#IT'S NOT EVEN BAD IT JUST NEEDED MORE ROOM TO JUSTIFY ITSELF AND GIVE REACTIONS TO MAKE IT FEEL COMPLETE AND NOT UNFINISHED

[welcometogrouchland]

Making peace with fiction that wasn't poorly executed but was in fact so so so so fucking close to being perfect (via a balance of perfect scenes and overall good ones) but missed the mark just a smidge to the point of it being jarring. That's the hardest battle god can give you

[brucewaynehater101]

I'm seeing a lot of asks about this and I want to give my two cents: I'm cool with Bruce being a bad father, but only if DC admits that he is a bad father.

You can't have him doing downright abusive shit only to never address it. The only character that consistently criticizes Bruce parenting is painted as entitled and vindictive. I genuinely think the reason why we can't have a decent Red Hood arc is because if you want Jason to make sense you're gonna have to admit Bruce is a fucked up father or rewrite canon.

Same reason for Tim "never aging", not so much physically but emotionally. Because to have the character establish itself like Nightwing did you would need to address at some point all the bullshit he went through. Even with Dick. Like sometimes it looks like they want to recognize how being raised by Batman fucked him up by they end up settling for "oh it's the pressure". Like that's the most DC will say "Batman puts his kids under a lot of pressure buuuuuut it's justified because they're fighting evil :)".

Not just the kids, I think Batman himself would be so much more interesting if DC was willing to let him confront these things. As a redemption arc or as a fatal flaw that keeps his family at arms length. But they want to have their cake (have Batman be edgy and give the Robins Character Development™ through good old child abuse) and eat it (have Batman be Dad of the year). And that's what doesn't work.

Batfam fandom is great because you have people making content for Good Father Bruce, Bad Dad Bruce (he's trying and it's a bit funny/tragic), Awful Father Bruce (with no intention of changing. Every option is way more interesting than DC's directionless mess. Like, we don't even need them to make Bruce Good™ we just want them to pick a side and stick to it.

Thank you. My gods that sums it up perfectly.

Like, I've got no problem consuming Good Dad Bruce content... if it's not the comics. The animated stuff is usually fine, and fanwork is also great. There's a ton to like about it.

Hell, I'm even chill if Bruce makes mistakes and errors and fucks up with his kids. That's realistic, as long as they address that he did, in fact, do that shit. They need to talk about how his actions have hurt his kids and his relationships with them. He can try to do better, or he can stay distant with his kids because of it (low to no contact). It's truly not that difficult to chat about.

Now, media that addresses all of the horrid stuff he's done and considers realistic reactions/solutions to it? Fantastic. I love that so much. It's so cathartic watching him get his ass handed to him.

It's not necessary, though. I'm chill with good dad Bruce.

Despite that, outright ignoring what he does or brushing it under the rug? That's horrific. That reads like a sickening cycle of abuse, and I can't stand it. It's the exact same shit an abuser pulls by harming their victim (psychologically, mentally, physically, etc.), apologizing (ish), finding a way to pin the blame back on the victim, and then love bombing. Like, my gods. Bruce will beat the shit out of Jason and say it's Jason's fault for killing someone... "I wouldn't harm you/take a machine to permanetly fuck up your brain if you didn't do that. It's not my fault that I decided to hurt you. It's your fault that I did."

I just fucking can't.

I think Tim, with his little statement of "I don't expect you to apologize" after Bruce caused him to have a nervous breakdown post 16th birthday, that's a close approximation to admitting that Bruce is a piece of shit that does tendencies like an abuser. No matter what someone's intentions are, they should still apologize if they've cause unjustified/unintentional harm. Only assholes who don't regret their actions or people who feel their actions are justified won't apologize. There's times when apologizing isn't necessary or desired. That's fine. I won't apologize if Comic!Bruce and I are in a room, and I "accidentally" set him on fire.

Yet, Bruce is out here fucking up his kids. At the very LEAST, they deserve a fucking apology. Maybe a restraining order.

I ranted a bit. My bad. Anyways, have DC acknowledge the shitty actions Bruce does or don't have him do them. It's simple.

[trekkiedean]

the thing about cas's arc in the first half of s9 is that it's a prime example of why I cannot look at this show through a purely watsonian lens. there is no way to make it make sense except bad writing. and "idk it was bad writing" is a copout with most shows, and can very much be a copout with this show, depending on how selectively you apply it. but also, with spn, not only is the writing bad, but the show is SO hyperaware of itself as a story that I have a lot of trouble ignoring the doylist factors, the way I would at least try to in another show.

like, I have a ton of logistic/plot questions about the whole early-s9 situation, because the basic facts just don't really make sense from 9x03 to 9x06 to 9x09. but more than that, I feel like any purely watsonian explanation requires me to either throw out a lot of dean's past characterization (I can be pretty hashtag deancrit, but I do think it's ooc for him to kick cas out with absolutely nothing) or a lot of cas's future characterization (I think cas's takeaway was that dean does not care enough about him to help him unless it will serve some larger purpose of dean's to do so, and I think that informs a lot of cas's future behavior). like, the potential watsonian explanations are:

dean offered cas some supplies/cash/a fake id, and cas was just too proud/hurt/stupid to accept

dean offered cas some supplies/cash/a fake id, and cas took them, but he was too proud/hurt to keep them or too stupid to keep them safe/use them wisely

dean is a complete sociopath who doesn't give a shit about cas and kicked him out with literally nothing but the clothes on his back, and cas's self-esteem is so low that he thinks it was okay

dean is too stupid to even realize that cas might need supplies/money/resources

and I don't find any of those explanations satisfying, because there are things in other episodes that undercut or refute all of them: if dean genuinely just doesn't give a shit about cas, why did he bother trying to find him in 9x03 in the first place, or care when april killed him and get gadreel to bring him back? if dean didn't give him anything in the way of money/supplies, then how did cas get from kansas to idaho, or get a job with no papers or bank account? but if dean did give him cash/the magic credit card and fake identity papers, then why did cas need the job in the first place and/or why is he sleeping in the back room? and if he didn't, if cas is truly in such a dangerously precarious situation in 9x06 because he has nothing else, then how, in 9x09, does he have a fairly nice, well-fitting suit and presumably a fake badge and a car? if dean gave him some money to begin with, and cas is just clueless with money and blew it all, then how did he get savvy enough, between 9x03 and 9x09, to acquire all of those things himself? if dean gave him money and/or the suit, badge, and car to begin with, but cas was too proud and hurt to make use of them, what changed his mind? if he has those things in 9x09 because dean helped him after 9x06 and either gave them to him or gave him the means/money to get them, then why wouldn't dean have just done that in the first place? if dean didn't help him at all, despite knowing what a dangerous situation cas was in before they found him in 9x03, then why does dean approach cas in 9x06 like he expects any reaction but completely justified anger and hurt, and treat cas's new job like it's a silly little thing cas is doing for funsies rather than his best chance at survival? but then, why is cas treating the whole thing like it was no big deal in 9x09?

meanwhile, the doylist explanations are:

the episodes in question were written by privileged white people who have no idea what actual poverty and homelessness entail, and didn't care enough to do some basic research (or even like, ask the cast member who'd actually experienced serious poverty and homelessness for some input)

there was little to no coordination among the writers to ensure story or emotional continuity across episodes (if you told me berens and buckleming just didn't read each others' scripts or watch each others' episodes I would 100% believe you)

they didn't want to pay misha for enough episodes to show us what the fuck was going on with cas in the 9x03-9x09 span, let alone have him kicking around the bunker

and also possibly

everyone knew that if cas was kicking around the bunker, and they put him in the standard hunter uniform, dean's spirit would fully possess jackles and derail every scene by flinging him mouth-first onto misha's dick

and all of those make a lot more sense to me than any purely watsonian explanation is ever going to. and again, I do think that shrugging and saying "bad writing" can be a copout, and with other shows, I would make more of an effort to at least try and find a satisfying watsonian explanation, but spn is not only badly-written, but self-aware, even self-obsessed, in a way that other shows are not, so it's a lot harder for me to just disregard the non-diagetic factors. so I do tend to think that if you choose a watsonian explanation for the whole thing, it can be kind of a rorschach test, because you basically have to decide which character's development to prioritize, dean's or cas's.

[cardentist]

I haven’t been in the star trek fandom for very long (I’ve only just started binging the series in the last couple months), so it’s been pretty surprising to find out just how negative the perception of the reboot movies are.

this isn’t coming from the perspective of someone who grew up with the series, so it hit different for me than it might for people with a different relationship to TOS, but I thought it was genuinely clever and Respectful with how it was handled.

To quote leonard nimoy: “Well the alternative timeline gives them license to escape from canon concerns. I can’t see people saying ‘they shouldn’t do that because…’ or ‘that doesn’t tie in to such and such’ because it is a different time and place. Am I right about that?” [Link]

the entire Premise is that the original series happened as it was presented in TOS, but an event late in Spock’s life caused the creation of a parallel universe in which everyone’s lives were significantly altered through two key changes to the timeline. this gives them the freedom to Both revel in fanservice And explore different facets of the characters and their relationships. 

the destruction of vulcan Vastly impacts the characters and the plot moving forward, and its a detail that a lot of people take issue with. but the emotional impact of sarek admitting Directly to spock that there is value in his humanity, that his feelings Aren’t wrong, that sarek married amanda because he Loved her cannot be understated. you can read all of these things into sarek as he was in the original series, but he Never had an open conversation about these things with spock. this creates a Believable and Rewarding change in their relationship, where we get to see a different facet of them Because of the changes made. and that’s exactly the appeal. showing us pieces of these characters that we never got in TOS that are nevertheless undeniably Them.

everyone is Different yes, but they’re also fundamentally the same people at their core and that matters.

kirk’s personality obviously takes the biggest change, with him experiencing trauma at a young age, losing his father, and having an implied abusive father figure after that point. he has a harsher personality in reaction to harsher conditions, he’s spikier and harder to love. but he’s also still fundamentally a Good person whose willing to risk everything to help people. he still has what made kirk prime a good captain and a good friend.

I’m not gonna say that it’s the most nuanced story in the world, but it explores a version of kirk that was born from even Less fortunate circumstances than kirk prime, exploring a kirk brimming with potential who learned to bite back after he was kicked down. exploring those themes of trauma and loss, of insecurity and growth, and coming to the conclusion that Fundamentally He Is Capable Of Good isn’t a Bad thing. you don’t have to like it, but his growth into a better person is The Point. they deepened his flaws (all of which were present in a less exaggerated form in TOS) To Show That Growth.

and then of course there’s his relationship with spock.

people are totally justified in not liking that they had a rough start to their relationship, I usually don’t like to see that kind of thing in reboots or hollywood adaptations either, but the way people talk about it is just unfair.

Yes kirk and spock and bones have a very strong relationship in TOS, they also already know each other by the time the show starts. to look at them having to learn to get to know and trust each other when they first meet and say that it’s Bad because they were already full on ride or die for each other in the og series is silly. TOS kirk and spock had to meet and fall in love with each other too, it didn’t just happen over night kings.

secondly, the entire point of the first movie is that Even With reality itself being altered to pull them apart they are fundamentally compatible people that are Bound to each other. they meet each other on bad terms because of circumstances outside of their control, and yet they’re still pulled into each other’s orbit and find the other slotting into place next to them as if they always belonged. one of the first things that spock prime says in the movie is “I am and always will be your friend,” spock and jim are Meant for each other and the movie goes out of its way to explain that. which is what makes it so Weird to see people complaining about how they don’t like each other.

it’s a Different relationship, but it’s absolutely no less steeped in yearning or queer subtext. 

speaking of queer subtext ! some people are Very unhappy with spock’s relationship with uhura.

first thing I wanna say is that making the argument that they’re doing anything that the original series hasn’t done is just, completely untrue. kirk has fallen in love with more girls in the og series than he knew what to do with, leonard nimoy was a heartthrob in his time (and he deserves it, awooga) and spock reflects that ! Spock usually turns the women who come onto him down (or when he doesn’t it’s because a plant has literally altered his mind), but there are exceptions to even that. all of three of the main boys have plenty of romance subplots, it happens. if that takes the possibility of them being queer off the table for you (which it shouldn’t, m-spec people exist) then I’m sorry to say that TOS is not exempt.

now, I can understand why Specifically This Relationship could rub people the wrong way or being disappointed that they didn’t outright depict kirk and spock as having a relationship (if not in the first movie then in the following ones after they’ve gotten to know each other), but even in that context the way I’ve seen people talk about it comes off as insensitive.

no, the relationship did not come out of nowhere. they considered having spock and uhura date each other in the original show (and you can see signs of this in the earlier episodes, where uhura very obviously flirts with him and they spend time together in their down time) before they decided against it, and spock was originally going to kiss uhura until shatner insisted that he wanted to do it (because it was the first interracial kiss on tv). [Link 1, Link 2, Link 3]

nichelle nichols was asked about this exact thing (spock and uhura’s relationship in the movie), you can read the interview in full here [Link] but I’d like to highlight this paragraph in particular:

“Now, go back to my participation in Star Trek as Uhura and Leonard (Nimoy) as Spock. There was always a connection between Uhura and Spock. It was the early 60’s, so you couldn’t do what you can do now, but if you will remember, Uhura related to Spock. When she saw the captain lost in space out there in her mirror, it was Spock who consoled her when she went screaming out of her room. When Spock needed an expert to help save the ship, you remember that Uhura put something together and related back to him the famous words, “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m afraid.” And Uhura was the only one who could do a spoof on Spock. Remember the song (in “Charlie X”)? Those were the hints, as far as I’m concerned.”

the film makers looked at the fact there were Hints for uhura and spock, that they were Interested in exploring an interracial couple for the first time (both before and immediately after interracial couples won the right to legally get married) but Couldn’t because of the circumstances of the times and decided to Make that depiction. you don’t have to Like their relationship just because of that fact, but it’s Incredibly reductive to play down it’s significance as just a No Homo cop out. explicitly queer relationships are not the only progressive or culturally important relationships in fiction.

moreover, if you can’t imagine polyamory in the communist utopian future that’s on you.

moreover, this perception that this was a soulless cash grab is just, unfounded.

leonard nimoy returned to the role as spock for the first time in 16 years (since 1991) and this was Entirely because of the respect they had for nimoy, spock as a character, and the franchise as a whole. 

Lets look at some quotes from nimoy in interviews regarding the film:

Leonard Nimoy: When I first read the script (...) I immediately contacted J.J. and said “I think it is terrific…I think you guys have done a wonderful job. There is still work to be done, but it is very clear that you and your writers know what you are doing and you know how to do this movie and know what it should be about….and I am very interested.” Then as time went by we worked things out with Paramount, but the most important things were J.J. and the script. (...) I am very pleased about that and I am very comfortable with where this is going. I think the writers have done a terrific job. They have a real sense of the characters and the heart of Star Trek and what it is really all about.

(...)

TrekMovie.com: Now in the case of the new movie you have been retired from acting for years. What was it about this one that made you want to act again and go through the make up again? What was it that made you say ‘I really want to do this?’

Leonard Nimoy: You are right, this is a special situation. First it is Star Trek and so I have to pay attention. I owe that to Star Trek. Second place is that it is J.J. Abrams who I think very highly of, he is a very talented guy. Then came the script and it was very clear that I could make a contribution here. The Spock character that I am playing, the original Spock character, is essential and important to the script. So on the basis of those three elements it was easy to make the decision. So those three things: Star Trek, J.J. Abrams, and an interesting Spock role.

[Link]

Praising the cast playing younger versions of characters from the original 1960s TV series, he [Leonard Nimoy] said: “Let me take the opportunity to say this. Everybody at this table [the cast] are very, very talented and intelligent people.”

“They found their own way to bring that talent and intelligence to this movie, and I think it shows. (...)  When Karl Urban introduced himself as Leonard McCoy and shook hands with Chris Pine, I burst into tears. That performance of his is so moving, so touching and so powerful as Doctor McCoy, that I think D. Kelley would be smiling, and maybe in tears as well.”

“The makers of this film reawakened the passion in me that I had when we made the original film and series. I was put back in touch with what I cared about and liked about Star Trek, and why I enjoyed being involved with Star Trek. So, it was an easy way to come on home.”

“[In this Star Trek] they said things and showed me things, and demonstrated the sensibility that I felt very comfortable with, and I think that shows in the movie. I like it.”

[Link 1, Link 2]

again, you don’t have to like it just because leonard nimoy did, you don’t have to Agree. but the idea that nobody working on the film Cared is provably false. near everyone working on the project was already a fan of the series or were excited to be involved and did their homework. it’s genuinely a Miracle just how much of a labor of love this was, and in my opinion you can feel that through the movie itself. I’d highly recommend looking into interviews and behind the scenes details about the movies. they had a respect not just for the source material, but for leonard nimoy as a person.

there’s definitely more I Could say about this, but it’s 4 am now so I’m gonna shelve it jklfdsa

that said! it’s Fine to not like the movie, not everything is going to be suited to everyone’s taste, but the specific criticisms I’ve seen feel very off base

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

THE BOX IS NABOO

That’s it, I’m doing it, I’m writing that stupid meta I’ve had in the works for two and a half years, I’m sharing it with the world. I promised it for last Thursday, my poll was forever ago, but whatever! I’m writing that freaking thing.

(super duper long post, press j to skip)

Enter my rabbit hole.

First thing to establish: the Box makes no sense whatsoever in-universe.

((EDIT: Something I forgot to mention. IRL, the premise of a giant murder cube and the aesthetic - wall patterns, light designs, etc - of the episode come from the 1997 horror movie Cube, (see the episode’s wookieepedia page). However, while the two are very closely linked visually, the Box does not follow the movie structurally or narratively, as you can verify by simply reading the movie’s summary.))

Recap of the context for the "Box" episode (s4e17): Palpatine is planning his own kidnapping. It was never meant to succeed, and while the plan would obviously benefit him (making the Jedi look bad, pushing Anakin closer to the Dark Side, making Republic citizens more afraid -> more docile, etc...) his actual goal is never explained, and it’s weird that he’d go to such extreme lengths for results so minimal that we’re never told what they are.

So Palpatine asks Dooku to kidnap him at the Festival of Lights on Naboo. Dooku hires Moralo Eval to design a giant box-thingy to test bounty hunters to hire the best of them to kidnap Palpatine. Moralo then gets arrested to alert the Republic that something is afoot, and hires Cad Bane to break him out. Obi-Wan - undercover to learn Moralo’s plan - goes with them. They evade capture and go to Serenno, and Bane and Obi-Wan have to pass the box-thingy test. The level of brainkarked logic here... Truly on par with Megamind, Gru and Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

Setting aside the insane plot holes and utterly nonsensical behavior of the villains, the Box itself is moronic from a plot perspective. It’s insanely complex, obviously incredibly expensive and would have taken months (more like years but it’s a short war) to make when it’s not even needed for the dastardly plot! Just hire some guys who have already proven themselves against Jedi! Throw cash at Bane and Embo and a few others! Maybe attack them with your saber and see how they do! 

And after all that, Dooku still ends up trying to kidnap Palpatine on his own. I can’t even... 

So why does the Box exist? Well, apart from being a nerdy callback to Cube, giving us a good thrill and being generally awesome to look at, it has actual narrative purpose within the SW universe.

The box is Naboo.

What the Box lacks in plot relevance, it makes up for with its heavily symbolic meaning. It very closely follows Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s experiences on Naboo - but only certain parts, which I’ll explain later.

We start with clean, sterile environments, SW’s favored way of showing villainy.

Then we have the protagonists locked in a room as dioxis, a poison gas, pours in.

And then they escape... this way.

(Okay, here the shaft is down, not up. And it’s not a ventilation shaft per say, it’s the designed escape route. Same difference).

We then skip most of TPM (namely, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon discovering the droid army, finding Padmé, leaving Naboo, landing on Tatooine, going to Coruscant, etc, etc) to come back to Naboo and go directly to the lightsabers and catwalks.

(Note: in both scenes, Obi-Wan has to propel himself from a catwalk.)

In TPM and TCW, the catwalks are immediately followed by ray shields

And we finally end with the last scenes. Now, they don’t look the same but they are structurally identical. 

Obi-Wan is faced with a challenge unsuited for his abilities (facing Darth Maul // shooting three moving targets when he’s far more skilled with a blade than a blaster) on a narrow space above a melting pit/pit of fire. 

He first watches someone die failing to complete the task...

 ... and has to do it himself, faring much better than expected (holding his own against Maul // shooting all the targets easily). 

He then almost falls to his death and gets saved unexpectedly.

And then there’s the final showdown.

In both scenes, Obi-Wan is angry. And in TCW Dooku eggs him on, banking on his anger. (More on that later.) In both cases though, he centers himself and is able to overcome both his opponent and his own unbalance. But in TCW, he doesn’t go for the kill, because he doesn’t need to. 

The Box, as a literal character-explorator ex-machina, thus shows us Obi-Wan’s growth.  

In TPM, Obi-Wan follows Qui-Gon’s lead. In TCW, he is the leader. He identifies the gas, makes the plans. He doesn’t fall from catwalks anymore - he runs atop moving ones. He doesn’t stay stuck behind ray-shields, he finds the solution. (Btw, how did Moralo know what blood type Derrown the Exterminator was? There was a 50% chance of him dying - thus killing all of the bounty hunters. Was that an acceptable outcome? TCW I need answers!) He doesn’t slay his foes, because he’s become powerful enough, skilled enough and wise enough to survive (and win) without needing to kill.

He’s grown - and, even more interestingly, he’s also stayed the same. In the previous episodes, we see some of the dark aspects of Obi-Wan. How he - like all Force-wielders, all people - could lose himself if he stopped maintaining absolute control.

But in the Box, surrounded by the worst criminals of the Galaxy, the most ruthless, worthless people, he’s still kind and tries his best to keep them alive.

The Box is a reminder and a reassurance for the audience that Obi-Wan Kenobi is still there under Rako’s face. He hasn’t lost his compassion, his restrain. He’s still a Jedi. And he’s an awesome, badass one. 

And now, for what it tells us about Dooku! 

It’s much shorter, don’t worry. Basically, Dooku considers that the best way to pick “the best of the best” of the deadliest people in the Galaxy is making them go through what killed his Padawan. There, I’ve broken your hearts, you’re welcome. 

More seriously, Dooku is a manipulative ass. It’s pretty clear that he knows Rako is Obi-Wan, or at the very least suspects it. 

He has an interesting reaction upon learning Rako’s identity, he keeps praising him despite his usual distaste for low-lifes, he smirks secretively after Eval says “I’ll show you who’s weak” (not included there because it’s a close-up of Dooku’s lips and no one wants to see that) and he tells Rako he’s very disappointed when he doesn’t finish off Eval.

[Later]

(Look at this smug asshole - I can’t. YOUR GRANDSON IS THE BEST, WE KNOW, STOP ACTIVELY RUINING HIS LIFE ALREADY.)

(Dooku... why...)

Now obviously Dooku couldn’t have made the Box specifically for Obi-Wan, because it would have to have been designed months before the Council ever decided to send Obi-Wan undercover, but he has no qualms trying to use it to push Obi-Wan to the Dark Side. Ffs Dooku, making your spiritual grandson relive one of the most traumatic events of his life on the off chance that he’ll join you (and desecrate his Master’s memory in doing so) is not okay!

Final tidbits of analysis: I mentioned that not all of TPM is mirrored in the Box. What’s omitted is the droids (even though Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fight B1′s and droidekas between the dioxis and the ventilation shafts) and anything pertaining to Sidious (all the political stuff on Coruscant). You’ll also note that the fake lightsabers are orange.

=> The Box distances itself from anything that connects Dooku to Naboo. Red lightsabers are the trademark of the Sith, so they’re not used. The bounty hunters will be facing Jedi, so logically the fake sabers should be green or blue - and yet they’re orange, the color closest to red without being red. It fits with Dooku’s special brand of dishonesty - he always tells bits of the real story but twists them just enough to absolve himself of any fault and to justify his choices. 

(”We can destroy the Sith” -> could maybe destroy Sidious with Obi-Wan, but fails to mention he’s a Sith Lord himself; “the Viceroy came to me for help, that’s why I’m attacking the Republic” -> political idealism is a small part of it, but fails to mention he’s Sidious’ underling and is playing the Viceroy like a fiddle; “Qui-Gon would have joined me” -> maybe, still fails to mention he’s working for the man who ordered Qui-Gon’s death; “I told you everything you needed to know” -> debatable, never said that Palps was Sidious; “Sifo-Dyas understood, that’s why he helped me” -> partly true, doesn’t admit to killing Sifo-Dyas right after getting his help)

So we have a twisted version of Naboo, droid-free (as droids are now irrevocably associated with Dooku, even if that wasn’t the case in TPM) and with sabers that aren’t quite red. Keep in mind that Dooku had already fallen by TPM. (We know this because he killed Sifo-Dyas and created the Clone Army - part of Sidious’ plan - when Valorum was still Chancellor, as per the episode The Lost One.) That means Dooku was (in)directly complicit in Qui-Gon’s death. And the Box doesn’t (=refuses to?) acknowledge that. 

(Also omitted in the Box are the Gungans and Tatooine. It makes sense, because Dooku probably wouldn’t have the full details regarding those parts of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s missio as they weren’t as public, and would see them as irrelevant if he did. He utterly despises Anakin, and Gungans are the type of people he always dismisses out of hand). 

Anyway, that’s my two cents about the Box. To quote Lucas...

“It’s like poetry. It rhymes.”

Thanks to @lethebantroubadour @impossiblybluebox​ @nonbinarywithaknife @ytoz​ and @kaitie85386​ for voting for this one. Next up is a compilation of the Jedi being casually tactile with each other (because they’re a warm and affectionate culture, dammit).

Also thanks to @laciefuyu​ for giving me gifs I ended up not using ^^; you rock anyway!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I might be back on my bullshit thinking about Louis [as if I ever stopped] and episode 2 again. Like... there are a lot of things that could’ve been handled better when it comes to ep2, but can we just appreciate his apology to Clementine during the archery scene? 

[note: this turned into a bit of a rant, and for that, I apologize]

It still baffles me that he gets dismissed as a shitbird by portions of the fandom to this day for being upset with Clem and AJ when he just found out his best friend gave away the twins, murdered Brody and tried to pin it on Clementine to cover his tracks... only to then be murdered by AJ after he already gave up, shot him in the back of the head right in front of everyone and left Louis heartbroken and traumatized. 

Like I understand that some of y’all think Clementine and AJ should never be held accountable for anything they do and they’re always right, even when they’re in the wrong because you’re the player projecting yourself onto them and everyone who is mean to you is a stupid head unless they’re mean in the right way.

Or you’re one of those violentine stans who feels like the only way to validate your ship is to create this narrative that Louis is a traitor and Clementine would never love him after he voted for them to leave as if the only way you know how to make Violet look good is to make Louis bad by comparison instead of like... y’know, being one of the decent stans who explain and gush about the positives of the ship itself and why they love it rather obsessing over the other ship. 

Either way, you’re really gonna look at that situation of Louis reacting to his best friend’s death after what just went down and be like “calm down, Louis, you’re being a jerk :/” like.... I’m sorry? 

Aren’t you the same people who complained about Luke not giving a shit about Nick’s death back in s2? how he didn’t have a reaction? In fact, aren’t you also the same people who vigorously defended Kenny for his reaction to Sarita’s death after he lashed out at Clementine? Remember? When he yelled at her and called her a stupid fucking kid who thinks she can just get anyone killed and it’s okay because she said sorry? but it’s fine because Kenny’s reacting in a realistic way that makes sense for his character and he later apologizes for it? 

but now here you are, getting a realistic reaction out of Louis that makes sense with his character and all of a sudden, you don’t like it? You want him to just be like “Oh no, Marlon.... anyway.” Really?

Louis is hurt, he’s pissed and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s so shaken by what the hell just happened, Marlon’s dead body is bleeding out on the ground, Ruby’s talking about getting fucking medicine as if that’s gonna do anything, Violet waving her cleaver around at them even though literally none of them were looking at AJ they were all looking at Clementine, Violet you are not helping anyone in this situation, you’re only making it worse and adding to the aggression... but no, Louis shouldn’t be a fucking mess right now. He should just shrug his shoulders and be like “Welp, this is fine.” 

Then there’s the damn funeral. Look, Clementine and AJ shouldn’t have been there. I know they had to be for story purposes, but it’s such a bad idea that it makes Violet, the one who wanted them there, look like an ass who has no regard for anyone other than herself, Clementine and AJ, and those who agree with her... which is only Tenn and I guess everyone else sucks and their feelings are invalid because no one else wanted them there since it’s not a good idea to have Marlon’s murderer attend his funeral and if you believe that isn’t going to piss people off or make them uncomfortable, then either you don’t care or you don’t know how to read a room. 

And by the way, Louis wasn’t the one who suggested voting them out. He wasn’t even there when MITCH said they should take a vote and everyone agreed to it. So why is it that Louis gets all this blame for how the vote turned out? Oh, Louis is such a traitor because he’s the reason they got kicked out.... except no? 

First of all, if you’re so mad at Louis then how come you’re not mad at Ruby? She voted them out, too. So did Omar. They contributed to kicking them out. How come no one else talks about how much they hate them after they said having the vote was a fair idea and then voted them out? Oh, and Willy, too. Willy voted them out. The only other person who gets heat for the vote is Mitch, and he was the one who came up with the idea in the first place... but no one else, huh? 

Also, how come only Violet gets praise for wanting Clementine and AJ to stay? Never see anyone talk about how amazing Aasim is after he was the third vote for them. He has legit reasons for wanting them around, too, but he didn’t want them at the funeral either so what, does that cancel out his vote for you? Where is the Aasim love? 

Then we got the dorms where Louis and Violet come to escort them away, and once again, I have to mention that both of them are wrong in this situation. They’re on the extreme opposites where Violet thinks they should stay because they didn’t do anything wrong, and Louis thinks they should leave because AJ’s dangerous. Both of these view points make sense with their characters.

However, I guess some conveniently ignore how conflicted Louis is about the whole thing and how he’s feeling about it because it doesn’t fit with the narrative they’re trying to push about his character. 

Again, he’s dealing with a lot of shit right now only to be constantly invalidated by Violet, who keeps telling him what a shithead he is for hurting about this, how he’s just burying his head in the sand again and all this other shit, and he eventually snaps at her and says AJ’s dangerous, which hurts AJ and it’s all over Louis’ face that he realizes he snapped and he feels bad about it. 

But Louis never got aggressive with them, he never laid a hand on them, and he was there to escort them out in the woods. And that argument of “he sent them out there to die therefore Clementine and AJ should hate him, Clem shouldn’t want any friendly/romantic relationship with him because he put AJ at risk and got him shot” is.... I dunno, ugh? It’s ugh. You act like Louis did this to intentionally get them hurt when that’s not true. 

Clementine and AJ have survived on their own for years, so it makes sense that Louis would try to justify this to himself like “they’ll make it out there, they’ll survive because they’ve done this before... this is for the best for everyone” and no, him telling them that this is probably like going home for them isn’t okay, but it makes sense for his character because he doesn’t actually know how bad it is out there. 

None of them know, they’ve all lived in walls their whole lives. It’s naïve of him, yes, but it makes sense and he didn’t do this with shitty intentions of wanting them to get hurt. He didn’t know that Lilly and Abel would be out there, he didn’t know AJ would get shot, he didn’t know any of it. He didn’t think that if they voted them out, this would happen. He was struggling with his feelings about them and saying goodbye to someone he was starting to feel a connection with. 

And he let them back in. Hell, he carried AJ into the school himself when they showed up wounded and you still wanna call him an asshole and a traitor? He could’ve said nope, get the hell out. We kicked you out, you’re not welcome here. 

He didn’t do that, he ran to them to see if they’re okay, he brought AJ to Ruby and stayed with him the entire time Clem was in the office with Violet.... AND he apologized to AJ, quietly begging for him to be okay... and when he’s faced with Clementine after what happened, he doesn’t know what to say to her. He can’t even look at her because he feels so ashamed of himself and feels all the blame for this. 

This is a moment that ties back to backstory. Louis’ emotions overpowered him, he made a decision and now AJ is shot and bleeding on the couch.... when he came to the school, they [the staff, I assume] said these kids were bad people, they told Louis that he was bad after what he did to his parents and he internalized that, and this whole this just reaffirms that idea “I am bad, I hurt people, this is my fault.” He blames himself for everything even though there’s no way he could’ve known. You can feel Louis’ genuine concern for AJ and how he’s doing, but at the same time, he’s trying to distance himself from Clementine… and well, sorta failing since he brings her clothes and they have the conversation in the dorms. 

Then the archery scene.... y’know, the scene I was gonna make a simple little post about that somehow turned into this. 

Once again we have Louis and Violet arguing because that’s what they do now, and Violet continues to tell him to get over himself without listening to anything he says, and he goes to practice archery so that y’know... when the raiders come he can use a weapon to help defend them since he’s not very good with it and needs practice.

Clem goes to check on him, and Louis apologizes for voting them out, explains that when AJ shot Marlon, he blamed Clementine when that wasn’t the right thing to do. He had a lot going on emotionally on top of what was happening around him, but after having two weeks to work through things alone, even though he’ll never be happy Marlon died, he can understand why AJ thought it was the right thing to do... and if he could take everything back, he would. He knew that the moment they came back, and he still does. 

I just.... how often does Clementine ever get an actual apology from anyone who has hurt her? A real apology from someone who means it and then doesn’t just turn around and repeat the same hurtful actions? Like... it baffles me that people will look at this genuine apology and tell him to fuck off, but will accept and continue to adore someone like Kenny who will apologize for hurting Clem, only to never try to be better and ends up hurting her even more next time. 

Or they’ll accept and justify Violet’s last minute apology for punching Clementine in the face on the boat and putting everyone [including AJ, rememeber?] at risk of either dying or being made into brainwashed soldiers by the delta. 

They both have reasons for their behaviors and you’ll work your ass off to justify them, and I’m not saying your points are wrong or invalid, but you seriously won’t even try to extend that same thing to Louis? Why? 

Well, jokes on you because I too will work my ass of to talk about Louis and what he’s going through and that’s how posts like this get made. I know not everyone is going to feel that connection to him that I have, and you’re allowed to not like him as a character, but realize that I’m also allowed to give my perspective on his character and why I disagree with points posed by those who don’t like him. 

The archery scene is one of my favorites. It’s Louis and Clementine proving that they’re able to open up to one another and say they’re sorry, to forgive the other without being petty or holding it over the other to throw back at them the next time they argue. It proves that Louis wants to put in the effort to repair their relationship and atone for the mistakes he made, to step up and not be “bad” anymore. 

I mean, Louis says it best himself. Everyone heard the jokes and the piano, after that, they stop listening... a lot of people just boil him down to a funny man who never takes anything seriously and the only thing he could ever bring to Clementine’s life is a good laugh, but those who stuck with him and put an effort into building his and Clementine’s relationship know better than that. They know how much this apology in ep2 means even with the downer that the timeline of events rushes everything a bit. 

The fact that Louis doesn’t have this big ego that prevents him from apologizes, that he can forgive AJ for what he did and still build a strong relationship with both him and Clementine, that if you earn his trust he will follow you to hell and back, that he isn’t afraid to call Clementine out on her bullshit and doesn’t have a come apart when she does the same to him, that with her and AJ by his side he finally doesn’t feel alone anymore.... it’s all just so fucking good. 

I dunno, maybe you can understand why I get so ugh whenever I still see these same arguments about him being made with this double standard that doesn’t apply to other characters.

[shysneeze]

good enough (draco malfoy x fem!reader)

Good Enough

Draco Malfoy x fem!Slytherin!Reader 

*based loosley on the song ‘line without a hook’ by ricky montgomery*  

Request: can I ask for Draco x reader where the reader is sassy, but also kind Slytherin (like one of the kind Slytherin)?? And Draco has a huge crush on her? Super fluffy? ~ @lennylangdraws 

Warnings: low self-esteem, angst, smidge of house stereotyping, i don’t know the meaning of fluff im so sorry 

Authors note: you asked for fluff and I have no excuses for how this turned out except this song has been stuck in my head for weeks now. I hope you like it anyway despite the angst... i tried to make it fluffy make up at the end?

Also, I’m not saying this is a prequel to vulnerable love, but it kinda fits... pretty sure it makes vulnerable love hurt more though.)

.

Draco wasn’t sure it was possible to want back what he’s never had.

He never knew being stuck in the awkward phase of being an ‘almost couple’ is something he could miss, that he’d ever long to feel the heat that would creep up his cheeks when their eyes met, to feel the nauseating butterflies flap in his stomach when she smiled at him or the jolt of nervous energy that would rip through him whenever their fingers accidentally grazed each other’s under tables or in corridors.

Yet now that those little things are beyond his grasp, he’s desperate for them again, desperate for her. It might be easier to miss her if she were gone, rather than just sitting at the other end of the Slytherin table, or across the room during classes, it would be easier not to see her, the constant reminder of what he’s allowed him self to ruin.

They weren’t supposed to get along, every conflicting personality trait dooming them to a life as enemies. Everyone knows her, the ‘nice’ Slytherin. It’s a title given to her by her classmates, the too-cocky Gryffindors who can’t see past Slytherin’s bad reputation as bullies and snobs, a bad-reputation fuelled by Draco Malfoy himself.

No one could have expected them to end up the way they did, dates in Hogsmeade or hushed conversations by the common room fire in the early hours of the morning and afternoons spent by the lake. No one could have expected them to get along so well.

Draco knows that everyone has expected this though, for them to fall apart before they’ve even had the chance to begin. It’s what they’ve expected of him all along after all, to break her heart.

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t got the right to be looking for her like this, seeking her out desperately to get her back, once again deluded into believing he ever had her in the first place. He’s the one who called it off in a moment of certainty that it was the right thing to do, a selfless act. And so it’s wrong for him to be here right now, back in their secret spot.

She’s exactly where he assumed she would be, curled beneath the tree she was always affectionately calling theirs. His entire body tenses painfully at the sight of her, face hidden in her palms and body shaking, not from the cold, but from the trembling of barely silenced sobs.

He wonders if it’s his racing heart that she can hear that alerts her to his presence and has her looking up from her hands, teary eyes meeting his in surprise. Then, she pulls her brows into a well-justified scowl and a lump forms in Draco’s throat that he can’t seem to swallow.

“What are you doing here?”

An incredibly valid question for which Draco can only provide selfish answers. It seems silly to tell her that he’s hear to win her back, and futile given her growing anger. Yet he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t, miserable without her.

“I miss you.” He gulps honestly. “Truthfully, I’ve been a mess without you.”

“Merlin, Draco.” She gasps out a laugh of disbelief. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you started ignoring me. Frankly, that isn’t really my issue.”

“I know.” He sighs apologetically. “I know, I didn’t mean-“

“Just get it over with, Draco.” She rolls her eyes. “Say your piece and leave me alone.”

He nods, taking hesitant steps forward towards her, the frost coated grass crunching under foot. She avoids his eyes as he takes a seat beside her, staring determinedly at her lap and making a conscious attempt to hide the quickly accumulating tears.

“Aren’t you cold?”

She lets out a loud exasperated sigh and refuses him an answer. He agrees with the sentiment of it, regretted the stupidity of it the minute it left his lips. Still, he leans forward to pull the Slytherin scarf from his neck and twists himself to allow him to wrap it loosely around hers, fussing with it until he’s reassured that she’ll be warmer for it.

“You looked cold.”

“Tis’ the season.” She mumbles sarcastically.

Her sarcasm is another thing he’s missed from her, and it draws a momentary smile to his face. Then, the moment is over, and his eyes have fixed on the tear stains painting her cheeks, proof of his own fatal mistake.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

She scoffs.

“Two weeks overdue.”

“I know.” He agrees sheepishly. “I know, (Y/N).”

“Then why are you only here now?” She questions. “Why did you do it in the first place? You can’t just act like you have feelings for someone then disappear and ignore them for weeks!”

Her voice wobbles and cracks at the end, much to her own dismay, and each breath she takes is jagged in the way one’s always is when trying to conceal tears. He watches her press the balls of her palm to her eyes in frustration, letting out a small whimper that has every inch of him aching with remorse.

Part of him, a self-preserving part, tells him to lie. It’s a side of himself he’s grown to hate recently, the side that pushed him into this mess in the first place, and so he knows better than to bargain with it again. So, with a deep breath, he chooses to tell the truth, he chooses to be vulnerable.

“I’m not good enough.”

Although exhaled in a whisper the revelation is startlingly loud. Perhaps its due to the serene quiet always felt on crisp cold days like today, where the sun hangs low in the sky and the lake lies unimaginably still, or perhaps it’s the raw honestly in the statement that makes it seem so alarmingly bold.

She blinks at him, lips parting in surprise and brows furrowing in confusion or concern, Draco isn’t sure. He can hear his pulse in his ears, a slight trembling in his hands that he knows has nothing to do with the chilly breeze. He’s done something profound, terrifying even, and opened that vulnerably part of himself to someone, with no control over what happens to it next.

“What?” She manages.

“Everyone knows it, (Y/N).” He explains nervously. “I’m a terrible match for you.” 

“Who the hell is everyone” She frowns. “Since when did they matter?”

There is a certain protective edge to her voice that he doesn’t deserve, but it replays itself in his head over and over, clinging to it for hope. It takes him a moment to let it go again, to push it down and answer.

“They’re right.” He sighs. “You’re too good a person for me, I’m too Slytherin.”

The concern instantly leaves her eyes, she sits forward with an urgent look of disbelief and another of her signature scoffs. She’s giving him an inspective look, trying to figure out if he’s serious, or if he’s suddenly picked up a new, strange sense of humour.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He isn’t quite sure what to say and his silence fuels another disbelieving shake of her head.

“I am a Slytherin, Draco.” She exclaims. “No matter what those big-headed Gryffindors are always saying, I was sorted into Slytherin and I’m proud of it- you’re supposed to be proud too, not agreeing with those stupid stereotypes.”

“It’s different.” He exhales in frustration. “I am those stupid stereotypes!”

Draco Malfoy has never been considered modest.

Self-confidence isn’t a trait earned in the Malfoy family clan, but rather inherited between generations, a birth right bestowed upon them the minute they are old enough to understand. It’s a confidence Draco has always been comfortably protected by, unwaveringly sure of his own self-importance gifted to him by his ancestors

Yet something about the infamously kind (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has him constantly falling apart at the seams with the need to be good enough for her. He’s never met anyone like her, no one so capable of making him question the unwarranted self-importance he was raised on as a Malfoy.

Even now, wrapped unceremoniously in his scarf, late falling orange leaves lying in her hair and her cheeks stained with tears, he’s never felt so undeserving of a person in his life. She’s a lady, and he’s just a boy, he’s heartbreakingly inadequate.

“I just want to be someone you can be proud to call yours.”

With his eyes solemnly fixed on his lap, anywhere other than her reaction, he jumps slightly at her cold fingertips on his hand, prying them from the tightly curled fists he has no recollection of clenching and slipping her fingers into his.

“Draco, look at me.” She pleads softly. “Please.”

He does so slowly with her encouraging squeeze of his hand, she’s smiling at him, sympathetic, but unpatronizing.

“I am proud.” She states softly, but confidently. “I don’t want some perfect golden boy, I want you, Draco.”

Three words he never knew he needed from her, ‘I want you’, and they fill a space in his chest that was gaping for reassurance. She’s amazed him again as she always does, she has a talent for making him speechless than no one else has ever mastered.

“You’re so harsh on yourself you haven’t even realised how much you’ve grown, Draco.” She informs. “You’re not the bully you used to be, you’re not the carbon copy of your father anymore, and I’m sorry that no one has allowed you to move on from your past to see your present.”

She smiles sheepishly at his dumfounded expression and gives him the moment he needs to collect his thoughts and process it all. Then, slowly, he’s shaking his head in surprise, letting out a soft sigh.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” She jokes. “I think I straightened that misconception out already.”

“No but- you’re just so…”

The heat burning his cheeks is worse than ever before, he feels almost overwhelmed by it all, her compliments, her smile, that genuine look in her eyes that convinces him she’s unwaveringly sure of every word she’s said.

“Thank you.” He blurts finally. “Especially after I- well I ruined it all.”

“Yeah, I won’t lie, you really fucked up.” She admits. “But you’ve made an honest recovery…”

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” He exhales gratefully. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I was going to tell you to piss off after the ‘are you cold’ bit to be honest.” She chuckles. “Stayed because you gave me your scarf- which I’m stealing by the way.”

“Take it.” He urges, a smile finding his lips for what he’s sure is the first time in two weeks, since his misguided decision to end their almost-relationship. “Take whatever you want from me, it’s yours.”

She lets out a shaky breath and gulps. She purposely drops her gaze momentarily to his lips before retuning them to his eyes again, a gesture that has his eyes widening and the tips of his ears turning scarlet. Slipping her fingers from between his, she tentatively cups one of his cheeks, fingertips grazing the red colour blossoming on his pale skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I-“ He chokes. “Yes.”

She smiles nervously, reassuring him that he’s not the only one flustered. Then, curling her free hand around the lapel of his jacket, she pulls him closer with eyes shut. Their lips are cold when they meet, and slightly chapped by the cool air, but neither care. Draco places a hand on her waist, pulling her somehow closer as their lips begin to move hesitantly together. She lets out a soft content sigh, sending a breath of warm air into the kiss and causing him to positively melt inside. She’s done it again, completely incapacitated him with such a simple thing as a kiss.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He exhales.

She lets out a giddy laugh as she pulls back, forehead still pressed to his and eyes still shut.

“There are worst ways to go than my lips.”

He knows, he’s very quickly decided that’s the only way he ever wants to go.  She presses her lips to his again for a split second before pulling back completely, he aches for the feeling again, greedy for it now that he’s felt it once.

“Next time, talk to me.” She pleads. “If you ever feel like you’re not good enough, I’ll be there to convince you otherwise, but don’t just disappear.”

“I won’t.” He assures. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know that, Draco.” She smiles sadly. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me.”

“I do.”

The hard part, that initial step, is over. He’s leapt into the unknown, flung himself into the terrifying depths of vulnerability, and there is no going back, but he never wants to, he never wants to leave her again.

“Also if I ever hear you speaking shit about our house again I swear to-“

She’s cut off by his lips once again on hers, startled only for a minute before she’s grinning, grateful to see his confidence returning. She can feel his own grin on her lips and the vibrations of a light laugh before he’s pulling back again.

“Consider me warned.”

“Good.” She exhales. “Or I’ll be confiscating your tie next.”

. 

(Authors note: its not my favourite but if i rewrote it one my time i was flinging my laptop out my window... its not particularly proofread.)

[buckyownsmylife]

v e l o c i t y - chapter vii

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

John’s P.O.V.

I groaned as a new wave of warmth took over my body, prompting me to get rid of my shirt and undershirt. Fucking rut. It’d been years since it was this bad, but I guess the existence of a new mate had my body struggling to control itself.

Just the thought of her had me reaching out for the back of a chair in an effort to keep myself up. I was hardening inside the jeans I was wearing, and she wasn’t even near to justify this reaction. The boys had convinced her to join them for some drinks at the bar, and if I was feeling at least a little better, I’d be with them, making sure she wouldn’t just end up in the claws of some random Alpha… even if it was stupidly egoistic of me.

I knew she had every right to search for what I wasn’t willing to give her, but I still struggled to accept it on a biological level. My instincts were constantly calling out to her, wanting to bend her body over the nearest surface and just take…

… what I didn’t have any right to own. God, this was awful. I was being awful, and I knew it. But still, especially right now, with my alpha impulses threatening to take over me, all I wanted was her. More than desire, I needed her. And as that urgency became more pressing, I found myself reaching out for my nightstand, my rough hands easily finding the soft fabric I had hidden here for a time like this.

“This should help,” I thought to myself before I unzipped my jeans and took a seat on the only chair in the room, staring at my bed with her panties curled around my hand as I imagined her there. “Why do you have to be so goddamn intoxicating?” I groaned out loud, instinctively raising the fabric to my nose and breathing her in. I still could barely believe that I’d had my fingers inside of her, swirling in her wetness, making her drip between her thighs.

Just the thought of it made my mouth water.

I was so lost in the sensation of her still dampened fabric against my member, my eyes closed as I breathed through my mouth in an effort to imagine her here, I didn’t realize her scent was becoming stronger. I didn’t realize it until my door slammed open.

“Oh… Oh my God!” She whispered, eyes taking in the entire situation - my nude body, her underwear on my fist, as it was curled around my cock, the scent of my rut drenching the bedroom,  I was certain. 

“Come here,” I ordered, my voice hoarse and my eyes barely open as the smell of her own state took over me. “Strip.” She did so without any hesitation, walking into the room and closing the door behind her before getting out of her short shorts and top, her nipples hardening in the humid air of the room. “Not wearing any underwear,” I mocked, only to see her eyebrows raise high as she stared at the panties in my hand.

“Seems like a good opportunity to remind you that you never gave those back to me.” It made me chuckle, her still persisting innocence, but I shut her down quickly.

“And I never will. Now shut up and lay down on the bed.” I knew I was being harsh, but it was taking every single bit of my control not to snap and just take her. This was the best I could do, especially seeing her bare before my eyes for the first time.

She looked behind her to check on the bed before turning back to me as if confirming that was what I really wanted. I knew where she was coming from - beds for omegas were almost sacred, the place where they built their nest and that brought them the biggest sense of safety and comfort - but my need to have her there was growing each second she hesitated.

“Go,” I ordered, nodding once as I watched her take a seat on the soft mattress, body in front of mine. “Spread those legs for me.” Her eyes trailed down my body as she abided by my wishes, exposing her wet folds to my hungry gaze. God, she looked delicious. I wanted nothing more than to kneel before her and lap every single drop of her sweetness.

I could still remember the way she tasted. More delicious than anything I’d ever had the pleasure of trying. I knew I’d never forget it, but right at that moment, with her scent taking over my room, the thought of ever coming even close to forgetting her and her arousal was nothing short of ludicrous.

I squeezed my member right as it started throbbing in my fist from the lack of attention. She seemed hypnotized by it, and I licked my lips at the prospect of her being as fascinated by the thought of my knot as I was about her and her little cunt.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do to you,” I demanded, absolutely transfixed by the sight of her playing with herself on top of my bed.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It felt right, being there with John, baring my body and soul to him in such an intimate way. There was not an inch of me that felt embarrassed or intimidated by my nudity under his transfixed stare. If anything, it made me even more aroused.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” I admitted before I could even realize what had escaped my lips. John’s smirk didn’t leave me much room for self-doubt, though. It was clear this was exactly what he wanted, me in my most vulnerable state, revealing my deepest desires to him.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like that?” The sight of him licking his lips was incredibly erotic in all of its simplicity, and I threw my head back, exposing my neck as I fucked myself faster.

“Fuck yes. I want to choke on your cock. I want you to leave me a whiney, spitting mess.” A low rumble reverberated in the room, undoubtedly coming from his exposed chest as he looked ready to pounce on me.

“Oh, don’t doubt it for a second that I would. What else?” The roughness in his voice had me whining as more juices covered my fingers, and I had to bite my lip as I saw his thighs clench.

“Want you to fuck me,” I added, words coming harder and harder as I fucked myself in front of him. “Want you to stuff me with your cock until I can’t walk anymore. Want you to be the only thing I remember… The only thing…” My legs started to shake as I cried out, interrupting myself as I struggled with my orgasm.

“God, you’re such a fucking tease.” His voice pierced through the cloud of pleasure I was currently riding, still stuck between wanting to cum and wanting to prolong this feeling as much as possible. “Even on my bed, completely naked, with your little fingers inside that wet fucking pussy, you’re still nothing but a needy brat.”

The words had me moaning out loud, and I was sure I’d be thinking about why later. Right then though, there was no way in hell any rational thought could be held in my aroused state of mind. I was practically humping my own digits as he commanded, “Let go for me, c’mon. Cum all over those fingers.”

It was automatic. Just as soon as his words were out, I felt myself clenching, the room suddenly spinning from the force of my orgasm. I was sure it never came close to the one he could give me if he were to fuck me right then and there.

“Yeah, just like that… Now tell me, little brat… How would you like me to fuck you? Would you want me to be slow and passionate?” His words were mocking, but I was too out of it to notice. I’d stopped moving as I waited for my sensitivity to calm down, but he didn’t like that. “Keep fucking yourself.” He didn’t need to use his Alpha voice to have me instantly obeying him. “Now tell me.”

“I… I’d want you to be rough.” A growl escaped him from my admission, and it had me whimpering in return. God, I wanted nothing more than for him to have his way with me, turn me around, and take me on my hands and knees until I was begging him to stop.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” And that was how I realized I’d been voicing my deepest desires out loud. I was close to cumming again, but contrary to the time he touched me, tonight he seemed to want me to cum as many times as possible. “I’d have to use my fingers to stretch you open. There’s no way I’d be able to fit my knot without fucking you open before.”

Just his words were enough to have me reaching another orgasm, and I closed my eyes to relish it as another satisfied gasp escaped my lips. A groan pierced through my hazy mind, along with another order, “I know you can get louder. Fuck yourself faster, fucking scream for me.”

And just like that, he was able to coax yet another orgasm out of me. Or maybe it was the same one, I couldn’t tell anymore. I felt like I was drunk, just on the atmosphere of the room, the smell of sex, and the way my own juices ran down my thighs…

“Yes, that’s it… Soak my sheets, real nice…” His words had me clenching around my digits every single time. “Yes… such a good girl for me…” I watched him fist himself, his jerking motions faster and faster as he watched me come apart over and over again right before his eyes.

One thing was sure, he’d be smelling me for days. The way I drenched his bed would certainly have him surrounded by me for the remainder of his rut, and just the thought of him laying down on it had me going crazy. 

But nothing could compare to the sight before my eyes, the way he threw his head back and closed his own eyes as his fist got even quicker before stopping altogether, his body becoming covered in his own release. 

My mouth watered at the sight. I wanted to crawl to him and lick him all over, maybe even wrap my lips around the head of his dick and suck it until I made him moan my name out loud.

“I keep wondering what your lips taste like…” His voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I noticed his own gaze was stuck on the apex of my thighs. “Both pairs.” There was silence then, a heavy, sexually-tense silence that had my entire body buzzing with excitement.

Was this it? Would he finally take me and make me his?

“Get out of my bed.” His next words, the cold tone in which they were uttered made my head snap up to meet his gaze. Contrary to what it was just seconds before, it was empty and detached, like he wasn’t even seeing me anymore.

“What?” I asked, still paralyzed from the whirlwind of emotions.

“Out. Get out of my bed. Go to your room and lock the door. Now.” I waited a few more seconds to see if he would change his mind yet again, but as he avoided my eyes and stood up to go to his bathroom without as much as glancing at me, my decision was made.

I needed to get the hell out of there.

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 8: Hollywood

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Finally, some air to breathe that isn't from Liu Kang. Maybe a little peace before some angst? But only maybe.

A/N: Had some fun writing Cole Young. Angst everywhere though. Sorry I don't have much to say today. Bad day. Hope you are all doing great though. Sending good vibes all around. Smooches.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

When you’d got tired of the beach you’d gone to the hotel where Liu had told you that the others had been staying while they dealt with Johnny Cage, a B-Movie action star with an ego the size of a washed-up A-list star from twenty years ago.

You’d said goodnight and the next morning you showered and readied yourself for the day. This place was nicer than the motel you’d shared and you had some privacy.

Johnny Cage wasn’t easy to get a hold of, which had been a huge part of the problem. Apparently, they’d had to dance around agents and security and had gotten themselves thrown off of a movie set. Somehow, they had managed to convince him to meet with you the next morning and have an actual conversation about why you were there. You guessed that wasn’t going to go well after all you’d learned.

It also meant that you had some free time, a thing you had grown to hate over the years. Without Kung Lao you were left to your own devices and it almost never went well. Now you had a thousand more horrible things to think about.

You’d stopped Liu that morning after you’d decided you would play tourist. You and Kung Lao had always joked about going to Hollywood and you remembered a few of the places he’d said he’d wanted to see. With your sudden passion for taking photographs, you thought it would appropriate. But Liu was in a mood again and you weren’t about to ask him why.

You’d woken up feeling relatively okay that morning and weren’t about to change that.

If Liu needed to be alone to get out of his mood, then you would let him. Every time he’d been in a mood like that, you had wound up yelling at each other and you were not emotionally prepared to handle his frustration. You were both too volatile.

So, you went sight-seeing. The Hollywood sign had been far less remarkable than you’d expected but you took pictures anyway. The La Brea Tarpits had been nice but you wished you hadn’t been alone. You’d tried to think of how Kung Lao would have reacted but it only served to make you sad. You supposed that alone was your new state of being and you’d have to get used to it. There had been a time where alone was all you’d known, and you had been more than comfortable with it.

It would take a long time to get back to that if you ever managed to. You took to imagining that maybe you would show these pictures to Kung Lao someday. You knew that wasn’t possible, but he would have wanted to see them and hear all about your adventures. That was heartbreaking in and of itself, but it did give you a new purpose as you traveled throughout Hollywood. It wasn’t often that you got to play tourist in new places. you had always talked about going there together just to see the Chinese Theater and the Walk of Fame. He’d wanted to take a picture with Bruce Lee’s star.

Then you sat and people watched on Hollywood Boulevard, wondering what their lives must be like. Some were obvious tourists. You liked to think that their visiting the Walk of Fame was a fulfillment of a lifelong dream. Others were on their way to work or just living their lives, not bothering with the star-studded walkway as though it were nothing more than a gateway from where they were to where they were going. None of them were wrong but it was nice to focus on the lives of others rather than the mess that was yours.

You browsed through the photos that you’d taken that morning. You’d asked a stranger to take a picture of you next to Bruce Lee’s star and smiled at the photograph. Kung Lao would have loved that.

You’d both been fans of old martial arts films and no one was more iconic than Bruce Lee.

After dating for a few months, you and Kung Lao had taken to sneaking out to the closest towns and renting rooms in motels and inns just so you could watch those movies together. You’d continued that tradition throughout the entirety of your relationship up until the last six months. Things had gotten sticky and confusing then. You’d both been busy and had fought more than usual. You’d been thinking about suggesting a weekend away after you’d gotten back from your trip so that you could touch base and figure things out.

So much for that.

You should have suggested it earlier.

The past was the past, you reminded yourself.

You couldn’t let it get to you no matter how it felt like a dagger twisting in your chest each time you thought about what you should have done. Rubbing your sore and tired eyes, you put the phone into your bag and closed your eyes, listening to the monotony of humanity passing by.

In one of those hotels was where you and Kung Lao had your first time. You’d been watching Enter the Dragon, discussing the importance of the role, and your experiences first seeing the movie in your childhood. You still remembered how his lips felt- soft and sticky, sweet and fermented with the flavor of the plum wine you’d been sharing.

You’d ignored the movie and made out instead, like giddy teenagers. You’d been the one to push him further. Kung Lao had asked you if you were certain which had been sweet. It had broken the floodgates.

He had certainly tried before then- many times. He’d never been subtle about it and he’d never pushed you beyond your limit though he did try to push his luck. When you told him no, he always listened and had never once made you feel guilty about it. You had been grateful for his patience then. Holding your head in your hands you sighed.

Even your fondest memories of him were tainted with sadness. You wondered if there would ever only be fondness and no sorrow attached to thoughts of him. Realistically you knew that there would be but for now it felt improbable. The photos you’d taken that day brought you a little peace. It had been kind of cathartic to do something in Kung Lao’s honor rather than fixating on the only piece of him you had left while drenched in guilt for a thousand different reasons.

Sleeping with his best friend was at the very top of that list.

At least you hadn’t done it while you’d been dating. What a tiny, tiny sad silver lining that was on your sad, shitty story.

“Y/N? Is that you?” An unfamiliar voice called your name so you sat alert. That was upsetting. To be called out by a voice you had never heard in the middle of your contemplation. A tall, well-built, handsome man approached you. He had a kind smile and what you could only describe as 90s protagonist hair. “This must be weird. Sorry. I’m Cole Young.” He held his hand out to introduce himself and you shook it but were cautious. As if sensing that you didn’t trust him, he pulled down the collar of his shirt to show you the dragon marking on his chest. That was proof enough.

“Sorry, you startled me. I was lost in my own little world.” You offered for him to take the seat across from you at the table you’d been occupying at a little bistro. You’d bought food but had given it away. Your appetite hadn’t been the best the past few days. Thinking about Kung Lao or Liu Kang for extended periods did away with any hunger you had. “It’s nice to meet you finally. I will be honest and say I haven’t heard much about you. I don’t think many personal stories were swapped with the company I keep. I did hear, however, that you are a nice enough man.”

“That’s the best I can hope for. I didn’t hear much about you either. Raiden showed me what you looked like and I knew you and Liu were supposed to arrive soon.” He took the seat you offered and for a time you swapped pleasantries. He was nice, as advertised, but you hadn’t been expecting socialization so you felt awkward. “What brings you to this part of town, Y/N?” He asked when things fell silent. You’d expected him to say that it had been nice to meet you and go on his way. Instead, he insisted upon more small talk. He seemed bored.

“Doing some sightseeing. Taking some pictures for a friend.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to justify your motives but you’d been instantly defensive. Liu Kang had made you defensive about everything. Kung Lao would have called you out on it and you smiled at the memory. “What about you?”

“Sightseeing with the family. Allison and Emily are doing some window shopping. I spotted you and was tired of shopping so I figured I’d say hi.” He laughed. Presumably, Allison and Emily were his wife and child. He hadn’t clarified but you’d been told he had family. “Thanks for the escape.” That explained why he’d seemed bored.

“Anytime.” Silence again. You were terrible at conversation right now. You felt outside of yourself. You weren’t ready to talk casually about nothing. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You’re as lovely as everyone said you were. Well, Raiden didn’t use those words exactly but I’ve been around him long enough to understand what he meant.”

“He has a way about him, Raiden.” Cole chuckled, leaning back in his chair. The breeze felt nice and the silence less awkward. “Is the friend you’re taking pictures for Kung Lao?”

You stiffened up and were sure that your expression was suddenly unpleasant. It was too late to hide your gut reaction- tongue over your bottom teeth, lips turned in a frown, eyes closed in frustration. Not an attractive look and definitely not one that would disguise how off guard you’d been taken by the question and how inappropriately personal it was.

He’d known Kung Lao too. The scar on his arm was from his hat. You’d been told in detail much of Kung Lao’s last few days thanks to Raiden.

“Too personal??” Cole winced apologetically.

“It’s okay.”

“He seemed like the kind of guy who would enjoy this.”

“He was. And yes, I was taking pictures for him. He would have wanted to see it.” He would have wanted to be there with you was what you meant, but you were sure Cole got that. He seemed like a smart enough guy. He nodded and silence fell again.

“I’m sorry.” He was avoiding your eyes this time.

“For what?”

“I feel responsible. He was protecting me. He was safe. Gone. He came back to protect me.” Cole had proven to you quickly that he was, in fact, a good man.

“No, Cole.” You scooted to the end of your seat. “Kung Lao made a choice to protect you. He wouldn’t want you to take the blame for what happened.”

“Liu Kang said the same thing.”

“I’m not surprised.” Exhaustion washed over you like a cold wave, tingling down your spine. Grief weighed heavily on your shoulders.

“How are you holding up? With all of this?” Cole gestured to nothing in particular. “It’s not easy to get back to normal after this. Even for me.”

“You seem like a nice guy, Cole, but I don’t know you and this is a very intimate conversation you’ve started.” You began to let him down gently. You weren’t comfortable talking about this with people you’d known for years so you definitely weren’t comfortable talking to a complete stranger about it.

“I get it. I just… wanted to check in.”

“I’m okay.” You assured him and when he didn’t seem to believe you, you smiled and continued. “I’ll be honest and vague. I’ll tell you what I tell everyone who asks me about it. It doesn’t get easier. I carry it better some days than others. People keep telling me that time brings distance but I’m not there yet. Despite that, I’m okay. Really.”

“I’m sorry.” He really did seem like a nice guy. “It’s hard to lose someone you care about.”

“It is.” You weren’t going to talk about it with him. You didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. You were tired of thinking about it. You thought about it constantly. “Can you fill me in on what’s going on with this actor?” A change of subject had to help.

“Oh, yeah.” Cole rolled his eyes and you laughed in surprise. “The only reason he’s even agreed to meet with us is because Sonya pinned one of his bodyguards when he tried to have us removed. He had a very brief conversation with us that was mostly inappropriate comments at Sonya’s expense. When I tried to explain to him what the dragon mark meant he said something about being a weird pitch for a movie. Still, he’s agreed to meet with us again so that’s something.” Cole sighed as though this had been a long and frustrating process. “I’m hoping that Liu can be more convincing. His arcana is impressive and might get him listening.”

“He’s good at that.” You considered that he hadn’t been over the last week. “I can help if need be. I can make a pretty dramatic first impression if I need to.”

“No one told me about your arcana.” Cole rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. This was a much more comfortable and relaxed conversation. Far less awkward, thankfully. “I asked Liu this morning when I ran into him but he was touchy when I brought it up.”

“Not surprised by that.”

“Yeah?” Cole’s curiosity was funny. You were reminded of a few of your monk friends back at Raiden’s Temple. When you’d first arrived there had been nothing but gossip. He was just making polite conversation, but it was still a little funny.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“What’s your arcana, then?”

“It’s easier to show you. Everyone gets the wrong impression when I tell them. And to show you? I need privacy.” You gestured down the block. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. Allison’s going to call me when they’re done.” Cole stood. You left a tip with the server and then walked with Cole down the street and into an alleyway between shops. You were still at risk of being seen but you would be careful. No one would believe what they saw anyway. “So?”

“Now I just need you to promise not to panic.” You laughed and backed a little bit away from him so you were facing toward the street and could keep an eye out for passersby.

“Why would I panic?”

You decided it was better to just show him than explain. It rarely made sense without showing it off anyway. You stepped back and studied Cole which elicited an eyebrow raise from him. Then you gestured with your index finger from the ground up. You created an ink copy of Cole. He stepped back from it in surprise so you made the clone mimic his movements.

These clones were easy enough to create but, in the beginning, it had been mostly on accident of either Kung Lao or Liu Kang since that was who you had spent the most time with. One of your first fights with Kung Lao had been about how your arcana always became Liu Kang when you panicked. There hadn’t ever been any resolution to it. The mimicked ‘drawings’ as you referred to them behaved in ways that you were familiar with but not knowing Cole, you studied him and copied his current motions.

The drawings drained you faster than creating inanimate objects would which was why you didn’t do it very often. But this trick was easy enough to give Cole an idea of what you could do. He looked to you for affirmation and you nodded. He then readied his stance for a fight so you mimicked him. Then he laughed and jumped from foot to foot and pointed at the ink version of him doing the same. “You can just do that? With anyone?”

“Among other things. This is the trick that freaks people out the most though.”

“So, your arcana is what? Cloning?

“Ink.” You corrected and with a snap of your fingers the drawing was gone and instead you used your forefinger to write his name in Chinese in the air. “It was Liu’s ideas to use it for mimicry. Kung Lao suggested weapons. Both have been pretty useful but keeping up the… for lack of a better word, puppets, is much more work. Liu would make things out of flame and I would mimic it with my ink until one day I accidentally mimicked him.”

“Accidentally?”

“Yeah. I’d gotten so familiar with him during training that instead of the fire, the ink became Liu Kang. After that we focused on drawing more specific things.” You drew a jian with a simple slap of your palms together. The weapons and shadows had once dripped with ink. You’d been using them for years now and so they didn’t look like ink anymore. They looked more like black crystal. “I’m pretty good at it these days.”

“I’d say.” Cole laughed and then pulled his phone from his pocket as if he’d gotten a message. “Well, if Liu can’t convince this guy to take us seriously then you can have him kick his own ass.”

“Guess I’m going to have to watch one of his movies so I can be familiar with him.” Maybe you’d do that tonight at the hotel.

“Hey, Ally and Emily want to grab a bite to eat. Do you want to join us? You’re welcome to.” Cole gestured back out to the street and you followed him. Your instinct was to say no. To go back to your hotel room and isolate yourself but that was your sadness talking. This was an opportunity. A choice. You could go back to your room and wallow in your misery or you could join Cole and his family and get to know them a bit better.

Distance yourself a little from the misery.

“I’d like that.” You decided and Cole smiled brightly.

“Good!” You followed Cole down the street to meet up with his wife and daughter. Every bit of your brain was objecting to the fact that you’d agreed but you knew it was the right thing to do. Kung Lao would have never let you wallow the way that you were. He would have dragged you out of bed and either tried to fix what was bothering you or distract you. There was nothing Kung Lao or anyone could do to fix this but if you at least tried to get out of your head then you might just help yourself.

Next Chapter >>

[c-is-for-circinate]

I'd love to hear more of your thoughts about why P5R didn't quite land for you. I had the same reaction to it, but I've never quite been able to properly articulate why the last section fell so flat.

God okay so I've tried several times to answer this, and it seems like the answer is 'I still have way too many feelings, personally, to say this in anything less than thirty pages and fifteen hours of work', because Persona 5 the original is a game I loved a lot and care about a great deal. And most of the reasons I disliked Royal feel, in my head, like a list of ways it broke some of the things I liked best about P5--which means explaining them feels like I need to explain everything I loved about the original game, which is a book in itself, complete with referents to P3, P4, Jungian psychology, the Joseph Campbell mytharc, and fuck all even knows what. And that is too much.

But today I realized that I could instead describe it from an angle of, Persona 5 Strikers succeeds really well at doing the thing I think Royal was trying to do but failed at. And that I think I can talk about in a reasonable amount of wordspace, hopefully, behind this cut because I have at least one friend who hasn't played Royal yet.

Note for reblogs/comments: I HAVE NOT FINISHED STRIKERS YET. I got through the jail that pretended to be the final jail and have not yet gone into the obviously inevitable 'ohshit wait, you mean there's something more than simple human machinations behind all of this?' dungeon. (I got stuck on a really frustrating side quest, put the game down, and then dived into Hades to avoid throwing the Switch across the room for a while--and anyone around this blog lately knows how THAT'S been going.) Please no spoilers past Okinawa!

So, one of the many, many things I really appreciated about Persona 5 was its straightforward and unashamed attitude towards abusers and their acts of violence. Because, while yes P5 is a story about the use of power and control to make others suffer, it fundamentally isn't about those abusers themselves. It's about their victims, those that survive their crimes. And this shows up repeatedly over the course of the game.

We do not give a shit why Kamoshida wanted to beat and rape his students. We really don't. Kamoshida does not deserve our attention one moment longer than it takes to make him stop. Because, ultimately, that's the goal of P5, start to end. We don't know for sure if what we're doing is fair, if it's justice, if it's questionable. What we know is that people are being hurt, badly, actively, right now this second. What we know is that victims are suffering. What we know is that we, personally, us-the-protag and us the Phantom Thieves at large, are in danger. And in those circumstances, we don't care about the abuser's side any more. We don't. We don't have the space or time or capacity to care, because that is not the point.

The point is to help the weak. To save the people who need saving, right here and now. To give others the courage to stand up on their own behalf. We're not even out to change society, not really--that's a byproduct. We are reactions. We are triage. We are important.

There's something so empowering and validating about that as a theme, y'know? In a media landscape so full of "sympathetic villains", the idea that, you know, maybe sometimes you don't have to break yourself to show compassion that might possibly heal the bad guy--that sometimes you can just make the bad guy stop hurting people--feels both refreshing and satisfying. I really appreciate it as a message! I liked it a lot!

And yes, there's nuance to that theme, and the game is not without compassion. We save Futaba, because 'make the bad guy stop hurting people', in that case, means 'make this person stop hurting herself'. We give Sae a path forwards, help her fix her own heart. Yet it's worth pointing out that in both of those cases, while we were very glad to do those things, to save those people, we also went into both of those palaces for extremely practical reasons to begin with. We needed Futaba's help. We needed Sae's help. The fact that we chose to talk Sae into a change of heart rather than simply stealing her treasure, while ultimately a very good thing for her, was absolutely a practical choice predicated on the need for her palace to still exist to save our life. And yes, we wanted to save her, for Makoto's sake--yes, we wanted desperately to save Futaba. But Sae and Futaba let themselves be helped, too, and that doesn't change the overarching themes of the story itself.

Akechi (and to some extent Okumura) would not let himself be helped. Akechi's another interesting nuance to this theme, because of all our villains, we do learn the most about what drove him to the cruelties and crimes he's committed. He's at that intersection of victim and villain, and we want to help him, as a victim--but we also know that stopping him as a villain is more important. We'd like to save him from himself if we could, because we save people from their sources of trauma, it's what we do. We regret being unable to do so. But in the end, what matters to the story is not that Akechi refused to be saved--it's that Shido and Yaldabaoth need to be stopped, for the sakes of everyone else they're hurting now and may continue to hurt in the future.

The thing is, there's space and maybe even a need for a corollary discussion of those places where victim and villain intersect. It's an interesting, pertinent, and related topic. Strikers made an entire video game about it, a really good video game. It's centered in the idea that, yes, these people need to be stopped, and we will make stopping them our priority--but they're not going after us, and that gives us some space to sympathize. Even for Konoe, who specifically targets the Phantom Thieves--compare him to Shido, who actively destroyed the lives of both Joker and Futaba, who ordered Haru's father's death, who's the entire reason the team is still dealing with the trauma of Akechi's everything. Of course the game can be sympathetic to Konoe where it can't with Shido. There's enough distance to do that.

But right--Strikers is a separate game. It's a separate conversation. It's, "last time, we talked about that, so now let's take it one step further." And that's good writing. (It's something Persona has done before, too, also really well! Persona 3 is about terrible, occasionally-suicidal depression and grief. P4 is about how you can still be hurting and need some help and therapy even if things seem ok. Related ideas, but separate conversations that need to be separate in order to be respectful and do justice to either one. P5, as a follow-up to P4, is a conversation about how, ok, changing yourself is great and all, but sometimes the problem is other people so how do you deal with that? Again, still related! Still pertinent! Still alluded to in P4, with Adachi's whole thing--but it wasn't the time or place to base a quarter of the game around it.)

So one of Royal's biggest issues, to me, is that it tries to tack on this whole new angle for discussion onto a game that was originally about something else.

Adding Maruki's palace--adding it at the end, which by narrative laws suggests that it's the true point that everything else should be building up to--suddenly adds in about a hundred new dimensions at once. It wants us to engage with "what in this abuser/manipulator's life led him to act this way?" for basically the first time all game (we'll get to Akechi later). It wants us to engage with, "if the manipulator has a really good reason or good intentions, does that mean we should forgive them?" It requires us to reflect on, "what is the difference between control and cruelty?" It asks, "okay, but if people could be controlled into being happy, would that be okay?" (Which, based on the game so far, is actually a wild out-there hypothetical! Literally not a single thing we've seen in the game suggests that could ever happen. Even the people who think being controlled is safer and easier are miserable under it. Control that's able to lead to actual happiness is completely out of left field in the context of everything we've encountered all game so far.)

That's too much! We don't have time to unpack all that! We only have an eighth of the game left! Not to mention we are also being asked to bring back questions we put to bed much earlier in the game about the morality of our own actions, in a wholely unsatisfying way. Maruki attempts to justify his mass brainwashing because "it's the same as what you're doing", and we know it isn't, but the game didn't need Maruki calling it out in order for us to get that. We already faced that question when we started changing hearts, and again several times throughout the game, and again when we found our targets in Yaldabaoth's cells. The fact that we change hearts does not mean we think "changing hearts is fine and kind and should be done to everyone, actually." Changing hearts has been firmly established in this game as an act of violence, acceptable only because it prevents further systemic violence against innocents that we must prevent. The moral question has never once been about whether it's ok to change the hearts of the innocent, only about how far it's ethical to go against individuals who are actively hurting other people. Saying "you punched that guy to keep him from shooting a child, so punching people is good and I will save the world by punching everyone!" is confusing! and weird! and not actually at all helpful to the question of, how much violence is it acceptable to use to protect others! So presenting the question that way just falls really flat.

(And right, I love Strikers, because Strikers has time to unpack all that. Strikers can give us a main bad guy who wants to control the whole world for everybody's own good, because Strikers has earned that thematic climax. It has given us sympathetic bad guys who started out wanting to control the world to protect themselves and ended up going too far. It's given us Mariko Hyodo, who wanted to control the world to protect other people and went too far. It's given us a long-running thread about police, the desire to serve, and the abuse of power that can lead to. And since we are actively trying to care for the people whose hearts we're changing in Strikers, we can open the door to questions about using changes-of-heart and that level of control to make other people happy. We can even get a satisfying conclusion out of that discussion, because we have space to characterize the difference--Konoe thinks that changing peoples' hearts means confining them, but the Phantom Thieves think it means setting them free. We have seen enough sympathetic villains that we as an audience have had the space to figure out how we feel about that, and to understand the game's perspective of "stop them AND save them, if we can possibly do both." And that message STILL rests firmly on Persona 5's message of "it is Good to do what you have to do to stop an abuser so long as you don't catch innocent people in your crossfire.")

It's worth noting that the general problem of 'asking way too many new questions and then not answering them' also applies to how Royal treats its characters, too. P5 did have unanswered questions left at the end! The biggest one, and we all knew this, was Akechi, and what actually happened to him, and how we should feel about him, and how he felt about us. That was ripe for exploring in our bonus semester, and to Royal's credit they did in fact try to bring it up, but by god did they fuck up doing it.

Akechi's probable death in the boiler room was absolutely the biggest dangling mystery of the game. It was an off-screen apparent death of a key antagonist, so all of the narrative rules we know suggested that he might still be alive and would probably come back if the story went on for long enough. So when Royal brings him back on Christmas Eve, hey, great! Question answered. Except that the situation is immediately too good to be true, and immediately leads to another mystery, which leads to a flat suspicion that something must be wrong. We spend several hours of gameplay getting sly hints that, oooh, maybe he's not really alive after all, before it's finally confirmed by Maruki: yup, he really died, if we end the illusion we'll kill him too. Okay, at least we know now. Akechi is alive right now and he's going to be dead if we do this, and that doesn't make a ton of sense because every other undead person disappeared when the person who wished for them realized they were fake but at this point we'll take it. So we take down Maruki, and okay, Akechi really is dead! Probably! We're fairly sure! Aside from our lingering doubts!

And then we catch a glimpse of maybe-probably-could be him through the train window, and I just want to throw something, because come on.

Look, it is just a fact of storytelling: the more times you make an audience ask 'wait, is this character dead or aren't they?', the less they will care, until three or four reversals later you will be hard pressed to find anybody who gives a shit. Royal does this like four different times, and every iteration comes with even less certainty than the last. By the end, we somehow know even less than we did when we started! Did Akechi survive the boiler room to begin with and Maruki just didn't know? Or was Maruki lying to try and manipulate us further? Or was he actually dead and then his strength of will when Maruki's reality dissolved was enough to let him survive after all? Is that even actually him out the train window?

Where is he going! What is he doing! How did any of this happen! What is going on! We all had these questions about Akechi at the end of the original P5, and the kicker is that Royal pretends like it's going to answer them only to go LOL JK NO. It's frustrating and it's dissatisfying and it annoys me.

The one Akechi question that Royal doesn't even bother to ask, though, let alone leave ambiguous, is how does the protagonist feel about him? The entire emotional weight of the third semester rests on the protagonist caring about Akechi, Sumire, and Maruki. Maruki's the person we're supposed to sympathize with even as we try to stop him. Sumire's the person we're trying to save from herself. And Akechi is our bait--is, we are told, the one thing our protagonist wished for enough to actualize it in this world himself. Akechi's the final lure to accept Maruki's deal. Akechi's survival is meant to be tempting.

For firm Akechi fans, this probably worked out fine--the game wanted to insist that the protagonist cared for Akechi the same way the player did. For those of us who're a little more ambivalent, though (or for the many and valid people who hated him), this is a super sour note. Look, one of the Persona series' strengths is the way it lets players choose to put their time and emotional investment into an array of different characters, so the main story still has weight even if there's a couple you don't care about that much. It has always done this. The one exception, from P3 all the way through P4 to here and now, is Nanako Dojima, and by god she earned that distinction. I have never met a person who played Persona 4 who didn't love Nanako. Nanako is a neglected six-year-old child who is brave and strong enough to take care of herself and all of the housework but who still tries not to cry when her dad abandons her again and lights up like the sun when we spare her even the tiniest bit of time and attention. It is impossible not to care for Nanako. Goro Akechi is not Nanako.

And yet third semester Royal doesn't make sense if your protagonist doesn't feel linked to Akechi. The one question, out of all the brand new questions Royal throws out there, that it decides to answer all by itself--and it's how you as a player and your protagonist ought to feel about an extremely complex and controversial character. What the fuck, Royal. What the fuck.

In conclusion, I'll leave you with this. I played the original Persona 5 in March and April of 2017, as an American, a few months after the 2016 election and into the term of our then president. It felt painfully timely. A quick calendar google early on indicated that the game's 20XX was almost certainly 2016, and the closer our plot got to the in-game November leadup to an election destined to be dominated by a foul and charming man full of corruption and buoyed up by his own cult of personality, the more I wanted to laugh/cry. It felt timely. It felt important. It felt right.

I went through Royal (in LP form on youtube, not having a platform to play it on) in summer of 2020, with a hook full of face masks by my front door and protests about racial tension and local policing that occasionally turned into not-quite-riots close enough to hear at night if I opened the windows of my apartment. The parts of the game that I remembered felt as prescient and meaningful as ever, if not even more so. The new parts felt baffling. Every single evil in the game felt utterly, painfully real, from the opening moments of police brutality to the idea of a country led by a guy who probably would use his secret illegitimate teenage son as a magical assassin if the opportunity presented itself and he thought he could get away with it. Yaldabaoth as the cumulative despair of an entire population who just wanted somebody to take over and make things be okay--yes, yes, god, in summer of 2020? With streets full of people refusing to wear masks and streets full of people desperate for change? Of course. Of course that holy grail of safety should be enticing. Of course it should be terrifying.

And then Maruki. Maruki, who was just so far outside the scope of anything I could relate to the rest of the game or my own life. Because every single other villain in the rest of Persona is real. From the petty pandering principal to the human-trafficking mob boss. The corrupt politicians and the manmade god of cultural desire for stability. And this game was trying to tell me that the very biggest threat of all of them, the thing that was worse than the collective force of all society agreeing to let this happen because succumbing was easier than fighting back--that the very biggest threat of all was that the world could be taken over by some random nobody's misguided attempts to help?

No. Fuck no. I don't buy it. Because god, yes, I have seen the pain and damage done on a tiny and personal and very real level by the tight-fisted control of someone trying to help, it never looked like this. Not some ascended god of a bad therapist. All the threats to the world, and that's the one I'm supposed to take seriously? This one man is more of a threat than the fundamental human willingness to be controlled?

Sorry, but no. Not for me. Not in this game. Not in this real-life cyberpunk dystopian apocalypse.

[rpbetter]

"writes dubcon therefore is a freak who should be bullied off the site" ho boy i'm fed up with people acting as if consenting adults writing [insert "problematic" fictional thing here] is the worst thing in the world. seen way too many people justifying harrassment of REAL PEOPLE by "they write thing that triggers me". ok, and? mute the tags or don't follow! "it triggers someone" is not a valid reason to ban a topic. piano music triggers me yet i don't go around demanding everyone stop playing the piano.

Anon, not only is everything you said absolutely valid, but also, thank you for demonstrating that triggers are incredibly varied and as such, we cannot predict everyone's triggers. Making the entire "point" of banning for possible triggers invalidated as hell.

We should be aware of things like the most commonly occurring phobias (things like arachnophobia and coulrophobia that are, additionally, easily triggered by imagery) and tag them. We should be aware of very obvious triggers, that are, again, easily set off by imagery, like blood, eye trauma, and depictions of domestic violence. And we should always read and be aware of our writing partners' stated triggers so that we can tag them appropriately or even decide that it isn't going to work because our muse, canon story, or interests are going to present an unfair situation in this partnership.

But triggers can be highly unusual, as well as activated differently (even at different times) for everyone. I'm not triggered by seeing hotel rooms in pictures or movies, I'm not triggered by writing scenes that take place in them, but I'm triggered to some degree by being in one. It's outrageous oversimplification to act like all triggers are the same, they all display the same way, they're all going to trigger someone on the same basis, everyone's going to react the same to their triggers. There is absolutely no way to prevent 100% of possible triggers for 100% of the population, 100% of the time.

Add to this that way too many people trivialize triggers by throwing around that term to justify the banning of something that makes them uncomfortable or that they take a personal, moral issue with. "I don't like this" and "I'm grossed out by this" and "this makes me feel uncomfortable" is not being triggered. It's just a good way to weaponize the better nature of other people so that they comply.

Most people legitimately do not want to trigger someone, especially if they have triggers and know what it's like. Just like no one wants to be accused of cruelty towards trauma survivors in general, or be designated a pedo, rape apologist, or fascist. They're all things to weaponize in order to isolate, shame, and control. And that's really fucking gross. These are serious, real things that have no business being trivialized to police content, win internet arguments, or garner popularity.

The potential for someone to be triggered isn't a reason to ban anything; we have tags, we have blacklist.

While I'll be the first to say that tumblr's blacklisting can be as shitty as everything else on the site, the primary issue with running into content you don't want to see comes down to two factors: no one tagging/tagging correctly and actively exposing yourself to that content. Going through people's properly done tags and blog warnings about their content in order to "call it out" is actively exposing yourself by choice. You actual walnuts.

Calling people on on their "problematic" content is bringing those topics to the attention of other people. That's the whole point of this gross behavior: look at the freak pedo abuse apologist I found, they write dubcon!! Don't look if you'll be triggered uwu

Buddy, pal, my guy...you just put that on blast for anyone to run across. Maybe their blacklist catches those words in your callout post, maybe it doesn't. Maybe they think you're a safe space because you promote yourself that way, so they click it anyway. Point is, you just willfully and irresponsibly exposed people because it's more important to you to demonize a rando on tumblr RPing something you take issue with. Good job!

Furthermore, dubcon itself is such a hilarious issue to take. Do they realize that isn't always sexual, or? Not? I'm thinking not. Funnily enough, one of the oldest posts I've been working on for this blog is about exactly this topic, the myriad situations that are dubious consent. That doesn't have to be sexual, and neither does it have to be intentionally predatory. You can come up with some amazing character development with a lot of muses in the RPC with dubcon because almost everyone's muse has some manner of trauma that might negate their perception of their own consent...and what do you do then? Is it removing more agency from that muse to shut them down, or is that always the better option? Can you separate your opinion as the mun from your muse's natural reactions? How does this impact the muses involved not just that moment but the next year?

Point is, dubcon isn't always some rapey situation. Even if it was, even if someone is writing it that way, it's literally not your business or your problem.

There's one mutual-in-law on my RP blog that really bothers me. They write things that I find fetishizing, incredibly rapey, all around shit that bothers me. I don't want to see it, some of the things they write makes my damn skin crawl. This person doesn't know it, we certainly don't speak and I don't think they like me very much, but I've repeatedly defended their right, specifically their right as a person with some long-term callouts on them, to write what they want to. I have them blocked and their urls blacklisted so I never have to see my mutual reblogging their threads. It's not a problem because I don't click "show anyway." Why would I, if it genuinely bothers me so much?

That's how you handle things that bother you; you use the tools available to not interact even by accident. Not by launching a morality crusade.

If any of us want to write what we enjoy, we have to allow others that same freedom. It's always a matter of time before this policing grows to include more and more topics, it's been used multiple times to get well-meaning people who don't fall into the general demographics to police queer, BIPOC, and other marginalized groups off of platforms. We've been fortunate in most of the RPC that it implodes on itself before it gets all the way there, but even so, you can see it.

It starts with things that produce a visceral reaction in the great majority of people, positions this with a repeatedly condemned idea presented as solid fact that fiction is reality, and you've got the start of something awful. Today it's something you don't like, maybe even something that triggers you, so you either support it or you quietly allow it to happen. Who needs to write that "freak shit" anyway, can't they just be gross privately? Six months from now, it's something "problematic" that you enjoy like violence that's canon-typical for your muse, or your OTP because they're gay and that's fetishizing, they're cis male and female but one or both is bi and that's bad representation, or they canonically have a rocky relationship so that's romanticizing toxic/abusive relationships.

If you can't care for any other reason, you really should care about how it is going to impact you sooner or later. In an environment like this, you can stay in your space, put warnings on your blog, and tag properly and you're still going to get a callout if the wrong person finds your blog. Just takes a single person with more time, energy, and skewed ideas of justice than they have reading comprehension or common sense.

Again, I cannot encourage people enough to give warnings, but it's difficult to ignore why those warnings are slipping; they're a way to be found, designated as a Problem, and called out. Look, it's another reason why callouts actually make things worse, not better! People put that shit in their rules so you can avoid content, they're being responsible and interested in promoting a safe RPC. Let them do it, damn.

You can't tag everything, and if you've never experienced what a giant series of repetitive tags is like on a screenreader you probably should before you tag seven paragraphs of possible issues. You can tag for visuals, you can tag for the obvious things, and you can tag for what's in the rules you agreed to when you followed/followed back. But you should also warn people that you write "dark topics" on the tin, and expand on that in your rules for specific things like graphic violence, toxic relationships, dubon, and addiction.

That's how responsible adults, not over-aged children, make better decisions about their mental health and general comfort. Not by appointing themselves the watchdogs of the damn RPC, here to protect you whether you want to be or not, find that incredibly insulting or not when you're in one of their categories of people who must be protected, by forcibly banning Problematic Everything. Problematic, of course, being entirely in the eye of the content police.

It's fiction. No one and nothing real was harmed. It's great that you are so invested in the fictional world and people that make you happy, but take a fucking big step back into reality. The real people you're harming with your bullshit had every right to peaceably exist. If what they're writing is triggering to you, stay. away. from. it.

Without any coincidence whatsoever, that's how you get from the base-point of Problematic Material to Problematic Mun. Yeah, it's just fiction, it's just RP, but I also took something out of context OOC or was upset by their tone on their own blog or couldn't exercise the minimal adult logic to remove myself from their presence OOC as well. So, now, you've got OOC behavior being added to the callout, if it wasn't already. Everyone is now ableist, transphobic, racist, and a misogynist because it lends that visceral reaction to the callout and ups the game from just being "y'all so gross you aged up a cartoon character to ship" to "this is REAL and it won't be tolerated! OP is actually a pedophile, they told a sexual joke in a discord server with a minor present and I have the receipts!"

What are the most storied callouts in the entire RPC? I'm absolutely certain the same names came to mind no matter what fandoms you're in, and one of them was "Matt." Another was probably "Ares/Snow". They're all successful and keep being brought up out of the closet anytime people are bored enough because their primary punch is the mun themselves being a predatory threat to the community. The mun is verified to be a bad person. Well, of course, that's got to be repeated, it worked. (Even if it did not, at all, work and only made it harder for people to avoid any of these muns.)

Are there people in the RPC who are legitimately a problem? Absolutely, yes. We're all supposed to be adults, however. Part of being an adult is having and acting upon one's agency. If someone is coercing you into things you are not comfortable with, shut it down. If you have difficulties being certain of those situations, run it by a trusted, honest friend or available, impartial source in the RPC for a second opinion. If you can't handle any manner of confrontation, there really are situations in which it's perfectly alright to block someone without any discussion. It's just the internet, you're in control of your space. Own it.

Minors are a whole other can of fucked up worms I'm not even getting into right now except to say that because a minor exists in a space they were told to stay out of does not mean we ban all topics inappropriate for their consumption.

tl;dr: banning shit doesn't work anyway, the whole idea is predicated upon some incredibly problematic takes IRL, and no, there's no justification for it outside of intense personal problems with one's own importance. That energy would be infinitely better spent volunteering one's time to help real people in crisis or after surviving one, or even oneself in developing some healthier approaches and thought patterns.

[akasgisrightsactivist]

Bloodied Lips

[Akaashi x fem!Reader] [Hurt/comfort] [Word count: 4.3k]

What do Akaashi’s bloodied lips taste like after he fought for your honor?

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, injuries / wounds, strangulation / asphyxia 

A/n: This happens somewhere between his first and second year of high school. I think everyone loses their cool at some point, and I wanted to explore that situation for Akaashi. This ended up being more autobiographical than I expected.

You found him hiding in the darkness of the club’s locker room.

As the opening door let in the light from outside, it revealed the bloodied lip, a red stain trailing down his chin. That detail was enough to make your heart rush inside your chest.

You’d heard rumors and you had run to find Akaashi. But it was the confirmation of such murmurs that made your head dizzy, unable to believe that your beloved friend had gotten in such a rough fight.

He was calm and collected. He never lost his cool, never lost sight of his goals —or so you thought, because the image of the guy in front of you sitting on the floor, knees pressed against his chest, arms hugging his legs, eyes lost in the void… that image told you a story you wished you’d never witnessed.

Akaashi averted his eyes as soon as you came into the room. After all, it was a story he also wished he’d never written with his own bloody hands.

Yet, you refused to run away. There was no way you’d abandon a friend in need, and you wanted to hear the story from his own lips —surely a different tale from the ones you’d heard around the corners of the school.

It was hard to find the proper words. What could you tell a friend who had just beaten the shit out of a guy? It had been a surprise to everyone —his volleyball teammates, classmates, teachers— how Akaashi, apparently inferior in physical strength to the guy from the soccer club, had destroyed him. One of your classmates had told you about the fire in Akaashi’s eyes as he had punched the soccer player in the face repeatedly —a frenzied expression that had terrified the witnesses.

Maybe you should be afraid too, but the Akaashi in front of you wasn’t that furious beast anymore —he was a meek and ashamed shadow of his self.

You eventually chose the diplomatic option:

“What happened, Akaashi?”

He buried his face into his knees, muffling his reply:

“You already know what happened.”

His voice was almost a sob, a plea for mercy. You entered the room, shutting the door, and you crossed the space in two long strides, finding the window under which he was sitting. You opened the blinds to let the natural light get inside, but his body remained hidden in the shadows, and you squatted by his side.

There was no angle from which you could see his face, but you could now spot the several bruises over his hands, arms, and even the neck, with bloody scratches here and there.

It had been a brutal fight.

“I want to hear it from you, Akaashi.”

You saw his head shake as a negative, his shoulders announcing a sob. Unconsciously, your hand found the space between his shoulder blades, and he winced —unworthy of your touch.

So you stood up, and crossed the room all the way back to the door. He held a sob, listening —expecting you to leave now.

But instead you opened the first-aid cabinet that hid behind the locker room door, and got out cotton, alcohol, and band aids.

As you made your way back to his side, you imagined the steps that had taken him all the way here. He had gotten in that fight until someone had called a teacher. He had then been taken to the vice principal for the corresponding scolding, followed by a punishment —knowing the gravity of the issue, you suspected that Akaashi had been suspended for a couple of weeks, completely unexpected from someone as polite and nice as him. Suspension included not participating in club activities, a big hit for the entire team and everyone’s reputation. And yet, Akaashi had hidden in this locker room… probably to avoid going back home, where his parents would be extremely displeased to learn about his behavior.

It was a huge mess he had gotten into, and you still hadn’t found out why.

You took his arm, poured alcohol on a piece of cotton, and warned him:

“This will sting.”

As you pressed the cotton against his first scratch located near the wrist, he hissed, raising his head and shooting a surprised look at you.

But he didn’t say anything, not after seeing your serious expression, your tightly pressed lips. He let you work on his wounds, no matter how uncomfortable it was for him, and he clenched his jaw to push through the pain —probably believing this to be another punishment for his actions.

The truth was that, in reviewing all the steps until he had hidden in that room, you knew that nobody had tended to his wounds. Surely someone had healed the other guy, but not Akaashi.

“So… Tell me what happened,” you insisted, emphasizing your point by pressing the alcohol-soaked cotton ball against the wound on his elbow.

He shut his eyes tightly, biting his already bruised lip to deal with the sting.

“Nakamura from the soccer club,” he muttered, as if the name itself explained everything.

“Aha. And?”

You knew Nakamura from the soccer club enough to suspect what had happened. He was a beefy guy with an inversely proportional muscle mass to brain cell ratio. You weren’t prone to classifying people by stereotypes, but this guy truly was the brainless athlete who gloated too much about his skills and insulted anyone he didn’t deem strong enough to compete against him.

You suspected he had insulted Akaashi, but your friend wasn’t the kind to fall for taunts.

It surprised you when he instead said:

“He said something very ugly about you, y/n-san.”

Your hand stopped mid-air, the cotton ball hovering a scarce inch away from his next wound.

“Did you get into this much trouble for me…? Akaashi, you didn’t have to, I don’t mind empty insults, I—”

“He called you a whore,” he added, a flame lighting up in his eyes again. “I couldn’t take it, I simply couldn’t.”

“Akaashi…”

“It wasn’t just an empty insult. It wasn’t just a word he said. He was attacking your honor and your dignity for no reason,” he explained, words rushing out of his mouth in a stream he couldn’t control. “He said you were a whore because you had become our manager just to be surrounded by guys, to get into our pants. I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t stand hearing another word, so I shut him up.”

He caught his breath as you remained silent.

Surely it was a hurtful insult, an unprompted one. You weren’t that kind of person, but you also knew how stupid Nakamura was, so paying attention to him was pointless.

Then again, it was time someone ended up punching him after offending everyone who had the bad luck to be around him. You just wished it hadn’t been Akaashi, of all people.

He could lose everything he had fought for —his reputation in front of the teachers, his good grades, his future as a college student, his spot in the volleyball club… all of it because of an insult to you.

The worst of all was the thought that Nakamura looked innocent to the eyes of the teachers, a kind of martyr.

“You’ve risked it all for me, Akaashi. You shouldn’t have…”

“I couldn’t help it.”

You pressed the cotton against a big scratch on his neck and he hissed.

“You are not like this.”

“Am I not?” He replied. “Maybe you don’t know me. Maybe—”

“Stop playing the edgy boy, it doesn’t suit you. We both know you aren’t like this, and you lost the game when you fell for his taunts. He wasn’t even targeting me when he said that, he was targeting you.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. That guy has always been jealous of your poise and your athleticism. He might have muscles, but he’s never had the skills or game intelligence that you have, Akaashi, and now you’re suspended from the volleyball club. Who’s won, huh? You never fall for those things.”

He let a deep breath out of his nose, an acknowledgment to his defeat. You circled his body to tackle the wounds on the other side.

“And he destroyed you, let me tell you,” you added, pointing at the bruises.

“He got worse.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in serious trouble.”

“It was worth it,” he replied, a childish pout on his lips.

You gave him a sad look.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Your reply made him bury his face in his knees one more time, and it made you wonder if maybe you had been too harsh at him. Yet it didn’t feel right to lie to a friend and tell him he’d done the right thing when it wasn’t the case. Nakamura had won the mental fight, he was the victim in the eyes of the world, and Akaashi could potentially lose everything he didn’t deserve to lose.

But he was probably aware of it. Facing the reality of how much he had risked in an inexcusable fit of anger, his only way to cope was to try to find a reason to justify it and make it worth it —a pure lie to himself.

You didn’t know how to comfort him, other than healing the wounds that nobody else had paid attention to. Arriving to his right hand —his weapon of choice— you inspected his purple knuckles, the prints of his vicious attacks.

“I appreciate that you fought for my honor, but I can’t stop thinking about how much you might lose as a consequence. You shouldn’t burn yourself to protect others,” you said, fingertips circling his knuckles and travelling up and down his exhausted fingers. “It isn’t fair.”

All you heard was a sigh as a reply.

“Let me check your neck.”

He reluctantly tilted his head enough to give you space to heal the wounds in his neck. There were red and purple marks that made you wonder if Nakamura had tried to strangle Akaashi, and a knot closed around your own throat.

“Do you hate me, y/n-san?” Akaashi asked in a timid whisper.

You surveyed the storm of emotions inside your mind, the conflicting feelings fighting each other, but it was hard to find anything that resembled hate.

After all, you found it impossible to hate someone like him, not even after such an unexpected but human reaction. Who wouldn’t get angry at such an unfair insult towards a friend? Had you been the one witnessing such a humiliation aimed at Akaashi, wouldn’t you have jumped for Nakamura’s throat?

“Of course not.”

And in the dim light, Akaashi tilted his face just enough for a tear in his eye to catch the light of the afternoon as it filtered through the window.

Your fingers found the space under his jaw, and you raised his chin towards you, examining his face. It was a party of bruises and scratches like the rest of his body, but what truly caught your attention was the broken lower lip, a red trail cascading down his chin.

The single tear dropped down his cheek and you caught it with your thumb.

“But I’d hate if something like this happened to you again.”

With your free hand, you pressed the cotton to the corner of his eyebrow.

“I hate to see you get hurt,” you added. “I don’t want you to lose everything you’ve fought so hard for.”

“I’d do it again for you.”

“No. It’s not worth it. It hurts to see you in this situation.”

You slid the cotton down the side of his face, all the way to his jaw.

Remembering the purple marks on his neck, knowing how brutal Nakamura could be, the image crossed your mind of Akaashi being strangled.

“I don’t want to see you hurt ever again,” you insisted, your thumb caressing his face.

“I can take it,” he argued.

You imagined Akaashi gasping for breath, failing to get air to his lungs. You imagined his life slowly slipping away from his body under Nakamura’s hands.

“If you got hurt again… if I were to lose you…”

You couldn’t find the words to describe the pain you’d feel. There was no other way to shake away the terrible images in your mind, or to describe the emotions inside your chest.

There was no other place in his face that wouldn’t hurt him, so you chose the bloodied corner of his lips to place a kiss, to land your feelings, to dissipate his pain.

You noticed the way his eyes widened as yours closed for a brief and eternal second before you softly pulled back.

In the following silence, his eyes looked into yours for answers.

It took a while to convince Akaashi to go home, and you only succeeded when you took his hand in yours and guided him out of the locker room, where his presence was banned, and promised to walk all the way to his house and speak to his parents.

You were afraid of the consequences he’d face at home, and you thought he’d already faced enough punishment. He regretted his actions, his body was full of wounds, and he got suspended two weeks from school. Aside from that, teachers had lost respect for him and the future of his grades was a big question mark floating in the air.

It was enough punishment for a mistake, you thought.

Upon arriving to his house, he stopped at the entrance, his legs paralyzed by the fear. Surely the teacher had already informed his parents, and he found no excuse around the incident. Telling the truth was the only possibility, and he dreaded the consequences.

After all, he had always been the quiet guy, the good student, the almost perfect kid. His parents weren’t used to this kind of disruption —they didn’t expect it at all from their only child. The destiny of his family relied on his shoulders, and he had betrayed the surname he had always carried with responsibility and effort. You knew all of this, and feared the consequences as much as he did.

You knocked on the door for him, aware of the terrified look in his eyes. Promising that the sooner he went through this, the sooner the pain would be gone, you stood in front of him at the doorstep, waiting for his parents to open the door.

When the wooden panel in front of you revealed the face of Akaashi’s mom, you stood firm, back straight, shoulders back, hands resting in front of your lap, a serene look in your face.

She was angry, but she politely greeted you, even if your presence disturbed her plans. Surely she had gone through the future conversation in her mind over and over, trying to organize the sermon she would throw at her son once he got home.

You were an unexpected event that disrupted the flow in their lives.

“Good evening, y/n,” she said, and her eyes flew to your friend standing behind you. “You’re very late, Keiji. There’s no excuse for you to get home this late after everything that has happened. We need to talk.”

Even if your presence only served for Akaashi’s mom to soften her angry words a bit, it was already worth the walk, but you couldn’t just stand still and let Akaashi suffer more.

He was in enough pain already.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, and I apologize for Keiji’s late arrival,” you explained. “It was my fault. I was talking to him, telling him that what he did was wrong, and tending to his wounds.”

Her angry eyes returned to you, and for a brief second you spotted a shadow of sadness in her expression before she forced herself to return to her stoic demeanor. After all, it was her job as a parent to not crumble in this situation.

“Keiji, get inside. Thank you for bringing him home, y/n.”

Akaashi walked past you, his fingers lightly brushing your wrist as he whispered “thank you, y/n-san” before he went inside and you lost sight of his shape.

In a desperate last attempt, you said to his mom:

“He made a mistake. It was a bad mistake, but he’s aware of it. He has faced the consequences. He was only defending me.”

Now that Akaashi wasn’t there, her face dropped all signs of anger, only leaving behind the pain of disappointment in her expression.

“I know, but some actions are inexcusable, y/n. Please go home, it’s late already.” She bowed at you, and you returned the gesture, bowing deeper. Before she closed the door, she whispered: “You won’t see him in a while.”

And as the door slammed closed, her words hit you deep in your gut.

In the end, there was nothing you could do to help him.

You didn’t see or communicate with Akaashi in two weeks. The despair of his absence made you take the decision of speaking to the teachers and the vice principal, not to revert Akaashi’s suspension but to put in a good word for him, explaining to them how much Akaashi regretted his actions. Some teachers were more understanding than others, and you hoped you could at least help them trust Akaashi again.

The volleyball club wasn’t the same without him, and you could feel the heavy atmosphere as a manager. The members of the team were displeased at Akaashi’s suspension, but after the first days you noticed that most of the guys were in favor of what Akaashi had done.

After all, Nakamura was a pretty unpopular character at the school, and Bokuto in particular had a hard time every time he saw the guy around the hallways.

Two weeks went by painfully slow, and then one morning Akaashi showed up at school again. He had changed, his demeanor even more stoic than usual, his eyes more serious. There was little trace of wounds on his body anymore, but you noticed a tiny scar crossing his lower lip.

Your first chance of talking to him was during lunch break. You sneaked into his classroom, finding him at his table minding his business. It was clear how careful he was in his actions now, afraid that any tiny slip-up would cause his downfall.

Finding a seat in the empty chair right in front of his desk, you shot him a smile.

“Hey, Akaashi. Nice to see you around again. How are you?”

Your stomach dropped when he didn’t return the smile. He continued eating his lunch as he said:

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay,” you replied, your happiness now gone.

“It’s hard to earn people’s forgiveness,” he explained, eyes focused on his lunch box.

“Are you angry at me?”

“Of course not.”

You sighed, resting your arms on the back of the chair, and pressing your chin against your hands.

It was hard to read Akaashi, a guy who wasn’t fond of letting his emotions seep through his face. But it was as if the punishment he had received from both the school and his family had hardened him even more.

What if he didn’t like you anymore? What if the feelings you had expressed two weeks ago in the locker room had no validity to him anymore?

“What did your family tell you?”

“They’re extremely disappointed. I know they don’t trust me anymore,” he replied with an apparent detachment that you found unusually painful to listen to.

“Keiji…”

You caught him off guard —chin raising, eyes abandoning the sigh of his food to land on your face. You had never called him by first name before.

“y/n.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He swallowed.

“Me too,” he whispered, almost as if it was forbidden to him to confess his feelings.

“The volleyball team has missed you too. They’re dying to play with you again.”

You leaned forwards, entering the space of his desk, trying to bring some semblance of normalcy and positivity back to his life. You couldn’t imagine what he had gone through in the last two weeks —he would never tell you about the words his family had scolded him with, or the phone talks he might have had with his disappointed teachers, or the empty and lonely nights thinking about how much he missed the school and his friends.

All you could do was to try to push those feelings into the past and help him move forwards.

He opened his mouth to reply when a voice disrupted your conversation. You turned your head to the source of the interruption, finding an arrogant Nakamura standing next to you.

“Well, look who’s back!”

Silence spread around the classroom, followed by the murmurs of classmates surrounding you to witness the scene.

Akaashi cast a glance at the unwelcomed visit, but before you could dread a second fight, your friend returned his attention to his food and to you.

“It was wonderful,” he told you. “I had to do homework, but nothing out of the ordinary. I skipped classes and slept until late. Then I had time to play videogames in the afternoon.”

You blinked at Akaashi. He spoke nonchalantly, picking a rice ball from his box and munching at it, talking with his mouth full. Your eyes widened as he kept explaining the wonders of his daily routine during suspension, and you couldn’t hide the shock at what was clearly a lie —yet Akaashi explained it with a spontaneity that almost sold it to you.

Nakamura tried to interrupt him, speaking louder and louder, only to get ignored consistently by Akaashi.

As if his enemy didn’t exist at all.

You were afraid that the soccer player would get so mad that he’d punch Akaashi, but surprisingly it didn’t happen. In a fit of anger, the guy kicked a desk nearby and eventually left the classroom.

A soft chuckle left Akaashi’s lips.

“He knows he can’t attack me, or he’d get suspended, and he has an important match coming.”

“You’ve changed, Keiji.”

“I have simply learned and evolved.”

He put the remaining of the rice ball into his mouth and licked his fingers. You sneakily removed a single grain from the corner of his lips.

“Did you really sleep until late and play videogames?”

“Of course not, but he doesn’t know that. So… the guys are dying to play with me again, you said?”

“Oh yes. And I am looking forward to seeing this evolved version of you play in an official match. They have a big storm coming.”

It was the first time you saw a genuine smile in Akaashi’s face after the suspension.

“I’m free on Sunday, by the way. I’m not grounded anymore, so how about we meet? My lips hurt so much lately and I need you to fix it.”

A rush of heat climbed up your chest and all the way to your face, which you buried into your hands.

Yes, Akaashi had changed. And you couldn’t believe how blunt he had become.

BONUS (end of first scene)

In the following silence, his eyes looked into yours for answers.

You had just kissed him —there was no room for doubt. Akaashi’s brain functioned at 3000 revolutions per minute, considering every possibility, discarding any that didn’t fit his hypothesis.

It was strange, the location you had chosen to land a kiss. The way your thumb caressed his chin would fit the romantic category better than the platonic one, yet every romantic movie he had ever seen had the couple kissing in the center of the lips.  Unlike the traditional kiss, you had found the corner of his mouth instead, but the angle of your lips against his, the surface of your mouth that had come in contact with his… it was undeniably a kiss in the lips, not a kiss in the cheek.

Could this mean what he thought it meant? Could this be a confession of sorts? A revelation of romantic feelings on your part?

As unexpected as it was, it didn’t shock him. He couldn’t say he didn’t see it coming. He had considered this possibility in the past, the chances of this happening only increasing as your friendship with him became more intimate.

Heck, when he had punched that Nakamura guy in the mouth, he hadn’t even felt like a friend protecting another friend’s honor. He had almost spat a “don’t you dare insult my girlfriend” at Nakamura, and he was thankful he hadn’t embarrassed himself in front of everyone during the heat of the fight, for you weren’t his girlfriend —as much as he wished you were.

But if getting in so much trouble had brought about this sweet moment to him, he wouldn’t pull away from it now.

He wasn’t projecting his wishes onto your actions, no. This was a kiss in the lips, there was no doubt about it. This wasn’t a byproduct of his imagination.

Thus, there was only one possible answer.

One second later, his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, and he kissed you back —a true kiss, as it should be, right on the center of your lips.

And then he felt it, the pang of pain crossing his lips, a groan escaping from his throat as he pulled back.

“Your lip is broken, you idiot,” you chuckled, examining the wound on his lower lip as he hissed in pain. “Or why do you think I kissed you on the corner of your mouth?”

You coiled your arm gently around his shoulders, bringing him closer against your body, and you buried your face into his cheek, placing another kiss at the end of his lips.

He still felt the sting, but he smiled.

The pain was worth it.

TAGLIST

@hqxreader​

[thechekhov]

Do you ever worry that someday you'll unknowingly post something that's unintentionally offensive and you didn't know it was offensive, so you apologize and take it down, but people won't take your apology and cancel you anyway even-though you repented. I worry about that, any advice? We all make mistakes, but so many people now a days don't accept apologies... : (

Hmmm... Do I worry about making an ‘offensive’ post? I suppose I do, sure, as much as anyone. I am aware that I’m not perfect, I have made mistakes in the past and I will make mistakes in the future. 

I try to be critical and judge the info I’m giving out and reblogging carefully, but we’re all human, and we’re all prone to mistakes. I don’t think there’s anything shameful about being wrong about something as long as you’re willing to learn. I really love learning - I’m a teacher. I think learning and making mistakes is one of the most important things there are. 

None of us popped out of the womb knowing everything, nor did we always know the correct terms for everything, or what was hurtful and what wasn’t. Many of us even grew up in an environment that actively taught us incorrect or skewed worldviews. I think the process of unlearning that should be praised, and I try to give people the benefit of the doubt - naivety in itself is not malicious. 

As for apologies and worrying that they won’t be enough...

Well, that’s a bit more tricky. It depends on what I’m prioritizing, right?

1) What am I more scared of - doing harm or being rejected?

Am I more scared of hurting another person with my words, possibly perpetuating something bad?

Or am I more scared that some of my followers will leave/hate me?

[Image Description: A flowchart depicting two ways a situation can go. In the first, topmost panel, a figure is showing a sign to a group of three other figures. The sign reads x > y. The group appears to be contemplating this. 

In the first way a scenario can go, a panel below depicts the figures getting mad at the sign-holder. They are ranting at them angrily and the sign-holder appears upset and anxious.

In the second way a scenario can go, another panel depicts the group having gone a little ways away from the sign-holder. They are now pursuing a new figure with the letter Y on their chest. The group begins to rant at the Y figure instead, following the beliefs the sign-holder had inadvertently taught them.]

We’re social creatures, and rejection for a mistake, for failing to read the room, for breaking some moral code, is pretty scary for us. We don’t like it when we don’t get along with people in our groups. We want to make up. We want to live in harmony.

Is that scary to think that I’ll post something on accident and cause negative feelings? Make people hate me? Well, I definitely don’t want it to happen. 

What I mean when I say ‘I don’t want it to happen’ is not ‘I don’t want people to hate me’. I mean ‘I don’t want to hurt people.’ I worry I’ll post something and end up causing undue harm with my words. 

To be honest, I can handle backlash - I am a whole ass adult human, I have a job, I have a life outside of the blog and, given enough time away from the keyboard I know I’ll barely be affected by a few mean messages sent my way. 

2) Action and Reaction

Do I think sending people death threats online as a way to ‘punish’ them back into ‘proper’ behavior is acceptable? No, absolutely not. 

But barring those extreme cases, if I post something harmful, something that perpetuates racism, or prejudice, or incorrect information and I get people commenting at me at an angry manner - I’m not the only person hurting in this situation. I may feel negatively about backlash but also, I may have legitimately done harm to others as well. I need to take both things into account.

Rejection is a reaction, not something people decide to do out of the blue. If you post something bad, people will call you out. And sometimes you’ll apologize and they’ll decide that you may be trusted... and sometimes they won’t. 

And both of those things are alright. People make up or people unfollow and move on. People decide on their own how to tailor their online experience. People decide on their own whether to forgive someone or whether they’re not gonna risk that again and just put some distance there. 

3) It’s not a personal. 

It’s not personal, no matter how much it feels like it should be, because... they don’t know you personally. It’s difficult to know whether an apology is sincere online. Most people you interact with don’t know what type of person you are, and how well you learn from your mistakes. And to you, yes, it may seem like unfair judgement, but most people are just doing their best to avoid being hurt. 

If you’re scared of being rejected for making a mistake - that’s normal and natural. You’re allowed to be scared. Making a statement, any sort of statement, always carries with it a risk of retaliation. 

But the important thing is to focus not on the reaction of the audience, but on the reaction of the people affected by your words.

You mentioned the fear of your apology being accepted. But I would have to disagree a little bit here. 

The function and goal of an apology is not to be accepted.

The function of an apology is to communicate that you understood in what way you harmed someone. 

If you are prioritizing the outcome of the apology more than the content of the apology itself... I’m afraid that’s going to skew your results.

Whether or not someone accepts your apology is none of your concern, trust me. It doesn’t really matter whether or not they do - because regardless of that fact, it won’t change anything, including whatever it is you did to make people angry/upset. 

The goal should probably be to try to understand better, learn more. Keep in mind: it doesn’t mean just blindly changing every viewpoint people get angry at you for - it means evaluating critically whether that criticism is justified, and, if it is, adjusting your behavior to do less harm.  

Sorry, went off on a little tangent there.

TL;DR: Learning is good. Making mistakes is a part of learning. 

But in the process of learning and making those mistakes, you may hurt other people, and they are also allowed to be angry at you for hurting them. Both of these things can and should coexist as true statements.

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #18

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Fabulous Judith belongs to the even more fabulous @judediangelo75​

Word Count: ~ 2.300

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Chapter 18: Ambiguity

As she rounded the corner of the hallway where they had held their team meeting, the rest of her team was already coming in her direction. Most avoided looking at her, except for Everett who gave her a smug grin and a wink that made her want to punch him in the face there and then.

Judith was walking behind him, Lizzie’s sentiments mirrored on her own features. Her golden eyes found Lizzie’s and worry crossed her face as she took in the pallid complexion of her friend.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice radiating warmth and comfort. Lizzie nodded curtly; her attention were fixed to the door of the classroom the others had just left; it still stood slightly ajar.

Guessing her thoughts, Judith inclined her head in the same direction. “The captain’s still back in the meeting room if you... want to sort things out, I suppose.” She offered Lizzie another encouraging smile and continued her way back towards their Common Room.

When Lizzie carefully opened the door to the classroom, Orion and McNully were still in front of the teacher’s desk, just where Lizzie had left them what felt like an eternity ago. They were deeply immersed in their discussion; Murphy was talking insistently to Orion while he animatedly gestured with his hands to drive whatever point he had home. Orion, on the other hand, had his head bowed and his face was brooding; he nodded at his friend’s words and only interjected him every now and again.

Lizzie closed the door behind her as quietly as she could; she breathed deeply one last time, trying to ignore her somersaulting stomach and then cleared her throat.

Both their heads perked up at the sudden sound and Lizzie’s eyes quickly dropped to the ground as they fell silent. She could feel the heat rising to her face as she buried her clammy hand in the pocket of her jacket, the other still resting on the door handle as if ready to run from the room at any moment.

She drew a shaky breath. “If this is a bad moment…“ she spoke up hopefully. Her attention was fixed solely on Murphy; she didn’t dare look Orion in the face.

But the blonde commentator shattered her last chance at an escape as he gathered up his playbooks from the desk and stacked them on his lap. “No, not at all; I was, in fact, just leaving.” With a short and sympathetic look at Orion he rolled out of the room. As he passed Lizzie, he gave her a warm, encouraging smile she couldn’t quite reciprocate in her current emotional state. The door falling shut behind him sounded unnaturally loud to her ears and made her jump; the silence it left them in was even more deafening.

Plucking up all of her courage, Lizzie stepped further into the room and raised her eyes to meet Orion’s.

He looked at her apprehensively, the palpable tension hanging between them mirrored in the way he carried himself; although his dark eyes were unwavering as they met her own, his shoulders were squared and his jaw locked.

He said nothing, waiting for her to begin the conversation; much like the habit Lizzie had adopted herself, his fingers were slowly twirling the round pendant of his necklace.

Lizzie walked towards him with shaky knees and sat on the edge of the desk. The way he regarded her was too intense for her to maintain the eye contact; she dropped her gaze to her feet, that couldn’t quite reach the floor and were dangling in the air.

She knew she couldn’t put this off any further, so she ignored her burning wish to just dart out of the door again and turned towards Orion with a sigh.

“Captain, we need to talk.”

He let go of his necklace and pressed his palms lightly together. It was apparent that he was equally as reluctant as she was to have this conversation. “I think we do, Chaser.”

“You need to let Skye play on Saturday.”

Baffled at her unexpected choice of topic, Orion didn’t respond. He tilted his head to one side and watched her curiously as he tried to comprehend her thoughts. Lizzie tried very hard to not let herself get distracted by the way his long, black hair fell into his face.

“That you try to fend for Skye time and time again speaks of your great loyalty towards your friend,” Orion replied eventually, thankful for the more innocuous topic. “But my answer is no. Skye has disrespected me and my decisions from the very beginning.”

He caught her eyes again and Lizzie almost flinched at the hurt they were showing at the realisation his faith in Skye may have been misplaced all along.  

“I have always let her express her doubts without reprimanding her, so as to allow her to unfold her full potential. But even the calmest of waters gets stirred if the storm is only strong enough.” She could hear the change in his voice, showing just how serious he was. “My patience with her has ended; she actively endangers the unity between all of us. If I want the energy of our team to remain undisturbed, I will have to stick to my decision.”

Lizzie hadn’t expected Orion to be so unwavering in his resolve. Apparently, Skye’s punishment hadn’t just been a reaction to what she had said, but rather an issue that had been bothering him for longer than Lizzie had imagined.

“What good is a united team when we lose the last chance we have to reach our common goal?” she asked in return.

Orion slowly shook his head. “I told you before, the ends don’t justify the means.” Her chest tightened at the allusion to their nightly talk in the Common Room after the Christmas break. ”There is more to Quidditch than winning.”

Now it was Lizzie’s turn to shake her head. She had stopped dangling her legs at Orion’s words and gripped the edge of the table. She had to make him understand.

“To you maybe, but not to our team; they burn to win the House Cup and frankly, so do I.” His airy appearance might have fooled others, but she knew him too well. ”And whatever you say, I know you do as well. Don’t take this away from us.”

She jumped off the table and started pacing up and down. “I know Skye overstepped her boundaries today, but please, please, have some more patience with her.”

Orion raised an eyebrow sceptically but didn’t interrupt her; Lizzie took that as a sign to go on.

“She gets a lot of pressure from her family and isn’t thinking straight, but I made some progress with her; she sees now that she shouldn’t have challenged you in front of everyone. I know, this is no excuse for her behaviour but I don’t think you kicked her off solely because she is an annoying little prat,” Lizzie took a deep breath, ready to jump where she didn’t want to take this, ”but because she got personal.”

Her eyes flickered towards him for a moment; his face was unreadable, his steady gaze following her movements as she stopped her pacing, gathered herself and turned towards him. “You are our captain; we respect your decisions and trust you to do what’s best for us, regardless of any personal involvements. The sake of the team should always come first.”

Orion considered her calmly. “I value your defending her with the uncompromising fire inherent to your spirit. Skye can consider herself lucky to call you her friend. But as noble as your intentions are, I must tell you that I disagree. This is for the sake of the team.”

He was wrong; why wouldn’t he see that they wouldn’t stand a chance against Slytherin without Skye beside them?

Lizzie took yet another step towards him. They were now close enough for her to see the stubborn resolution in his eyes.

“Orion, we need her,” she repeated emphatically, her own eyes pleading now. “Please, let her play.”

His features softened; he could see how important the matter was to her as he took in her words. “I won’t promise you anything; but I will take your words into consideration.”

Relieved, Lizzie let out the breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding. Only now she realised how close they were standing together. It would have taken only the smallest step on her part to give in to the nagging voice in the back of her head and to close the little distance left between them; to bury her face in his chest and drown all her worries inside his arms.

Shaken by her suddenly unruly thoughts, Lizzie quickly took a step back.

The atmosphere that had grown more relaxed while they had been treading on neutral ground started to charge itself again as neither of them made a move to speak; Orion and Lizzie were both very aware of the unsaid things hanging between them.

It was Orion who chose to break the silence first. With a sigh, he clasped his hands in front of him again.

“I know which thoughts trouble your mind, Chaser. Do you want to talk about them?”

Lizzie could feel his eyes on her; she was careful not to look into their unfathomable depths, or she would have been done for good. She watched how the round pendant of his necklace gently rose and fell with every breath he took, instead. The tips of his fingers rested against each other in front of his stomach as he waited for her answer.

The sensation of how the back of these hands had felt against her cheek flashed up in her mind, how rough the skin of his knuckles had been as her own fingers traced the up and down of them.

With a huge effort, she drove the memories away and shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Her hand had come up to her throat and was playing with her necklace again; she didn’t even notice until the corners of Orion’s mouth twitched into the smallest smile. She dropped it again.

“Is it true?” It was more a whisper than a question.

Orion took his time to pick his words. “I can’t give you an answer to this.” He sounded pensive, as if he had thought about this question before but still hadn’t reached a satisfying conclusion.

“You are a true friend to me and I have always admired you, as a player and even more so as a person. However, I’ve had the fortune to get to know you better than I did before, and I cannot deny that I feel like there might be an unexplored potential for a greater harmony between our spirits.”

Lizzie blinked in confusion as her mind took a moment to decipher the meaning of Orion’s words.

“That is not exactly a ‘yes’,” she replied tentatively.

Orion’s gaze trailed out of the window for a moment where the storm was slowly starting to wear off. The broad, crooked smile that always made Lizzie’s heart stutter was forming on his handsome features as he turned his attention back to her.

“It’s not a ‘no’,” he smiled directly at her.

The dipping feeling in her stomach, that Lizzie had tried to ignore since the moment she had stepped into the room, intensified tenfold, before making room for an overwhelmingly fluttery sensation spreading through her body. She opened her mouth for a reply but her mind had gone completely blank and she couldn’t think of a single word to say.

She leaned against the desk once more, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Her emotions jumped from giddy to shocked to elated to terrified.

Seeing her obvious preoccupation, Orion decided to leave her to her thoughts. As he stepped around her on his way to the door, he stopped and put his hand under her chin, raising her head slightly to make her look at him. He could see the emotions raging inside her beautiful eyes, darkening them to the colour of a stormy sea as they met his own, soft brown ones.

“Whatever thoughts are running through your mind, I want you to remember that first and foremost you are my friend,” he reminded her tenderly, “one of the truest and closest friends I’ve ever had. I would never risk losing you over anything, you hear me?”

Something flickered in his eyes as they dropped to her lips for a split second. He immediately let go off her and took a step back. Offering her one last, sincere smile, he went and left her to her thoughts.

Lizzie had no words for what she felt, no thoughts to even remotely describe the chaos he had plunged her into.

The instant Orion had touched her a surge of electricity had been running through her body and she could have lost herself in the endless abyss of his eyes. The urge to throw all caution overboard and just give in to her desire to wrap her arms around him had been close to overwhelming. It had been like when they had been dancing all over again; she could feel the ghost of his gentle touch still lingering on her skin.

Lizzie dropped down on the chair behind the desk and covered her face with her hands. His words were ringing in her ears as she felt the tears well up in her eyes. She shut them tight and took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm down her racing heart; it was beating against her ribcage so hard it hurt.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to think.

But she did know where she had to go to work it out.  

[inkandpen22]

Somewhere (4/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader 

Warning: None

Word Count: 1.6k

Part Summary: Y/N and Sirius have been together for a month now. He’s hesitant to show her his world, but Y/N is eager to see it all. 

Masterlist

A month later... 

I dance around the boutique, distracted by the thought of seeing Sirius after my shift. Soon, we’ll be together again and who knows what he has planned! He’s already shown me such amazing things! Yesterday, we apparated to Scotland on a side of a mountain for a sunset picnic. It was a beautiful picnic blanket too. Sirius used a magical basket that set itself up! He thought it was funny how fascinated I was by it. Some nights he’ll appear in my room when I’m in the bathroom getting ready for bed. He’ll stay until morning, then leave before Brady wakes up. It’s though keeping this from Brady and everyone. They believe I’m out with girls I graduated with when really I’m with Sirius. Maybe one day I can tell them the truth.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Lauren gives me a curious look while she hangs up new items on the racks.

“I’m excellent!” I gleam, humming a sweet tune.

“Does this have anything to do with Jay?” She insinuates.

“Why Jay?”

“He did have those flowers delivered here last week. He was over for dinner last night,” she lists.

“Brady invited him,” I remind her of that crucial detail.

“So your Sleeping Beauty dancing has nothing to do with him?”

“It could,” I lie as Sirius’s face crosses my mind.

She hums, sending me a knowing look. “Sure...”

I go about my business, finishing up some paperwork before I sign out for the day. There is T-20 minutes before I’m out that front door and down the block. Sirius is picking me up on his bike. He hasn’t told me what we’re doing today, whatever it is I’m looking forward to it.

Lauren places the remaining unused hangers on the counter in front of me. “Are you still meeting going shopping with friends from school?”

“Yes!” I blurt out, a tad too enthused. “I’m taking the bus to meet them right after work!”

“Okay,” she giggles at my reaction. “Be careful! Call if you need me or your brother to come to get you,”

I hum, eager for this shift to end. The sooner it ends, the sooner I can be with Sirius, and the sooner these daydreams will be satisfied.

_____________________________

Sirius has surprised me with a visit to Diagon Alley! He’s spoken so much about it and I’ve begged him to go nearly every time he brings it up. He’s taken me to a place called The Leaky Cauldron. It looks like any other pub on an ordinary road. However, Sirius tells me it acts as a gateway between the non-wizarding world and his world. I wasn’t surprised to see Sirius’s friends gathered around a table when we arrived. I’ve met them frequently over the last few weeks and have grown quite fond of Lily in particular. Remus and Peter are sweet as well. James and Marlene, however, are apprehensive of me and understandably so. Marlene isn’t nearly as bad as James though. He believes I don’t like Sirius for the right reasons and he holds a grudge against me because of my brother. Sirius pays no mind to James’s subtle comments so nor do I. I understand he’s just trying to look out for his friend.

As we sip on some butterbeer- I think it’s called- I continue pestering Lily with questions. I find myself up at night constantly conjuring up more and more! As soon as I learn an answer, a new question comes to mind.

I lean forward in my seat, eager to learn more. “Is it true guys can change your appearance?! Like into animals?!”

“See, you muggles believe everything you read about us,” James remarks to the rest of the table with a sly grin.

“Um but we actually can do that...” Remus points out at the other end.

I glance down the table, my jaw basically on it, “wait, what?!”

“Okay well, we’re special!” James justifies.

“Even you?” I ask Sirius, astonished.

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair and resting his arm across the back of mine. “Yes, even me.”

I turn to face him swiftly. “What are you?!”

“He’s a mutt,” Marlene snickers from beside Remus.

“A black dog!” Sirius corrects proudly.

“What about the lack of technology? Are you against modern science?” I rush out questions, consumed by my curiosity.

“No, we don’t live in the stone age!” James laughs.

“We just don’t have a use for it,” Lily rephrases more kindly, giving her husband the side-eyed with a swat to the arm.

“So misunderstood,” James grumbles to himself, referring to the wizarding world.

“Tell me more!” I direct my enthusiasm at James.

The boy glances between me and Lily, unsure of how to react. “You want to hear more from?”

I nod frantically. I’ll listen to anyone, but I know James will be the most honest.

“Oh,” he sits up in his seat. “Um okay. Well-”

“Nice thing only!” Sirius warns.

“Boring!” James argues, snickering.

“No,” I tell Sirius. “I want to know everything, good and bad.”

“If you say so,” James chuckles, resting his arms on the table. He hums, “where to start...” Then, a smirk forms across his lips as he meets my eye. “Firstly, muggles expect us to be these foreign, extraterrestrial, things that are no bloody good!”

The table erupts in protests from everyone, except Marlene who likely agrees with James.

“What happened to play nice,” Sirius groans, tossing his head back beside me.

James holds up his hands in surrender. “It’s not that I’m anti-muggle. I’m anti-immiscible,”

“Hey!” I bark at the boy.

“Not you lovely, Y/N,” he assures, taking my hand across the table with a slick grin to tease me. “You’re just perfect!”

I roll my eyes, slipping my hands-free from his grip. Sirius wraps his arm around my waist, bring me into his side protectively.

“The trouble is they’re too lazy!” James mimics a squeaky voice, which I imagine is to be a non-wizard woman.

“The trouble is they’re too advanced!” Marlene adds to the mix with a snarky smirk directed at me. “The trouble is they’re too different!”  

“The trouble is their men are too handsome and they’ll take all our women,” James adds, sending me a wink.

“They don’t want to be troubled with our issues,” Remus states simply, in a much more diplomatic way than Marlene and James.

“Oh yeah right, because muggles have never had diplomacy issues!” James sarcastically remarks, spinning his butterbeer glass around. “Civil wars? Never heard of them!”

“They say ‘we’ve got problems of our own!’” Marlene snickers bitterly.

“They want us to slapping ourselves on the wrist for being the special kids in the class!’” James demonstrates, tapping himself on the hands with a pout.

“On our knees pleading with your Prime Minister!” Marlene laughs, glancing at James beside her.

“Because no one wants to deal with us,” Remus adds, not feeding into the theatrics as much as the other two.

James clasps his hands together, jokingly pleading to me.“We need your help! What are we to do?!’“

“Dear Mr. Prime Minister, bibbidi bobbidi boo!“ Marlene teases.

“Do you really say that?” I whisper to Sirius.

“No,” Sirius laughs.

“Are you really interested in what we do?” James cuts the mocking abruptly. He peers at me with narrowed eyes and a mischievous smirk.

I trust James about as far as I can throw him. He’s not fond of non-magic people, though he claims I’m fine. I’m sure that’s sole because Sirius has given him trouble about playing nice.

“What would you like to know?” Remus asks specifically.

I shrug, releasing a breathless laugh. “Show me everything! Tell me how it all works!”

“Everything?” Peter repeats, sounding overwhelmed already. “Can we show her?” He asks around the table.

“I don’t see why not?” Sirius defends casually with a shrug.

“You say that every time you break a rule,” Lily teases with a snicker.

“I wanna learn everything!” I interject, switching my sight between each person around the table.

“A muggle who wants to know more about wizardry?” Marlene raises a brow.

“Do you work for your government or something?” James fires.

“Yes! I’m genuinely fascinated by it!” I assure them.

Sirius rubs his hand up and down my back comfortingly as I await James to make a decision.

“Well okay then, let’s do it,” he determines. “But let’s do it right!”

Sirius and the others take me through Diagon Alley. James leads the way like he’s a tour guide. I peer into all of the shop windows in amazement. I just knew their world would be miraculous! I had a feeling it was far bigger than any one of us could’ve imagined! It appears like any other shopping centers, except there’s so much charm to it.

"Are you happy?" Sirius leans down to whisper in my ear.

I wrap my free hand around his arm as we stroll and he interlocks our fingers.

"I'm over the moon! This... how is it possible?!" I don't know where to look, to my left or right. I'm like a child in a candy shop.

"It's like I'm seeing the world for the first time through you," Sirius admires, kissing my temple.

"You too are sickening," Marlene grumbles as she passes us to catch up with Lily.

"Ignore her," Sirius instructs, bitterly glaring at the girl.

"I am," I mutter. I don't plan on giving Marlene a second thought.

"That's my girl." He brings my hand to his lips for a peck.

There’s magic in every corner! Floating books, mythical creatures, unique foods, it’s a whole new world! It’s incredible that it exists hidden within my own and has now for centuries. How did it remain hidden for so long without everyone noticing? There’s so much to learn and see! It's utterly remarkable!

___________________________

Masterlist

[aromantic-misguide-to-romance]

Makeup Time Nightmare - short review of the Devilgrams

Devilgrams: Makeup Transformation!, Hanging Out at Home, Face Paint Charm

Due to reasons, MC gets face paint applied by Barbatos. That's it. That's the Devilgram.

From new things you can learn about him… you can hear him laugh, not only chuckle. But there's a price to pay - despite the kiss scene, there's no "chu" sound! But yes, there's a kiss, though quite clumsily written into the plot.

It's quite a nice situational story though, pleasant to read, though I have an impression it could be written more romantic, given the setting. It's not bad, but there isn't anything special to it either. There's one detail that might be new or interesting, but it's really small. But since Barbatos doesn't have much content…

Choices: choice and reaction mostly, aside from the ending only one option makes a difference and gives a very very small piece of information about him.

Music: three pieces were used. One characteristic to the Castle, a light-hearted one and a slow one. The light-hearted piece fits the situation but doesn't really go well with his room - it has a dark design after all. Definitely another, probably one of the calm pieces could be more fitting and would emphasise the relaxing and somewhat intimate aspect of the situation more.

Hanging Out at Home

Luke invites MC to hang out with him and MC does. That's it. That's the Devilgram.

It has a tiny bit of plot as it goes through him asking MC, MC arriving and their evening, so it's not as situational as Barbatos's, there's also Chekhov's hand cream. The story is mostly just MC's visit, nothing much happens. Nothing new interesting information about Luke, he's just a bit nervous because he's not used to inviting people. A slice of life mood, a nice read you forget soon after, but not something that'll give you any deeper insight into the character.

Now, to the moving CG. The Devilgram would be better without it. The first moving CG is out of place, the scene is as well out of context and it's just clumsily inserted into the story. The second picture and the second scene are a lot better and less out of context but Luke's expressions still don't match his words and voice very much. Both moving pictures have him rather embarrassed and maybe sad, so when he chuckles or exclaims, it really creates a lot of dissonance and might throw off.

Choices: choices unlock new reactions, but those are enough to make the talk go differently - each choice unlocks a bit different information about the situation, so they're worth checking out.

Music: all of it are light pieces, nothing remarkable, they just are, but that's already pretty decent as they fit the mood.

Makeup Transformation!

Asmo wants to go shopping for limited edition cosmetics and then tests them out! Slice of life type Devilgram, but presents a story with some kind of plot - so it's more than just one situation. That makes the Devilgram quite balanced so the plot points don't get unnecessarily long or brushed off.

There's a relaxing makeup session, there's a dork moment for Asmo, but it's not only adorable but shows that his interest in cosmetics is a real passion that gives him joy. It's a small thing, nothing groundbreaking and it's not even new information, but still, it's that kind of aspect that doesn't get to shine often.

The moving CGs were implemented into the story quite well - they were part of bigger scenes, which were introduced smoothly - it's simply a part of the core plot of the Devilgram, so there was no need to add a special mini scene just to show them. That's how it should be in every Devilgram with moving CGs!

Choices: could be better, MC is mostly given only a mean and a nice option, and later - just picking up colours etc. for the makeup. The mean options make it seem like MC is really not enjoying themself.

Music: dissonant in some places. There's a slow, somewhat melancholic piece playing when Asmo is happy and MC is just as enthusiastic. There's also the romantic music going on for 2 not very romantic episodes when it normally plays usually when a kiss is about to happen - but it fortunately doesn't distract. There's definitely some error in the sound effects as the sound of running footsteps doesn't stop until the end of episode 1, long after it's not needed anymore. I'd say, the Devilgram is better with the sound turned off.

Conclusion: the Devilgrams are rather average and unmemorable - it's justified as the Nightmare itself is makeup themed, so it's usually not a very intense and thrilling activity, but rather something relaxing. I wouldn't necessarily consider that a weak point. That being said, none of the Devilgrams uses that potential to deliver a heartwarming story that'd soothe your nerves after a bad day. Only Asmo's Devilgram shows him from an interesting angle - and with this theme they definitely could. We never see how Barbatos or Luke are when they're at home, and their Devilgrams don't show that either. The Nightmare is quite mediocre and doesn't offer any must-have stories.