of options at this point...she couldn’t convince Touya not to go and she knew it, and I’m sure she felt like a failure of a mother for it, but Enji really was the only one with any power to sway Touya’s decisions. He could have committed to spending time with his son and taking responsibility at any point, but instead focused 100% on Shouto. Rei was in the very difficult position as a parent that many mothers are put into in real life- parenting their children in an abusive environment is made even more difficult because of both the lack of support from their spouse and their children growing resentful or disrespectful towards them because of the behavior they see modeled by the abusive partner. Enji literally, directly undercut Rei’s ability to parent at all; this is literally not the same as Rei just being “neglectful” and I’m tired of seeing people say she was “passive and complicit” in what he did. Literally this whole flashback she’s been trying to help Touya, but because she couldn’t and acknowledged that she couldn’t she’s somehow taken as this bitch who didn’t try at all. the bnha fandom really takes misunderstanding abuse victims to a whole other level. “She could have told Endeavor” literally as soon as he found out (possibly when she actually did tell him after he found the burns) he just fucking beat her and continued to do nothing about Touya. What options did she have to employ to help Touya when Enji continued to ignore and hurt him?

-This panel is...kind of interesting to me. This is another line people are bashing Touya over for supposedly being misogynist. But I really don’t take it that way? I think he’s lashing out because Rei doesn’t understand him, and yeah he may want to say something to hurt her, but I feel like that’s more of a subconscious urge? It really feels more like he’s trying to say “You’re being a hypocrite, you aren’t using your own advice; you were also used, but don’t understand me.” I don’t think he’s literally blaming her for being “bought” (even though, emotionally, he may place some blame on her for him being born in the first place, because emotions themselves don’t have to be ‘rational’). I think this is just another thing Dabi blames Endeavor for.

-in summary the whole “cancel Touya because he’s misogynist” is both stupid and batshit lmao y’all are wild do you ever go outside have you ever spoken to any 13 year old

-Both Endeavor and Rei mention that they didn’t know how to talk to Touya, but it blows my mind people are treating them the same. Rei acknowledged she didn’t know how to talk to Touya, but she still tried. The disconnect between her and her child was directly caused by her husband. Enji literally fucking ignored him on purpose??? Just because Enji feels bad about it now and wants to make an excuse, doesn’t change the fact he was really just running away all along. Rei literally calls him out on this lmao.

-Literally why are people demonizing Rei for saying the issue is all of theirs to bear? That scene doesn’t read at ALL as if she’s saying “it’s literally all our fault this happened”. She is not blaming her toddler children for past events. She’s acknowledging that they all have to deal with it now as a family, which is just, facing reality to be honest. None of them can just close their eyes and pretend Dabi doesn’t exist. She knows her kids feel guilty about Touya too and is acknowledging that running from it will only make them feel worse. Do you think Shouto would listen or feel better if his mom told him “this isn’t any of your concern, so don’t think about it”???? You know he wouldn’t and she knows that too.

-“Rei didn’t say anything about Natsuo and Fuyumi in this one single conversation when she praised Shouto and used him as an example of a hero (maybe because that’s what he’s trying to become) that means she doesn’t care about the abuse they endured” lmao this is so dumb and the weirdest take I’ve seen I’m not even gonna talk about it. Where is the reading comprehension. Do people know conversations take place off screen too do they know Rei talked to her children when they visited her in hospital. What the hell

-I cannot physically believe people are referring to this scene as a “fight.” “The kids were hiding from Enji and Rei fighting.” Lmfao what the fuck is wrong with you? This is a direct parallel to the other scene involving Enji physically abusing Rei and Shouto being present. You think a woman is cowering on the floor with her confirmed abusive spouse towering over her for fun? No, he fucking put her there. Baby Shouto even says stop bullying mom. People are so desperate to act like Rei wasn’t abused and the misogyny is so ironically clear for people complaining about one or two supposedly misogynistic comments a little boy made. The kids were hiding from Endeavor abusing their mother. They were hiding from Enji.

-In conclusion, I didn’t think the bad takes about Touya and Rei could get any worse but boy I was fucking wrong.

[spacejellyfish3]

the utena show’s ending is extremely powerful on its own yes but utena’s final apology? to anthy of not being able to be her prince in the end never stuck right with me. and I think that’s cause in a sense it’s still centering the prince as important, as aspirational, that maybe it could have been a better ending for them—that utena could’ve survived if she were her prince. and of course I might be reaching with that possibly probably but I still wanted to air that opinion out (maybe someone else has similar misgivings as I do and can expand on it so there).

but the real problem for me is that show anthy still very much places utena as a savior figure, as her “prince”. while I live for anthy’s savage verbal takedown of akio as a powerless coward trapped in a Sisyphean game of pretend for all eternity but even so she herself is still shown to subscribe to the dogma of the heroic prince. even visually anthy’s idealization of utena is displayed with her dressed in pink. this visual marker is carried over into the movie with anthy’s bridal gown changing from red (which makes sense since anthy is indian coded and an indian bride’s sari is traditionally red) to white and pink, connoting her as utena’s princess.

movie anthy’s placement of utena onto a pedestal of princehood also often extends beyond subtext and into the text itself, a key example being the scene right before utena’s famed car wash makeover where anthy says “you’re the prince of the academy now, every miracle and all eternity is yours…so long as you stay in this world.” anthy believes that you can only exercise power, have power, be happy, be free within the system, and it’s important to note that there is very much truth in that notion but this power I’m referring to is that of self actualization, the power of maturity. yet…utena rejects that noise, she says no, she says fuck that let’s go be free in the outside world.

if the show is about breaking away from the confines of abuse, then the movie is about breaking away from the confines of trauma. it’s extremely powerful when anthy takes the steps out of ohtori; it’s hard even just to find the strength to leave an abusive situation let alone actively do it. but the pain remains, trauma doesn’t disappear it’s haunting it’s ghostly sometimes literally manifesting. both movie utena and anthy are hounded and bound to apparitions they’ve forgotten are actually dead.

touga died years ago sacrificing himself for nothing in the end and became princely an ideal to strive for and utena has to come to grips with that and she basically says no you don’t control me my grief my trauma does not control me thank you for being my prince but I can’t be a prince I don’t want to be it’s not real

anthy is real

I am real

akio is abuse he is torment and toxicity he is anthy’s monster, maybe a monster that she created once upon a time but he chose to perpetuate his monstrosity. and when confronted with his actions he couldn’t face it he hurt her more made it her fault for the hurt he caused her and he died he’s dead he’s gone but he remains in the ground anthy buried him beneath the roses. the rose garden is a prison she is the only one held captive by the roses and it grows up up high up but it’s still there the roses remain he’s still there in her mind and he’ll never leave but he’s not in control. he’s dead, he’s been dead for so long he remains but he’s not real and he’s no prince because the prince was a lie that never existed it’s not real

utena is real

I am real

and they blaze past everything. there are obstacles but there are friends too who aren’t there yet but they’re on the path they’re trying they’re growing they have high goals they want to reach and someday they will but you can now. it’s anthy’s story it’s anthy journey and it’s hard of course it’s hard

but they break free. they break the castle so huge so big so impossible but it wasn’t real

it’s just rose petals flying in the wind

akio doesn’t control her and though it might be so that she and utena can’t make it outside, that they have to continue as princesses stuck in the role that people give them but they don’t have power over them, they’re free and no longer draped in any costume or performance, they’re truth out of her well to shame mankind and that’s fucking awesome. they might not make it, they might fail like the broken down husks of those who came before them, but they can try they’re free to try. they have the power to try. to revolutionize the world. to revolutionize their world.

“the outside world has no roads, but you can always build new roads.”

I binged the entire series and the movie last year around March maybe, sometime right before quarantine…and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, analyzing it, since. I’m pretty sure it radicalized me and honestly I’m glad it did. revolutionary girl utena speaks truth to power and exists as a creative work in a way that I don’t think anything else has or will. it’s fundamentally itself but simultaneously thrives on external interpretation. it’s both an enigma wrapped in a mystery and as obvious and unsubtle as a trainwreck. above is my favorite quote of the entire franchise because it’s so simple but so profound—you could say it’s my equivalent of “what is grief if not love persevering”.

there are no roads to follow, but you’re open to build your own path your own way. no one defines you but you and that’s simple that’s kinda naive but what’s wrong with that. I’m not sure who originally said this or stated this proverb or whatever, I know I read it somewhere but I’m not sure where, and I’m definitely paraphrasing but

adults are so quick to say the world is unfair and be done with it, but a child would look at that and say: why not make it fair? that’s really simple and it’s innocent of course but it’s still true. why can’t we make things fair, because we definitely could it’s not impossible.

I’m not sure how to end this post—I definitely should cause it’s plenty long already—but rgu is highly foundational to me on a visceral level. it’s helped me in ways shifted me in ways I can’t describe and I can’t really imagine myself now existing without its influence. the best way I could describe its impact its power its importance really boils down to

the outside world has no roads, but you can always build new roads.

words to live by.

[froggysoup]

wowee

Alrighty I’m just gonna ramble on about my thoughts on the new quest (and things in general because I talk too much) and pray that at least some of it ends up coherent. Spoilers, by the way.

I’ve had this first theory since the last archon quest but got nervous and didn’t share, so here it is now. Maybe it’s an obvious thing that I’m just in the dark about, but I’m fairly sure that Dainsleif’s “Boughkeeper” title has a large part in explaining why he knows so much about things he really shouldn’t. From the newest quest, we learn that he is actually cursed with immortality, which could explain some it, but the guy still knows too much for it to simply be chalked up to his age. He’s literally the designated narrator for half of the official videos and knows a lot about what and who he talks about.

I suspect that the ley lines serve as an information network of some sort, and that Dainsleif’s position as Boughkeeper allows him access to it in one way or another. The only other places we really see the whole tree/branch thing is with the ley line branches, Irminsul trees, the Frostbearing Tree, and the tree who once had roots that spanned the whole continent (which we know the ley line branches were once directly a part of), all of which are connected in a way that I haven’t quite figured out yet. 

Now, from those screens that come up while the game is loading, we know that supposedly, the intertwined roots of the Irminsul trees far beneath the earth determine the pattern of the ley lines above, and we also know that ley lines are a “mysterious network that links the whole world together” and that they are said to remember everything that happens in the world. From this, I don’t think it’d be that much of a reach to say that Dainsleif can access that somehow.

Next. I do think there’s a pretty good chance that the Archons were involved in the destruction of Khaenri’ah. The Viridescent Venerer set actually tells us how the former Dendro Archon died during the cataclysm while in Khaenri’ah, which. Uh. That’s kind of really incriminating. 

However! Obviously, we’ve only heard this from Dainsleif’s point of view and he’s pretty biased considering his whole thing. We don’t know how much control Celestia has over the Archons’ actions, either, and I’m about 98% sure that some of them weren’t into it, and likely didn't even have a choice. Like, look at the Tsaritsa. Her whole thing is that sometime during the cataclysm, she witnessed something so view-shattering and unjust that her whole thing now is to “burn away the old world” and overthrow Celestia. 

I also can’t see Venti and Zhongli going along with the destruction of an entire nation with no hesitation. Like, obviously, again, Dainsleif is going to be biased, but from what we’ve been told Khaenri’ah didn’t even do anything divine-retribution-worthy. Celestia just seems be into dropping skyscraper-sized pillars and other things onto nations who get too good at being independent, for whatever reason. The new quest is definitely supposed to make us question the current systems of this world but I don’t think we’re meant to hate Venti or Zhongli, at least yet. I think they’re even kind of meant to be seen as the “best” out of the Archons, so to speak. (Not that I think they’re perfect, by any means.)

Like, just look at the way they’ve been presented to us, versus how some of the other Archons have been introduced (Storyline Trailer, my beloved). 

Raiden Shogun is made out to be some self-absorbed divine ass-kisser who doesn’t have humanity’s best interests at heart (which we know is supposed to be a thing you do as an Archon). She’s doing her whole confiscating visions and oppressive rule thing in an effort to be seen as more divine, but, as Dainsleif puts it, “what do mortals see of the eternity chased after by their god?”

The Dendro Archon/God of Wisdom is implied to not actually be as smart as somebody with that title is supposed to be, one way or another, and either has turned a blind eye to or blatantly encourages the “push for folly” in Sumeru. Can’t tell exactly what that would mean or entail (thanks, Dainsleif), but obviously. Doesn’t sound good.

Dainsleif says of the Hydro Archon that she “lives for the spectacle of the courtroom, seeking to judge all other gods. But even she knows not to make an enemy of the divine.” While the not making an enemy of the divine thing I get (I guess, coward), the whole “seeking to judge all other gods” bit seems very “remove the log from your own eye”-y. Like, you’re an Archon, too, what are you trying to prove here?

The Tsaritsa is- well, the Tsaritsa, as we know. While I do think we are meant to sympathize and agree with at least part of her core ideals and motives, she still is the one behind the Fatui and is, by extension, a war criminal. She also apparently has “no love left for her people”. It’s a bit of a complicated relationship that we have with her.

The only ones who Dainsleif does not directly slander in the trailer are Venti, Zhongli, and Murata. While I don’t think we have enough on her to come to any conclusions about her character yet, Venti does say of her that she is a “wayward, war-mongering wretch”. Now, he does also jab at Rex Lapis during this voiceline, but unlike with Murata we know that those two are buddy-buddy and it was very likely that it was “buffoon (affectionate)”.

Venti and Zhongli are also the first two Archons we encounter, which is important for multiple reasons.

Gonna derail for a bit because I don’t know where to start. But. The game very likely will (or at least should) end with no Archons.

Obviously, especially in light of the new quest (although this stuff has been floating around since the Dragonspine update and even before that), Celestia Bad. Like, cataclysmically bad (lmao). In fact, I’m highly certain that you could trace basically every problem in this game back to them, some way or another.

Even our main “villain” groups all seem to be gunning for Celestia. The Fatui obviously work for the Tsaritsa, who’s made it very clear that she plans to rebel against the divine. The Abyss Order, too, has their Deeply Upsetting plan of creating a mechanized god with the power to “topple the divine thrones of Celestia”.

Evidence points to an overthrow of Celestia at some point in the game, and considering how being an Archon or even a god is directly tied to Celestia, yeah. No more Celestia means no more Archons.

But even besides that, there’s a lot there to suggest that that’s where things are going.

I find it interesting how Mondstadt’s our prologue chapter, or that there’s even a prologue chapter of the game at all. Prologues are meant to set up ideas that will be present throughout the rest of the story, and Mondstadt does exactly that. Venti’s let the people of Mondstadt govern themselves and has almost completely been out of the equation for millennia, even if that means he is significantly weaker than his godly peers. When asked why he chose to do that instead of remain in charge and just give them freedom, Venti responds that “freedom, if demanded of you by an archon, is really no freedom at all.” This sentiment is also brought up in the Mondstadt portion of the storyline trailer, and the traveler even has a whole voiceline debating what Venti really meant when he said that.

This idea of freedom and that humanity is capable on its own is further reinforced in Chapter 1, in which Liyue learns to move on from the death of its Archon. Zhongli set up his plan with the intention of testing if his people could stand on their own legs without him there to guide them, and they do. He even expresses how pleasantly surprised he is that the Qixing were able to take advantage of the situation and seize control like they did. Keqing gives us this whole speech when we first meet her about how the adepti and gods underestimate humanity’s capability and how Liyue’s future is meant to be a godless one. This, in a way, extends to the rest of the continent as well.

In the storyline trailer (which I quote too often, I’m sorry. My favorite and only party trick is that I got bored one day and memorized the whole thing), Dainsleif spends the entire Khaenri’ah section musing about something similar. 

“In the perpetual meantime of a sheltered eternity, most are content to live and not to dream. But in the hidden corner where the gods’ gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming,” is obviously about the people of Teyvat vs. those in Khaenri’ah. While a future under the care of the Archons is a safe and reliable one, is it one that allows humanity to chase its potential to the fullest? Khaenri’ah was destroyed for flourishing like it did without gods, both as a punishment and a warning to everybody else.

“Some say a few are chosen and the rest are dregs, but I say we humans have our humanity.” This is in reference to visions. Throughout the game, this idea that, at least in the eyes of the gods, vision holders are more important than those without them, is constantly brought up.

In the commission “Leaves on the Wind”, Dr. Edith expresses how it often seems as if vision holders are the main characters of this world. From the notebooks we receive during the “Time and Wind” world quest, we learn that the Sumeru Academia actually discourages non-vision holders from conducting outdoor surveys, and how “these days... trying to be an academic when you don't have a Vision, it's really restricting...” Dainsleif even just straight up asks us what we think the gods think of vision holders and people in general during question time in that one quest.

In Lisa’s stories, we learn that the reason for her laziness is that a part of her is afraid of learning or doing too much, after witnessing what “uninhibited erudition” can do to people during her time in Sumeru. She also senses that something beneath the surface is happening regarding the distribution of visions. “For whatever reasons, the gods gave humans the key to changing everything, but they did not explain the cost involved. Lisa grew fearful of the truth.”

I forgot exactly where I was going with that last paragraph, but yeah. There’s definitely sketchy shit going on behind the scenes in regards to visions, possibly to keep people either quiet or complacent. I suspect it may even be to restrict access to certain knowledges or even the elements themselves. Anyways.

I lose track of my thoughts too often. Fuck. Right. Mondstadt and Liyue served as good examples of society under the rule of the Archons, and in Chapter 2 we will encounter our first bad example, showing us the pros and cons of the current situation. However, despite Zhongli and Venti seeming to genuinely care for their people, humanity’s wellbeing shouldn’t be reliant on how their god is feeling that day, and they shouldn’t have to look to the gods for a chance to become something greater than themselves, either.

Um. All that’s to say I’m just very excited to see where the story will go, and if Zhongli’s contract with the Tsaritsa is any indication then it’s gonna go somewhere good. Celestia bad, Archons bad but also not bad but also bad, I don’t know if what I just wrote actually even counts as understandable, thank you and good night.

[bobathots]

smokescreen

i wrote the first draft of this in a lust-fueled haze in less than 24 hours a few weeks ago and then i watched a movie where tem was just absolutely off the rails h word and my brain went “haha smoking kink go brrrrr again” so literally this is just an excuse for boba to smoke. @jon favreau give him a cigarette u coward mob boss! boba/female reader. smut 18+  ~10k tags: pwp, smoking, oral sex, shotgunning, at one point u give boba a blowjob while he smokes also on ao3

He wasn’t expecting anyone — or at least, he wasn’t expecting you , that much was clear from his body language. You weren’t even sure it was him until you got close enough to see the dim streetlamp cast a familiar shadow across his face, until you could make out his staple leather jacket wrapped around his form. The tip of his cigarette stood out cherry-red in the evening light, hanging loosely between his index and middle finger.  He tensed and turned his head as you approached.

“Boba!” You kept your voice light and even; you didn’t know how to talk to the man at work, much less in a situation like this. You hadn’t exactly expected to come across him in the middle of the night, in a dark alley situated neighborhoods away from where you both worked. But, then again, it wasn’t as if this was part of your normal schedule.

He dipped his head toward you in greeting, then brought his hand up to his face to take a drag from his cigarette. Your gaze remained transfixed on the motion, how he rested his index finger on his tip lip while his hand remained splayed, as if he was trying to hide the action. You spoke before you could think, the words tumbling out of your mouth, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

His inhale sounded like a sigh. Dropping his hand back to his side, he courteously turned his head away from you and exhaled billows of ash-grey smoke from his mouth. “Meant to keep it that way, too.” Oh. You winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He shook his head as if to waive away your concerns. “Don’t. I’m the one smoking outside in public.”

“At midnight,” you added, knowing that he probably chose this time and place specifically for privacy. Privacy that you were now infringing upon.

“...At midnight,” he echoed, the beginnings of a wry smirk on his lips.

The conversation died out there, but you remained standing next to him, casting your gaze out onto the buildings. Distantly, you could make out drunken conversations from the surrounding busy streets so filled with nightlife, mixed with the occasional prickle of Boba puffing his cigarette. A cool breeze swept through the leaves and across your skin, causing goosebumps to pimple out in response. You hugged yourself tightly, palms wrapped around your bare arms, as if you could chase away the evening chill.

“Speaking of midnight —” You glanced back at Boba; he pinched the end of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger and dropped it to the ground, crushing it underfoot with his heel, “— you shouldn’t be out alone this late.”

“It’s not so bad in this part of town.” It felt weird having your boss express concern for you, as subtle as it was, even if it was in his nature to take care of his own , as he put it. You figured you were more like a blimp on his radar; it wasn’t like you were a crucial employee. You hardly ever needed to interact with him at work. “The streets are always lit,” you continued, “and always crowded.”

“Right. Which is why you decided to go down a dark alley in the middle of the night.”

Heat rose to your face. “Because I thought I saw you!”

He let out a sound which might have been a chuckle — god, it was so hard to tell with him — and he pushed off the building he had been leaning against. “Let me walk you home, then. An apology for causing you to make a stupid decision.”

You can’t tell if he’s being mean on purpose, but regardless, you didn’t want to impose on him. “Boba, it’s okay, there’s no —”

“Start walking,” he ordered. His voice was stern, commanding; the tone he took when giving instructions at work, and that meant there was no room for argument, no wiggle room to barter or bargain. The words yes, sir sat on your tongue, burgeoning with desire, but you swallowed them down back to the pit of your stomach where they belonged.

Another breeze blew in. You shivered, both from the temperature and from Boba’s intense presence, but finally nodded in acquiescence. “It’s not far,” you assured him, turning to walk back the way you came. “Maybe like five minutes or so.” Then, something heavy and warm draped itself over  your shoulders and you paused, turning back once more to look at Boba.

A now jacket-less Boba.

“I...oh. Um. Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” He kept walking the direction you set out, leaving you to play catch-up. You took a moment to slide your arms through the sleeves, and it thrilled you to find out just how much extra fabric hung past your hands. Even bunching it up at the wrists caused it to slide down from how loose the jacket sat on your body, so you simply clutched the hems in your palms to keep the fabric from slipping over your fingertips. The rest of it draped over you, his frame much larger than yours, and you felt weirdly protected in his jacket. It smelled like leather and faintly of cigarette smoke, but most importantly it smelled like him, a scent you had no other words for. It was the same smell that lingered in his office long after he’d left, something masculine and oddly comforting. Wearing your boss’ jacket was like being wrapped in a second-hand hug, and you were ashamed to admit how much you liked the idea.

You had to do a little jog to catch up to Boba. Maybe it was the night air, or maybe it was the fact that you had genuine one-on-one time with the man you’d been admiring for so long, but you were suddenly emboldened to nose into his personal life. “So...am I allowed to ask why you don’t smoke with the others?” The “others” you referred to were a sizable group of Boba’s underlings that you often noticed smoking together by the backdoor. 

“Not a social smoker.”

You wouldn’t call Boba a social anything , to be honest. “Okay, so why not in your office? I mean, you spend a lot of time alone there anyway.” You would have remembered if he kept an ashtray or a pack of cigarettes anywhere visible, and his office never smelled like smoke.

Silence stretched out between you. You thought maybe he was done with your invasive line of questioning — after all, this was the first “real” conversation you had had with him that didn’t involve work-related topics — but he spoke up after an elongated pause.

“It’s a nasty habit I can’t kick. I try not to indulge if I can help it.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Boba almost sounded embarrassed at having a vice. “My turn to ask a question.”

“Hm?”

“There a reason you’re leading me through back alleys instead of taking the main streets?” He cast a sidelong glance at you, and even with the glint from the streetlamps you couldn’t place whatever subtle emotion danced in his gaze.

“Oh, uhm. It’s just a faster shortcut,” you said, hesitating despite your honesty. “I...normally don’t feel safe enough to do this at night, but…” The implied since you’re here hung heavy in the air between you. You drew his jacket tighter around your body, relishing in the shield it provided against the chilly evening air.

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Boba lapsed into silence beside you. You lead him around a corner and stopped at the base of a sloping hill, turning to face him. “Um, the house I’m renting is just up the road from here,” you started, nerves sitting at the base of your chest. The thought of Boba — your boss , who you were crushing on hard — knowing where you lived? It was almost too much to bear, because you were certain you’d do something stupid like invite him in for a drink, which would naturally lead to you into shamelessly begging him to do unspeakable things to you. You couldn’t. 

Instead, you shrugged off his jacket, internally mourning the loss of warmth and security it radiated. “Thanks again. And thanks for walking me home.”

Boba acknowledged you with a slight dip of his head as he pulled his jacket back around his own shoulders. You gave him what you hoped was a natural and normal smile that didn’t let your nervousness show, and turned to walk up the long sidewalk that led to your ramshackle house.

His gaze burned on your back the entire time, only letting up when you unlocked the door and stepped inside the safety of your home.

The second time had to have been a coincidence, an alignment of your schedules, because you found him at the exact same spot at the exact same time a week later. The only difference was that this time, he was grinding out a cigarette and raising a zippo to light another in the same moment.

You never took him for a chainsmoker.

“Boba —”

“What did I say about walking alone at night?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, necessarily, but neither was it condescending or patronizing. It was almost concerned, if you could call it that.

“I only have the same excuses as last time,” you admitted. He made that noise again, the little huff you’d taken to mean he’s amused, and your chest did a funny little skip in response.

“Means I’m responsible for walking you home again, then.”

“I - no! Not if it’s some sort of imposition. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure of that, kid. But,” he paused to inhale, and deeply: his chest visibly expanded to fill out whatever room was left in his leather jacket, and he held it there for a beat, savoring the burn, before he breathed out in one fell swoop. “I’d like to see you safe with my own eyes.”

The white smoke obscured his gaze for just that moment, and all you could see was the bright burning end of his cigarette like a wine stain on a white tablecloth, like a gunshot wound through a white shirt.

You swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Boba.”

Something like gratitude settled over your shoulders, but there was also something else there, something you didn’t know how to describe. It meant enough to your lovesick heart to know that he cared , at least in some capacity, about your well-being. Enough to walk you home twice .

Even when Boba looked away, gaze on some distant point down the alley, you couldn’t keep your eyes from him. He looked so good , so imposing at all times, and the cigarette only helped add to his appeal. He was every bit like an intimidating mob boss, like he might decide to put his cigarette out on some thug’s eye for mouthing off — and you were only a little ashamed to say that the mental picture made you want to squirm.

At the same time, you could tell there was a different edge to him tonight. Something more coiled and tense, like he had a bundle of energy he needed to burn off and burning a cigarette was the closest he could come.

If he had been savoring it that first night, he was flat out devouring it now. It was aggressive, in a way; how he’d barely let his lungs take in a full breath of oxygen before he filled them with nicotine and tar again.

“You smoke?”

His voice startled you from your thoughts, bringing you clear back to the current moment. “N-no. Why?”

“You keep staring. Made me wonder if you wanted a puff.” He had caught you red-handed in your shameless oogling, and you supposed you should’ve felt embarrassed, but you were too enraptured with the way he spoke with his cigarette hanging from his lips, how the smoke leaked out in little wisps with every word. Deftly, he thumbed the filter to flick ash from the butt and immediately brought it back to his lips again. Your eyes followed every movement. “But it’s a good thing. Don’t start.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” you said, which was the truth — the truth that existed before you knew Boba was a smoker, anyway. It wasn’t like you had a craving to smoke for smoking’s sake. Instead, you wanted to taste from the same filter that sat in Boba’s mouth, imagining it stained with the imprint of his lips; you wanted to inhale the same smoke that he exhaled and pretend that you were sharing breaths like lovers, or fuckbuddies; you wanted to kiss him and taste the nicotine on his tongue —

— but he was your boss, and a good deal older than you, and he’d never be interested in the first place. Instead, you had resigned yourself to watching him in the act with the hopes that you didn’t give off creepy vibes and that he’d fire you. It’d be best if you could turn your mind away from more unsavory thoughts, you decided. You would rather be a friend to him than someone he cast aside. You figured his stress came from the current negotiations between him and a potential business partner, but said partner was well-established in this area and, to the best of your knowledge, kept raising their “prices.” You didn’t know much about it because it simply wasn’t your job to know, but word did get around. “Are the talks not going well?”

He let out a derisive snort. “Hardly.” He exhaled and smoke escaped through his nostrils, giving him the momentary impression of a dragon. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“It’s just…” You paused to search for the right words. “You seem very stressed. I thought it might be because of that.”

Boba grunted in response. He held his little nub of a cigarette between forefinger and thumb as the smoldering end continued to eat away at the filter. For a moment, it seemed like he was honestly considering trying to finish it off, but then he breathed out a quiet sigh and tossed the butt to the ground. 

“....So it’s a stress thing, then, huh? The reason you smoke?”

Boba crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his full weight against the building behind him. “Supposed to be,” he answered. “But then I got addicted.”

“You picked up smoking to cope with stress?” You couldn’t keep the incredulity out of your voice if you tried. Your response to stress was just to cry, something arguably way healthier than what Boba was currently doing.

He breathed in deep, then out, and caught the tail-end of a worrisome cough as he exhaled. “Stress used to make me angry,” he explained, taking a moment to clear his throat. “When I was younger, I picked a lot of unnecessary fights, broke a lot of bones.”

“Yours?”

“And others’.” You didn’t miss the uneven slant of his mouth, the slight grin he wore at the admission, as if he was proud . “But it was a dangerous outlet, so I found something else.”

“Like smoking is any less dangerous,” you pointed out.

“A cigarette kills slower than a bullet, kid. And besides, you’re...what, half my age? Maybe more?” He lifted himself off the building and beckoned you to follow him with a jerk of his head. “I’ve been smoking longer than you’ve been alive. There weren’t many other options beside violence or drugs when I was younger.” “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry,” you said lamely, not really knowing how else to respond. “Don’t be.”

He was leading you home, you realized with a start, both amazed and terrified that he remembered the route you showed him exactly once. As you walked, you stayed close to his side; the evening was no less chilly, and even though you were wearing a thin windbreaker of your own, you were still cold. Boba radiated body heat, and you tried to soak up some of his without being in direct contact with him.

“You don’t look stressed,” you offered after a minute of companionable silence. 

He turned to look at you fully, an obvious cue to continue, but his unwavering attention made you nervous, and you started to blabber. “I-I mean, like… just in case you were worried that you were projecting the wrong image. Whenever I see you on base I just think you look so cool and intimidating, so even if these talks are stressing you out, it doesn’t show, and you still look as powerful and scary as ever, and so —”

“Thanks.” His voice made you shut up instantly , though there was no harshness or anger behind his tone. You were glad that he stopped your rambling; you were certain that if you had continued, you would’ve said something you couldn’t come back from.

You stopped at the same place last time, at the base of the hill, and turned to Boba with a slight smile. “Well, thanks again —”

“No, kid.” His hand fell to the small of your back, so big and solid and warm , and for a moment your brain short circuited as you tried to process the contact. “I said I wanted to see you safe with my own eyes. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Uhh, y-yeah, okay. Yeah. Good. Sounds good to me.” To your surprise, as you started walking again, Boba’s hand remained a constant on your back. Were he any closer, you could pretend he had his arm slung around your waist as if he were a lover, or your boyfriend, your partner — but, desperately, you attempted to put a stop to those thoughts. They were all fantasies, anyway, unreachable things that you were never meant to hope for.

You stopped in front of your house steps. They were shoddy and showed more tear than wear, and the building clearly needed some love and care. It was, however, home , for the foreseeable future.

“Um, this is me,” you said awkwardly. Boba’s hand finally fell from your back, unfortunately not stopping anywhere on the way down, and he glanced up to take in the state of the building. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not — his expression was virtually unreadable — and you didn’t want to imagine what he was thinking, or what information he could extrapolate about you based on your residence. “I wanted to say thanks for walking me home. Again.”

“You shouldn’t be walking alone in the first place,” he said in lieu of acceptance, his brows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“I know, I know, just —” You shuffled awkwardly, half-wanting him to leave, half-wanting to invite him to stay. “Thanks.” You hoped it was obvious that you weren’t just thanking him for seeing you home, but for sharing pieces of himself with you, for allowing you to see the bits of himself he never showed at work.

For a moment, his eyes seemed to look you over, top-to-bottom. He dipped his chin slightly in response. “Get some rest, kid.”

And then he was gone, the phantom touch of his hand hot and heavy on your back.

You formed a ritual together after that.

You’d meet him at the same place every week, always around midnight, and he’d smoke while you had an easy conversation. He smoked depending on his mood: sometimes, it was just one cigarette, enjoyed slowly, the stick held between his fingers more often than his mouth. Other times, he’d smoke multiple in quick succession, never more than three, but always with a sense of quiet urgency, like he wanted to finish them as fast as possible. He’d usually smoke them down to nothing, too, leaving barely anything left to count as litter.

Consequently, you grew closer to him than your schedule at work would ever have allowed. Some nights, the conversation would stick to work or work-adjacent topics. Other nights, you’d talk about more personal things, like when Boba revealed how his father died and you stepped in to overshare about your own sob-story childhood — but no matter the topic, there was a general acknowledgement that your relationship had Shifted, with a capital s . The dynamic between you two was no longer strictly boss and employee, but neither was it just a friendship. It was something precarious, dangling over the edge, desperate for something to disrupt it.

And you were desperate to keep it there. Sure, Boba had gotten a little more physical with you in the sense that he always had a hand or an arm touching you as he took you home, and maybe he gave you his jacket more often than not these chilly evenings, but otherwise he was still...Boba. Still kind of hard to read, still a little emotionally closed off, and most definitely not into you. It sucked, but you had learned to be content with the crumbs you got, and it came with the added bonus of having a secret together that no one else at work knew about. It wasn’t scandalous, or taboo, but it definitely felt a little gratifying knowing that you got to see a side of the boss that most everyone else wouldn’t know existed.

Your weekly meeting was a ritual. A sacred thing.

Until it wasn’t.

One night, Boba simply wasn’t there .

His silhouette was missing . There was no figure leaning against the building, there was no cherry-red glow of cigarette embers, there was no one.

You checked your phone: just a little past midnight. Was he sick? Or busy? He had your number for work-related reasons, so surely he would have texted you if —

But why would he? It wasn’t like this was anything serious , right? It wasn’t a meeting he needed to cancel, or a failed date you could excuse your way out of. This was just… a thing . A repeated thing with a date and a time and a place, sure, but…

Nonetheless, you found yourself drawn to your phone, the screen casting a soft blue glow across your face as you waited for a notification to pop up over your messaging app. You wouldn’t call yourself a romantic, but surely expecting a courtesy message wasn’t beyond whatever little ritual you had going on, right? At least, as your employer, he could treat it like —

A hand grabbed your shoulder. On reflex, you twisted around and flailed your arm wildly, hoping to hit whatever would-be assailant in a place that would hurt.

He caught the fist you carelessly slung in one broad hand, his fingers wrapped around your wrist tight to hold it in place.

“ Boba! ” you gasped, both relieved and irritated at the same time. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  He let your hand slide from his grasp, and if you were in the right mind to pay attention, you would have noticed how he purposefully let his fingertips ghost longer on your skin, how they ran from your wrist to fingers instead of dropping away outright. “Don’t stand oblivious in an alley. At least keep moving if you’re alone.”

You slid your phone back into your front pocket. “I was waiting for you . I didn’t think you were coming.”

At that, he raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. “Wasn’t aware I could be late.”

And, well — he was right. This was his thing, after all, his late-night smoke break that he just happened to be so kind as to let you participate as a spectator. Of course he could change his mind, of course he wouldn’t think to let you know. It was your fault for getting attached and thinking it was something more —

“You should stop walking alone so late at night.” Boba was close , you realized. The brief panic earlier had drawn you two together and you hadn’t parted very far, your chests merely inches from each other. It was closer than you had ever been to him before, at least face-to-face, and as a consequence he spoke quieter, his voice coming out as more of a husky rumble than an actual vocalization.

“I’ll stop when you stop smoking,” you countered, your mind too focused on your proximity to Boba to filter your words properly. You were worried he might pick up the true meaning, that it was the act of Boba smoking that lured you to him each week, but instead he huffed out a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that, princess.”

Princess . That was... oh . It sounded like a proper pet name, and the realization made a rush of heat go to your face.

“P-princess?” you finally squeaked out. “Really?”

“You’re spoiled often enough,” Boba said plainly, though the hint of a grin pulling at his lips made you realize he was teasing you.

Something overwhelmingly warm and pleasant tugged at your heart, replacing practically every negative feeling you’d experienced in the past ten minutes. “I’m spoiled, huh? How am I spoiled?”

“You usually get what you want.”

You hummed at that, trying to think of something he might be referencing. He didn’t interact with you much at work, and typically it was usually the opposite in your experience. “I don’t think so,” you finally said, drawing up blanks.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t considered that maybe he kept up with the ritual for your sake. Maybe he didn’t smoke at the same time and at the same place on a weekly basis, but instead decided to show up because you expected him there. Because that made sense.

Guilt ate at your heart, replaced quickly by a sense of affection.

It meant he enjoyed your talks, then, right? That he at least enjoyed your company? You couldn’t think of anyone he might just hang out with other than Fennec, and even then, you couldn’t picture him going through the trouble of all of this just to talk with her.

“Boba…” Tentatively, you reached out and placed your palms against his chest, looking up at him. He smelled like leather and smoke and himself , and you were so close that if you wanted, you could… you could….

Thunder crackled sharply overhead, and you jumped back in pure surprise. Boba’s hands came to settle around your elbows, keeping you from fully peeling away.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed. Ozone filled your nose — the threat of rain.

“Didn’t think it was supposed to storm tonight,” Boba admitted, and the change in weather made disappointment surge through your veins. You doubted he was the type to enjoy smoking while soaking wet, meaning you’d likely have to call it quits for tonight.

Unless…

“You could…” Oh, god. You already knew that the offer would be a mistake, but you swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat. “You could smoke. In my house. If you wanna.”

He regarded you quietly. “If I want, huh?”

“I-if you want,” you repeated. “But would a ‘please’ help influence your decision?”

“No.” And oh, that made your heart drop in your chest — but then he curled a finger under your chin and applied enough pressure to keep you gazing up at him. “But I want to hear one anyway.”

You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. There was something in his eyes that had you absolutely mesmerized , something burning like the smoldering end of a cigarette. God , you wanted to fucking kiss him. “Will you please come to my house?”

His lips curled into a small, self-satisfied smirk that bordered on a grin. The way he allowed you to see a flash of teeth seemed almost predatory , and it made you want to run away, or run toward him. “I’m not in the mood to get soaked,” he finally said. “Let’s go.”

You thought he would pull away from you entirely, leave you wanting and waiting,  but instead his arm curled itself around your waist to pull you against the warmth of his side. The gesture was so obviously possessive that it made your heart swoon . You tentatively leaned into him, a hand braced on his chest, but he took your weight easily, as if it were nothing.

The walk to your house was usually a quick affair, a five minute walk at most . Yet, now it felt like you were getting there at a snail’s pace, your body and brain hyperaware of your surroundings, dragging the walk out into one long punishment. Boba’s hand had slipped underneath the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin and it burned with promise. His body was so warm, and so solid, and he smelled so good that you just wanted to bury your face in his chest and just breathe. 

To anyone else, you would’ve looked like a typical drunk couple enjoying the evening together. You were invisible, and that knowledge made you almost giddy . He was no longer your boss and you weren’t his employee. The circumstances of your relationship didn’t matter, and for a moment you could pretend that you two were just —

Well, that you two were something together. Something with a future.

Too held up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the pebble in your path, and you caught your foot on it and stumbled. Boba’s arms wrapped around you before you could pitch forward and he dragged you up to hold you against his chest, one strong arm braced around your middle. “Easy.”

His lips were right by your ear, so close that his voice had come out as barely more than a low rumble. You instinctively tensed in his arms, one hand resting atop his own, and turned your head back to look at him.

Christ , you were impossibly close. The angle meant that there were scant few inches separating you from him, and that a small adjustment would be enough to allow your lips to brush his, to allow you to have a taste of him that you’ve craved these past few months —

Thunder boomed overhead and you startled in his arms, enough so that you jerked away from him. You gave a nervous laugh moreso to assure him that nothing was actually wrong than anything else. The first few fat drops of rain splattered your skin, shockingly cold, and you both looked up at the sky in unison.

“We’d better hurry,” you suggested, knowing how easily torrential rain began in storms like these.

You reached for his hand this time, settling your small hand in the palm of his own, but it was Boba that pulled you along to your house with a renewed sense of urgency as rain began to darken the concrete in small splotches. The clouds threatened to open up and drench you both, but there was something a little more primal in the way he handled you, like it wasn’t just the rain on his mind.

By the time you reached the steps leading up to your door, he was practically manhandling you up them, and instead of allowing you to stop and fish your keys from your pockets, he kept himself in your space, crowding into you, forcing you back against your door. He braced an arm over your head, the other settling on your hip, and when he pressed his knee between your thighs you parted your legs willingly for him.

Boba stared at you. Water droplets dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, shining dimly in your porch light. The same light reflected warmly in his brown eyes, eyes normally so hard and closed off, but soft for you , like he was sharing a secret, like he was barring some hidden part of himself just for you. Only you.

His thumb skimmed your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up, drawing slow and smooth circles that didn’t match the intensity of his gaze or the way your heart pounded in your chest. When he swallowed, you watched how his adam’s apple bobbed and longed to put your mouth there, to feel the motion against your lips.

“You gonna invite me inside?”

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to give him a snarky reply for all but forcing you up your stairs, or call him something that involved the words cheeky and asshole — but his breath kept ghosting tantalizingly across your lips and his damned smirk was so attractive and you felt like you had been waiting for this for literal years, desire and want and longing all bound up fit to bursting in your chest. “Only if you kiss me,” you challenged breathlessly.

Boba surged forward, hands sliding to cup your face between his broad and calloused palms, and he kissed you with more teeth than lips, something ferocious and desperate . His knee slotted itself higher between your thighs, purposefully rubbing against your center, and you moaned into his mouth, clutching desperately at his wrists. Against the awning, the spattering of rain turned quickly into a flood and for a moment you couldn’t differentiate between it and the blood rushing in your ears.

You never thought you’d find the taste of cigarettes appealing, but you did — at least, you liked them combined with whatever it was Boba tasted like. Maybe it was your attraction to him warping your senses but you couldn’t get enough. You licked into his mouth, sucked lightly on his tongue, teased his lip with your teeth — literally anything  to keep him pressed against you.

His hands left your face which made the chilly air feel all the more cold against your cheeks. Instead, they ran down the length of your torso, mapping out the curves and planes of your body. You arched willingly into his hands as they reached around to your backside, sliding into the pockets of your jeans —

— only to be met with disappointment when you heard the jangle of your keys as he pulled them from your pocket. “Could’ve —  asked ,” you managed between breathless kisses. Boba hummed into your mouth as he reached for the doorknob to your side. Reluctantly, he pulled away just long enough to slot the key correctly into the lock, and you busied yourself with tasting the expanse of skin on his throat that the new angle provided.

One hand still remained cupping your ass, and you squeaked when he suddenly grabbed a handful and squeezed. As he turned the doorhandle, he used his hand to pull your weight forward against him so that you wouldn’t fall backward into your house, which had the added advantage of pressing your chest to his.

“C’mon,” he murmured lowly, playfully swatting your ass. “Inside.”

You barely registered the sound of your keys hitting your tiled floor as he ushered you indoors, because the moment you both were safely inside you fell on him again, lip-to-lip, hands trying to work off his leather jacket. He took the hint and shed it quickly, letting it fall to the floor, and immediately he urged off your own shirt, breaking away from you long enough to pull the fabric up over your head.

His hands felt so big against your body like they were everywhere, his rough palms a stark contrast against your smooth skin. He thumbed just under your breastband, one hand settled on your back to keep your pelvis pressed to him as his other hand groped your chest over your bra, rough and demanding, and you whined into his mouth. The pleasure threatened to sweep your thoughts away, to turn you mindless and dumb and completely receptive to his whims. You turned your head away from his lips, trying to find the words to speak as he continued to grab handfuls of your flesh. “Boba —” you started, cutting off abruptly with a whine as he teethed at the delicate skin of your neck, each nibble a promise of a later bruise. “W-wait, Boba, I thought you came here to smoke?”

In an instant, his hands fell to his sides, leaving you completely untouched. If you weren’t keyed up and desperate, you might’ve appreciated the gesture, but now it just left you feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. He looked down at you in concern, brows slightly furrowed, but all you could focus on were his lips . They were slick with saliva, kiss-swollen, and you felt a twinge of regret that you had pulled away at all.

“....Do you not want —”

“No! No, I do, I just thought that maybe, y’know…” You gave him a sheepish grin, aware of how hot your face felt.  “I thought that maybe you could...do both?”

Concern gave way to slight confusion, then he chuckled in amusement. “I should have guessed.” Boba reached back into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes and carefully shook one free. “You have a thing for smoking, huh?”

“No!” It was a gut-response to deny; smoking was gross . It was yucky . It did awful things to people’s bodies and it stained clothes and fingers and yet — “Or at least, I didn’t,” you amended, voice softening. “Not until I saw you that night.”

He paused, lighter halfway to his mouth. The cigarette dangled attractively from his lips. “You should have better taste.”

You choked on nothing. “Wh — you should have better stress relievers!” “Are you offering?”

That made you stop, heat rising to your face at the implication. Sure, you wanted him — but the thought of being his little toy , someone he came to when he needed a quick fuck to ease his frustrations — you liked the thought of it a little too much. Boba was smirking at you, but he seemed to understand to leave well enough alone, at least for now.

There was a flash of light, steel hitting flint, and then the familiar smell of smoke filled the air, more potent in your tiny house. He motioned his head toward your couch as he breathed out a mouthful of smoke. “Go sit.”

The command was almost unneeded; Boba practically steered you there himself, hot on your heels, his hand right back on your lower back like it belonged there. You settled yourself on the cushions, half expecting him to sit beside you, or maybe cover your body with his own — but when he sunk to his knees in front of you, nerves bubbled up in your stomach.

“Oh, Boba, I’ve never...No one has...gone down on me before.”

He grunted, deft fingertips already at the button of your jeans. “Don’t see how that impacts me.” You raised your hips to help as he tugged at the hem of one pantleg, and he slid your jeans off in one smooth movement. He placed your legs over his shoulders and jerked you forward so your ass was off the couch, hips suspended in midair by his arms hooked underneath your thighs. It left you trapped and pinned in place, your back slouched awkwardly against the back of the couch. He puffed on his cigarette before transferring it between his first two fingers, the burning tip pointed away from you as he gripped your thigh. Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke, “Unless you want me to stop?”

You shook your head, and whatever nervous thoughts you had about tasting or smelling weird, or not looking the way he expected, or not being groomed the way he liked instantly left as Boba ran the flat of his tongue against your clothed cunt, so hot even through the fabric of your panties, and you jerked your hips both in surprise and want .

“Be still ,” he growled, so close that you felt his breath against your center. “I don’t want to burn you.”

“You won’t,” you breathed. You trusted him not to even accidentally harm you, like accident wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. Instead, you felt his arms clamp down on you harder, giving you even less potential wiggle room than before.

A moment later, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking broad stripes against your panties. It felt good even without direct contact; you had never had someone’s mouth on you before, and it had been a long time since you had anything but your hand to pleasure yourself with. 

“You’re already so wet.” He turned his attention to your inner thighs, and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. His free hand rubbed you through your panties, spreading your slick into the fabric, and you moaned . “Is it because of me, or are you just excited?”

“You. It’s you.” He hooked his thumb under the edges of your panties and pulled the fabric away from your crotch, exposing your heated core. Your breath came in short puffs as he finally touched you, skin against skin, his thumb dipping into your folds to collect your slick on his fingertip. “I’ve — thought about this for so long.” “About me eating you out?” You were so wet; you could see how your juices glistened on his thumb as he brought it to his mouth, letting his tongue loll out lewdly as he licked your taste clean from his finger. You whined at that sight alone and imagined his tongue tasting you for real, imagined how wet and hot it would feel against your bare cunt. He brought that same hand down onto the meat of your thigh, slapping you light enough to get your attention but not enough to leave a lasting sting. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“About this,” you repeated, as if it clarified anything. “About you.  About — Boba, please —” You tried arching your hips off the couch to tempt him, tried to explain without words what you wanted as your voice died off into a needy whine.

His hand returned to your cunt, fingertips grazing over your clit through your panties. They were so soaked with his spit and your slick that it was barely a barrier at all, made translucent by all the fluids. “Don’t make me guess what you want,” he said. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Frustrated, you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “It’s embarrassing to say it.”

“It’s embarrassing, huh?” Boba teased the edge of your underwear, flicking it against your skin as a reminder that his fingers were right there , that you could have what you were desperate for if you only asked. “Is it embarrassing if I say that I love how you taste?” 

“Boba….” you whined weakly.

“I want to taste more of you,” he murmured, voice growing husky. He nosed against your clothed mound, breath fanning hotly against your core. “I want to bury my tongue in your little cunt and take everything from you. I want you to come undone on my mouth, princess.” He pressed an oddly-sweet kiss to your thigh, his lips lingering on your skin. “But I can’t unless you tell me what you want.”

You felt hot and extremely bothered by the casual way he said those things, how he just uttered his desires as if they were nothing. It wasn’t embarrassing to ask him to eat you out, but you found it embarrassing that you wanted it. You swallowed thickly, and when you finally looked out from under your hands you found Boba looking up at you through hooded eyes, just waiting. Watching.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please eat me out.”

“ That ’s it." In a blatant show of strength he ripped your panties right from your hips, tearing the cloth with one strong pull. You didn’t even have time to articulate a response, because a second later his mouth was on your bare pussy, his tongue eagerly lapping up the liquid that glistened on your folds. 

“ Boba! ” You jerked hard in his grasp but he pinned you down with his hands alone, his grip on your thighs so tight you knew that there would be ten marks in the shape of his fingers the next morning. He was relentless, lapping and slurping at your cunt like a man starved, and the sounds were so lewd and so pornographic that you’d have found them gross were you not so aroused. 

You wanted to snap your thighs closed and rut against his mouth so bad , but his hold on you was unforgiving. He kept you spread and held in place, completely at his mercy as he licked and sucked and devoured you. Little gasps and moans kept escaping your lips, mixed in with mindless repetitions of Boba and please and yes, yes, like that.  This was the loudest you had ever been; months of pent-up desire and sexual frustration had you quickly approaching an orgasm, vastly helped by Boba’s skillful tongue. The urge sat heavy in your gut and only grew with each passing second until you were frantically trying to grind into him, hips moving minutely in his iron grip.

And then he began to pull away. Your hand shot out to grab the back of his head to hold him in place, a desperate whine leaving your throat. “No! No, Boba, please, I’m so close, please —”

“Shhh.” He turned his head to place a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Relax, princess. I’m not going anywhere.” His assurances were enough to cause you to let go, and he rewarded you by peppering more gentle kisses to your slicked skin.  “You got an ashtray?”

You had to think through the haze of want that clouded your thoughts. “A... huh? Why?”

“Don’t want to burn you.” He motioned toward the cone of ash on his cigarette, which had been steadily burning the whole time his mouth was on you. Carefully, he unwound his arms from around you and you slumped, boneless, back into the couch. “Unless you want me to use the carpet?”

“N-no, god, my landlord would kill me.” You spotted an old mug sitting on the endtable right next to the couch and reached for it, almost spilling the scant liquid left inside as you haphazardly handed it to Boba. “Use this.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he flicked the excess into the mug and then brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. You watched the fabric of his shirt stretch across his chest as he breathed in, how his shoulders seemed to broaden with the action. When he exhaled, he blew from the side of his mouth, keeping the smoke from reaching your face.

Which was considerate and all, but… “ Boba .” You stretched your lower half toward him in need, letting your thighs fall open. “Please?”

“You invited me here to smoke,” he reminded, even as his free hand slid up to brush tantalizingly close to your slit. “You gonna make me waste a cigarette?”

“N-no, but…” Tears pricked the back of your eyes; you had been so close , and the longer you went without his mouth on you the more you worried you wouldn’t get to come at all. “ Please .”

Boba flicked ash into the mug again and set it aside on the floor, out of reach of flailing arms and legs. “Spoiled little thing,” he said, so affectionate, and then he was upon you, his head back between your thighs. And, fuck, maybe you were spoiled, but it was his fault for indulging you and giving you an inch so you could take a mile. His tongue just felt so good, and without his arms pinning your legs open you rutted freely into his mouth, moans and pleas rolling off your lips anew.

Boba turned his head to the side as he took another drag from his cigarette, holding the little nub a safe ways away from your skin. He exhaled before he wrapped his mouth around you again, hotter than before, and his lips latched around your clit.

“Fuck!” Pleasure shot up through your spine and you moaned shamelessly, your eyes shutting tightly against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. “Fuck, fuck , Boba, please, oh my god —”

“Gonna come from my mouth alone?” His lips barely left your cunt as he spoke, his hot breath only serving to further tease you. “Wanna come for me, sweet thing?”

“ Yes ,” you hissed. “Yes, Boba, please , wanna come on your tongue —” You weren’t even wholly aware of what you were saying, just babbling mindlessly as he kept torturing your clit with attention. The urge you were chasing earlier came back full-force, leaving you teetering on the edge. “Please, please , Boba, Boba —”

“Then come,” he ordered. “Come for me.”

It might have been his voice, it might have been because his teeth skimmed your clit, but you came and you came hard . You think  you screamed, or blacked out, or screamed and then blacked out — and when you finally relaxed, body no long tight and taut, you opened bleary eyes to find Boba’s face still buried between your legs, his tongue lapping at your sensitive pussy in slow, languid movements.

“Boba,” you whimpered, pushing at him weakly. “‘S’too much, please …”

He peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses on the heated skin of your inner thighs as he pulled away, settling back on his knees. To your embarrassment, his mouth and chin shined with your juices; he turned his head to wipe himself clean on the sleeve of his shoulder and replaced his cigarette back between his lips. It was evident he’d enjoyed himself, too, because there was a sizable bulge tenting the fabric of his jeans.

“Hey.” You stretched a leg out, brushing a toe across the top of a clothed thigh. “It’s not fair you’re still dressed. Take off your shirt.”

He exhaled slowly, smoke drifting lazily upward from his mouth. “Take off your bra if you want it to be fair.”

You had completely forgotten that you were still wearing it, and you realized how ridiculous you must look: stripped nude with your bare pussy on display, but still wearing your fucking bra. It wasn’t even cute .

Sitting up, you hesitantly reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra. You let the straps slide down your shoulders but left the cups covering your chest, suddenly very acutely aware of everything: the couch beneath your bare thighs, the drying slick on your skin, Boba’s warm eyes focused intensely on you .

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” Gentle and slow, he reached a hand up and helped ease your bra the rest of the way off your chest. He palmed your bare breast, pebbling your nipple underneath his thumb. “Beautiful.”

You flushed at the compliment but gently pushed his hand away. “Your turn. Fair’s fair.”

He extended his cigarette out to you as he stood up from his knees, and you didn’t miss the quiet noise of exertion he made at the effort. “Hold this.” It was burned down to almost nothing, wasted, but as you took it from his fingers you remembered how often you’d imagined holding the filter between your lips, how often you dreamed of tasting him second-hand.

“Want to try?” He must’ve caught you staring; when you glanced back at him, he was bare-chested, and you marveled at the power that flexed underneath his skin, at the tattoos that spanned his chest and upper arms. You’d have to ask about them later.

“I thought you didn’t want me to start?”

“You’re an adult. I’m saying the offer’s there, if you want.”

You considered it — you really did — but then you thought about how sweeter it would taste coming from his mouth, and you passed it back to him.

“I...can we try something?

The end of it burned red-hot as he inhaled. “What?”

Your earlier shyness came back, your nerves sitting heavy in your chest. “What if...you kissed me, right? But with your mouth full of smoke? And then...y’know….” You wrung your hands in your lap as your confidence died out.

But Boba merely chuckled and took a seat on the couch next to you, the cushions dipping under his weight. “You won’t like it,” he warned.

“I don’t care.” Half-surprised he agreed, and half-giddy with desire, you crawled loose-limbed into his space, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as you settled into him. “If it’s from you, I don’t care.”

You had tucked yourself into his side, but Boba hauled you into his lap instead, swinging your legs across his own. His clothed erection pressed into your hip and you had half a mind to ask if he wanted his pants off, too — but then he grabbed your chin between one large hand and held you in place as he puffed from his cigarette. His lips ghosted across your own, soft and tentative, and then he kissed you for real.

Unlike before, this was gentle and sweet, the slow molding of his mouth to yours, until he urged your lips to part. On instinct, you inhaled, and the smoke that entered your lungs was hot and spicy . You coughed once against his mouth before you had the chance to turn away. Your lungs and throat burned and tears quickly filled your eyes as you coughed away the sensation.

“I told you,” came Boba’s smug reply, and you narrowed your leaking eyes in a glare even as small coughs wracked your body. Gently, he smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “Wanna try again?”

“So you can —” you stopped, coughing, “— laugh at me?”

“Not laughing.” He wiped away some spittle on the side of your mouth. “It’ll be easier if you just hold it in your mouth. Don’t breathe it in.”

You nodded. After he took another drag from his cigarette, well and truly burning it to the filter, he kissed you again. This time, when you felt smoke fill your mouth, you fought off the urge to inhale. It almost tasted sweet beneath the bitter burn. You forced yourself to breathe out, the smoke pouring from between your connected mouths, but despite your best efforts you ended up inhaling a little anyway. You pulled away and coughed to clear your throat.

“Better?

You shook your head. “Not really,” you said sheepishly. “At least I know there’s one fantasy I don’t want to try again.

Boba extinguished the nub of his cigarette between forefinger and thumb and tossed it to the mug he left on the floor. “You fantasized about this?”

“Well, duh.” You sunk down against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder as he drew you close. “What else am I supposed to think about at work?”

It was a tease, mostly, but Boba pinched the soft skin of your thigh. “Naughty thing,” he admonished. “I pay you to fantasize, huh?”

“You occupy my thoughts even when I’m off the clock,” you admitted. As you shifted a bit in his lap, his erection pressed into your side, and you remembered another worktime fantasy and spoke before Boba had a chance to reply to your honesty. “Hey, you brought a whole pack with you, right?”

He huffed out a chuckle. “You trying to give me lung cancer?”

“No! No, no, just —” You squirmed. “Do you maybe want a blowjob? While you smoke?”

He answered you by reaching into his back pocket to pull out his lighter and cigarette carton. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“W-well, I mean, I thought you might like it. It’s supposed to be every man’s fantasy, right? A good blowjob and a smoke?” You eased yourself onto your knees before him as he lit up another cigarette, smoothing your hand over his broad thighs.

“Never considered it before,” he said as he began to undo his belt, “but I won’t say no.”

Your deft fingers helped undo the button on his jeans, and you pulled the waistband down just far enough to free his aching cock. “Oh, fuck ,” you breathed. He was big . Bigger than anyone else you’d taken, and you felt a phantom twinge of pain in your jaw just imagining him in your mouth. 

“Like what you see?” Boba grinned down at you, his freshly-lit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Oh, he knew he was big. He knew it, and he knew you liked it.

You wrapped your hand around him and almost moaned when you realized you were barely able to touch your thumb to your middle finger around his girth. “Holy fuck , Boba.” You had never wanted to suck a dick as badly as you did now, even if you were questioning how any of it would fit in your mouth. Would he even fit in your cunt? If things escalated to that point, would you be able to take him, or would he just split you in half?

You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together and leaned in, pressing kisses up along his shaft. He smelled good , like musk, like Boba , the scent that you could never name. You parted your lips and dragged the tip of your tongue along his shaft, feather-light, stopping to take his leaking head into your mouth. He tasted salty on your tongue and you braced your hands on his thighs as you leaned in farther, relaxing your throat as his girth stretched you mouth impossibly wide. Already, it was almost too much, your jaw threatening to ache, and you worried you’d have to give him a handjob instead.

“‘Atta girl,” Boba praised, and oh if that didn’t make you feel like you could do anything . He ran a hand through your hair and settled a palm on the top of your head — not pulling, not pushing, but a comforting weight that held promise. Potential.

You pulled off his cock, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes. “You can be mean,” you breathed, cognizant of how his hand tightened in your hair. “It’s okay.”

Boba hummed low in his throat, as if he were considering it. “Some other time,” he promised. “You have to learn to take me. I can’t break you on the first day.”

His words made you whimper automatically with want as your brain immediately filled in the gaps. Boba exhaled a mouthful of smoke around his cigarette and applied a little pressure to the top of your head, encouraging you to bend down again. “C’mon, princess. Take me into your mouth.”

You held his gaze for as long as you could manage as you wrapped your lips around his cock again, sinking down on his length. Despite his size, you wanted to take him deep in your throat and feel his jeans rub against your chin. You tried to relax as much as possible as you sunk lower but he was just too much , and you ended up gagging audibly.

He gave a sharp tug on your hair, pulling you off his cock. “Go easy ,” he stressed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Spit dribbled down your chin. “I want to take all of you,” you whined.

Boba’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb smearing your saliva across your lips. “Be patient. I’m not a small man.”

“You make it sound like I’ll get another chance to do this.”

“You will. If you want.” Ash fell from the end of his cigarette and onto the cushion below, but in that moment you couldn’t care less about your stupid couch. “I’d like to have fun with you again.”

You hid your grin behind kisses as you peppered them along his shaft. “Okay,” you finally said. “Okay, I’ll go easy.” Boba made it sound like you’d have all the time in the world later to train your throat to take his cock — and hopefully there’d be time to train other things, as well.

No longer focused on deepthroating his entire cock, you worked on fitting as much as you could comfortably handle into his mouth and settled into a rhythm as you sucked and licked. You stroked the rest of his shaft with your hand, aided smoothly by your excessive saliva that drooled down his length.

You took a chance to look up at Boba, and found him with his eyes closed, an arm thrown over the back of your couch. The cigarette bobbled in his mouth as he inhaled around it. “ There you go,” he murmured, smoke trailing from his lips. “Just like that. Easy.”

You swallowed around him and his hand tightened in your hair. The taste in your mouth grew saltier with each passing second as his precum leaked from the tip of his cock and mingled with your spit. Boba groaned above you, something guttural and almost primal , and you felt the ache between your own legs grow in response.

“Want my cum, princess?” 

Grateful for the chance to give your aching jaw a break, you lifted from his cock and licked a broad stripe up from where your hand had been. “ Yes ,” you plead. “Yes, please, will you come in my mouth?”

“Gonna swallow me, huh?” At your enthusiastic nod, he grinned. “Good girl. My good girl. Scoot back.”

He moved to stand up from the couch and you realized at once what he intended to do as you shifted backwards, sitting pretty on your knees. He towered over you in this position and you couldn’t take your gaze away from him; at this angle, he seemed larger than life, intimidating and scary and huge , and the cherry-red of his cigarette burned brighter than ever. 

Boba cupped your jaw in his hand, tugging at your bottom lip. “Open your mouth.” You whined and clutched at the fabric of his pants as you obediently parted your lips, moving your head so that the tip of his cock was pointed at your mouth.

He fisted his cock in one hand, jerking himself hard and fast, and with the other he gripped the back of your hair and held you in place. “Gonna come, princess. Stick your tongue out for me.” 

You stretched your tongue out of your mouth as far as it would go, lips parted wide, and stared longingly up at him. Each of his exhales contained a mouthful of smoke, and it gave him the impression of standing in a translucent cloud, the tip of his cigarette standing out amongst the white.

He grunted something unintelligible and you felt something warm and thick land on your cheek. The next one hit your upper lip, and Boba drew you forward so that the head of his cock sat on the tip of your tongue. The rest of his cum landed hot and salty on your tastebuds.

Boba jerked himself from base to tip, coaxing out whatever droplets he could give you. “You look so good,” he murmured, voice husky. “Good girl. Swallow.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide after to show him. His thumb came up and helped guide the mess he left on your face into your waiting mouth, where you sucked his tongue clean each time.

“You did so well,” he praised, and even though your jaw ached and there was a dull throb between your legs, you beamed . You pressed your face into his clothed thigh and sighed happily as he rested a hand in your hair, stroking down the strands he’d mussed earlier. He took his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ashes off into what you hoped was the mug.

A sort of quiet peace settled over you, and even though you were completely nude and it was late and you kind of wanted to invite Boba to stay the night (or forever), you were content to just sit there on your knees as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Besides. He told you there would be a next time — there was no reason to rush.

[aspoonofsugar]

Semblance of the Soul: Qrow and Raven

The Branwens are two people with a shared past, that have taken different routes in life:

Ozpin: Everyone has a choice. The Branwens chose to accept their powers and the responsibilities that came with them. And later, one of them chose to abandon her duties in favor of her own self-interest.

Qrow has made an altruistic choice. He hates the crimes of his tribe and is happy to help people by working for Ozpin.

Raven has instead decided to prioritize herself and her tribe and sees Ozpin’s cause as foolish and reckless.

At the same time, they are twins, but have chosen different families. This is why the concept of family comes up so often in their interactions. After all, they first meet in the episode called Family:

Raven: Hello, brother.

Qrow: Raven. So, what do you want?

Raven: A girl can't just catch up with her family?

And their last exchange is this:

Raven: Sorry, brother. Sometimes family disappoints you like that.

Qrow: We're not family anymore.

Raven: Were we ever?

Qrow: I thought so, but I guess I was wrong.

Still, how are they doing with their families of choice? Are they happy with them? Do they have healthy relationships?

For the both of them, the answer is no. This happens because Raven and Qrow are both scared to grow close to people.

It is just that this fear is declined in opposite ways. Raven is scared for herself (selfishness), while Qrow is scared for others (selflessness).

This trait they share, but show in different ways, is well conveyed by their respective semblances. This analysis will use their powers as means to explore both characters and their foiling.

RAVEN: BIRDS OF A FEATHER

Raven’s Kindred Link perfectly embodies the saying...

Birds of a feather flock together...

...until the cat comes:

Raven: I...I'm sorry...

On one hand it lets her create portals to the people she has a strong bond with.

On the other hand she mostly uses it to run away from those bonds.

Why does she do it?

The answer is clear:

Lionheart: I'm helping her for the same reason you are - I'm afraid. We... we can't stop her... no one can...

Raven is just another version of the Cowardly Lion. She is a coward like Leo, but does not aknowledge it and prefers to hide behind a pragmatic and survivalist mask:

Raven: That's why I tried to leave when I did. I'm not afraid, I'm smart.

This is why she goes back to her tribe after she leaves Yang and Tai. She says she does so because she considers them her family and wants to protect them.

However, her motivations are implied to be more selfish. She goes to them to run away from things that scare her.

To be more specific, the tribe protects Raven psychologically in two different ways.

1) It lets her be the monster, the criminal, the most violent and powerful one:

Mercury: We’re the guys you should be afraid of.

Raven: I doubt anyone should be afraid of you.

Here, Raven mocks Mercury, but the irony is that her coping mechanism is really not that much different from his. She hides behind a Grimm mask, a universal symbol of fear, but she is the scared one.

2) She goes back to the family who raised her and neglects the family she is supposed to raise (Yang).

Deep down, Raven is just an adult, who fails at being an adult.

Mostly, this shows in her inability to make a choice:

Yang: Which is it, mom? Are you merciful, or are you a survivor?

 As a matter of fact she keeps changing her mind because she is not brave enough to stick to one decision.

Initially, she is sent to Beacon, so that she could learn how to kill hunters. However, she ends up becoming a huntress herself and she accepts to fight Salem. She is considered so loyal that she is even given magical powers. Finally, she enters a relationship and has a daughter with Tai. She basically starts creating a life outside the tribe, only to leave it all behind at a certain point. It is not clear if it is because she saw something specific or if it is the result of a longer struggle.

The point is that nobody forced her to fight Salem. She could have also refused Ozpin’s powers. Finally, she could have told Ozpin and the others she wanted to stop. In any case, she did not have to leave her family to stop fighting Salem. What is more, she could have brought her family with her, when she ran away.

She chooses instead to leave everything she has built behind and goes back to the world she was a child in. It might be a violent world, but she sees it as safer.

Let’s highlight that she has the same tendency of changing idea in the series itself. She switches sides and organizes a risky plan, which puts almost all her major bonds (Qrow, Vernal and Yang) in danger. She does all that because she wants the relic, so that she has leverage against Salem. After all of this, even after Vernal’s death, she simply runs away. She is obviously shaken by her confrontation with Yang, who calls her out. However, Yang is perfectly right when she says so:

Yang: Because you're afraid of Salem!!! And if you thought having Maiden powers put a target on your back, imagine what she'll do when she finds out you have a Relic. She'll come after you with everything she has. Or she can come after me. And I'll be standing there, waiting for her.

Taking the relic would just put Raven in danger. For her it is safer to open the vault and disappear, so that someone else can take care of things. Even if this someone else is her daughter.

In other words, Raven is a failure of a mother. This is shown by her failing all three of her “daughters” (Yang, the Spring Maiden and Vernal). Moreover, it is perfectly conveyed by her being a Maiden.

The idea of maidenhood is symbolically juxtaposed to the one of motherhood. Of course, this does not have to be true in-universe for all the Maidens. Still, in Raven’s case, this juxtaposition is deliberate. Raven is an eternal Maiden, who runs away from her parental responsibilities.

This is why she received the power from her protegee instead than from a mentor figure. She is so selfish she takes from the people she should protect:

Cinder: Vernal was a decoy the whole time. The last Spring Maiden must've trusted you a great deal before she died. I bet that was a mistake...

What is more, it is strongly implied she killed the previous Maiden to take her powers. This is interesting because it ties to a second meaning of her semblance.

Her ability symbolizes the unfairness of the bonds she forges. She works to create those bonds and there is affection involved. However, these bonds are double edged swords for the other party involved because of Raven’s moodiness. She can leave when she wants and come back out of the blue. She can always go to others when she needs it, while others can never reach her. This leads to an unbalanced dynamic in Raven’s favour.

This dynamic can even become extremely dangerous for the other person:

Raven can potentially use her ability to attack the people she is bonded with. She does not use her semblance this way in the series. Still, what happened to the Spring Maiden is something similar. To receive the power of the Maiden, Raven must have been the last person in the girl’s thoughts before death. This probably happened because the two shared a close bond. A bond Raven betrayed.

In other words, the nature of Raven’s semblance hides in itself the potential of betrayal:

Raven: Aura can't protect your arm, it's Grimm. You turned yourself into a monster just for power.

Cinder: Look who's talking...

As Cinder points out, Raven too, like her, has become a monster to obtain power. The difference here is in how this montrosity is conveyed.

In Cinder’s case, she is literally turning into a Grimm. She has accepted this metamorphosis to take the Maidens’ powers.

In Raven’s case, it is ironically the opposite symbolically. She wears a Grimm mask, but the true monstrosity is the Maiden behind it:

Raven is monster-like because she stole the power from a person, who trusted her.

Let’s highlight that the motif of the Grimm mask has come up several times in the series. So far, it has been used by people, like Raven and Adam, who want to be feared. Something similar can be seen in the Hound as well, who is not really wearing a mask, but whose humanity is hidden behind his Grimm appearance.

In all three cases, the true scary thing is what is behind the Grimm-face:

It is always the humanity behind it that is scary. Be it the victim behind the monster in the Hound, society’s mistreatment of Faunus or Raven’s cowardice and what it led her to do:

Yang: You're right. I don't know you. I only know the Raven dad told me about. She was troubled, and complicated, but she fought for what she believed in, whether it was her team or her tribe! Did you kill her too?

Yang’s question is poignant and underlines how all Raven has done is simply to hurt herself. By hurting the people she loves, she has been killing a part of herself.

This is also conveyed by her emblem missing from her possessions. According to the wiki, Raven’s emblem is this:

Raven's emblem is a winged eye with a clock inside of it. This emblem has not appeared on any of her possessions so far.

This is a reference to Raven and Qrow’s allusion to  Hugin and Munin, Odin’s two ravens, who travel the world and bring him information. Raven and Qrow do the same for Ozpin and they are his eyes.

Qrow is the left eye:

Salem: The last eye is blinded... you disappoint me.

While Raven used to be the right. So, her emblem is probably the right version of Qrow’s own one. Still, Raven refuses that part of herself and this is why she is not wearing her emblem.

In short, Raven used to be a bird of a feather with Qrow, but she is not flocking together with him anymore. This is because a scary cat has come:

And Raven has sacrificed her bonds out of fear. Not only that, but she has weaponized them:

Yang:  You turn your back on people, you run away when things get too hard, you put others in harm's way instead of yourself!!

Raven has been using her most loved people as assets, so that she can shield herself from danger. Maybe it is because of this that she symbolically uses Omen to open portals. This even if she can apparently do so without it, since she opens them even as a bird. However, using her sword is a way to distance herself from the true nature of her ability (bonds). It is a way to reduce her ties with people to simple things she can use.

That said, this is damaging Raven herself.

To be more specific, she is making herself weaker and weaker:

Yang: Oh, shut up!! You don't know the first thing about strength! (...) You might be powerful, but that doesn't make you strong.

Raven is powerful, but weak. This weakness is symbolically conveyed by her behaving in the opposite way her semblance would need to truly shine.

Raven’s power works thanks to bonds, so it can be assumed it would be at its strongest if its user cultivated them both in quality and in numbers. However, Raven has few bonds and she is cutting them off one by one:

Yang: You can bond to certain people. And when you do, you could create a portal that takes you straight to them. You've got one for Dad. One for me. And you've got one for Qrow.

We know that Raven is also bonded with Vernal. Still, Vernal dies at the end of volume 5. Of the other ones Yang mentions, Raven has pushed away both Qrow and Yang through her actions at Heaven.

This makes this scene interesting:

Did the portal Raven opened at Heaven go to Tai? Did she go there because she felt nostalgic and missed him? Or is he the only one (both practically and symbolically) she can still run to?

QROW: A SCARE-QROW SCARED OF CROWS

Qrow’s semblance is Misfortune and it is basically a Bad Luck Charm:

I am no one's blessing I'll just bring you harm I'm a cursed black cat I'm an albatross I'm a mirror broken Sad to say I'm your bad luck charm

Qrow causes bad luck around himself. Because of this, he sees himself as a curse.

However, this conflict Qrow has with his semblance is actually symbolic of a turmoil developed on multiple levels.

Let’s begin with this:

Raven: You're the one who left. The tribe raised us, and you turned your back on them.

Qrow: They were killers and thieves.

Raven: They were your family.

Qrow: You have a very skewed perception of that word.

Qrow was born in a tribe of bandits and was taught how to kill and steal. Finally he was sent to a hunter academy, so that he could learn how to kill his classmates in the near future.

Qrow’s semblance is nothing, but the manifestation of his self-hate, that was probably partly caused by the environment he was born in. In a sense, it is his symbolical response to his childhood.

Let’s highlight that this response is very different from Raven’s. This is shown by their opposite behaviours toward their tribe. Qrow leaves it, while Raven goes back to it.

This difference can also be conveyed by how both Raven and Qrow share a specific motif, but embody it in different ways.

Both twins are associated with bad luck. Both can turn into ravens/crows, which are birds linked to misfortune. Moreover, their weapons are called respectively Omen (Raven’s) and Harbinger (Qrow’s).

The meaning is clear. The twins were born and raised with the idea that they should be symbols of violence and bad luck for their enemies. It is just that Raven wants to be a bad omen because it makes her feel strong. Qrow does not want it, but thinks he is:

I'm a harbinger, I cannot lie, I will change the color of your life.

It is to try and free himself from this curse that Qrow started working for Ozpin. He literally becomes the Scarecrow of the story to try and exorcise the bad fortune he brings. He is trying to scare the crows away. He thinks that if he does so, he’ll become a full person.

This ties with the original story of his allusion. In The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow wants a brain because he is told by an old crow he would be just like a real man, if only he had one. In short, the Scarecrow wants a brain to become a real man, so that he can scare crows better than he already does.

Qrow too wants to be a full person, but he believes he is not. He thinks he is cursed and as a reaction to this he has attached himself to Ozpin and to his cause:

Qrow: No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good...

This is why he reacts so badly when he discovers that Ozpin (who is basically a father figure for Qrow) has hidden so many things from him. Not only that, but he feels that the impossibility of truly defeating Salem (of truly defeating evilness) makes his life meaningless.

The point is of course that this is not the case and that Qrow does not need to do anything specific to be a true person and to be loved:

Qrow: Every choice I've ever made has led me here, and I've dragged you along with me. Oz, myself, the others... We're responsible for the mess the world's in now. I shouldn't have come, shouldn't have let any of you come... What was I thinking?!

Ruby: We're all in this together, and we're all going to do the best we can. That's all anyone can do. And I know it's what you've always aimed for. We would've come whether or not you'd let us, so stop talking like we're your responsibility! We're not! But we could still use Qrow Branwen on our side.

Ruby’s confrontation with Qrow at the end of volume 6 is basically the opposite of Yang’s confrontation with Raven in the finale of volume 5.

Yang calls Raven out because she refuses her responsibilities. She pushes them on others and leaves her own daughter to fight a battle she ran away from.

Ruby calls Qrow out on taking too much responsibility on himself. The kids were not forced by him to come. Qrow should not be completely responsible for them, but should learn to fight by their side.

Later on, Qrow is basically told the same by Maria:

Maria: You weren't half bad yourself today, Qrow.

Qrow: I feel like they did all the heavy lifting.

Maria: But you were there to help when they asked for it, and you were there to catch them when they fell. Literally, if I recall.

This is important because Maria appears just after Ozpin (aka Qrow’s mentor and guide) disappears. She is the person Qrow aspired to be:

Qrow: You never used your name, never showed your face. Lots of us thought you were just layin' low. Eventually, we just came to accept that you were probably dead. But the stories about you, I based my weapon off of yours. I wanted to be as good as the Grimm Reaper.

At the same time, Maria too, like him, considers herself a failure:

Maria: Well, I'm nothing but a disappointment, so you're well on your way.

However, at the end of the volume both Maria and Qrow realize that they do not have to save the world by themselves or to be invincible heroes. They just need to be there for their loved ones and the new generations. In short, Maria mentors Qrow on how to be a proper mentor.

And it turns out that he just has to take better care of himself:

In short, Qrow became the Scarecrow to scare crows, but ironically all he needs to do is to overcome his own fear of one Qrow.

If he does not, his semblance is bound to become a self-fulfilling prophecy, as it is shown in his two fights against Tyrian (vol 4 and vol 7).

1) In volume 4 he manages to protect Ruby, but ends up injured and unable to help the kids for the rest of their journey. He goes from their protector to a wounded man they have to take care of.

Narratively, it happens because of this:

Ruby: This is a lot to take in, and it all sounds crazy, but... I'm willing to do whatever I can to help because I trust you. But why couldn't you trust me? Why couldn't you just travel with us, instead of this secrecy, and, and--

Qrow: Look, this has nothing to do with trust. I-- It's a long story, okay?

The whole fight between Tyrian and Qrow could have played out very differently if Qrow were better at communicating with his niece. He wanted her away from Tyrian and himself because of his semblance, but Ruby interpreted it as Qrow not trusting her.

2) In volume 7, the battle ends with Clover’s tragic death being framed on Qrow.

Why does it happen?

Clover: Sometimes the right decision is the hardest to make. I trust James with my life! I wanted to trust you.

Once again, the problem lies in a lack of trust.

Qrow and Clover genuinely like each other and have bonded. Still, they fail to trust each other in a key moment and make the worst possible choice.

This is true for both characters:

Clover: I enjoyed working with you, you know. Even with that endless cynicism of yours.

Qrow: I'm usually proven right.

Clover: We don't have to fight, friend.

Qrow: You don't know my friends. That's how it always goes.

Qrow: Why couldn't you just do the right thing instead of the thing you were told?

In a sense, the whole fight can be read as The Scorpion and the Frog. In the original fairy-tale, the point is that one can’t overcome their own nature. The scorpion will sting the frog even if it goes against its own survival. Here, it is the same for the characters. In order for things to go well, either Clover or Qrow should overcome their flaw, but they fail.

Clover is not able to let go of his loyalty for Ironwood, even if it is clear the orders he received are wrong.

Qrow goes back to his usual cynism and makes a pact with Tyrian:

Robyn: I’m sorry for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.

Qrow: It was, though. I made a deal with the darkness, and he paid the price. It was all happening so fast, but Clover wouldn’t let up. Could have worked together against Tyrian if Clover just... 

Tyrian is the poisonous scorpion, while both Qrow and Clover are two frogs, who are hurt by him. Ironically, the frog’s mistake in the story is to trust the scorpion, while the mistake of our two frogs is that they did not trust each other.

Still, why is it so narratively? To be more specific, why is that so when it comes to Qrow’s character?

The answer is here:

Qrow: But the thing that really stings? For the first time in a while I thought, maybe, maybe I could be around somebody - anybody - without my semblance making it… complicated. And now, it just feels like a childish dream. Gone... like everybody else.

Clover is narratively this:

Blake: You have to understand that all of you are looking for simple answers to a very complicated problem.

He is a very simple answer to a very complicated problem that has its roots in Qrow’s interiority. Qrow’s flaw, what goes in the way of his relationships and happiness, is not that he is unlucky, but that he feels unlucky.

He feels worthless and thinks of himself as bad for others. This is why he keeps his distance and refrains himself from growing close to people.

He blames it on his semblance and this is why he makes an exception for Clover. It is because he sees in the other’s ability an easy fix to his struggle.

Still, he is proven wrong because in the moment of truth, they fail to communicate and everything goes to hell.

This is not to say that Qrow and Clover’s relationship was bad or that Clover deserved to die. In-universe their bond had beautiful aspects and could have grown stronger. Moreover, Clover could have developed and left his flaw behind.

Still, narratively Clover serves a specific purpose and him dying is a part of said purpose.

Clover brings a superficial harmony to a situation and a group dynamic, which is actually not harmonic at all:

Clover: What would you guys do without me?

The Ace Ops are a group of individuals repressing their own feelings and identities for the sake of an unspecified greater good. They see the world in black and white, not because they are stupid, but because they refuse complexity:

Robyn: Yeah, because you don’t care about the truth. You just want someone to be mad at. Easier than taking an honest look at what side you’re on.

Winter: Penny. The general is making hard choices so we don't have to.

This fits with them being a group based on Aesops aka short stories with a very well defined and often simplicistic message.

In short, Clover is the one that keeps his group together. Once he is gone, his group starts deteriorating. All because they refuse to aknowledge their feelings:

Ren: That’s why you lost against Team RWBY. You, you try to fight how you feel about each other, so you’ll never truly work as a team.

Once he is gone, Qrow is similarly forced to grieve and self-reflect. Luckily, he is not alone:

Robyn is the opposite of Qrow in terms of symbolism.

Qrow is associated with crows and bad luck, while Robyn is linked to robins, which bring good fortune.

She is also a symbol of unity and hope (her emblem is basically Katniss’s symbol in the Hunger Games, after all):

Tyrian: Robyn Hill. For such a little bird, you have quite the impact around here! Bringing hope and a smile wherever you go! I find it…upsetting.

Despite this, Robyn too has suffered isolation, just like Qrow:

Robyn: Believe it or not, I know a little of what that’s like. When people are worried you’re gonna sniff out their secrets, they tend to push you away. It makes a real connection… difficult.

Qrow: I-- never thought of it that way.

Robyn’s line is important for two reasons.

a) It shows Qrow that he is not the only one who has met difficulties in life because of his semblance. His case is not unique.

b) It links to the idea that trusting others is difficult and it is not something that comes without dedication and work.

As a matter of fact Robyn’s semblance is specifically symbolic of trust. It is the power to detect lies through touch, so if you are going to work with her, it means you must be ready to trust and to be trusted:

This also ties figuratively with the act of shaking one’s hand as if to make a pact (an act of trust). If Raven’s power is about asymmetrical bonds, then Robyn’s is about mutual ones.

Robyn highlights that this creates problems for her because it is not easy for people to trust. Some can’t be trusted, while others do not trust Robyn won’t cross their boundaries.

However, this also means that the relationships Robyn manages to forge are strong bonds, where everything or almost everything is out in the open. This is the exact opposite kind of environment than the one realized through Clover’s good luck semblance. It is a harmony more difficult to reach, but it is a more stable and genuine one.

It is these kinds of bonds Qrow should aim to create. In order to do so, he must accept his semblance and his past as parts of themselves. Still, he should not let them define him. Not only that, but he should learn to trust others and their strengths:

Qrow: Ruby, stop!

Ruby: I need you to trust me.

Only in this way, Qrow can truly grow. The secret is that it was never about scaring the crows away, but to learn how to live with them.

HUGIN THAT RUNS AWAY AND MUNIN THAT MAKES EVERYONE WORRIED

Raven and Qrow’s issues can be synthesized by this quote:

"Hugin and Munin fly each day over the spacious earth. I fear for Hugin, that he come not back, yet more anxious am I for Munin."

Raven never comes back, while Qrow has his loved ones fear for him because of his self-destructive tendencies.

In order to overcome these flaws, they must grow in opposite directions.

Raven must realize that her survivalism is actually self-destructive. It makes her survive, but it negates her the chance of living. She must become more selfless and trustworthy to make it up for the unfair bonds she created.

Qrow must accept that his self-destructiveness is actually selfish and damaging to his loved ones. He must start to trust others’ strengths, so that he can be brave enough to live together with them, instead of looking at them from afar.

[dresupi]

Only the Best - Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis

for @highlyintelligentblonde

Rated T

“I’m not expecting anything from you”

Other tags: Regency AU

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t that Darcy was dreading her wedding, but she also didn’t know what she should be feeling at all.

Everything had happened so quickly, she barely had the time to get used to the fact that she was to be a wife before the wedding ceremony was upon her.

And there was the little detail about how she hadn’t even been consulted before being promised to James Barnes. She had always assumed she’d have some say in exactly who her lawfully wedded partner would be. But her mother had sprung it on her one morning in as nonchalant a manner as if she were telling Darcy that she wanted her to go into the town and purchase something from the dressmaker.

“Oh, and you’ll be married to James Barnes in a fortnight. He’ll be posting the banns this Sunday. You’ll go to live with him after.”

To say Darcy was confused was an understatement. She was to marry the neighbor’s farmhand? With no explanation whatsoever? When she begged her mother for more information, she was waved off, told to expect James to come calling and explain things.

Darcy’s father had disappeared into his study with a flagon of brandy and hadn’t been accepting any visitors, especially not his only daughter, so Darcy was left to pick up the pieces of her life without so much as a kind word from him.

It seemed so long ago, even though the nervous butterflies in her stomach told her it had indeed only been fourteen days and nights.

Fourteen days and nights of not speaking to anyone, refusing James’s calls, and contemplating running away, only to be caught by her father when she had reached the garden gate. He hadn’t stopped her, simply bade her sit so he could explain himself.

According to him, once he died, their estate would be entailed away to a distant cousin. Her mother would be at the mercy of Darcy’s future husband. And James Barnes was extremely well off. He’d take care of Darcy, and Darcy’s mother when the time came. If Darcy chose to stay and go through with it, that is.

She’d sat there beside her father for the longest, wondering if she could live with herself for abandoning her mother and concluded that no, she couldn’t. Sighing heavily, she looked at her father. “You might have explained all this earlier instead of hiding in your study like a coward.”

Most daughters wouldn’t ever speak to their fathers in the way Darcy just had, but most daughters weren’t like Darcy Lewis.

“I know this. I just couldn’t face you, knowing I’d ruined your life by not handling my money better.”

She sighed once more and patted his hand. “Mr. Barnes isn’t all that terrible.”

And so the matter was put to rest. With a few days to spare.

The dust had settled and the ceremony had taken place. Currently, they were driven to Darcy’s family’s estate for the wedding breakfast. They, being Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.

She stole a glance at her husband. He looked hard and cold. Out of place in his finery. She’d only ever known James as a farmhand. She’d no idea he actually owned the estate bordering theirs until her father had disclosed it to her a few nights past.

Along with the straight facts of the matter. The money was gone.

Well, the amount needed for a decent dowry, at any rate. Marriage to James Barnes was her first, last, and only option. If she wanted to keep herself and her mother off the streets, that is.

She’d scarcely left her room since her mother sprang her very short engagement on her. Not even to come down to meet with James before the ceremony. She’d been childish and nearsighted, not taking the fortnight before the wedding ceremony to get to know her intended.

He’d come around every night, settling finally for a letter, which asked for her hand formally. He had such lovely handwriting, it made her heart ache at how ugly she was being.

Darcy had sent back her acceptance straight away. Formal and perfunctory. But an acceptance nonetheless.

She especially regretted it all now since he looked stiff and uncomfortable. Perhaps as uncomfortable as she.

But that couldn’t be, could it? He was the one with all the freedom. She was the one who needed him. She stood to benefit the most from this.

Why had he even agreed to this in the first place?

He wasn’t plain by any standard. And if he were as well off as her father had stated, he could have any of the girls in the county.

It was a question that could surely have been answered if she’d bothered to meet with him before the ceremony.

Upon arrival at her home, or her parents’ home, she supposed, James was quick to help her down from the carriage amid all the guests clapping for them. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm or she wouldn’t have been able to walk back into her former home again.

She could scarcely eat her breakfast. Even though she was gastronomically inclined, everyone stopped her from eating with questions and congratulations. And manners dictated that she put down her knife and fork to receive each and every accolade. It was only proper. No matter how her stomach growled.

Tucking into a bit of lukewarm scrambled egg, she chewed and swallowed quickly as she saw someone else approaching.

Her mother’s friend, Baroness Katarina Zemo. Her husband, Baron Helmut had been the one to introduce her family to James in the first place. He seemed to think very highly of him. She supposed for someone who was titled as he, that was a good thing. James came with the blessing from the Baron and Baroness.

But just as she was about to address the baroness, James raised one hand. “Please. My wife’s scarcely had a moment to eat since we sat down. And I won’t have her fainting from hunger on our carriage ride to Paris.”

Paris? Darcy was surprised to hear that. But she supposed a honeymoon trip was customary. But one to Paris? Just how well-off was James?

Another question that might have been answered if she’d simply stopped being a child and accepted her intended when he called.

“Oh, of course,” Katarina said, sweeping into an empty chair across from the couple. “Continue eating, Mrs. Barnes. I won’t be offended if you attend to your nourishment in front of me. I simply wanted to speak with you both before you leave for Paris. To tell you how happy I am that this has happened for you.”

Darcy chewed hesitantly, but she was too hungry not to eat when bade.

James was the one who did the talking for her. “I’m sure you are, Baroness. Do tell your husband that I send my best regards.” His voice sounded flat despite the warmth of his words. Even flatter than before. Darcy was surprised to hear such snideness coming from someone she’d assumed to at least possess the barest minimum of decorum. Why that had been the only thing she knew of her husband. He’d always been cordial with her. Why she’d even venture to say that he’d been friendly on the few times they’d spoken.

“Oh, I will, Mr. Barnes. I truly hope the two of you enjoy your honeymoon trip. You must write us when you arrive at the hotel and tell us everything about your stay. Drop our names at the hotel and you’ll be treated like royalty. I bid you have a wonderful life together.” The baroness swept away as quickly as she’d come.

Darcy chewed on a bit of bacon, turning for the first time to her husband to speak to him.

“You were awfully rude to the Baroness,” she said.

James smirked, clearly amused. “So you can still speak to me. I had wondered.”

Darcy flushed, he was right, the first words she’d spoken to her husband beyond their vows, and she was reprimanding him.

“My apologies, I simply thought---“

“No apologies are necessary. You’re absolutely correct in your astute observation. I’m rude to the Baroness, but I think you’ll find me downright disrespectful to the Baron himself. Seeing as it’s his fault you were forced to marry me and that I had to take a wife at all.”

Darcy frowned. “How so? I thought certain you married me to keep my family from the poor house when Papa dies.”

“I’m happy I was able to find a mutually beneficial marriage, rather than having to impose upon some young woman with no other prospects.”

Darcy’s face burned, and she turned back to her plate. “With all due respect, I had other prospects.”

“That’s not a slight to you as a person, Miss Lewis. I simply refer to your lack of a dowry. I think you’ll find that you won’t be wanting for anything as my wife. What you lack in money, I can make up in spades. And I’m certain you will raise my social standing with your bright, beautiful nature.”

The words felt flowery, but coming from someone she’d only known to speak the barest of truths, it felt like more than words.

“It’s Mrs. Barnes, now,” she said softly.

He exhaled slowly. “I don’t expect anything from you, you know.”

“Surely you’ll agree that I should take your last name,” she countered.

“Not that. Of course, you’ll have my name. I simply meant... I don’t expect anything else in the way of...  marriage. You’ll have your own apartment to decorate as you will. You won’t have to expect me to come to visit you there.”

His meaning was implied, but apparent.

Darcy frowned and took another bite of egg, chewing thoughtfully before she answered him. “No one knows what the future may bring, Mr. Barnes.”

“It’s James now,” he corrected her, smirking in a cheeky sort of way. “And I mean it. You don’t owe me anything in that respect.”

She turned to look at him, his face in profile as he looked down at his own unfinished breakfast. Her eyes followed the fine cut of his cheekbones and jawline. At his lips.

When he’d kissed her at the end of their wedding ceremony, it had been very chaste. Of course, it had. But just at the end of their embrace, she noted something else. Something deeper. Something she could see wanting to pursue in the future.

Exhaling, she blotted at her mouth with her napkin. “I mean it as well, James. Don’t speak to the future and I won’t worry about owing you anything.”

James chuckled. It was soft and warm. A great deal more relaxed than his previous demeanor. “I wish only the best for you, Darcy.”

She studied his smile, even though he was talking to her and looking somewhere else entirely. He was truly a handsome man. “I’m fairly certain I’ve got it already.”

[sweeethinny]

Boss's son

Summary: Ginny is an auror in training, with few hours of fun in her schedule, but when one night she decides to go to a guy's house and enjoy her youth, she is surprised by the discovery that she had sex with her boss's son

prompt: "You’ve got to stop doing that" "Doing what?" "Saying things that make me wanna kiss you"

"Mum thinks I'm dating you".

Notes: I thought I couldn't finish this, really, I found myself stuck and not knowing where to go with the story, but then some things happened and I managed to finish it.

Thank you very much to Dusk who read and helped me, and thank to @clarensjoy who made this incredible event to celebrate this incredible date!

I feel that this role reversal would be good to write, and it really was, I think the idea of Ginny being an auror ... Chief's kiss :)

AO3

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

Ginny Weasley

Ginny did not have many fears, she had joined the Aurors in less than three years and until now she had faced death many times to be frightened by small things that other people could easily be haunted by. Dementors no longer scared her, nor Death Eaters, or anything like that, Ginny was no longer scared like a puppy in distress. She had learned to deal with situations, Mr Potter was a great boss - she would never say otherwise - but he also scared his pupils like no one else, saying that being on the alert was the best way to be a good Auror.

'Good aurors do not shake when they see the danger, they assess the situation and try to find the solution as soon as possible. Take a minute, and you will be dead.' He said in defense classes, standing on the podium with that typical scowl on him, arms crossed, watching the students trying to knock down the mannequins around the room.

But now, Ginny was mortified.

She felt her knees tremble, and she even felt the high heel in her fingers almost falling to the most manicured marble floor she had ever seen in her life. Her eyes were wide open, an immense desire to disappear completely, or to oblivion the man in front of her.

Her boss. Oblivion her fucking boss.

Ginny almost never had time to go out with guys, she went to the bar, drank, and then came home too tired to endure a round of bad sex, with some man who would cry in her ear about how hot she was and how he couldn't take it any longer. She would rather sleep, and later use her fingers, than have to put up with these guys, and clean up the mess later.

Yesterday however, it was a different day, Mr Potter, the most serious man Ginny had ever met in her life, was happy and told her that he was celebrating twenty years of marriage. They were in a distant village, checking a call from a lady who said she saw a wizard kill another one around those parts, but even that didn't seem to be able to wipe the smile off the man's face.

'Twenty years. Can you believe it?' He sighed, looking over to where the woman said there was a body, kicking what was filthy wrapped in old newsprint. Just a dead dog. 'Twenty years...'

'You look very happy,' Ginny said. 'Congratulations, Mr Potter.'

'Thank you, Miss. Weasley, and yes, I am very happy.' The man once again assured that the place was clean before checking to see if there were any dark arts nearby, or on the animal. Nothing. 'Come on, we just wasted time here.'

She had left earlier that day, Mr Potter said he was too happy to be sitting at the office table waiting for something to happen, and since she was his pupil, and she would also have to sit around waiting for some action, she could leave earlier.

Ginny didn't know much to do with that free time, she was usually always bogged down with work, so when Luna asked her out, she accepted. It was a nice night, the bar was not so crowded, there weren't so many disgusting guys leaning against her and whispering in her ear, and she was really enjoying the night, happy, laughing, talking to her friends, drinking, until she saw him.

He was sitting a few tables away, with some Arrows players, drinking and laughing out loud, drawing the attention of all the women around. At first, Ginny thought he was doing it to get attention, messing up his hair like an idiot, throwing his head back to laugh, talking loudly and rocking in his chair. But when a blonde went to talk to him, the boy seemed surprised by the attention, and even blushed, before smiling and politely denying, saying something more to her - this time, in a low voice.

The mysterious man looked at Ginny then, catching her in the act, his eyes behind the round glasses seeming to sparkle with amusement. He bit his lip and raised his beer mug in a silent toast. She did the same, wishing she hadn't been hit hard by him.

'Hello.' He said when Ginny went to the bar to get another round. The man didn't touch her, not even her shoulders, or whisper in her ear. He kept a good distance, smiling politely and ordering his beers.

'Hi.' Ginny smiled, leaning against the counter, feeling a little stupid for wanting the man to notice how beautiful her legs looked in those black skirts. 'Isn't the blonde your type?' She asked, a little sassy because of the alcohol, and also a little affected by how beautiful his green eyes were, stuck in her face as she spoke.

'No. I just came to drink. 'He put his hand on the counter, and Ginny didn't know if it was a way to show that there was no ring on his fingers, or just something casual. Anyway, she realized how all his fingers were free of any silver or gold. 'Is that you?'

'Too. My boss gave me an hour off. It doesn't happen every day. 'She smiled, shrugging.

'An asshole boss?' He raised his eyebrow, leaning on the counter too, now a little closer to her, but without touching her.

'Sometimes.' She joked.

Now Ginny felt mortified, standing on the stairs with her shoes in hand, her hair in a messy and badly done bun, and probably still with makeup traces on her face. Besides that bite mark on her neck. She was taking the walk of shame in front of her boss. The boss that she said was an asshole - sometimes - last night.

She had fucked with her boss's son! Merlin, how stupid she had been to overlook the similarities.

Standing now, looking at Mr. Potter, Harry was an identical copy of him, only a few years younger, and his eyes, of course, that were green. But still, she couldn't even believe it.

Ginny looked like a bitch in front of her boss.

'Good morning.' It was he who said it first, his eyes wide, seeming to try at all costs to remain in her face. Ginny suddenly felt almost naked, thinking about how that shirt was low-cut.

'Good morning, Mr Potter,' she replied, startled, holding tightly to the wooden railing, thinking about how Harry had pressed her there, almost fucking her on the stairs. Ginny swallowed.

The man just nodded, walking hurriedly into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed and avoiding looking at her as much as possible. Ginny ran out of the house as fast as she could, not even waiting to see if he was going to ask her out for breakfast. Merlin, she would see you at work in less than an hour!

Ginny apparated to her home, safe and without a boss catching her leaving his son's room, after having sex with the hottest man she had ever met. By Merlin's underpants, she was lost.

[...]

The atmosphere between the two was completely tense, Ginny and James barely met each other's eyes, or talked in general, she remained at her desk working with the papers they were carrying out, while Mr. Potter remained in his own office, calling her rarely .

Her career was ruined.

Mr. Potter would never refer her to any job again, and maybe he would trade her for the idiot Elliot. Elliot did not have sex with his son and sneaked out the next morning.

It wasn't hidden at least, she needed to work and Harry was sleeping, she left a note saying that.

'Miss. Weasley, come here please.' He called her, as he usually did, but now it seemed that all of her teachings about never letting your opponent realize that you were scared, had gone down the drain. Ginny could already taste the dismissal.

‘Yes, Mr. Potter?’ Ginny stopped at his office door, her knees trembling behind her pants, her hands sweating.

‘Please come in and close the door.’ She would be fired, or changed. Elliot the idiot was going to win the job she had worked so hard to get. She would never be a well-qualified Auror now, she would remain working only as a watchman for the rest of her life. Forget about promotions, trips to specializations, forget about even missions in the field, she would stay locked up in the office forever, visiting only the old women who always thought they had seen something.

All this because she wanted to have sex with a hot guy.

‘About today earlier-’

'I'm sorry, Mr. Potter.' Ginny interrupted him. ‘I didn’t want it to happen, if I had known-’

'I think if you want to apologize, it will have to be for my son and not for me.' James smiled, his cheeks slightly flushed. He took off his glasses to clean them, but Ginny thought it was an excuse for not having to look her in the eye. ‘About today earlier, I don’t think either of us wants to argue about or keep reminiscing about the event. Maybe we should just forget that we saw each other, and go on with life like that ... I think Harry was a little ... er ... worried about not seeing you for breakfast, but I didn't say anything to him. I would, of course, invite you to join us, but when I came back you were already gone...'

'Thank you.' Ginny sighed. ‘What happened in the morning?’

'That is why I chose you as my pupil, Miss. Weasley.' James also sighed, adjusting his glasses on his face. 'But I must tell you that Harry is coming to have lunch with me. If you want to .. I don’t know, leave early for lunch… I don’t know how your relationship with my son is… ’

'It's okay.' She tried not to remember that she had spoken badly about her boss to Harry. Harry's father. ‘Thank you, Mr. Potter, again.’

'You're welcome.'

Ginny didn't want to prove that she was a coward running away from Harry, or to make Mr. Potter think she had any reason to run away from him. So Ginny stayed, stomping her feet anxiously and trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her, arranging everything in folders and in alphabetical order, handing out some papers over the tables of the other Aurors who didn't even seem to notice her nervousness, all too busy.

When the big clock struck midday and the elevator opened on their floor, Ginny felt her blood run cold, hearing footsteps approaching and people looking more excited about whoever had entered. Her hand was shaking like a beginner's, trying to detach the sheet.

‘Ginny?’ Her voice called out to him, softly, as if he didn’t want people to look at her. She thanks. 'You work here?'

'Oh, hello Harry.' Ginny finally looked at him, dropping the scrolls and keeping her hands in her lap, watching the boy in front of her. In the daylight he looked even more handsome, messy and dark hair that she remembered to be soft and smelling, a stubble that had pinched her skin in a good way, mesmerizing green eyes, a pink mouth that had done a lot of wonders with her ... The man was a God, looking beautiful even in jeans torn at the knees, a black T-shirt and boots. The cover was open, but Ginny did not fail to notice that the fabric appeared to be of the best quality, held by a single buttercup near his neck. 'Yes.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' He continued to speak softly, but everyone was already starting to turn their necks to try to understand what the hell the chief's son was doing standing at poor Ginny's table.

Now that there was enough light and there was no alcohol running through her body, she thought it was obvious that Harry was James' son. She had been so silly.

‘I didn’t think it was important.’

'Oh, I see you guys met.' Mr Potter interrupted them, which Ginny would thank him later, his hand on his son's shoulder, looking at Ginny and then at Harry, who had a confused look on his face. 'Harry, let's have lunch and let Miss. Weasley can too, we don't want the woman to miss her time, do we?' The squeezing on his son's shoulder seemed to make the man wake up, and like his father, Harry smiled.

'Right. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Weasley. Have a nice day.'

[...]

When Ginny left work, it was as if a giant was coming off her shoulders, and she felt more tired than usual because of the tension. After lunch, the other Aurors did not seem to have swallowed the story that Harry and Ginny had first met that morning, and of course she overheard some guys saying that it was how she got the job of pupil.

Great, she thought, it was all I wanted.

Ignore the years of studying, the sleepless nights, the exhausting post-workout where she cried in the bath, the times she thought about giving up - and almost did - but was stopped by her brothers or her parents, and all those tiring missions that James seemed to do just to exhaust the Aurors and see who could still stand.

Forget all that, she got the job after swallowing the boss's son's dick.

Ginny quickened her pace, angry as never before, feeling that she needed to get home, take a shower, and do something to de-stress.

‘Hey!’ A voice called from behind her, and because of all the tension surrounding her and the training, Ginny squeezed her wand around her waist. 'Can we talk?' A slightly sweaty, pink-cheeked Harry stopped in front of her. He didn't even seem to be feeling the icy weather of March, wearing only sweatpants and a jacket, carrying a bag with him.

'What do you want to talk about?' She pressed the cloak against herself, feeling a little shiver, but maybe it was not about the cold but about the fact that the man looked even hot that way.

'Wow, you don't have to be defensive, I'm not here to fight.' He held up his hands. 'Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe have a coffee? ’

Ginny knew inside that she shouldn't accept, not after knowing how he felt inside her, on top of her, kissing her body, sucking and licking certain parts, how he moaned her name and held her against him when he came, as if he wanted to be sure that she would feel what she did to him.

It was not a safe plan, it was a suicide mission.

'Of course, it will be better,' she said, ignoring all the warnings that it would not end well. Harry smiled, picking up the backpack he had placed on the floor and walking beside her, in silence.

His scent seemed to fill all around her, and Ginny had to work hard not to show that it was affecting her.

They didn't take long to arrive at the coffee shop, it was close by and Ginny's favorite to eat after a stressful day. All the meals were delicious, a warmth in the heart after a bad time. The decor was cheerful, in contrast to the gray London, the walls were colorful, the tables a cream color with flower pots in the middle, and it was as if winter or bad weather never arrived inside that environment. It was always summer there. The owner, Mrs. Rodrigues, was a friendly and adorable Brazilian, always smiling and talking to whoever came in.

'Hello, Miss Weasley, how are we on that gray afternoon?' The woman asked, with an accent that said she was not from there.

'Now, better than before.' Ginny smiled. ‘Just smelling your carrot cake, I’m already happy.’

'No, dear, don't say that or I will get used to it.' Mrs. Rodrigues blushed, and then smiled at Harry beside Ginny, fixing the white cap on her voluminous hair. ‘What will the two want today?’

'The carrot cake and the Pão de Queijo basket, please.' Ginny asked.

'A coffee, and ... the carrot cake too,' Harry said.

Mrs. Rodrigues wrote down and smiled at both of them, indicating an empty table further down, near the window and the various flowers that Ginny still did not know how she did to keep them alive, and the two went there, in silence, with only the Brazilian music playing in a pleasant volume filling the lack of conversation between them, the voice of some couples and teenagers was mixed by the environment.

'I didn't know you were my boss's son, I have to say that.' Ginny broke the silence first, looking at Harry in front of her, anxious hands playing with the flower pot on the table.

'If you knew...?' Harry seemed nervous for the answer, arms crossed on the table, green eyes fixed on her, waiting for Ginny to say what he should already know.

‘We wouldn’t have gone out together.’ She smiled sadly. 'You understand why, right? I mean, your dad is my boss, he wouldn’t see it in a good way, and my coworkers would think, in fact they already think, that I used this to get to be where I am.’

‘If you want to know, my dad has been trying to get me out with you since he met you.’ Harry said as if talking about the weather, shrugging and smiling, never diverting her attention. ‘I think he was just surprised that he didn’t know you were there, maybe he expected me to say that I went out with you or that someone would tell him, to see you there in the morning, it was something he didn’t expect.’

‘Did you know who I was at the bar?’

'No! No, I didn't know who you were. He was talking about his pupil, and all your qualities as an auror, and seriously, I don't think I've ever seen him speak so well of one of his young aurors.' Ginny wouldn't express, of course, but she felt a little of pride inside her, thinking of the times that Mr Potter put her into more rigid training than the others, just because "she learned faster than the others." He really believed in her potential! Take that, Elliot. ‘Mum thinks I'm dating you, after she heard you were there… She was a little upset that you ran away.’

'I didn't run away,' Ginny defended herself, laughing softly when she saw Harry laugh, imagining that she should be blushing like never before.'I needed to come to work, and I met my boss at the house of the guy I had sex with, there was no way I could stay for coffee.'

'You could.' Harry shrugged. 'Sorry I didn't warn you about my parents, it never happened before, and I was a little too busy.' He blinked, in the way that made Ginny feel like jelly, the slightly arched black eyebrow and the little smile that did it all seem a little too erotic for that afternoon. He didn't even seem to be trying to do that.

'What did not happen? You taking one of your father's Aurors to your home?' She joked, just to dissipate that heat that took over her body, and to remind her of who she was talking to. Son of your boss, son of your boss, son of your boss, Ginny repeated in her mind.

'That too, but I say about taking girls, in general, at home.' Harry licked his lips when the waiter brought their orders, smiling at both of them and apologizing for interrupting the conversation, placing the basket of Pão de Queijo in the middle of the table for the two, and the piece of cake in front of each other, in addition to Harry's coffee.

Ginny's stomach rumbled when she saw the delicious warm and fragrant Pão de Queijo, together with the delicious smell of carrot cake and brigadeiro, she even felt a little less nervous now that she had something else to pay attention to, other than the mesmerizing eyes from Harry.

None of them spoke much after they started eating, other than the moans of satisfaction they shared as soon as they ate the first pão de queijo, focused only on eating that delicious delicacy and letting the music take over their thoughts, as if it were normal for Harry and her shared a table in the afternoon, eating together and being used to the moment.

It was so simple to be with him, so familiar, that it scared Ginny a little bit, whenever she stopped to analyze.

'I feel like you're not going to accept that I ask you out, now that I know about your concern for your co-workers?' Harry asked, pulling the plate of cake closer and picking up a piece, looking focused on just looking at the slice, instead of for Ginny, and she missed his eyes on her.

'It's complicated,' she admitted, looking at her own slice. 'There are not many women in the Auror Department and they already think that I managed to be where I am, just because I did something for your father, and not because I deserved it and worked hard. You understand? It’s a little more difficult for us women to inhabit predominantly male places.’

'I understand.' Harry looked at her, and he didn't seem upset that she denied his request, he seemed upset about the reason that made her do this. 'But you know that you cannot live, listening and taking what they say about you as truth, you know? I'm not saying that for you to go out with me, it’s not that, it's just because ... Everything my father says about you, made me understand that he chose you because you were good, very good, in what you did. You know you are, and how you made it this far, is not what others will say that will change that. They don’t know anything.’

[...]

The days passed faster than Ginny expected, after the meeting with Harry, the hours were confused between studying for the test that would take place at the end of the month and working, Mr Potter did not comment on his son, and Harry did not appear for more. there too. Now that she was paying attention, Ginny noticed that there was a picture of the boy in the chief's office, Harry, a child, teenager, and adult, wearing the Arrows' uniform.

He also started to appear in the newspaper, now that he had officially joined the team, and it wasn't just a reserve, so Ginny ended up seeing him during breakfast, stamping the sports column.

She also saw him at night, before going to sleep, when they were calling to talk in the mirror, the two tired, telling about what the day had been like. She said she couldn't accept going out with him, not being a friend.

Although she thought things that friends did not think about each other, and sometimes Harry flirted with her, without much pretension, seeming to just do it naturally.

‘You’ve got to stop doing that’ He said, biting his lower lip as if he wanted to hold himself back from laughing, lying shirtless while talking to her, who was putting the books in the drawer, getting ready to go to bed.

'Doing what?' Ginny asked, taking the mirror from the dresser and going to the bed, leaving the candle light still on so he could see it.

‘Saying things that make me wanna kiss you’

'Harry ...' Ginny warned him, blushing like a tomato, only to hear him laugh and blink those beautiful green eyes towards her.

"I'm not doing anything, besides, your exams are next week, which means I'm almost close to being able to take you on a real date." They had agreed this, in fact, it was Ginny who brought it up. a week after the James incident, just because she started thinking hard about how good that night had been, and how much better it would be if there was no alcohol in her blood and she didn't have to face the boss the next morning, before she even brushed the teeth.

After she took the test, they could leave, but still, it was very public until the result came out. Ginny didn't want anyone to doubt her ability, nor did the fact that dating Harry influence James' thinking.

'But then, there is still a week to go.' She reminded him.

'How are you feeling?'

'Anxious,' she admitted, thinking again about how easy it was to open up to Harry. 'How was the training today?' He moved, the noise of the sheets making her think things inappropriate for that moment.

'Tiring, I have pain in my thighs.' Harry made a lovely face, his nose slightly wrinkled.

'Poor thing about you.' Ginny tuned her voice as if she were talking to a baby, which made the man laugh, something that always made Ginny have her ego boosted a thousand times.

Harry looked cute laughing.

'You could come here and help me, I know that Aurors know how to do very good healing spells.' He blinked, and this time it was Ginny who laughed.

'Shut up. Good night, Harry. 'Ginny felt and saw that her cheeks got even hotter, but Harry didn't seem affected, he seemed to approve of that.

'Good night, Weasley ... One week, I'm counting.' He smiled, and something inside her trembled in excitement and excitement so that the week would pass soon.

'I know you do, Potter. Bye. ’

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

Ok this is gonna be long. I’ve literally been slowly working on this for… too long. I’m just in a mood to have a long discussion about ships. I’ll be looking at canon and not, so bare with me. I don’t ship all of these personally. I’m mostly just picking the most popular ones. I chose to leave out a few that I just don’t want to talk about. I tried to keep this loosely chronological, but that quickly went to hell. None of this is meant to be hate towards anyone’s ship, just my personal opinions on each of them.

Canon:

Scott x Allison: True Classic

Scallison is so sweet as it is truly the epitome of young love. Romeo and Juliet, except Romeo is even more of an idiot and Juliet is a badass who dies for a cause. They’re moral and ethical codes are both highly valued by themselves, even if they don’t align with others very often. They loved with everything they had. They were beautiful. We’re they soulmates in the end, or just the first love who will always hold a special place in your heart? Who knows, but I’ll always love these immature kids who thought their love could change everything.

Stiles x Lydia: The Long Awaited

Stydia is as slow burn as you can get. Unfortunately their actual getting together was slightly rushed in my opinion. They didn’t have time to find their own as a couple because Stiles just wasn’t in the show enough at that point. I know the reasons behind it, but it did leave this couple at an awkward stage of official-but-not-shown. The idea that Stiles loved her as a kid, immature and infatuated, and he saw her for who she really was, will always be cute. Then they grew, changed, became friends, and found other people. Them finding each other later on, having real love that’s developed slowly, is a wonderful arc. Though, a part of me will always believe they should have pursued other story lines in the wake of Stiles’ absence from the plot. They’re finally together! …but we don’t get to see it.

Jackson x Lydia: The Image

Oh Jackson and Lydia. Honestly, I love them. Their connection at a time in their lives when they couldn’t open up to anyone else, just hits me right in the feels. I mean, god that HUG. You know the one. Always brings me to tears. I’m so sad their relationship was almost entirely depicted during Jackson’s kanima time when he couldn’t think nor truly act for himself. Those small moments of scared vulnerability when he wanted to protect her from himself… I’ll miss these two. They deserved to find other people and remain life-long friends. I loved their moment in the last episode. I wish they’d gotten to see each other grow. Also they had such bixbi solidarity vibes, and I’ll die on that hill.

Scott x Lydia: Leaders

Ok, I’m gonna be honest here. I ship it. The power couple they would have been?? Also them coming together after they lost Allison would have actually made sense. A part of me kinda wishes the writers had moved on from Stydia as a romantic relationship and leaned into them growing as friends and Stiles moving on from his childhood crush. Scott and Lydia actually would have had good chemistry. They were both very headstrong heroic types, but Lydia would have balanced Scott out well intellectually. They had the history, and I think it could had worked if they wrote it right. Plus, Scott and Lydia would have been a better endgame that Scalia.

Scott x Kira: New Beginnings

These two were adorable. Kira was a badass, don’t get me wrong, but she let herself be soft in a way Allison was always afraid to. This couple was truly Baby. Absolute dorks. I can definitely see the lasting quality between the two of them. They saw things very similarly, and had a ton in common. I do think Kira deserves more characterization outside of their relationship, like more of her friendship with Malia. Overall, her departure from the show will always be sad to me. It was bad writing. Scott was over her far too quickly.

Aiden x Lydia: Pretty People Herd

I honestly didn’t see much between these two other than mutual attraction. The best thing to come out of this relationship was Lydia’s line, “You’re not just a bad boy, Aiden. You’re a bad guy. And I don’t want to be with the bad guys.” Good character development moment.

Ethan x Danny: Step to Redemption

Danny really was the thing that made Ethan look outside of the pack for what he really wanted out of life. They had a few cute scenes. Gotta love Danny’s final remarks, “Dude, it’s Beacon Hills.”

Allison x Isaac: Unexpected Rebound

Ok, I like these two. Isaac could match Allison’s snark in a way Scott couldn’t. They both fought the progression of the relationship slightly. They didn’t expect to fall for each other. They were less willing to let someone in close. I’d love to have seen more… but unfortunately their time was limited. On a side note, sometimes their relationship did feel like ‘we both are in love with the same guy, let’s cope with each other’, but I find that completely valid. I’ll talk about Scallisaac later though.

Stiles x Malia: Anchors

Ok but, them <3 I love what they did for each other. Stiles was able to help Malia connect to her humanity and other people. He never tried to isolate her in their relationship and encouraged her growth. Malia offered Stiles the emotional support he never asked for. She defended him, fought for him, and loved him fiercely. Stiles needed that so much after season 3. I think they were a love that wasn’t meant to last, but the impact of it was forever. I wish we’d gotten to see a real end for them where they agreed that they needed to grow as individuals but would always still care.

Liam x Hayden: Three’s a Pattern

These two’s characterization stopped whenever they had storylines together. Their relationship was built on Scallison references. Hayden’s character could have been interesting, but they never really gave her a moment to shine. Liam has the worst plots when they revolved around her. Cute couple, poor writing.

Derek x Braeden: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl Boss

Derek deserves to be happy so much. Kate and Jennifer were just... jeez. Him and Braeden were cute and deserved more screen time. I think her intensity allowed for Derek to let go of control a bit more comfortably. Let Derek Be Soft. Anyway, love them.

Corey x Mason: Gotta Have That Rep TM

These two could have been cute if they were shown for more than two seconds at a time. I highkey forget Corey even existed all the time. Kinda just felt like a relationship to fill TW’s gay quota.

Jackson x Ethan: The Callback

Honestly? Loved them. Loved the chemistry. Loved the dynamic. Best twist. I know it was probably written in like that because Colton came out during his time away from the show, but it absolutely fit his character. Jethan is top tier.

Melissa x Chris: BAMF Parent Duo

Ok, so like, Melissa deserved this plot. She deserved someone to care about her. However... what the hell? Chris? In canon, his wife died like 2-ish years prior? His daughter died 1 year prior?? Is Chris really in a position to pursue a new relationship?? Also, like, Scott and Allison dated and loved each other up to her death. Kinda weird to have their parents hook up. I don’t hate it, but I don’t ship it…?

Scott x Malia: Lead up? What’s lead up?

These two came out of nowhere I stg. Like, 6B really tried to tell us this was something that had been slowly developing in the background? Also, I understand that they are their own people, adults, and completely in charge of their own romantic pursuits: but did Scott seriously never call Stiles? Like, Malia wasn’t just his first girlfriend. She was his first. Like, dude that’s your best friend?? Not even a head’s up? No, ‘hey would this bother you?’ Oof. Plus Malia was way too chaotic for Scott. She existed in gray morality that always prioritized her immediate circle, and Scott was a very black/white type of heroism. I just didn’t feel like they fit.

Non-Canon:

Scott x Stiles: Childhood Best Friends

Ya, sorry, I don’t ship Sciles at all. I get it. Like, I totally understand the ship, and I mean no judgment at all. I just see them as friends. I really value good male friendships in media because I feel like we don’t get enough, and I always liked these two.

Stiles x Derek: Enemies to Lovers. 100k. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.

God these two really are what fanfiction was made for. I could write a much longer discussion about Sterek, and I probably will eventually. I’ll try to keep this brief. These two weren’t always on the same side, but their approach was the same. They were very similar at their core. Plus, wow the chemistry. This should have been canon. Jeff’s a coward.

Allison x Lydia: Powerful.

This ship is so great. They really had a great dynamic, and a romantic plot would have easily fit the established narrative. Lydia’s confidence in herself and Allison’s confidence in her own abilities crossing over to each other because that’s what the other lacked? Iconic.

Danny x Jackson: He Gets Him

Danny really saw Jackson for everything he was and still cared. I wished we’d gotten to see more of them. I  want more background with Jackson’s eventual coming out and his friendship with Danny. Like, they ended up dating the same guy. What did Ethan have to say about that??

Stiles x Jackson: Bastards

Ok these two had a super fun dynamic. The asshole-energy between them was, great. The snark was always so entertaining.

Melissa x Noah: Family

How were these two not endgame? Their sons were practically brothers already. They had amazing chemistry. The flirting? Not to mention, their timeline would have made way more sense. Missed opportunity.

Chris x Peter: The Opposite of Love is Indifference, Not Hate

Ok so like, this was definitely one of those ships that I had absolutely no knowledge of before I was pretty into the fandom. Like, this was not something I would have guessed just after watching the show. That being said; my god the chaos alone…

Scott x Isaac: The Disaster Duo

Okay ya I love these two. Two dumb asses who act like idiot puppies. Such a fun dynamic. Plus?? Chemistry??? Hellooo

Scott x Allison x Isaac: Three Heads Are Better Than One

This ship is definitely one of my personal favorites. I very rarely poly-ship. I just feel like most of them are just love triangles with an ‘easy solution’, when two of them have no real connection. That is so not the case here. I feel like all of them have such great chemistry with each other. They also have a great dynamic as a group. Season 3A was really just Scallisaac rights.

Stiles x Isaac: I Hate You, jk…Not Really

Ok I loved their banter, but I really just don’t see this ship. Idk, I don’t personally ship it. Would have loved to see their friendship develop more tho.

Erica x Allison: Duo that would stab you with a stiletto

I don’t ship it, but I do wish we’d seen them become friends. I feel like they had a very artificial ‘girls fighting over a boy’ dynamic? They could have been such a badass duo.

Stiles x Erica: Batman x Catwoman

Ok I’m not sure exactly how to express my feelings for these two so bare with me. OMG I love their dynamic so much, and they are sooo cute. Their energy? Amazing. Chemistry? Great. History? It’s there and has so much potential. 10/10. Love them. But, no, I don’t ship it lol. Just really love their friendship, but with the underlying history of crushes.

Boyd x Erica: Was This Not Canon?

How can anyone not love Berica? Ugh they are adorable. These two deserved so much better.

Boyd x Cora: Survivors

Honestly I don’t really see it? Like they definitely had a connection, but it never felt romantic. I really feel like they just had to lean on each other and bond to make it through captivity, and it just lasted.

Boyd x Erica x Cora: The Pack

I literally learned this was a ship a couple days ago. Similar feelings towards this as Bora, but with the added hesitancy of we never actually saw Erica and Cora interact.

Cora x Stiles: Slow Build Up

These two were clearing being lined up to be a thing before Cora ended up leaving. I can’t say I’m disappointed they never happened. Kinda felt like they just wanted to straight-code Sterek.

Cora x Lydia: Mean Lesbians

Not much interaction to actually go off of, but yes I 100% support. They have very different approaches to problems, which is fun. Very ‘opposites attract’.

Malia x Kira: “Maybe you could date the coyote?”

Another one of my favorites!! They really complimented each other. Also, how full circle would they have been? They were introduced in back-to-back episodes. Malia stalking her as a coyote? The line from Kira’s dad about dating it? It would have been so funny if that ended up happening.

Malia x Lydia: Beauty and the Beast, but make it wlw

These two were fun. I liked their friendship, but I don’t really ship it. Though, rip Stiles that would have been hilarious.

Parrish x Lydia: The Cop and The Minor

Must I say more? Like, Parrish’s character, so sweet and big rule follower, did not make sense for what went down with Lydia. I love Parrish, but the dynamic just felt off. It didn’t feel consistent with the rest of his characterization.

Parrish x Stiles: The Cop and The Minor, but gay?

Ok, same reasoning as above, but also they had absolutely no connection romantically.

Scott x Theo / Stiles x Theo: Sometimes The Villain is Hot

Ok I’ve put these together because I have the same opinion for both. I don’t ship it. Neither had any rebuilding of trust, and Theo really hurt both of them. I just don’t really think they work.

Mason x Liam: Sciles Puppy Pack Edition

Similar to my feeling about Sciles, I just don’t ship these two. They had a good friendship, from the little we saw of it.

Theo x Liam: Anchors 2: Electric Boogaloo

Another personal favorite! I really don’t even understand why this didn’t go canon?? The elevator scene was just, so intense. They helped each other grow in 6B, and I really loved their dynamic. They should have hooked up.

Honorable Mention?: 

Parrish x Laura: What’s canon?

I’ve seen this in fanfic a lot, and I actually really like it lol. I thought I’d add it in here because I do love the creativity of fandoms.