#and he might be not enough for me we don’t know . we just don’t know

[yourstarstruckbeloved]

how far can we go? — one | next

“what’s a lassie like yourself doing all the way out here?”

your pace quickens and you try your best to ignore the constant pestering from the man who has been following you for the past ten minutes.

“all alone...”

you don’t have the time for this.

“surely i can help you with whatever it is?”

you take a deep breath and turn around to finally face your pursuer - a man clad in blue, clearly from meztli. he stops in his tracks, and so do you. you reach for the dagger behind you, strapped to your waist, as you slowly back away from him. “i’m not sure it is anything you can help with, i’m sorry.”

“come on, you’re not going to give me a chance?”

you survey your surroundings, and then yourself. there was nothing you could have done, you’re not a fast enough runner — but you are also not in a place that a lot of people go to. all you wanted was to get the embercore flowers that grow next to the phlogiston rivers underground, and right now it looks like it’s either the man or the phlogiston river that would end it all for you. you really should have listened to chief wayna when he told you not to go alone.

the grip on the hilt of your dagger tightens as you pull it out in front of you, and your heart quickens. “whoa, isn’t threatening me with violence a bit too much? all i wanted was your name, you know.”

“you don’t need to know my name.” you click your tongue.

“too bad then, i’ll just have to get it out of mualani.” he smirks, and inches closer towards you; closer and closer until you’re backed up against the walls of an old ruin behind you. he’s seen you with mualani before. your legs turn to jelly as you imagine what this man might try to pull with mualani. although you probably don’t have to worry about her as much as you need to worry about yourself, because she is strong enough. you? your combat prowess is average at best.

“d-don’t come any closer, i will stab you!” you warn, and his face visibly turns into one of frustration. “why don’t you just give up?” he says, teeth gritted in an awkward smile.

and then you say the magic words.

“i already have a boyfriend.”

the magic did not work.

“come on, pretty, your boyfriend doesn’t have to know,”

you click your tongue in annoyance. “i am very much in love with him, you know,” you don’t drop your defensive stance, and contemplate just making a run for it. and then you see familiar amber green eyes and the tension in your body dissipates, ever so slightly. “he is right behind you, by the way.”

“oh, stop trying to make a fool out of me— OW!” the man groans as kinich throws a dart at him and walks over to your side. a little too close. but you allow it. “are you alright, _____?”

“kinich!” you throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest and shaking ever so slightly, ignoring the man who’s fallen to his knees in front of you two. “i was- i was so scared!” kinich slightly stiffens but only momentarily; and then he pats your back in an attempt to calm you down.

“there is no way this guy is your boyfriend? what have you done to me?!”

you want to reply but kinich shakes his head. he breaks away from you and pulls out another dart. “want another shot? this is a toxin that paralyses your skeletal muscles, so you’re not going to be moving for at least two hours.”

“i— no thank you, but are you really going to leave me all alone here?”

“surely you can hold out for two hours. let’s get going, _____.”

taglist !

@yuriisclumsy

[please send me an ask or DM if you would like to be added ♡]

[willow-moon-23]

Black Cat and Her German Shepherd

Aaron Hotchner X Fem!Reader

Summary: The tables have turned and now it's time for her team to meet her spouse.

Part 1

Word Count: 2437

Standing in the kitchen, her hands braced on the counter. She takes a long slow breath. Hotch walks up behind her.

“Are you feeling ok, colonel?” He wraps his arms around her from behind.

She glances back at him. “Fine. Just thinking.”

Hotch studies her for a moment longer. “Are you worried about me meeting your team?”

(Y/N) lets out a sigh. “No.” Her answer was flat, but Hotch could tell she was fighting a lot of thoughts in her head as she glares at the cleaned dishes on the counter.

“Then what is it?” He asks patiently.

She pushes off the counter, pushing Hotch a step away as well. “My team,” She starts slowly as she turns to face him. “I’ve told you the stories. They are a motley crew of hardened soldiers. They hardly have a filter when talking to higher ups and even less of one when talking to each other.”

“I’m aware.” He nods, letting her talk through her thoughts.

“They’re good men. I trust them with my life.” She speaks slowly.

Hotch brushes her hair from her face. "But?"

(Y/N) hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know. I can’t figure out why I’m hesitating like this.” She runs a hand through her hair and looks up at her husband. “You’ve met the captain before. Only because I got hurt, but you’ve still met him and he likes you. He always asks about you when I come back from leave.”

He nods along. “He gave me his number in case anything were to happen to you.”

“Yes. He’s a good man.” She agrees with him and begins pacing. “I know they won't judge us for any reason. They might make jokes if they are comfortable enough.”

Hotch walks up to her again and holds her shoulders, effectively stopping her pacing. “You’re overthinking it. Take a breath, colonel. I’ve never seen you this worked up. Not even when you’re being deployed.”

She does as he says and takes a slow breath. “This feels more nerve-wracking than a month-long mission and I can’t figure out why.”

“Maybe there is no ‘why’.” He rubs her arms gently. “Maybe you want to be sure that both your lives can coexist and not clash. There's no harm in wanting things to go well.”

(Y/N) looks up at the ceiling. “Maybe you’re right.” She drops her head to rest against Hotch’s chest. She slowly wraps her arms around him. “Stop reading me.”

Hotch chuckles. “I didn’t have to profile you to know all of that.”

She hums. After a moment, she pushes back. “Cap and Gaz said they would be here in ten. Johnny said he’d catch a ride with Ghost. Meaning they would be late because of him.”

“Do we have everything ready for them?” Hotch’s hands rub her back idly. He glanced around the kitchen, seeing all food was ready.

“Yeah, I just need to set the table and change.” She tilts her head as she thinks.

Hotch looks her up and down. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

“I’m in workout clothes.” Her tone was flat. She looks down at her sports bra and leggings with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you look great.” He winks.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes. “You’re awful. I’m going to change.” She turns away from him and walks to their room. Hotch chuckles as he watches her leave the kitchen.

Once the door closes behind her, he begins taking out the silverware and glasses to set the table for her. He sets it identically to when she had made dinner for his team about a month ago. He walks around the kitchen one last time making sure everything that needs to be turned off is before walking to their room. He knocks twice before entering. Hotch smiles and walks up behind (Y/N).

“I like this shirt.” He comments, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

(Y/N) closes her eyes and hums. “You should. You bought it for me.”

“Yes, I did.” His voice was smug. Before he could compliment her again their doorbell rings.

(Y/N) chuffs. “Saved by the bell. Take a second before you come out, yeah.” She pats his chest affectionately before walking out and closing the door behind her. She smirks as she hears Hotch groan behind the door. She takes a deep breath before opening the front door. She is greeted by her captain and one of her sergeants. “Evening boys.”

“Good to see you, colonel.” Price steps forward and envelopes her in a warm hug as she lets them into her home.

She accepts his hug and turns to Gaz. “How was the flight over?”

“Not too bad. Cap slept the whole way here.” Gaz laughs and offers her his own hug.

(Y/N) shakes her head and hugs him. “No surprise there.” She hears her bedroom door open behind her and pulls back. “Boys, my husband, Aaron Hotchner.” She steps to the side as Hotch enters the space next to her.

Price was the first to extend a hand. “Good to see you again, agent.”

“Likewise, captain.” Hotch shakes his hand, with a nod.

(Y/N) motions toward Gaz. “This is Sergeant Kyle Garrick, or Gaz, as we all call him.”

“I thought he’d be taller.” Gaz stage whispers to (Y/N) before extending his hand.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes. “I told you he’s barely taller than you.”

Hotch takes Gaz’s hand with a chuckle noticing his wife's banter with the sergeant. “A pleasure to meet you, sergeant Garrick.”

“Gaz is fine.” The sergeant gently corrects him. Hotch nods mentally takes a note.

A loud knock at the front door had (Y/N) turning to open it. ”And there are the last two.”

The four are met with Johnny’s grinning face the second the colonel opens the door. He immediately pushes into her house, hugging her tightly. “Bonnie, it’s been too long.” He squeezes her as if he hasn’t seen her in over a year.

“It’s been three days, Johnny.” (Y/N) pushes the Scott off with a raised eyebrow.

“Three days is three too long.” He practically whines at her. Gaz and Price chuckle behind them.

“He’s been whining the whole way here.” Ghost steps into the house and closes the door behind him. The tall Lieutenant towered over all five of them in his black hoodie and face mask.

The colonel chuffs. “No surprise there.” She turns to her husband. “This-”

“John McTavish, they call me Soap.” Johnny interrupts her with a grin and eagerly shakes Hotch's hand.

“Is our other Sergeant.” (Y/N) sighs. “And this is Lieutenant Riley. He prefers Ghost. Boys, this is my husband, Aaron Hotchner.”

“Federal Agent.” Ghost looks him up and down.

“Unit Chief.” Hotch nods, taking Ghost's hand.

Ghost hums and turns to (Y/N). “How’s the side?” he jerks his chin toward her.

(Y/N) shrugs. “Healing.”

Johnny bumps Hotch's arm. “So, how ya manage to tie ‘er down?” Gaz chuckles behind Johnny. “Couldn’t ‘ave been an easy feat.”

(Y/N) lightly smacks the backside of Johnny’s head. “He didn’t tie me down.” She glares at him. “Get in the dining room before I throw you out already.”

“Awe, don’ be like that, Lass. Just poken’ a bit of fun.” Johnny grins, knowing she’s not actually mad at him.

“Go.” She points to the dining room.

Johnny holds his hand up in surrender and walks into the other room with Gaz and Ghost behind him. Price chuckles. “Pay them no mind. They were all excited when you told us to come for dinner.”

Hotch steps next to his wife and gently rests a hand on her lower back. “I’m glad you all could make it. I know you’re going back tomorrow. So it means a lot to both of us that you took the time to stop here first.”

Price smiles. “Anything for one of ours.” He turns and walks into the dining room.

(Y/N) sighs and looks up at Hotch. “Any initial thoughts?”

“Your stories of Johnny don’t do him justice.” Hotch laughs softly.

She shrugs. “He’s something else alright.”

“Come on, they’re waiting for us.” Hotch softly nudges her forward.

“Fine.” She takes his hand and heads in. She takes her seat next to Hotch’s after passing out plates to everyone and looks around the table. Her team was all happily joking with her husband as they all settled in. Her team thanks her for the meal and eagerly digs in. They haven’t had a properly cooked meal like this in a while, so they enjoy it when they can. All of them make sure (Y/N) knows how thankful they are before the questioning starts.

“So, how bad has it been, been’ married to this one?” Johnny was the first to break up the sound of utensils on plates. (Y/N) glares at Johnny.

Hotch laughs it off. “Honestly, not much has changed for us. We love spending time together. Marriage just seems to work for us.”

“He puts up with me, it’s all I can ask for.” (Y/N) chimes in as she cuts another bite to eat. Her lighthearted comment brings a chuckle to everyone.

“You have a little one, right?” Gaz leans forward to ask Hotch.

“I do. Jack is at his aunt's house right now.” Hotch smiles as he talks about Jack.

Price turns to (Y/N). “He likes you?”

“He does.” She nods. “I mean, he better, I’ve been in his life since he was born.” She looks over at Hotch with a smile.

Price chuckles. “Fair enough.” Price turns to Hotch. “She told us you were a prosecutor before working with the BAU, correct?”

“Yes, I used to work as a prosecutor. I changed fields so I could do more good than I was doing then.” Hotch easily takes over the conversation. Telling them how he felt as if he could do more good being a profiler than he ever could as a prosecutor.

Her team continues to ask more questions, mainly about Hotch’s job and how he treats (Y/N) when she's home. Once everyone was finished eating the boys immediately help (Y/N) clear the table and wash up, not that she even asked them to. If anything, she told them not to, only to be, politely, pushed aside. Hotch stands next to her as Johnny and Gaz tell him about a mission they went on where they had to detangle (Y/N) and Price from a tree after a rough landing. (Y/N) and Price exchange glances when the two add more details than were true. A few eye rolls and scoffs were shared at the story.

Once all the dishes were done and Johnny finally finished another one of his stories, (Y/N) moved everyone into the living room. There Hotch tells them a bit more about what he and his team do. The team listens eagerly, hanging onto nearly every word. (Y/N) smiles to herself as she watches them. After a minute she feels a soft tap against her shoe. She looks up to see Ghost staring at her. He nods his head toward the kitchen. (Y/N) gives him a soft nod.

“You boys want tea?” She interjects softly as Hotch finishes his thought.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup.”

“Yes, please.”

“Sure, Lass.”

She nods as they accept. “Aaron?” She stands and looks down at her husband.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He smiles up at her.

“Ok. Give me a hand, Simon?” Ghost merely stands and follows behind her. The two walk into the kitchen as the four continue talking.

“You trust 'im?” He asks the second the two are out of earshot.

“With my life.” (Y/N) looks up at the lieutenant.

Ghost stares at her with matching seriousness. “He good to ya'?”

“Very.” She answers easily.

He nods. “If he tries anythin’.”

“You’ll be the first I call.” She interrupts his thought.

Ghost grunts. “'is team know you?”

“Met them a while back.” She nods.

He nods. After a long pause, he speaks up again. “I like 'im.”

(Y/N) chuffs. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

“Don’ get cheeky.” Ghost narrows his eyes at her.

“Wouldn’t think of it.” (Y/N) turns to prepare tea for her team.

Once the tea was ready, the two brought out the cups and passed them to each member. They all say their thanks and ease back into asking questions. To Hotch’s credit he takes Gaz and Johnny’s lighthearted banter and runs with it. The night goes on with loud laughs and well-meant jabs at each other. Hotch got to sit back and watch (Y/N) and Johnny have a back-and-forth on whose fault a misplaced rifle started a five-day hunt for said rifle was. Sitting in his living room with his wife and her team allowed him to see just how close they all were and how much they cared for each other.

As the sun started to go down the team realized they should be heading out. They all said their goodbyes for the night, giving hugs to their colonel and strong gripped handshakes to Hotch. They thanked Hotch and (Y/N) for the meal and headed out the door.

Price stops by (Y/N) and rests a hand on her shoulder. “You have a lovely house. Thank you for having us over.”

“Thank you for accepting my invitation to join us.” She rests her hand over his.

“We’ll always come when you call, love.” Price smiles at her.

She returns his smile. “Drive safe.”

He gives her shoulder a light squeeze and tips the brim of his hat to her and nods to Hotch before walking to his car. (Y/N) and Hotch stand outside watching each of them get into the cars, Johnny waves at them as he and Ghost drive off first. Price and Gaz follow out the driveway.

Hotch wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Feel better?”

“I do.” She leans into him. Her hands hold his arms.

“You sure, you look pensive.” He tilts his head to look down at her.

She waves off his worry. “Price mentioned something about our next mission. It’s nothing to do with you meeting them.”

Hotch could tell she was being honest. “You think I meet their approval?”

(Y/N) nods. “Ghost likes you.”

“He barely said a word.” Hotch raises an eyebrow.

“That’s just how he is.” She shrugs. “I’m surprised you couldn’t tell, Mr. Profiler.” She teases.

“I think it was the twitch in his eye every time I touched you that made me think otherwise.” Hotch laughs. “You have a good group around you. They genuinely care for you.”

(Y/N) gives his arm a squeeze. “Yeah, they’re a good bunch.”

[ewyuzu]

warning: soft smut. minors dni!

the moonlight poured through the window, illuminating the room where you and gojo satoru found yourselves alone after a long day of training. he lounged on the couch, an easy grin on his face, the familiar twinkle in his blue eyes making your heart flutter.

“you know,” he said, a playful tone in his voice, “you’re really starting to get good at this.”

“thanks, but don’t get used to it,” you replied, crossing your arms with a smirk. “you might have to step up your game to keep up with me.”

“oh, i’m counting on it,” he retorted, leaning forward with an intensity that made your breath hitch. the air between you was thick with unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that drew you closer.

as if on cue, gojo stood, closing the distance with deliberate slowness. he looked down at you, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “what if i told you that i could teach you something else? something… a bit more fun?”

your heart raced, the teasing glint in his eyes igniting a flame of desire within you. “i’m listening.”

“how about we skip the training and focus on this?” he suggested, his voice low and sultry. without waiting for your response, he cupped your face and captured your lips in a heated kiss.

the warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, and you melted against him. his hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his passion into the moment. you could feel the playful edge to his nature, mixing with an undeniable hunger that made your head spin.

“satoru,” you gasped as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, the playful demeanor replaced with a serious intensity. “what are you doing?”

“just giving you a taste of what’s to come,” he replied, voice husky. “because i have so much more i want to show you.”

the boldness in his words sent a rush of excitement through you. “then what are we waiting for?”

gojo grinned, his mischievous energy infectious. “now we’re talking.”

he led you to the bedroom, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. the moment the door closed behind you, he pressed you against it, lips crashing against yours once more. hands roamed freely, exploring and teasing, every caress igniting a fire between you.

as clothes began to slip away and the air filled with the sounds of soft gasps and laughter, you knew that this night would be one you’d never forget, filled with all the passion and thrill that only gojo satoru could bring.

[its-avalon-08]

im not giving up on you (dr3)

after the singapore gp, i was sobbing. danny, our sunshine danny might be leaving us and that broke my heart so entirely. here is to out honey badger, you made me love this sport, seeing your smile was the only light on some dark days. you made it, you lived your formula one dream and you will always be able to say that. for always making us laugh and find joy in the butterflies, we thank you daniel <3

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, losing his seat, tears, fluffy ending

The Singapore night was thick with humidity, the scent of burning rubber still clinging to the air long after the race had ended. Daniel Ricciardo walked through the now-empty paddock, the silence overwhelming. The once-vibrant energy that pulsed through the grounds was now replaced with nothing but the dull hum of the lights, casting long shadows that made the place feel eerily lonely.

Daniel had always been good at putting on a strong face. Smiling, joking, pretending everything was fine. He had perfected it over the years. But tonight, the facade had cracks — deep, painful cracks that threatened to break him entirely.

After the Singapore GP, the world knew. The news had broken: Daniel was losing his seat at V-CARB. Another seat lost. Another chapter closing. And it felt as though he had lost everything again. He couldn’t bear to face his team, his friends. Not even Max. So he stayed in the paddock long after everyone had left, sitting alone on a stack of tires, his head in his hands.

He didn’t hear the footsteps at first.

"Daniel?"

The voice was soft, familiar, and full of concern. He looked up, blinking through the blur of tears that stung his eyes. There she was — Y/N Verstappen. Max’s little sister.

She had always been around, always there, a comforting presence from the days when he and Max were teammates. She had been his friend, but it was so much more than that. They had danced around their feelings for years, never daring to speak the truth, both afraid of what it might mean.

Daniel quickly wiped his eyes, trying to pull himself together. "Hey," he said, his voice strained, cracking under the weight of his emotions. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same," Y/N replied softly, stepping closer. "It’s late."

"I couldn’t leave," he admitted, his eyes staring at the ground, unable to meet hers. "It’s just… a lot."

Y/N stood in front of him, her eyes searching his face. She could see right through him. "You don’t have to pretend with me, Daniel."

"I’m not pretending," he lied, letting out a shaky laugh. "I’m fine. It’s just another bump in the road, right? I’ll bounce back. I always do."

But even as he spoke, his voice trembled, and Y/N could hear the pain beneath his words. She sat down beside him on the tires, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him in the humid night air, but still hesitant to touch him.

"It’s okay to not be fine," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Daniel’s jaw tightened as he looked away, blinking rapidly. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He had always been the strong one, the happy-go-lucky guy who could handle anything. But tonight, the weight of everything was crushing him.

"I feel like I’m losing everything," he finally admitted, his voice breaking. "Like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I fight, it’s never enough. I’m never enough."

Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him like this — so vulnerable, so raw. She reached out hesitantly, her hand gently resting on his arm. "Daniel… you’re more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough."

He shook his head, biting down on his lip as tears welled up in his eyes again. "I don’t know how to keep going. Everyone keeps telling me to just keep my head up, keep smiling. But I’m tired, Y/N. I’m so tired."

Her hand tightened around his arm, the warmth of her touch grounding him in that moment. "You don’t have to do this alone."

Daniel’s shoulders shook as he exhaled a deep, shaky breath. He didn’t have the strength to pretend anymore. The tears he had been holding back for so long finally fell, spilling down his cheeks as he covered his face with his hands, his body trembling with silent sobs.

Y/N felt her own tears start to fall as she watched him break down, the sight of him so utterly heartbroken making her chest ache. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"I’ve got you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I’ve always got you."

Daniel buried his face in her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her waist as he clung to her, the dam of emotions finally breaking. He sobbed into her neck, all the pain, frustration, and helplessness pouring out of him. And Y/N held him, stroking his hair, whispering soothing words in his ear.

"I don’t know what to do, Y/N," Daniel choked out between sobs. "I feel like I’ve failed. Again."

"You haven’t failed," she insisted, pulling back just enough to look at him, her hands cupping his tear-streaked face. "You’ve given everything, Daniel. You’ve fought so hard. You’re one of the best drivers out there, and no seat can take that away from you. Not now, not ever."

Daniel let out a long sigh, pulling away slightly from Y/N’s embrace, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice was quieter now, but it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before, like he was finally allowing himself to speak the truth that had been buried deep inside for years.

"You know," he began, staring out at the empty paddock, "when I left Red Bull, I thought I was making the best decision of my life. I really did. I thought… this was it, you know? My time. I didn’t want to be second to Max — your brother’s an incredible driver, you know that. But I couldn’t sit there anymore, watching everyone around me believe I’d always be the second-best. I wanted to be number one. I wanted my own team to back me, to believe in me. And at the time, Renault seemed like that opportunity, like I could prove I could lead a team, that I could fight for championships."

He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "God, I was so naïve. I thought leaving Red Bull would be the start of my rise, not the beginning of my fall. Renault wasn’t easy, but I stuck it out. Then McLaren came calling, and I thought that was my shot. It was McLaren, you know? One of the biggest names in Formula 1. I thought I was stepping into greatness."

He paused, his voice trembling. "And then everything fell apart. From the start, it felt wrong. Like I didn’t belong there. I tried so damn hard, Y/N. I worked my ass off, but nothing clicked. No matter what I did, how much time I put in, it never worked. Every race, every session, I felt like I was slipping further away from the driver I used to be. And it wasn’t just the car — it was everything. The pressure, the doubts, the whispers that I’d lost it, that I wasn’t the driver I once was."

He swallowed hard, the pain of those years written across his face. "They treated me like I was broken. Like I was damaged goods. And I started to believe it. Every time I got into that car, I felt like a shadow of myself. They replaced me without a second thought, like I was disposable. And I tried to be strong, you know? I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter, that I’d bounce back. But deep down, it hurt. It hurt more than anything."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart aching for him, but she stayed silent, letting him speak.

"And then this year," he continued, his voice cracking. "I thought coming back to V-CARB was going to be my redemption. That this was finally going to be the moment where I’d prove to everyone that I still had it. But now… now I’m losing my seat again. And it just feels like the world’s telling me I’m not wanted. That no one believes in me anymore. Every time I think I’m getting back on my feet, I just get knocked down again. It’s like no matter what I do, no one sees me. Not as I am, not for what I can be. They just see what they think I’ve become — a has-been."

Daniel’s voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. "I feel… I feel like I’m unwanted, Y/N. Like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. I used to love this sport so much. It was everything to me. But now it feels like it’s slipping away, like I’m being pushed out, and I don’t know what to do."

He ran his hands over his face, the weight of his journey pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I’ve given everything to this sport. Years of my life, my heart, my soul. I sacrificed everything to chase this dream. And now… I’m just scared, Y/N. I’m scared that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be enough. I’ll never get back to where I once was."

There was a long pause, the silence between them thick with emotion. Daniel’s chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing, but his eyes were red, his cheeks stained with tears.

"I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m failing. Like I’ve lost everything that mattered. And it’s killing me, Y/N. I don’t know if I can keep pretending like I’m okay, when inside, I’m falling apart."

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him close. "Daniel, you’ve never been a failure. Not to me. You’re the strongest person I know, and no matter what happens, no seat, no team, no damn race can take away who you are. You’ve always been enough."

And this time, Daniel didn’t pull away. He sank into her embrace, the tears falling once again, but this time, it felt different. He wasn’t alone.

His eyes searched hers, filled with so much pain, so much doubt. "What if this is it? What if this is the end for me?"

"It’s not the end," Y/N said firmly, her thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. "And even if it were, you’d still be Daniel Ricciardo — the man I…"

She stopped, the words hanging in the air between them, unspoken for years.

Daniel’s breath hitched as he realized what she was about to say. "Y/N…"

She looked away, her own tears threatening to spill over. "I’ve loved you for so long, Daniel. And I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you’re hurting, and I hate that I never told you sooner because maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have to go through this alone."

Daniel was silent for a moment, his mind racing as her words sank in. He had always known. Deep down, he had always known. But hearing it, finally hearing it… it shattered something inside him.

"I’ve loved you too," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve loved you since… since forever, Y/N. But I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you. I couldn’t lose you."

She looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of the tears in his eyes. "You could never lose me."

Daniel leaned his forehead against hers, his breath shaky as they both cried, the weight of their unspoken feelings finally crashing down on them.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I’m here," she replied, her arms wrapping around him again, holding him as if she would never let go.

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other, their tears mingling in the humid night air. And when the exhaustion finally overtook them, Daniel shifted, pulling Y/N down with him onto the bench beside the tires. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they lay there in the silence of the paddock.

Y/N rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as they both closed their eyes, the weight of the world fading away for a little while.

And in the stillness of the night, they finally found peace in each other’s arms, their unspoken love wrapped around them like a blanket, protecting them from the world outside.

the next day

The next morning, the sun filtered through the windows of the small café tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the paddock. Daniel felt lighter today. His heart still ached, the reality of his situation hadn't magically disappeared overnight, but there was something different. A quiet peace had settled inside him. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t carrying his burdens alone.

He glanced at Y/N across the table. She was scrolling through her phone, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the table. His chest warmed at the sight of her. Y/N was always there, had always been there, but now it was different. Last night changed everything.

They hadn’t said much that morning, but they didn’t need to. She had been a constant presence at his side, making him feel like, no matter what, he’d be okay.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence. “You ready for this?”

Daniel chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Depends. Is Max going to kill me or just be incredibly smug?"

Y/N laughed, and Daniel could swear it was his favorite sound in the world. “He’ll be a bit of both, probably. But definitely more smug. He’s been calling this for years.”

As if on cue, Max Verstappen walked into the café, spotting them immediately. He made a beeline for their table, his signature serious expression betraying just the faintest hint of amusement. He slid into the seat across from them, a wry smile on his face.

"Morning," Max said, folding his arms across his chest, eyes flicking between the two of them. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Daniel groaned playfully, rubbing the back of his neck. "Go on, get it out of your system."

Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, and grinned. "I knew it. I’ve known it since, what, the first year we were teammates? You two were practically inseparable. The way you used to look at each other…" He shook his head, pretending to be exasperated. "I can’t believe it took you this long."

Y/N blushed, rolling her eyes. "Alright, Max, don’t be so dramatic. It wasn’t that obvious."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Y/N, you’re my sister. You think I didn’t notice how every time Daniel was around, you’d act different? Or how he was always finding some excuse to come over when you were visiting?"

Daniel groaned again, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, okay, you were right. Is that what you want to hear?"

Max smirked, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Yes. Yes, it is." He paused, then his expression softened, his teasing giving way to something more sincere. "But seriously, I’m happy for you both. You’re good together."

Daniel felt his heart swell at that. Max wasn’t the type to dish out compliments easily, especially when it came to his sister. He knew how protective Max was of Y/N, and hearing those words meant more than he could express.

"Thanks, mate," Daniel said quietly, meeting Max’s gaze. "It means a lot."

Max gave a small nod before turning his attention to Y/N. "Just promise me one thing — if he does anything stupid, you’ll let me know so I can give him hell for it."

Y/N laughed, giving her brother a playful shove. "I’m pretty sure I can handle him, Max."

Max grinned. "I have no doubt."

The three of them fell into an easy rhythm after that, the conversation light, the teasing back and forth, just like old times. For a brief moment, it felt like everything was as it should be — like the weight of the past few months had lifted, even if just for a little while.

As Max droned on about the next race and the changes to his car, Daniel glanced at Y/N, who was laughing at something Max had said. She caught his gaze, her smile softening, and in that moment, Daniel realized that no matter what happened next — no matter how uncertain the future felt — he wasn’t alone.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged. Not just in the sport or on the track, but with Y/N by his side. And whatever came next, they’d face it together.

"So," Max said suddenly, breaking through Daniel’s thoughts. "You’re both officially a thing now?"

Daniel smirked, his hand finding Y/N’s under the table. "Yeah, Max. We’re a thing."

Max raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. "Finally."

Y/N giggled, squeezing Daniel’s hand as they exchanged a knowing look.

Finally.

[literaila]

Does tsumiki ever bring her friends over for sleepovers?

“satoru,” you hiss, “what are you doing?”

the man in question is currently sneaking down the hallway, hand on the knob of tsumiki’s bedroom, lips immediately moving to a pout when he hears your voice.

and then he steps back. takes a second to collect himself. smiles. “i’m just checkin’ on the girls.”

you cross your arms, raising a brow at him. “oh, yeah? you’re not going in there to eavesdrop on tsumiki’s conversations and try to gossip with her friends?”

“i don’t gossip,” he says, but the way his hand is itching back towards the door is answer enough.

so you walk over to him, promptly flicking his forehead, and then grabbing his hand so you can drag him back down the hallway. “you cannot interrupt tsumiki’s girl night.”

“why not?” he asks, sounding oh so dejected. “you let me come to yours.”

you snort, forcing satoru down on the couch, standing in front of him as bodyguard. “there’s no letting involved. and it’s just me and shoko, anyway. this is a group of four girls.”

satoru leans back, crossing his arms. “i know that nanami goes, sometimes.”

you stare at him for a moment, thinking about how pretty he would look if he was just a statue and not a literal child. “you’re ridiculous,” you tell him, simply, and then you sit on the couch too.

and if you move close enough to touch your thigh to his, no one needs to know. and if your head automatically rests on his shoulder, well, that’s no one’s business.

but you do hold his hand—just to comfort him a little bit. you have to take care of your husband and his very fragile heart.

satoru kisses the top of your head, then he says, “i just want to be a part of girls night. tsumiki’s friends are so cool.”

“did you die and get replaced with a twelve year old girl?”

he sighs dramatically, hanging his head against yours. then he does it again, just in case you didn’t notice.

when you don’t say anything, he does it again. the point is clear.

“okay,” you laugh, patting his knee. “i get it.”

“i’m all alone,” he whines, leaning forward so he can rub his nose in your lap. “my daughter hates me.”

you hum. “i don’t think tsumiki hates anything.”

“well then her friends hate me.”

“yeah, probably, since you had to inspect them when they walked through the door.”

satoru pinches your leg. “that was for protection,” he tells you, voice muffled. “i don’t want anything to get to her.”

you laugh again because, well, that’s just a ridiculous accusation.

satoru groans into your thigh and shakes his head, managing to tickle and annoy you at the same time.

after 27 seconds of this, you sigh.

“if you want girls night,” you say, so reluctantly, “i’ll do it with you.”

satoru immediately sits up, looking at you with wide, eager alien eyes. “really?”

you shrug. “sure.”

“with face masks?”

“um… yes.”

“and painting nails? and bad 2000s movies? and sharing our deep dark secrets at two in the morning?”

“what kind of girls nights are you having, satoru?”

“oh, we can get megumi, too,” he’s musing, “i could bribe him with another manga collection, or one of those jackets that’s easy to get blood out of—“

“i’ll ask him,” you interrupt, “but i’m not forcing him to do anything. he might be asleep.”

and then satoru giggles like a maniac. “sure sure,” he says, waving you off. “this is going to be awesome.”

forget curses—you’ve just created your own monster.

[jeonscatalyst]

LET’S TALK ABOUT “ARE YOU SURE?!”

I started doing a very long review of the entire season of AYS but I changed my mind along the way because I have seen so many other people give reviews of the show which I generally agree with so me doing another one just to repeat the same thoughts felt a little unnecessary so I decided to look into some aspects of Jikook’s special bond which AYS practically reaffirmed or which some us might be finding out for the first time. This post is going to be incredibly long so brace yourselves.

These are mostly my observations and some of these observations are not new to me at all. These observations would be supported by mentions of moments from the show or twitter links to see some described moments.

*Jimin listens to Jungkook

I love how Jimin and Jungkook listen and pay attention to each other but it was especially beautiful to see this aspect of their dynamic play out in AYS. I noticed that no matter how unimportant what Jungkook was saying seemed, Jimin always listened to him, validated him and participated in the conversation . The two moments I recall the most (there are more) were from the Jeju episodes. In episode 5 while at the meat restaurant, I loved how Jimin just sat there listening as Jungkook explained to him how to tenderize meat. You could tell that for some reason that topic was important to Jungkook or he loved talking about it and Jimin knew this so he encouraged the conversation by asking follow up questions and Jungkook happily explained things to him. Now I don’t particularly think Jimin was very interested to know how to tenderize meat or all of that but it was beautiful how he created a space where Jungkook felt comfortable enough to just talk about the most simple things knowing that someone was actually listening and paying attention to him.

Then we also have the moment when they all got back from the last restaurant they visited in Jeju. We see Jungkook happily telling Jimin that he saw two bikers on their way home and this was so sweet on its own because things like this show you how innocent and child like Jungkook is because things like that still amuse or excite him but what was even more touching to me was Jimin’s response. Jimin didn’t just stay quiet or just say “ok”or “really” and leave it at that but he actually engaged in the coversation too and told Jungkook that he saw him waving at them. This was really precious to me because it’s beautiful how Jk knows that he can talk to Jimin about any and everything and he would always get a response that doesn’t make him feel like what he is saying isn’t important.

These are things that people easily ignore or undermine but seeing moments like this explains why Jungkook said he found the greatest comfort in Jimin and why Jimin is who he went to when he needed company.

*Jungkook is more verbally expressive around Jimin.

I don’t know if many people have noticed this but when watching BTS content, it is easy to notice that Jungkook is usually quieter among all the members. He doesn’t talk much and rarely ever initiates topics for discussion but just goes along with them. We usually see more of the physically expressive side of Jk when he is around other people but AYS showed me a side of Jk I must I admit I didn’t know too well.

With Jimin, Jungkook is more vocally expressive. We saw him literally take lead of conversations, vocally express how much he loved the show and how much fun he was having, we saw him initiate conversations quite a bit and I must say this felt new ans different from the Jk we know in other content who usually can’t even speak over his hyungs. We usually saw him try to say something and eventually give up, he didn’t vocally express his thoughts much unless he was specifically asked but with Jimin, he is so different. Maybe the more accurate way to put this is that Jungkook is the biggest yapper around Jimin even though he goes quieter with others.

I also love the fact that we don’t only see him vocally express his happiness. I love that we see him express his frustrations at Jimin too. When he is mad at Jimin he doesn’t hide it, when he is not impressed he doesn’t hide it, when he is sad or hurt by something Jimin says or does he doesn’t hide it. This shows a very deep level of understanding and trust because Jungkook knows he doesn’t have to pretend around Jimin. He is sure and secure in whatever bond they have that he is ok with showing Jimin every side of his. His happiness, excitement, pain, sadness, frustrations, anger. This is what an ideal relationship is like to me. This is what a real deep connection feels like to me and seeing Jikook like this melted my heart. I was so happy to able to see this side of Jungkook because it’s not a side we had seen alot.

I love how Jungkook feel comfortable talking about the most mundane things in settings where he feels the most comfortable or with people he feels the most comfortable with. After watching AYS, I got to finally understand why Jungkook loved doing very long lives so much. I think we can all agree that there is a certain level of comfort Jungkook feels when he is Live. He talks about any and everything to us seated on the other sides of our screens watching him. He tells us about the size of Bams poop, tells us about meals he loves to cook, tells us about the most unserious stories about wanting to meet and befriend ghosts, he feels comfortable falling asleep with us watching. When I think about it, I feel like he does that alot because he knows he can just talk and we would just listen without judging or openly judging the things he likes to talk about. Maybe with some friends or actual people in his life, he can’t just sit with them and talk about whatever he wants to talk about because some people might not find the “weird” things he likes to talk about fun or interesting, i mean how many people want to just sit there and hear about meat tenderizing? How many people want to sit and hear or talk about the size of a dog’s poop? How many people would just be quiet and listen to you talk about sand fleas? I think when Jungkook is around people he or settings that he knows he can just be completely himself and talk about whatever he want, he just goes off completely. That is how I see him and Jimin.

*Jikook truly enjoy spending time together

I’m sure many of us already know this but AYS once again showed that Jimin and Jungkook actually love spending time together. I’m not talking about time where they can just meet, do one of two fun activities and then go their separate ways, I am talking about them truly enjoying each other’s company no matter what they are doing. We saw them sticking together, choosing to do almost everything together and going to bed together even when there was another member in the mix. After their showers on those nights in Jeju, they could have just gone and done their different things like we saw tae do but they enjoyed sticking together and doing things together. It makes sense why over the years, we have heard from members and staff that Jikook were together alot. Makes sense why they called themselves all nighter buddies and we saw that dynamic at play in Jeju.

*Jikook have an insane amount of Inside Jokes

This is one nobody can argue. Jimin and Jungkook have an insane amount of inside Jokes and they watch alot of the same things. So many times people around them don’t understand the things they say. Hell even us watching had to wait for people to dig and explain to us what some of the things they said meant.

We saw this at play again throughout the AYS episodes. I love how Jimin and Jungkook instantly get each other and how they immediately pick up what the other is saying while others around them are still trying to figure things out. This is one of the ways you can tell that two people spend alot of time together and know each other deep.

*Jikook don’t need alot to feel happy and to have fun with each other

Jimin and Jungkook are two people who can create fun and happiness for themselves in any situation. They don’t need to be doing any fun physical activities to really enjoy or have fun being around each other. Just a simple drive, a walk, a meal, or just sitting down talking is fun for them. Just a train ride listening to music from the same airphones is interesting and fun to them. They don’t get bored around each other doing the most mundane things. They honestly enjoy the smallest things and as Jungkook said “These simple things were fun” (referring to walking around the streets of Tokyo with Jimin in 2017)

They create their happiness and fun anywhere they are doing anything …..

It’s just the little things….

Little 5 year olds playing after lights out😂

*Jungkook loves making Jimin laugh

This is something we all already knew but seeing it again in AYS was so cute. Jungkook really loves making Jimin laugh and I guess that the fact that Jimin is usually ready to have all his teeth out laughing and any little thing Jungkook does, gives him more motivation. Jungkook doesn’t mind looking like a clown if it means that it will make Jimin laugh. He teases him even sometimes just to get a chuckle out of him.

* Jimin finds Jungkook very endearing

Do I even need to explain this? Sometimes it feels like to Jimin, Jungkook is the cutest, most endearing, funniest person in the world. I don’t think we see Jimin laugh around any other people as much as he laughs around Jungkook. The man is a giggling mess anytime he is around Jungkook and I can’t even blame him because Jungkook sure likes making him laugh. He sometimes gets lost in Jungkook too you know….

*Jikook just get each other

Another thing I noticed again in AYS is how much Jikook just get each other. They don’t need words ti understand how the other feels. Doesn’t matter if they are being silly or serious, they just get what the other person is trying to express.

An example of this would be while they were at the ham and pink sausage restaurant in Jeju, after their little “incident” Jungkook immitated a meme which someone did when he needed an apology and Jimin understood what Jungkook needed immediately just by seeing him immitating that meme, and he apologized.

(First clip from this compilation)

Another moment that showed how much they just get each other was in episode 8 when Jungkook noticed that Jimin felt sad about the trip ending. Jimin didn’t say anything but Jungkook noticed it and starting doing stuff to cheer him on starting from playfully touching his head (even though he knew Jimin didn’t like when his head got touched) and reminding everyone that Jimin doesn’t like it bit he is doing it, to teasing him with the camera in his face infront of the restaurant to opening the windows of the car on their drive to the airport because he knew Jimin had said he goes to cold places when he is is a slump.

Touching his head

Playfully zooming into his face with the camera

Opening the windows to let the cold air in to lift their moods:

We also saw him being soft and reassuring to Jimin after he sensed that Jimin felt bad about the trip ending. What he says here, how he looks at Jimin and how he rubs Jimin’s nape/back trying to comfort him, was so beautiful.

* Jungkook likes zooming into Jimin’s face

Do I even need to explain this part? We’ve seen him do this for years and it was kinda funny to see it again on AYS

*Jimin is Jungkook’s Jungkook!

I don’t even know how to explain this other than saying than showing you this….

Jimin constantly singing Jungkook’s “3D” as “peuriri” and constantly going “standing next to you” every two seconds is so Jungkook of him. Jungkook gets a taste of his own medicine and doesn’t know how to handle it.

*They clearly keep up with each other/ they know each other so well

Contrary to haters beliefs that Jikook don’t keep up with each other outside of content, it is clear that they do. We saw it when Jimin dropped “Face” and we saw it again on AYS with Jimin and singing Jungkook’s song before it was released, Jimin knowing about Jungkook’s schedules, Jungkook knowing about Jimin’s second album release and even seeing the video of Jimin dancing with kids. Infact during the Jeju and Sapporo episodes, it was so obvious to see that those two knew alot about each other’s activities, schedules and plans. You didn’t see them getting surprised after getting information about each other.

To add to this, it was very clear that Jungkook knows what Jimin likes and vice versa. He knew Jimin would like his food spicy, he knew Jimin would enjoy the beef stew he cooked in Jeju. Jimin knew Jungkook would enjoy climbing and racing so he picker that place. Jimin knew Jungkook liked driving abroad, Jimin knew Jungkook had to go to the US to film with Usher etc. No arguments here.

* Jungkook loves to cook for Jimin

We already knew this but this was once again confirmed in AYS.

* The people around Jikook know how much Jikook are around each other.

Over the years, we have heard from members and people around Jikook say just how much time Jikook spend together and we once again got something like that from AYS.

Tae saw Jk do the soju bottle trick and immediately assumed that Jimin taught him. This is something that many people would miss but If Jikook didn’t have a habit of being together alot and drinking together, Tae who actually knows two of them personally wouldn’t have immediately assumed Jimin taught Jk that trick after seeing him do it and the funniest thing is, Jimin said Jk didn’t even learn it from him so why didn’t Tae think of anyone else or even assume that Jk learnt from tiktok or youtube? Why did his mind immediately go to Jimin? Jimin is not the only member or only person connected to Jungkook who drinks Soju. It was interesting getting yet again another confirmation of just how much the members and people around Jikook know about them being together alot.

*Taekook and Jikook are NOT the same.

I’m sure everyone already knows this but watching the Jeju episodes with Vminkook just once again showed how much of a difference there is between Jk bond with Tae and Jimin.

While some jikookers didn’t like the fact that Tae joined Jikook in Jeju, I loved it because I love seeing vminkook together as they are adorable and also because when they are together, you really get to see the difference in their dynamics. It was very noticeable how Tae and Jk bring out the chaos, playfulness and childishness from each other and they have so much fun doing activities together but you could see clearly that those two just don’t gravitate to each other in the same way Jikook do. By gravitating to each other I don’t mean sitting side by sideto have meals and none of that nonsense taekookers consider people gravitating towards each other. What I mean is, even if Jikook are not seated together, it was easy to see how their eyes searched for each other while they talked. While they all discussed, it was easy to see that Jk’s eyes mostly searched for Jimin’s and vice versa, it was easy to see how they mostly talked to and interacted with each other more during meals even though Tae was there. It was easy to see how they usually stayed with each other after their baths and only went to bed together while Tae always went to bed earlier. It was easy to see how when ever they had meals, Jikook would always look to each other to ask “is it good” regardless of whether they were alone or with Tae. They spoke to each other more, interacted more and even when Jk tasted something that seemed familiar to what he had had before, he looked to Jimin to ask if it was what they had at another restaurant at some point.

They understand each other in ways others don’t. They quickly get each other’s jokes while Tae sometimes looked a little lost. They have the same humor infact, you just cannot miss to see the difference when you pay attention. It was as clear as day and night.

It was also clear that unlike Jikook, taekook don’t really feel the need to be around each other much when they aren’t actively doing anything. We all saw how early tae usually went to bed not caring alot to hang around Jk, we saw how much time he spent on his phone even while they all were together, we all saw how even when Jk got out of the pool just after Tae did in episode 5, he didn’t go to shower at the same time Tae did. We Tae leave to shower and go to bed while Jk stayed behind teasing and playing with Jimin before they showered and later went to bed together around 4am. It was the same thing that happened the night before. Jk was clearly thoughtful of Tae and wanted him to feel included but we could see that he didn’t really feel the need being around him much because if he did he probably would have showered and gone to stay upstairs with Tae but he didn’t. He stayed downstairs with Jimin and they only left for bed together while tae was already asleep. This isn’t new as we know Jikook have always loved spending time alone together at nights and in their quiet moments but it was interesting to see unfold in AYS.

Remember all the times members (especially Tae) mentioned Jikook being together alot at nights? Some people said he lied all those times because he was hiding his relationship but we could all see that happen in AYS. It happened on both nights they were there.

While Jikook have this strong gravitational pull and enjoy being around each other’s vicinity at all times and not just when there are fun activities or other things to be done, we could see that this wasn’t the same with taekook. Tae felt like napping, he went upstairs to nap, Jimin felt like napping, he napped in the living room next to Jungkook who was cooking. Over the years, we have tons of moments where Jk could be seen going to sit or sleep by an already sleeping Jimin. They crave each other’s presence even when they aren’t doing anything but this isn’t the same for taekook and AYS confirmed that once again.

*Jikook are so domestic

Watching AYS, it was so easy to see just how domestic Jikook are. We got an opportunity to have a look into what their lives and days look like when they are not busy being idols and it was the most comforting beautiful thing ever. Them waking up and going to cuddle each other, cooking together eating together, going shopping together with Jungkook disappearing and getting on Jimin’s nerves😂, have little discussion’s together, drinking together, watching and reacting to a show of themselves together, making plans to eat, sleep, shower, play etc together, it was just so perfect. Perfectly and positively boring everyday life yet they looked like they had so much fun doing all of that TOGETHER!

*They have the most random conversations and do the weirdest things

Just jimin casually talking about wanting to sculpt his ass and Jungkook listening attentively😂

Whatever this conversation was……

I don’t know what goes on in their minds

Whatever this was

*Jungkook loves Jimin’s attention /loves to tease him to get it

*Jungkook is inlove with FOOD!

He looks at food like true love😂

*Jikook could be sus sometimes or most of the time tbh

Whatever this was…..

I mean….

This taken out of context…..

Hmmmmmm……

*Jikook like to bicker

They bicker sometimes like an old married couple

*Jimin and Jungkook loved their trips with each other!

Do I even need to explain this? I feel like the entire episode 8 explains this pretty well.

Ok, so these are some of my observations about Jikook from AYS. I might be editing this post in the future to add some more observations as I rewatch the entire show to see if I can catch other things I missed. Consider this my review of the show.

[bitethedevil]

What do you like about the character of Raphael ?

A Feral Love Letter to the Devil We Know

Oh boy. Here’s my list of why Raphael is like catnip to me (it’s not short and it is possibly a bit extra deranged because I am currently sick).

Purely physical things that convince me that this man was made for me in a lab:

Brown eyes and dark hair has always been my type

The slight stubble and those cheekbones (generally just his whole facial structure is beautiful)

The fucking n o s e <3 <3

Those thick thighs (perfectly sittable and bitable). He is just perfectly shaped.

Those hands he waves in your face all the time and those long fingers (does things to me)

His clothes. Yes, even in cambion form and even the silly clown boots, I love them. It is just all too extra, and I live for it

Everything about his cambion form

I have this crazy theory. There has been made these studies that depending on hormone levels, women are attracted to different kinds of men. At one end of their cycle, they prefer more ‘feminine’ looking men, and on the other end they prefer more traditionally ‘masculine’ looking men. If I get tired of his human form, I get more attracted to his cambion form and the cycle repeats. I think that is why I just do not get tired of staring at this stupid man every day. I know I’m not crazy. It’s science (and we all know I’m a trusted scientist).

Non-physical things that intrigue me:

How expressive he is. I love how his face changes constantly and dramatically with each sentence he speaks. It’s mostly an act but he is so charismatic. He has ‘rizz’ like the kids would say.

I can’t fix him. I don’t want to. His mind games intrigue me. I want to study him like a bug and play mind games with him too (I’m not delusional enough to think I’d win). Let it be toxic as fuck on both parts.

This man is just chucking stones from his glass house like there is no tomorrow. He plays such a big bad devil, but he is really just a little wet cat with a god complex and daddy issues. Not to mention his little hissy fits if any of his perceived weaknesses are pointed out. I find it endearing (unfortunately).

His voice and his eloquence. I love it. Even his shitty poetry. I could listen to it for eternity.

He is so smart. I have been shouting it from the roof tops: he is not stupid. He is always ten steps ahead.

He’s honest. He doesn’t lie and you know where you’ve got him (if you know how to keep up with him).

Genuinely everyone thinks he sucks, both devils and mortals, and yet he thinks he is the shit, either genuinely or as a coping mechanism.

He just such a nuances character if you really dig into it.

Things I relate to:

The scheming and overthinking. Everything is meticulously thought out to the point of obsession. He is playing 4D chess but doesn’t even consider that the other players might just eat the pieces to win. He strikes me as someone who completely overcomplicates things for no reason, and I felt that.

His idea of order is very different from what’s actually orderly. It just has to make sense to him, like ‘what do you mean it’s not orderly to have dead people lying around, trash everywhere, and debtors running around aimlessly in my house? Completely intentional. What’s not clicking?”. I felt that too. There is order to my chaos, and you don’t have to understand it. I get it.

He’s a cringy theater kid with a love for poetry too.

I too find it annoying when other people don’t follow the script I had in mind for the conversation.

Just human enough to understand how human interactions works, but either doesn’t give a shit or genuinely thinks that just spouting vaguely threatening poetry to strangers is a completely normal thing to do.

The obsession and ambition that just completely makes him lose the plot of everything else.

He is just so obsessed with everything being perfect to a point where it almost seems silly.

Acts like he doesn’t care, but actually cares A LOT about how other people perceive him.

I could honestly keep going but you get the picture.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[dira333]

Cats and dogs and bunnies too - Sakura Haruka x Reader

Timeskip

You notice it long before he mentions anything.

Sakura Haruka is fond of dogs. Cats too. Once, he even caught a little bunny that had been adamant about escaping its owners, petting it slowly with a look of utmost focus as he took it back.

But he’s careful not to show it too much. 

Sometimes he pretends he doesn’t notice the old dog at the corner flagging its tail at his sight until you walk over to pet it, like admitting to it would be a weakness.

-

Sakura Haruka has many weaknesses. 

He always stubbs his toe at night, when he gets up for a toilet break because he doesn’t want to turn on the light in fear of waking you.

He drinks too much coffee and forgets that he’s no longer sixteen but twenty-six now, that his back starts hurting if he sits hunched over for too long.

He never remembers sorting his clothes before putting them in the wash and wears the white-turned-pink shirts with pride after he accidentally drops one of your red panties in with the white laundry.

He’s married to you yet he tends to forget, staring at the ring on his finger in silent wonder at least once a week.

“Baby?” He asks one Sunday morning, his head in your lap, his laptop forgotten on the coffee table.

“Hm?” You massage his scalp, pretending to rub the stress from his temples.

“Could we get a dog?”

It’s a simple question, one you thought he’d ask much sooner. 

You wonder if he knows about the box of supplies in the back of your closet, of the surprise present that’s due any day now.

“Do you want one?” You ask back.

Haruka is quiet for a moment. You might think him asleep if not for the tension in his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he admits finally. 

“Good,” you lower down to press a kiss to his temple. “Then we’ll get one.”

“Really?” He blinks up at you, his eyes now soft and vulnerable, like they were when you met all those years ago. 

Haruka once told you that looking at you seems to make his heart crack open and looking at him now you can’t help but believe it.

“Really. What kind of dog do you want?”

“I don’t care,” he answers just like you knew he would. “What kind of name would we give it?”

“Well, let’s think about it. What if we get a little dog? What would you name a little dog?”

“How little?”

“Like a Corgi? Or a Spitz?”

“Princess.” The name shoots out of him too fast to be casual. He’s thought about it for sure.

You laugh, a little surprised by it. “I mean, sure, but you already call me that. Don’t you think it would get confusing?”

Under your gentle touch, his cheeks burst aflame.

He’s too flustered to speak and you let him stay quiet, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“What about a big dog?” You ask eventually. 

“Queenie,” he breathes out softly, clearly learning from his mistakes. You wonder if he knows that he’s only picked out female names so far.

-

“Haruka, can you come help?” You yell from the doorstep. “There’s a package but it’s too heavy for me.”

“Coming!” He calls out, jogging down the stairs in all his post-work-glory, the sweatpants and hoodie combo looking cozy enough to forget about the whole surprise.

“Kiss me first,” you command, pulling him in by the collar until you’re satisfied, grinning when he picks the package up with ease.

“Careful, it says fragile,” you point out as he carries it up, unaware of the other box you carry after him.

“What’s in it anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you lie, “Open it.”

It’s not properly taped shut, which he laments about as he fiddles with the tape. But all the words leave him when the box opens and he comes face to face with all the goods.

“Dogfood?” He asks, a little confused, picking up the bag. “Toys? You already ordered the stu-” He stops short when he sees you holding another box in your arms, this one already open.

“Don’t tell me-” Haruka breathes out, taking a step back as if he’s going to lash out in panic like he used to.

But he doesn’t. He just breathes, in and out, his eyes zeroed in on your face until he’s calmed himself enough to take a step forward.

Another one follows and then he’s close enough to touch you, yet he doesn’t.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“It’s really heavy,” you joke just as Queenie’s head pops out of the box, the puppy clearly not amused about your arms shaking from her weight.

So many emotions flicker over his face, sad ones and happy ones alike. 

When Haruka reaches for the dog, his hands shake but his grip is gentle and his hold is steady.

It reminds you of the first time he held your hand, knuckles bruised and eyes tear-shot. He’d been gentle then too, even scared-shitless.

Maybe one day he’ll hold your kid like that too. But time will tell if and when that happens. 

There’s still a cat to adopt. And maybe a bunny too.

[fastboatsmojito]

Some Depraved Billy Butcher Smut

This is becoming a pattern I feel - it’s been a long day forgive me

18+ Smut btc, He’s pretty mean, like shove the side of your face into the brick wall of a building mean, you’re also pretty mean to him oops, almost dacryphilia but not quite ?? His hands are filthy for sure but you let him put them inside of you anyways <3 is that true love - This is incredibly self-indulgent and nasty - LOCK ME UP !!!!

Unfortunately drooling over the thought of yelling at butcher in some dark alley in the middle of a mission you’re supposed to be finishing 🧎HEAR ME OUT

——

You’re pissed off, yelling at him about being as careless as he always was, planting a hand firm on his chest and pushing him into the wall of some building you couldn’t care less about, all while he gave you some shitty excuse about doing ‘whatever it takes to get the job done’. You’re in his face, anger written all over your own while he waited for you to finish your lecture.

“Shouldn’t care so much about someone like me for fucks’ sake, so what if I get a little roughed up? It’s part of the job.” He explained, not really understanding the reason behind your protest nor caring to.

“Fuck you.” You said with a final glare, walking backwards and away from him as you took a few deep breaths to regain yourself, before quickly turning around and marching towards him when you heard him chuckle behind you.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” He had quite the bad habit of not taking you seriously, on and off the job, and it only pissed you off further.

“Just a bit hard to take you seriously like this ‘s all” He was smiling like a fucking idiot when you walked back up to him, wordlessly threatening to slap him with a raised hand.

“Handsy, are we? Relax. Not a bad thing to be soft. It’s a good look on ya, hand to god.” He put a hand over his heart like he was promising when he said it, but you wouldn’t be surprised if his other hand was occupied with keeping two fingers crossed behind his back.

“You know you’re not my boss anymore, right? I might work with you but I follow M.M. You’re just some asshole I have to go on missions with now.” Your words didn’t carry the venom you tried to conjure out of yourself, disappointment that you were actually letting him get to you settling in.

“Ouch.” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he sauntered closer to you. “Why don’t we just get back to work, eh? Finish this little spat when we don’t have some D-lister supe up our asses?”

“Fuck that and fuck you, Butcher. I’m not going to work with a psycho that doesn’t care if he gets himself or his partner killed. I don’t have time for this shit, if you want to ruin your life do it on your own time. I’m done.” You spat before turning away again, this time stopped by him moving in front of you.

“Hang on just a second there, I might put myself in danger for this but I still protect you. Might have a shitty way of showin’ it but that’s the reason you’re not here alone. Think M.M would send me somewhere for no reason? You’re good enough to do the job alone just fine, but there’s about six Vaught cunts in there just waitin’ on you to walk in alone.” He stopped himself with a drop of his head while you stood in what you could only describe as confusion, a tinge of guilt in your stomach.

He raised his head after a moment of you not responding. “Come on.” He gestured back towards the building entrance, looking at you with something along the lines of remorse, a look you’d never seen on him.

Maybe it was the quiet, the only audible noises your own heartbeat in your ears and the low passing of cars on the street a few feet ahead of you. Maybe it was the moonlight lightly tracing over both of your outlines, giving the man in front of you a soft glow as he seemingly patiently waited on you. Maybe it was every other time you’ve wanted to say that to him, finally getting a response that wasn’t complete bullshit. Whatever it was, every possible excuse felt ultimately irrelevant by the time you shoved your lips into his own.

It was difficult to shock someone like Butcher, there was basically nothing you could say or do that he hadn’t heard or seen before, but you felt the hesitation from him anyway. It was just a second but the tension felt heavy right until the moment you felt him kissing you back. It wasn’t soft, you couldn’t possibly have expected it to be, his rough palms moving to your sides almost immediately.

—

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill over your lash line as he shoved your face into the brick wall in front of you, his other hand currently two fingers deep inside of you, to which you had no prior warning in true Billy Butcher fashion. It was no secret he was just as much a dick in the sex department as he was out of it, relentlessly teasing you like a fucking animal.

“Yellin’ at me get you this worked up, did it?” He covered your body with his own but that didn’t stop the urgency you felt to finish before someone walked out and saw you, your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling of his thick fingers hooking up up up and then back out again repeatedly, fast and rough just as his tongue had been in your mouth a moment before.

“Jesus-“ You gasped when his thoroughly soaked fingers retracted to rub tight circles over your clit. He was clearly in his element, you could practically feel the grin on his face right behind you.

“Not quite.”

———

[lulunothulu]

“Phone neighbor”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: You’re bored one night and decide to text your phone neighbor…who happens to be a very hot (and cocky) aviator.

Content: drinking, fluff

Friday nights are so boring. Especially when you have nothing to do for the night.

Your friend, Natasha, invited you to go to the bar she and her aviator buddies frequent. Hard Deck, was that the name? Who knows. Either way, you didn’t think hitting a bar right now would do you much good.

You’d been in a reclusive and lonely mood all week but right now, you were feeling adventurous.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and dial the first nine digits of your number but changed the last number to the following one that came after yours.

Let’s play a game of phone number neighbor.

You: Hi, so this is random, but you’re my number neighbor.

Them: Oh really?

You: Yes… so you’re from Texas too?

Them: Born and raised in Austin.

You: That’s so cool, I was raised in El Paso and Houston.

Them: Nice! Are you still there?

You: Nah, I’m in California. How about you?

Them: Funny enough, I’m in California too. I’m in the Navy, a pilot 🤠

You: Oh shit! You might know my friend, Natasha Trace.

———

Jake smiled down at his phone. “Hey Phoenix!”

Nat turns around, rolling her eyes at him. “What?”

“I think I just met your friend.”

“What?” She looks around. “Where? And who?”

“I don’t know their name, let me ask,” he says. He looks down at his phone, sending a quick text before smiling and telling her your name.

“Holy shit!” She laughs.

“Is she single?” Jake asks.

“She is actually…give me a second.”

———

“Hello?” You say, answering your phone.

“What the hell are you doing?” Nat asks.

You can hear the noise and chatter coming from the bar you knew she’d be at.

“I’m at home doing a face mask,” you tell her.

“No I mean, with Hangman,” she tells you.

“Who’s Hangman?”

“The person you’re texting?” She laughs.

Hangman: So you know Phoenix? How?

You: We grew up together. She’s practically my sister.

“Hey, he’s texting me right now,” you tell her.

“I have an idea.”

Hangman: What do you look like?

You: I’ll send you a picture of you send me one too.

Hangman: What? You want proof?

You: Sure, let’s call it that.

Hangman: [Picture]

Hangman: I’m on the left, that’s Bob in the middle, and Fanboy on the end.

Hangman: Your turn.

You smile, sending him a picture of you with your green face mask, hand up in a peace sign and lips in a duck face position.

Hangman: That’s not what I expected but still hot.

Hangman: Wait a second… did Nat call you?

You: Maybe…

[Incoming call from ‘Hangman’]

“Hello?”

“Hey, mask lady. Nat!” You hear him say. His voice is deep and southern drawl thick. “Tell your friend to send me a real picture of her.”

“Y/N?” You hear her say.

“Hey, Nat.”

“Send this pretty boy your face. He’s desperate and threatening to make me drive him to your house.”

You laugh. “Fine. Should I send the one with my tits pushed up?”

“Jesus Christ, tell her yes.” You hear Hangman say in the background.

“Tell him that I’ll send him a normal one and to stop listening to our conversation,” you tell Nat. “Actually, pass him back.”

“Hi,” you hear Hangman say.

“Hi back, cowboy,” you reply.

“I like that nickname, makes me sound a lot cooler than I am,” he tells you.

You laugh. “I’d like to know your real name, and not your callsign.”

“I’m Jake. Jake Seresin,” he tells you. “You don’t have to tell me your name. I already know.”

“Yeah I figured that much,” you mutter.

“When can I see you in person?” He asks.

“When are you free?” You smile and bite your lip.

“How about now? Come to Hard Deck.”

“I don’t really do bars…”

“Then I’ll come to you. What’s your address?”

You laugh. “I don’t even know you like that. What if you’re a psycho?”

“I wouldn’t be a top pilot in the navy sweetheart.” You chuckle, making him wait before he asks, “Soooo can I come over?”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Not really,” he tells you.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You can come over. But bring food, I’m starving.” You tell him.

“Same,” he tells you. “And it’ll give you enough time to get ready and wash that face mask off.”

Fuck I forgot about that.

“I’ll see you soon.”

———

A face wash, makeup application, and teeth brushing later, you hear Hangman—Jake—ring the doorbell.

After changing into some cute sweats, you run downstairs and answer the door.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey yourself,” he says. He’s a lot taller than you thought he’d be. And a lot hotter than you thought too. He holds up a bag of takeout and a gym bag. “I brought food and a change of clothes.”

He’s wearing his khaki Aviation uniform still.

“Yeah, come on in.” You step to the side, allowing him to come in. “Bathroom’s down the hall and to the left.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he smiles.

God his smile made him so much hotter.

When he comes back from the bathroom changed and in gray sweatpants and a Texas Longhorns shirt, you smile and wave him over to your couch.

“What’re you watching?” He asks.

“Nothing that the moment,” you tell him. “I was waiting for you.”

“How sweet.” He smiles. “This has to be the best first date I’ve a been on in a long time.”

“Who said this was a date?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Oh, did I assume?” He cockily smirks at you which makes your cheeks turn red. “And from the way you’re blushing, I’d say you’d like this to be a date.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, a smile playing on your lips.

Two hours later, Jake is still at your place and your head is resting on his shoulder.

“That was a cute movie,” he tells you. “Why did I cry so much?”

“Because Toy Story 3 is ruthless,” you sigh, wiping your eyes.

“Either way, I don’t think I can sleep if we don’t watch something else.”

You sit up and face him. “Why? You too sad to leave?”

“No, I don’t want to leave yet,” he says truthfully. “Plus, it’s my turn to choose a movie.”

“Which is?”

“Legally Blonde.”

You smile, scoffing before laughing and shaking your head. “You surprise me.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“Definitely,” you nod.

“Can I surprise you one more time?” He asks, voice barely over a whisper.

You shrug and smirk. “Depends on what it is.”

He places a hand on your cheek, snaking his fingers to the back of your neck.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“That counts as a question,” you whisper.

He chuckles. “That one doesn’t count.”

“Go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath, leaning in close to the point his nose touches your own. Your heart is pounding, excitement and anticipation flowing through your body.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

So he does, soft and sweet at first. That is, until you pull his head in, deepening the kiss. Your mouths race, devouring and exploring every inch of your mouths. You shift your body, straddling Jake’s lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, something you notice feels so normal, you don’t want it to end.

“Take me upstairs.” You order.

“Yes ma’am.”

[warping-realities]

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the  teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation. 

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret. 

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

[luveline]

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Blake Quotes

BLAKEY POOOOO ♡ sassy man

“You’re the brightest spot in my life. You always have been, even when you’re so far away I can barely see the glow.”

“Charming friend you got there. [he’s shaking in his boots]”

“That’s a one-way ticket to ending up in a spiral!”

“Whatever you need of me. I’ll give it, provided you save my love.”

“Questions aren’t really necessary right now, so how about you just sit there and look pretty, hmm?”

“Do you want me to show you exactly what magic can do when it’s not on your side?”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what I want too. [goofy goofy chuckle]”

“You make me smile, you make me happy. I like being with you. That’s enough.”

“I can’t always keep my head above the water, but being with you is like… having an air tank. I might be below the surface, but I’m still getting oxygen. You’re that oxygen that keeps me going when I’m under."

“I told you, it was nothing... All right, let me clarify, it’s not “nothing”, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“I’m all yours.”

“Your little fuckbuddy-"

“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me. It felt like… someone switching on the lights, and suddenly realizing that I’d been standing in the dark all that time before. It felt like life was suddenly in colour.”

“it felt like I got a taste of everything I’d ever wanted, the most amazing feeling I’d ever experienced and then the next morning, I didn’t just lose the chance at that, I lost my best friend.”

“I’m tired of the dance. I just miss my friend.”

“I can’t be another mistake. Because it’ll break me.”

“You know me, you know how I am.”

“If we’re together, I’ll do everything for you, and I’ll give you everything I can, I’ll give you time and patience, if you need to be with your own thoughts, I’ll give you quiet, but I won’t be able to give you space.”

“The things I think about you, how much I want you… it’s the stuff you’re not supposed to say out loud. The stuff you’re never supposed to admit to feeling.”

“Just sitting at the table one morning, having breakfast when you realized, Oh wait, who's that voice in my head? Must be an ancient, unknowable force in Death. Guess I'll go back to my oatmeal.”

“What are you doing?”

“You would dirty their fucking name by speaking it.”

“if you pick this, it’ll be all of me. All of it. And we both know a lot of that’s not pretty.”

“I’ll get that smile on those pretty lips in the morning, just you wait.”

“I’m not worried you’ll try something. You don’t constitute a meaningful threat in my book. Sorry to bruise your ego.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“I’m not that fucking stupid. [He is]”

“Congratulations, someone please get the gentleman a door prize.”

“You can’t matter.”

“You're going to learn when to shut the fuck up. And spoiler alert, tied up, on the ground, with your powers inhibited? That's one of those times.”

“Wouldn’t that be cute?”

“I sleep easy in the arms of the person I love. Knowing that everything I’ve done, everything I do, I do for them.”

“I never stopped loving you, I’m still back there, I’m still just this scared kid telling you he fucking loves you.”

“Cute. Are you going to keep wasting time with passive aggression or do you actually have something to tell me?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Yeah, all for you. All of it. [ft D’Deridahn calling him horny in the background]”

[alleyskywalker]

Some of Louis’ choices in the finale do make me raise my eyebrows a little bit at him. He's got all the right to be pissed at Armand, no question. But why does this automatically redeem Lestat in his eyes? OK, sure, Lestat saves him - that's new information to him, but...First, this doesn't change anything about Lestat's part in Claudia's death (which is what he primarily confronted him about in the tower) nor the fact that Lestat willingly participated in the trial. Nor does it change the fact that Armand saved him from being starved to death. Technically, they both saved Louis, but at different points and in different ways. (If Armand really wanted him dead, he could have just left him in the wall or could have warned the coven about Louis’ plan to destroy/attack them, etc. And even though he lied about the proportion of his role, Armand had already admitted to knowing that the coven was planning to kill Louis and Claudia. And…Louis makes the choice to warn Armand to not be at the theater before he gets the “full” story of how much Armand knew/participated. At that point, all Louis “knew” was that Armand had saved him, which…wasn’t even technically a lie in and of itself, just, again the degree of things.)

So, what really changes re: Armand and Lestat in the final reveal? For Armand: he participated in the trial more actively and in saving Louis less than originally supposed. For Lestat: he participated in saving Louis, whereas initially Louis thought he hadn’t. So ultimately…both Armand and Lestat actively participate in the trial and then both participate in saving Louis. (Granted, Armand lies more in the process. But on the other hand – Armand can’t really be expected to care about Claudia and Lestat can; Armand had attachments and commitments to the coven and Lestat didn’t…) If Louis had just walked away from Armand as well, that’s fair enough. But how does Lestat suddenly warrant a reconciliation (and apology??) when a similar level of participation in this whole debacle warrants Armand – Louis’ partner for decades, whom he had supposedly forgiven for the worst of what happened in Paris, who has stuck with him through various self-destructive behavior trying to fix what he'd broken – an immediate break up (with some physical violence to boot) with no questions asked? (And he has to be at least somewhat over it if he hasn’t bothered to hunt down Sam despite them knowing all about where he is and what he’s up to these days.)

Speaking of questions for Louis, here’s one. So, Armand claims that the coven “improvised” a death sentence from the word banishment. He says this in the context of claiming that he saved Louis by mind controlling the crowd into sentencing Louis to banishment instead of death. But what if…it’s not true that the coven “improvised”? Perhaps “banishment” has a double meaning or gets used as a euphemism for those sentenced to die of starvation in the wall or just who get buried in those crypts after committing crimes. I’m not saying, btw, that this is indeed so, but we don’t actually have evidence that it isn’t. Satiago getting flustered at first indicates that this isn’t a formal way to refer to this kind of punishment/sentencing at least, but when he tells the coven to “tuck him in nice and tight” everyone know exactly what he means, so there’s a basis to assume  the possibility of some common understanding of banishment = getting shoved into the wall, alive or not, whether slang, euphemism or similar. So, let’s for a second assume this is true.

Armand wouldn’t admit this context to Louis while he’s lying about saving him at the trial, because it takes away from Armand’s role as his savior, so if he’s going to lie about mind controlling the crowd, he has to lie/bend the truth about how much the coven needed to improvise to arrange for a death sentence regardless. It also makes sense then that Armand might not have taken this road to trying to save Louis, in fear/knowledge that it would/could just come out worse.

So, what of Lestat? Lestat knows the rules, conventions, and language customs around the coven because, well, he founded/was part of it. So if “banishment” could be easily interpreted as “banishment to starve in the wall,” then Lestat would know that or could be expected to. Yet, this is the punishment he chose when he could have mind controlled the crowd into saying anything. Hell, why didn’t he mind control them into saying “not guilty?” Would have solved a lot of issues, yk?  Would this make Lestat kinda extra vengeful/sadistic? Sure, but…he did just willingly participate as the star witness in a trial to burn Louis and their “daughter” to death. Is this really sooo out of character from what Louis knows or thinks he knows about Lestat at that point in time? Like, not even to question Daniel’s suggestion that Lestat saved him – even though, the script is not actually evidence of that, just that Armand might have had a more extensive role in the play? (And…he could have still been under duress to direct it as much as he would have been to just not tell Louis about it. But Louis doesn’t ask about/consider this either.)

I’m not saying that’s how it went, mind. The reunion scene with Lestat makes it pretty clear that Lestat had in fact wanted to save Louis. But Louis can’t/doesn’t know this, certainly not prior to the reunion scene. Did Lestat actually save him? Is there any other context he might be missing? This is just a theory Daniel has after all. Does Claudia’s death no longer matter then? Doesn’t this just mean that both Lestat and Armand belatedly tried to save him? He’s obviously shocked and not thinking straight – I’m not saying this to bash him or anything (and leaving Armand would have been a justified reaction regardless, just for the lying). But it’s kinda crazy to me that Louis is apparently so eager to believe the worst of Armand and find any reason possible to forgive Lestat at the drop of a hat.  

I don’t really have a point here. Just…need to throw thoughts into the void because the show melted my brain a bit. Forgive me, etc. I do love/enjoy all these characters.

[nolongeronlyhereforthewhispangle]

Here we are, folks. After 5 years, Madness Combat 12 is finally out. Now, let’s deconstruct it.

Spoilers for MadCom 12 below (duh)

The opening. Now, there are some things I would like to highlight.

ONE: Nevada is labelled as “The Occurant”. This will be important later.

TWO: The text on the side.

“THE PLACE THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE” “THE INFINITE ENTROPY AT ALL BORDERS TAX THE HIGHER POWERS THAT GOVERN IT”

Entropy means “lack of order or predictability”. The sheer amount of chaos is literally tearing reality apart.

I just like this shot. The depth in it, vast, but empty. Eerily beautiful.

“TRACKER DATA ACTIVE” “HANK.” “DISSONANT;” “0.01%”

On Doc’s computer. Why is 2BDamned doing this? We’ll find out soon enough. It should be noted that the “Dissonance Triggers” almost look like X, Y, and Z coordinates.

“HANK’S CHARTER HAS BEEN REVOKED” “Fix Nevada.” “DO NOT WAIVER”

A charter is defined as “a written grant by a country's legislative or sovereign power, by which a body such as a company, college, or city is founded and its rights and privileges defined.”

Perhaps the “charter” here is Hank’s soul? His being? We don’t know for sure.

Waiver means “refrain from applying or enforcing”.

The Auditor, in this scene, is basically saying “Hank is not active, and I need to make sure it stays that way.”

This graffiti probably means nothing, but I think it might be describing Sanford. So far, he has not died once in the entire series.

Agony. The text to the right mentions the Auditor, “recovery”, and “suppliment”. I have no idea what this could mean, maybe our red-and-black boy is trying to copy what 2BD does, but in the opposite direction?

Auditor, but without the fiery parts.

Mind fuckery. Note that he tries a “CONVERT”, as well as doing multipe return commands. It also points out, again, how Sanford is NOT DEAD, NOR HAS HE DIED BEFORE.

No hope for those trapped, I suppose.

This looks like the tree from MadCom 1. Nice callback.

I’ll let this speak for itself (refer back to TRACKER DATA ACTIVE).

The text says:

“KILL THEM”

And this is where we see Sanford lose his eyes, although he can still apparently see somehow.

A better look at Sanford overall. He still has that iconic lip, but he is missing parts of his body and his eyes to a mysterious black spot that also functions like a hole in some cases.

This is one of the defining moments of the episode (to me, at least). Sanford, seemingly overtaken by rage, randomly gains the strength to tear a half-MAG agent’s head off their body.

This might be just there for the cool factor, or maybe some other power acted on Sanford in that moment. With the info we have, we can’t really tell.

Here we see an anchor, like the one used on Dedmos in the Dedmos mini-series.

“Employic”, according to my research, is not a word in the English language.

Substrata is “an underlying layer or substance, in particular a layer of rock or soil beneath the surface of the ground.”

This purgatory is apparently underground, which would make sense given that we only see passages to it connected to walls or floors.

The Auditor looking shocked as he is trapped in a capsule of rock. With context clues, we could make a conclusion that this is the same type of “purgatory rock” that now makes up Deimos’s lower jaw.

Hank is connected to a machine.

Sanford has somehow been resurrected, even though he still HAS NOT BEEN KILLED.

The Auditor specifically calls out 2BD. He’s onto Doc’s shit.

Another picture of the tablet screen, shortly after Deimos drops it. We can be certain that “AUD” is referring to the Auditor.

Love wins. What else can I really mention if even Krinkels said it himself.

Deimos was “compensated”. Surprised anything still even has value around Nevada anymore. Maybe bullets do, actually.

Sanford has to return as soon as possible for a “deathless resurrection evaluation”. Wonder what that would even look like.

Hank’s icon, showing up for quite a short period of time before the screen fills with “ERROR” messages. He looks distressed.

Whatever could “OCCURANT LINES ARE CONVERGING” mean?

Well, we know that Nevada was labelled as “The Occurant” earlier.

(You might not be able to read this text in this screenshot with Tumblr image compression, I don’t know.)

————————————————————————

Finally, I have some info that isn’t necessarily what happened in the animation, but could help with understanding it. As this is already getting long enough, I’ll leave it with a short blurb.

The definition of the title word.

The description of the episode on the Newgrounds site.

————————————————————————

Even without looking at it in-depth, Madness Combat: Contravention was a masterpiece of animation. It was fluid, the characters were expressive, and the visuals were stunning. Big props to Krinkels, Cheshyre, Cturix (did the sound effects), and Tarkade (made the backgrounds) for creating the most entertaining 8 minutes of my life.

————————————————————————

Thoughts? Theories? Something I missed? Share it in the reblogs! After all, what is this fandom without the community we’ve formed!

[jewish-vents]

i’m a teacher and i had a kid draw a swastika in my classroom on like. the second day of school. so one of our admin came in to two of my classes the next day to talk about it. and she started by telling this story about how she had a hijabi student. and a boy in the class was “really curious about what her hair looked like.” and had the students guess what happened next (pulled the hijab off, gross and awful) and how that might have made the hijabi student feel. at this point i’m sitting at my desk like “it’s been five minutes are we going to talk about the swastika” and then she finally goes “yesterday someone drew a symbol that represents division. and hate. and those aren’t things we stand for” and a kid (of course) was like what was it? and this fucking woman turns to me and goes “are you comfortable sharing what it was?”

?????? i thought that’s why you were here?? i thought you were here to explain why swastikas are not okay, and we are seven minutes into your little presentation and you haven’t said the word swastika or even jewish. so i said it was a swastika and several of the kids didn’t know what that was. which was disturbing on its own as i teach middle school but i digress. i said no way in hell am i drawing one so my admin looks at me and is like “could you google a picture?”

can’t believe i did this but i didn’t know what else to do in the moment so i pulled up a google image search of swastikas and projected it on the board. at no point did the admin say “hey you can take that down now” it just sat up there until i got uncomfortable and sick to my stomach enough to close it myself. and then she came back the next period and did the WHOLE song and dance again (no jewish, no antisemitism, not even the word NAZI which is insane to me) and STILL told the opening story about the hijabi girl even with two hijabi girls sitting in the class this time who were clearly uncomfortable.

this was like three weeks ago and it’s been quietly bothering me for a while and i finally told my (nonjewish) work friends about it and they were all like “holy shit that’s so fucked that she asked you to do that” and i told my (jewish) partner and he went “she couldn’t have picked up a fucking marker??” and that was when it really hit me.

maybe she didn’t want to be in a situation where she drew a swastika on a jewish teachers whiteboard. ok. but she apparently didn’t consider the WORSE implications of asking that same jewish teacher to google an image of a swastika and project a google image search of a page FULL of swastikas on her board.

AND she never once checked in with me after that. she left the class without talking to me again and hasn’t said a word about it since. i remember i even asked her “do you want me to leave the room” beforehand because im thinking i don’t want to have to look at swastikas but she asked me to stay because “the impact is real and they need to see it” which. uh. i’ve been pushing this experience down for weeks bc at the end of the day it “wasn’t that bad” but like. holy shit. she really wanted to put my trauma on display for the students instead of just asking me to leave and explaining what a swastika is/showing them one. and it took her nearly ten minutes to get to the actual swastika!! i’m just. so done

.